Shero III: Death By Cosplay

By Jack Wallen

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your narrator speaking. I have decided Shero III: Death by Cosplay is far too silly for human consumption, so I have removed it from existence.

As if.

Shero III: Death by Cosplay turns up the snark and pits Shero against a fangirl seamstress in league with the nastiest of villains -- S.I.N.

Get your Little Black Battle Dress on and prepare for war, Shero style.

Pow
Crack
Gender attack!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Wallen
• Release date: Dec 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370157860

Jack Wallen

Jack Wallen is what happens when a Gen Xer mind-melds with present day snark. Jack is a seeker of truth and a writer of words with a quantum mechanical pencil and a disjointed beat of sound and soul. Although he resides in the unlikely city of Louisville, Kentucky, Jack likes to think of himself more as an interplanetary traveler, on the lookout for the Satellite of Love and a perpetual movie sign...or so he tells the reflection in the mirror (some times in 3rd person). Jack is the author of numerous tales of dark, twisty fiction including the I Zombie series, the Klockwerk Movement, the Fringe Killer series, Shero, The Nameless Saga, and much more.

Book preview

prologue | fire the narrator

Fuck!

I’ve always wanted to begin the narration of a book with that word. It’s just so…universal. With a single syllable, so much could be happening at this very moment. Superheroes could be clashing against super villains. A lonely gentleman could be shouting out his needs at the top of his lungs.

Or…

Shero could have broken yet another Jimmy Choo heel.

Shock and awwwwww.

Well, damn. Not yet thirty seconds into this and I’ve already managed to let my saucy tongue get in the way of the story. Someone put a ball gag in my mouth.

Oh wait…wrong story, wrong genre, wrong crowd.

Bad narrator. Baaaaad narrator.

Let’s try this again, shall we?

Fuck, Meteor shouted above the crackle of electricity that danced across his nearly naked body. Now, Shero!

The plan was standard issue — distract the super villain with the nearly indestructible Meteor and then launch a surprise attack from all angles.

At the moment, all angles was one — from behind. And we all know Shero likes it from…

And the action stops so everyone’s favorite transgender superhero could glare at the narrator.

We interrupt this broadcast in order to switch narrators. Turns out, the narrator in question is none other than the infamous Gnarator, the super villain…

Not buying it?

The author, the characters, and the plot of Shero III: Death by Cosplay wish to extend their apologies for this interruption. It will not happen again.

Insert superhero-like narrator voice.

Meanwhile, at the corner of Hell and Yeah!

End superhero-like narrator voice.

Now that’s a narrator!

Shero unsheathed his katana as he sprinted toward BiPolar. The clack of his three inch, titanium-shanked heels lost out under the umbrella of electricity sparking over the area. When he reached the ‘sweet spot’ — that perfect distance from a target — he sprung upward and struck a pose so sexy it would send the whole of Victoria’s Secret models into a dark spiral of binging on potato chips, candy bars, and regular soft drinks.

Say it isn’t so!

Oh, it is so very so.

The blade of Shero’s katana hit BiPolar’s shield and the sound of a million metal bands rocking through the same Marshall Stack, broke through. Pulses of dark energy danced along the edge of Shero’s sword and surged into his fingers. One by one, the digits released from the grip of the sword and locked into a rigor mortis state of jazz hands.

Every molecule in Shero’s body begged to offer up a Bob Fosse tribute. Before even some of that jazz was revealed, Shero caught sight of the color on his nails.

Au Natur-hell — one of Fiend’s latest creations. It was a nude shade with flecks of diamond-like dust to give it a near-blinding shine. Once embedded into the flesh of his target, this color would have the effect of forcing the villain back into their natural state. In other words…powerless…at least, in theory. This new polish had yet to be field tested.

BiPolar had Meteor’s neck in a crushing grip. Thankfully, Meteor was nearly indestructible. Strip him of his unearthly exoskeleton and he was nothing more than Tadd Bolide, a dashingly handsome man from the bayou swamps. He was one of the few superheroes whose powers did not manifest at birth. A high-school senior bonfire gone horribly awry as Tadd was nearly struck down by a meteor that flew within feet of him to crash land on his parents’ property. The radiation exposure should have ended his life immediately. Instead it twisted and reshaped his DNA enough for him to join Shero and become one of Sentinel’s most-used first lines of defense.

The constant barrage of electricity had Tadd doing a wacky pop dance at the end of BiPolar’s outstretched arm. Meteor flashed between his super and average human form.

BiPolar again zapped Meteor with enough voltage to run an Apple store and all its fanboy gear for a lifetime. Once the convulsions stopped, Meteor was no more. Only Tadd dangled from BiPolar’s vice-like grip.

With BiPolar’s attention focused on taking out Meteor, Shero aimed both hands toward the mad bastard and flicked all fingers at once.

Fwip, fwip sexy kitten.

In a slow-motion, Matrix-style moment, the eight tiny missiles launched and sped toward their target. One by one the nails struck home. BiPolar immediately felt the effects of the poisoned polish.

A bolt of energy exploded from BiPolar’s eyes and mouth and streaked across the sky. Tadd was released and dropped to the ground below.

Bitch, BiPolar spat and shot a weakened bolt toward Shero. The energy fizzled by Shero’s head and flash-fried a section of his hair. Shero desperately fanned and patted his locks to prevent the need for yet another visit to the salon. He turned back to BiPolar.

I just had my color done, Shero hissed.

The scales of justice swung slowly, tipping from one side to the next. With the heels of might and the purse of righteousness on his side, Shero would ensure justice be served up with a cold and sexy blowout.

In a flash, Shero was up to speed and had his sword in hand. Before BiPolor could raise his arms to conjure another bolt of energy, the tip of Shero’s katana threatened to puncture the base of BiPolar’s throat.

"The ruby red of your blood would so match your costume, BiPolar. What say we accentuate your palette?"

BiPolar raised his hand, but not so much as a spark appeared.

What the… BiPolar questioned.

Try again, big boy, Shero mocked.

"You did this, Shero."

Shero smiled a wicked, sly grin. Why yes, my little bi-friend, I did. Now, what say we return you to C-Cubed.

That’d be the Conservatory for the Criminally Crazy — oft referred to as C-Cubed.

And, yes, I did just use oft in a sentence.

Shero to Lightning Bug, I have the package in custody.

Firefly to Shero, I have a lock on your position and will beam you up once in range.

Shero made a note to have a chat with ‘Firefly’ about his name and the use of the phrase beam you up. The last thing Sentinel needed was a lawsuit from the likes of Joss Whedon and the Roddenberry estate.

BiPolar turned to face Shero and opened his mouth to speak. Shero took the moment to silence his foe.

Before you go off on a spiel about how I’ll regret taking you in or that there’s an epic war between good and evil brewing, know that I’ll castrate you if you open your mouth. Is that clear?

BiPolar pursed his lips and threatened to pull his mobile out and drop a duck-lipped selfie on the scene.

But then the author stepped in and forbade any character (be they good or evil) from either making said duck lips or taking said selfie.

Point made. Point taken.

As his lips retreated back into their normal position, BiPolar ground his jaws together. The mandibular muscles flexed like they were making love to his face. Shero spotted the motion and shouted.

Spit it out. Now!

Shero’s hand shot up to grab BiPolar’s lower jaw, but he was too late. BiPolar’s face turned bright cherry red as his lips paled to robin’s egg blue. The counterpoint color scheme indicated cyanide poisoning.

Meteor, Shero shouted. I need you now.

Tadd had only just managed to regain his superhero form and raced to Shero’s side.

Suck the poison from this man’s mouth, demanded Shero.

Meteor glared at Shero.

You’re kidding, right? I mean, you’re the man in the dress.

Seriously? Of all the time we’ve had together in the field, you choose now to feign ignorance. This dress does not make me look fat or gay. Get over it. That was cyanide poisoning. It won’t harm you, but it would drop me like last year’s hemline. Now, do it.

Meteor huffed, grabbed BiPolar from Shero, and placed his mouth over the cooling lips of the villain. With a great suck, Meteor drew the poison from BiPolar’s system.

Outstanding, I think you did it. Shero patted Meteor on the shoulder.

The hero continued sucking.

Meteor, I think he’s okay now. You can stop with the…

It didn’t take a superhero to realize what was going on.

Shero tapped Meteor on the shoulder. Excuse me, but you do remember he is the enemy, right?

Meteor immediately turned a shade of red that would make Amaranth green with envy. Instead of speaking a single word, he scooped BiPolar into his arms, turned to Shero, and nodded.

"Firefly to Shero. Beaming you up in three, two…

one | comic conned

Ladies and gentlemen, cosplayers, roleplayers, and super fans of all ages, genders, and IQs. To officially open the largest Comic-Con in the region, we have a very special guest ready to unlock the gates of ascension and allow you into realms you have only dared dream. It is my utmost pleasure to introduce the one, the only, the drop-dead, sexy…Shero!

The disembodied voice was replaced by what had, over the years, become Shero’s theme tune — a heavy, hypnotic, hype-machine song written by a Japanese metal band comprised completely of cross dressing lady boys. The song was She’s My Hero. The band…

The Sheros.

Over the top?

Under the blouse?

Yummy.

Behind the stage, on a jumbotron-sized video screen, the official video for She’s My Hero played. Five dolled up Japanese fanboys, each wearing replicas of Shero’s Killer Black Dress (KBD) and trademark three-inch heels, unleashed the maddening tune on a crowd that roared and danced their approval.

Just as the song reached its bridge, Shero walked out from behind the screen and sent the crowd into a roaring frenzy.

As Shero approached center stage, shouts of I love you, I want to have your babies, and Show us your tits assaulted the arena. Shero reached up and back, pulled his katana from its sheathe, sprung into the air, and landed in a pose with such artistic perfection and grace, half the audience swooned and the other half was forced into puberty.

Shero was mic’d prior to the start of the opening ceremonies, so all he had to do was open his MAC-glossed lips and overwhelm the audience with words of acceptance, love, and joy.

Oh my goodness, I feel like I’ve died and gone to a heaven that only exists in fairy tales and seven parsecs from the Orath Nebula.

At the nod to the fan-favorite Sigma One sci-fi series, the crowd nearly lost their minds. For a perfectly defined moment in time and space, Shero was one of them. Nothing could better comfort the misfits, outcasts, and closeted better than acceptance from the one, the only…

Shoo, ya gonna make me say it?

You go girl!

Shero continued.

I cannot begin to describe to you what an honor it is to stand before you knowing we have all, in some ways, endured the same derision, scorn, persecution, and violence. We are all family and with time, those moments will be nothing more than distant memories.

Shero stepped down to the lip of the stage and took in the wide-eyed stares of the audience.

I can only imagine that each of you have been, in some ways, affected by V.I.L.E. and the evil it has spread through the city. But we all have to remember one thing, evil doesn’t just reside in the hearts of super villains. Bigots, homophobes, racists, misogynists…hatred comes in all shapes and sizes. That flavor of evil threatens to strip us all of our humanity, our dignity, and our strength.

And you’re sexy! The shout from the middle of the crowd brought a wave of laughter toward the