It’s a very special gesture with hand and wrist. My palm ends up facing skyward, the Namestone a cerulean flame a few inches above, Namestone’s tuneless tune being heard distantly in every ear. Yes, I did remember to cue my body aura, not to mention my personal theme music, a bold brass opening folding into the richer tones of the flugelhorn. No, I can still call on Namestone’s power even if I can’t move. Nor do I need the music or aura to call on all my gifts. My aura actually is the same blue as the Namestone’s glow. My platinum blonde hair and pale gray garb look really well with it.
“Behold the Holy Namestone. Come no closer or face my wrath.” Mum taught me how to sound truly pompous. To my surprise, it worked. Europalord did not quite fall on his fat face when he tripped over his own feet. Of course, he is a drain, so personal combat training is not quite the issue it is with his team-mates. His task is to sit there and suck power out of his opponents, incidentally shoving it all into his personal force field. “The Namestone is mine,” I reminded them.
“You’re defying the League!” Valkyria shouted. “International law specifies: The League of Nations owns the Namestone. Hand it over, you stupid girl!” In retrospect, she might have done better if she’d been a bit more tactful. She could hardly have done worse.
“You know the Maze Rule: Namestone belongs to he who takes it. I took it,” I said.
“No, it belongs to the League!” she screamed.
“You keep repeating that same wrong statement. I just told you: I took it. It’s mine! Are you deaf, or just stupid? Or maybe both; you’re for sure stupid.” I answered. By now I was in a really sour mood. I wanted to go home and go to bed. And, very soon, I would have broadened my call on enough levels of power to do just that. I could feel teleport blocks in place around me, meaning I was going to need a lot of power to smash them into little pieces. No, I do not feel guilty about what would happen to the people and machines creating those blocks when I did the smashing. Meanwhile, Valkyria is said to be short-tempered. People who are busy losing their tempers for sure aren’t thinking clearly, a positive outcome for me. Well, a positive outcome, except I was in the process of losing my own temper.
“The Namestone is too dangerous for mortals,” the Screaming Skull announced. “Give it to me, or it is you who will face my wrath.”
“You’re supposed to be an improvement over her, fatso?” I snapped. I could have been more polite to the Screaming Skull, but exhaustion makes me impatient. Besides, the Skull is a (whole bunch of words Mum would not like to hear me use) egomaniac with delusions of adequacy. Unfortunately, the Skull is also really good at telling people to drop dead, and having it happen. I did not quite use any of those words Mum did not like, though I was tempted. Insulting him might cause him to think even less than he usually does, assuming that is possible.