After skippin' town to join an entertainment troupe (not a circus, we weren't hippies, it was a sound business) I was raised by a magician: the Fantastic Flamingo. I did all kinds of tricks with that rad dude. When he disappeared, though? I dropped my savings on the desk of Henry Salvo, a PI known for working super cases. That was back in my time, before the city got bogus. Now I gotta track
him down so he can tell me how evil-drug-fiend-me got so evil, and drug... fiend-y. I hope he didn't kick the bucket.
• Who or what brought you to the present?
In order to secure Mad Moxie's cooperation on their last collaborative caper, the Bad Guys had to kidnap the only person they thought she still cared about: her past (read better) self. It did not go as planned. The Good Guys ended up having to save them! Since then, no one's been able to figure out how to put me back, not that I'm totally jazzed to get back there... not until I know I can keep my train-wreck self from goin' all evil... I mean, a mime? Grody to the max!
• When did you first meet your future self?
When I was put up as a hostage, I barely recognized her, and she barely recognized me. I don't think she even cares if I live. I wouldn't know what she thinks... she won't talk. She's maxed out fresh with the mirrors, though. Skills like Jordan. Both of them. Not that I'm jealous, though. She can keep it. Her eyes were mad glossy, totally zonked out, like she's got reefer madness.
• How is your future self the embodiment of a future you never wanted?
Hey, re-Pete! I think I said this. She's on drugs. I can tell. I've seen hippies before. She's totally shooting smack into her eyes or eating ex pills all day. I just can't see how she lives with herself.
• What is your favorite part of life in the future? Your least favorite part?
Phones are the size of postcards--barely thicker than a credit card-- and they have color screens and cameras on both sides. There's this one button, yellow with a ghost, people just send each other pictures, instantly. No film! I could get used to the music... some of it. Seems like they stopped singing about how great life is, and started whining about how hard life is, and how much drugs they can buy or sell or take. Drugs are... maybe a bigger thing now than what I'm comfortable with. People take a lot of pills, and the reefer is sold in gas stations now. I saw an entire TV show, like a cross between COPS and Maury Povich, that's just about people ruining their lives with drugs. It's bogus. Oh, TV is on phones now too. I never watched so much of it before.
• Why are you determined to stay in the present with this team?
Going back now is the surest way to turn into Mad Moxie. I've gotta figure out what ruined me- what ruined America. I'm pretty sure it's the drugs. I'm just one kid, but if I can, I'd like to make America great again.
When we first met...
Mad Moxie knew as well as I did who I'd check up with to learn what I missed. I skipped third period to pay old man Salvo a visit. He's got a nine to five doing something called 'document imaging'.
The Maniacal Mime didn't expect a handful of super powered delinquents at a random building in the center of town. I didn't either. Things escalated quickly, and there wasn't a lot of time for stupid questions. Maker and the Mime were making a mess, and the sirens were getting close. I could get them help, but I needed a phone. Amir threw me his, and I called Mark Yutani, a rich kid I knew from the eighties. Between the building collapsing (longest eight minutes of my life holding that ceiling up) and the black-ops guys sneaking us all away, it only occurred to me later on that Mark was maybe not a kid with deep pockets any more. Amir might think I saved them, but I'm who gave the Collection Agency his number.
