Work Text:
Ppst! Look for the words ‘chicanery’ and ‘cynosure’
Another beautiful day in our Fair City! And somewhere, in the (second) tallest building in town, Mr. Big stands, scheming…
“Leslie!” The businessman in question bellowed, pensively squeaking the pink stuffed bunny head in his hand.
“Yes, sir?” She was there in a flash, voice even and bored as ever, barely bothering to flick her eyes up from her tablet.
“How are the polls looking? Do the people love me?”
“You’re a rich man with a strong chin. Of course they love you, sir.”
“But do they adore me? Do they want to give me all their money? Their attention?”
“Well, sir, you don’t appear to be the cynosure currently. Trending topics are the mayor’s new haircut, WordGirl’s five hundred and forty third key ceremony, the new movie on killer robots–”
“Robots? Leslie,” he demanded, turning around in his massive chair. “Why haven’t we done anything with robots yet?”
“That’s more McCallister’s domain, sir.”
“McCallister?”
“I believe he goes by ‘Tobey’.”
“Tobey…” Mr. Big echoed, drumming his square fingers against his enormous desk. “Yes, the boy. What do we have on him?”
Dutifully pulling up a file, Leslie recounted: “sixteen year old robotics genius, dual enrolled in Fair City High and an online private college. Dual British and American citizenship. Fellow villain, prefers musical theater pieces at villain karaoke. Attacks the city at an average rate of five times every three months. Specializes in standard bipedal robots, approximately forty feet tall. Has a crush on WordGirl, and–”
“A crush on WordGirl?” Mr. Big perked up. “Marvelous! We can help with that.”
She finally lifted her eyes, arching an eyebrow. “And why would we want to do that, sir?”
Mr. Big pressed a hand to his chest, beaming. “Is it so hard to believe I’m a romantic at heart, Leslie?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, so true.” Mr. Big gazed out the window, wistfully. “The only things in my heart are capitalism and squishy bunnies.”
The toy in his hand squeaked mournfully.
“But! Here at Mr. Big Incorporated, we specialize in giving the people what they want, even if they don’t know it! Especially if they can give us something in return…”
He chuckled, low and dark. “Prepare an invitation for WordGirl, Leslie. I’ve got an idea.”
Becky Botsford liked to consider herself a patient person.
She’d made it through nearly a decade of superheroing with remarkable self-restraint, all things considered. She’d even consider herself on good terms with the majority of her villains, juxtaposing views on legality aside.
But this was a bit too far.
“Uh, Beck-a-roo? You doing alright there?” Tim Botsford, sitting next to his daughter on the couch, wavered, like he didn’t know if he should edge towards or away from her.
Becky’s eye twitched. “Yup.”
“Buy, buy, buy!” An over-familiar, over-chipper voice on the television boomed out. “The Ultra-Thing is everything you never knew you needed! This simple white cube is the solution to all your problems, and is sure to make you the envy of friends and foes alike!”
“I’m sure the Pretty Princess and Magic Pony Power Hour will come back any second now, hun.”
“Uh-huh.” Becky’s balled-up fists began to tremble on her lap.
“This extremely enticing…” Tim’s voice trailed off for a moment before he shook himself, turning back to his daughter. “This extremely enticing commercial coming on in the middle of it was just a network error, I’m sure.”
“Why would you ever need to watch anything else?” Mr. Big’s voice continued, chipper. “The Ultra-Thing is all you need! In fact, you need The Ultra-Thing so badly that we’re going to continue broadcasting this commercial and nothing else as the cynosure of television until every single Ultra-Thing has been bought!”
“Gotta go, Dad.” She stood abruptly, small star-shaped cracks appearing in the floor under her heels. “School project.”
“Have fun, sweety,” Tim said absently, looking online to see if he could find anything else about this buy-thirty, get one free deal on The Ultra-Thing.
Outside, after a cry of “Word Up!” and a flash of golden light, WordGirl took to the sky.
(Bob, still struggling into his Captain HuggyFace tights behind some bushes, looked up and squeaked in dismay.)
“You’ve gone too far this time, Mr. Big!”
“Again with the crashing through the windows?” Mr. Big sighed, brushing himself off and standing. “We just got those replaced.”
“Well maybe you should have pontificated that before you interrupted the broadcast of my favorite show in the entire world!” WordGirl snapped, landing with a crunch on the shattered glass. “I mean come on!”
“Oh, it’s not like we would have actually made you miss it.” Mr. Big rolled his eyes, waving a hand towards his assistant. “Leslie is taping it for you.”
“Affirmative,” she said, only half-listening as she stared intently at the program.
“Ah, spoilers!” Becky flinched away, covering her eyes. “But what’s all this chicanery about, Big? Haven’t we done the whole The Thing before?”
“But this is The Ultra-Thing! Even better than each Thing before it!”
She crossed her arms, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow. “How so?”
“Um. Well, you see it… it has more stuff.”
“And by stuff you mean?”
“Things.”
“Right,” Becky sighed. “Leslie, is the show done taping yet?”
“Sure is,” Leslie said, holding up a DVD case.
“Cool, I’m just going to smash your mind-control commercial camera real quick then.”
“Wait!” Mr. Big threw himself before the camera, hands up. “Alright, you got me. We just wanted to lure you here.”
WordGirl paused midair, eyes narrowing. “Lure me for what?”
“Just an itsy bitsy tiny favor.”
“I don’t do favors for evil-doers, Big! At least not in the middle of battle!”
“Just one itty bitty thing!” Mr. Big clasped his hands together, imploring. “It’ll only take you like five seconds!”
“We’ve been over this, I’m not guest starring in a commercial.”
“Not that! Although, if you care to look at this new contract Leslie drafted up, you’ll see we’ve majorly sweetened the deal–”
Becky crossed her arms.
“–right! Not that!” Big brushed the glass of his office chair and sat down, lacing his fingers together. “Listen, Wordie, can I call you Wordie?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Anyway, Wordie, we need you to zip on over and kindly persuade that McCallister kid to lend us a few of his robots. They’re all the rage these days, you know. Do you think he can make one squishy bunny shaped?”
“You’d have to ask him, sir,” Leslie said, fiddling with the DVD case.
“Tobey? You want me to talk to Tobey? I can’t stand Tobey!” Becky cried. “He’s so smug. He thinks that just because he’s smart and handsome he can get away with murder! And he’s probably tried to!”
Mr. Big blinked. “Handsome?”
“This is going to be way easier than we thought,” Leslie muttered under her breath.
“I said exanthem!” WordGirl blurted, flushing. “Like a diseased rash, which is how gross he is!”
“Well then,” Mr. Big blustered, pulling a ray gun out from within his desk. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice, WordGirl!”
He fired, and she dodged easily, the green beam firing harmlessly into the wall behind her.
“Huggy!” She shouted, flitting up to the ceiling. “Enact emergency plan number two-hundred and fifty– Huggy?”
She turned, blanching when she saw her bare back.
“I knew I forgot something,” she sighed, then flinched aside as a green beam hit dangerously close to her nose.
“Now, now, WordGirl,” Mr. Big clucked. “We’re all reasonable… people? The monkey isn’t here, so presumably… but you’re an alien, so… people?”
“People is good, yeah.”
“Just checking.” He cleared his throat, leveling the ray directly at her. “We’re all reasonable people here, Wordie. Surely we can discuss this rationally?”
“Here’s my rationale for the situation, Mr. Big.” She grinned, sharp. “I win” – in a flash she was before him, the fortified metal of the ray crumpling like tissue paper beneath her grip – “you lose.”
“Leslie,” Mr. Big whined. “She broke the ray! Do something!”
“You told me earlier to maintain the commercial broadcast, sir.”
In the next second, the yellow blur flew straight though the mind-control camera.
“Leslie,” Mr. Big whined. “She broke the camera too!”
“Tragic, sir.” Leslie offered the superhero the Pretty Princess DVD. “You wanted this?”
“Thanks, Leslie!” Becky chirped, zipping over and plucking the case from her hand.
As soon as her hand closed around it, she froze midair, the dark brown of her eyes engulfed by a blazing lime green.
Mr. Big blanched. “Leslie? Did you…?”
The assistant took the case back, cracking it open to reveal several glowing green devices stacked together. “I figured we might need a backup plan.”
“Brilliant!” Mr. Big beamed, clasping her on the shoulder. “You deserve a raise for that one.”
She perked up. “Does that mean you’re actually going to give me one?”
“Ah, Leslie, that sense of humor is just another thing that makes you such a valuable assistant.”
“Right,” Leslie sighed, falling back into her bored slouch.
“Well then, WordGirl,” Mr. Big chuckled, stalking towards the girl. “Why don’t we tell you the real reason you’re here?”
“Sir,” Leslie said as they watched the superhero fly off in a blaze of light. “Have you considered that she’s going to absolutely murder you when the mindcontrol wears off?”
“Ah, you see, Leslie! I haven’t thought that far ahead!”
Meanwhile, across town, teen genius Tobey labors over another of his brilliant inventions.
Theodore Tobey McCallister III startled from his work, flipping his work goggles up onto his forehead as he squinted suspiciously at the ceiling. “Wait, why are you suddenly narrating me? Shouldn’t you be off gallivanting with–”
“Knock, knock.”
The voice was curiously flat, but Tobey would recognize those dulcet tones anywhere.
“WordGirl!” He whirled around, trying to smooth his hair with one hand and cover his evil blueprints with another. “So good of you to drop in! I do wish you had given me advance warning – not that you need to, of course, you’re always welcome, anytime! By all means, stop in whenever you have the slightest whim! – but I would’ve arranged tea for you! Oh, I can go brew some right now, if you wish? Or chess? Do you like chess? Not to drink of course, ha, but to–”
He cut himself off forcefully as she floated gracefully through his window, the corners of her mouth upturned, before coming to a stop all too close for him to properly breathe.
“Hello, Tobey.”
“I-er. Hello.”
Tobey’s skin felt too tight, suddenly, as if his blush was trying to break out from under it. “Did you, er– did you need something? It’s not like you to come by so unexpectedly.”
She just smiled, lips parting. “I just wanted to see you.”
Her voice was wrong, somehow, but he could scarcely hear it over the roaring of his pulse in his ears.
This couldn’t be real. But that was WordGirl! His WordGirl! Standing before him with her sparkling (love struck??) smile, her ruby lips, her dazzling green eyes–
Wait.
Green?
Those fine eyes Tobey had spent countless hours dreaming of were a brown so rich they were nearly maroon. They were warm and dark and decadent, shining with the very starlight their owner had come from. They weren’t, under any circumstances, green.
“What… chicanery is this?”
Tobey backed away, hand automatically flying to his master remote. Around the corners of the room, small orbital robots came to life with soft hums, hovering protectively around the perimeter.
“You’re not WordGirl. Who are you? Did Lady Redundant Woman make another copy?”
He pressed a button and one robot came flying at her head. She grabbed it, crushing it in her palm without ever tearing her love-struck gaze from Tobey.
“Chicanery is trickery or fraud for some personal or political gain,” she recited dutifully, without a hint of her normal satisfaction.
“Ah,” he said, trying to circle her, hindered by how she kept craning her head to meet his eyes. “Someone’s managed to replicate my darling’s intelligence and strength as well, I see. And–” One of the spherical robots scanned her, washing her form in a red net “–all thermal readings indicate something biological… no contacts either… Ha, it’s almost as if you’re actually– but no, that’s…”
His pacing slowed, halted. “Ah. Green. You haven’t been to see Mr. Big lately, now have you?”
“Mr. Big is wonderful,” she said, inflection soporific. “You should give all your robotic inventions to him.”
“Figures.” Tobey clicked his tongue. “Lady Luck never did favor me so.”
He continued circling her, scanning, but there was no telltale green pin affixed to her. “What were your instructions, anyway?”
“Tell him everything he wants to hear,” WordGirl said, voice so terribly flat. “Tell him everything he wants can be his, as long as he helps Mr. Big.”
Tobey swallowed. “Everything I want?”
She turned to him with those awful green eyes and smiled. “Everything.”
She was so close. He could feel the radiant heat of her, could see the fine lines of her skin, the chipped incisor from some battle or another.
“Even if it’s you?”
“Especially if it’s me.”
Slowly, Tobey reached up and cradled her cheek in the palm of his hand; his skin pricked everywhere it touched hers. She sighed, closing those strange green eyes, nuzzling into him.
Tobey's heart pounded against his ribs. He couldn’t get his lungs working properly.
“You’d do anything I wanted you to right now, wouldn’t you?” His voice was thick. “You’d let me do anything to you.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” WordGirl opened her eyes, looking up at him with the adoration he’d ached for ever since he was a child. “I love you.”
Tobey’s knees went weak under him. He had to stumble backwards, bedside coming as a surprise as he abruptly sat. WordGirl, unphased, curled up next to him, gracing his shoulder with her helmeted head.
Letting out a slow, shuddering breath, Tobey reached into one of his myriad of pockets and clicked on the tape recorder he typically used to record notes for the many iterations of his experiments. “Say it again,” he breathed. “Please, darling. Say it again.”
“I love you.” She wrapped both her arms around one of his, her entire body pressed against his side. “I always have. I’ve loved you since we met. I love you more than anything, Tobey.”
And just when he felt his resolve buckle, just when he lifted his hand to rest atop hers, she turned to him and smiled, green eyes glowing.
Ah.
Right.
Tobey’s hand stilled.
“Do me a favor, my dear?”
“Anything.”
“Close your eyes.”
Her smile flickered brighter, impossibly more luminous, and she closed them obediently, softening her mouth and tilting her face towards his – anticipatory.
Clenching his hand into a fist, Tobey disentangled himself, everywhere she had pressed against him now searingly cold.
“I have something to tell you,” he said, and tried to memorize the softness of her expression, tried to remember how it felt to have her look incandescently happy with him. In his pocket, he clicked the recorder off.
“WordGirl, I… I adore you. Truly, madly, ardently. Your passion for words, your determination to make this ridiculous city we live within a better place, how adamantly you pursue justice – I adore all of you. However irritating some things may be when I’m just trying to take my robots for a nice stroll through a few skyscrapers. I adore you for your beauty, but I– I cherish your mind, your kindness so deeply. You’re the very cynosure of my existence. You can see the good in anyone. Even me. And I- I love, I love…”
Her eyes opened, and, just for a second, he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of dark brown within the green.
“Tobey,” she breathed, and his chest went tight.
“Well, one day–” Tobey cleared his throat, standing and brushing himself off with shaking hands. “–I’m going to truly tell you… that. All of it. But not until after I’ve properly won your heart. This… this is just cheating. One of my favorite things to do, granted, but…”
He offered her a hand, and she took it, floating up and hovering before him.
“You deserve much better than this, my darling. This isn’t what you want now, but mark my words, it will be someday. But don’t fret. I’ve become quite a patient man.”
He let go of her, flexing his hand.
“Now, come along.” He whirled around in a flutter of his lab coat, pulling out his master remote. “I think we owe our dear friend Mr. Big a visit.”
The pounding of robotic feet against the ground shook the entirety of Fair City.
Dogs howled, car alarms sounded as vehicles were flattened, helpless fire hydrants smashed to bits, sending water spraying through the streets as an army marched for the headquarters of Mr. Big Industries. And on the shoulder of the leading robot, a sixteen year old genius stood, the love of his life hovering beside him.
“You know,” he mused, “I’ve fantasized about terrorizing this city with you quite a bit. Rather fun, isn’t it?”
WordGirl’s smile was automatic, empty. “So have I.”
He laughed uneasily, stomach curdling. “Now I know you’re lying, dear.”
Their robot lurched to a stop, the others filling in around it until the skyscraper was completely surrounded.
“Tobey, isn’t it?” Mr. Big beamed through the shattered window from his leather chair, fingers steepled. “I take it you liked our little invitation.”
“Don’t act like we didn’t see each other at villain karaoke last week, Big.” Tobey narrowed his eyes. “And I wouldn’t classify this as an invitation.”
“A gift, then.” Mr. Big waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not one for semantics.”
“Unfortunately for you, we engineers tend to thrive in the details.” Tobey held out a hand, and WordGirl reached for it, her palm slotting oh so perfectly into his own. “And this… this isn’t the hero I know and lo– loathe.”
WordGirl squeezed his hand, and it took everything in Tobey to let go.
Mr. Big laughed, eyes shifting. “Oh, sure she is! Just a little more…”
“Brainwashed?”
“I’m not sure I’d put it like that.” Mr. Big shook himself, plastering on a smile. “So, what do you say about that deal I’m offering? I think we could have quite a time.”
“Oh, WordGirl told me everything. I heard you wanted robots, Mr. Big.” Tobey gestured broadly. “Well, here they are.”
“Not quite what I had in mind.”
“The turnabout seems fair, then.”
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Big demanded, stamping his foot. “I gave you what you wanted!”
“You gave me a facsimile. I want the real thing, and I’ll have her, without your help, someday.” Tobey’s eyes glinted dangerously. “I wonder if taking down the madman who brainwashed her would grant me a point of favor.”
Mr. Big paled, backing away slowly. “You wouldn’t. What about the villain code?”
“Last I checked, villains broke rules.” Tobey widened his stance, pulling a familiar remote from his pocket. “Robots, ATTACK!”
And the world went up in smoke.
When Becky snapped back into herself, the headquarters of Mr. Big Industries was already crumbling.
“Wha–?” Becky scanned the area, frantic. “Leslie?”
“WordGirl,” the blonde, perched casually atop nearby rubble, nodded. “You didn’t happen to see Biggie, did you? I tried to get him to come down with me, but you know how he is.”
“What are you talking about? We were just all upstairs–” She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. “What did you do to me?”
“Mind control.” Leslie snorted, wiggling the Pretty Princess DVD case still in her hands. “I mean, have you not read the company‘s mission statement?”
“Did I bring you down here? I don’t… I don’t remember.”
“No, I left as soon as I heard the robots coming. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.”
“That what wasn’t going to– oh.”
The sight before her was almost comforting in its familiarity; Tobey, atop one of his robots, eyes alight with manic energy behind his now-octagonal glasses, head thrown back as he laughed. The dust and rubble in the air softened the afternoon light, casting hazy slants of sunlight across his cheeks – spotted with freckles and acne.
A hand-print shape on her cheek tingled.
“I… I missed something, didn’t I?”
“I think we drove that poor boy insane.” Leslie snorted. “Here’s your recording, by the way.”
Leslie held up the case, and Becky looked at it, eyes narrowed. “Open it up first.”
Leslie sighed, opened the case and scraped out several green, glowing disks, then handed it to the superhero.
“Can’t blame a villain for trying.”
“Oh, I certainly can.”
“H-hang on!” Mr. Big’s voice pressed in on the edge of Becky’s hearing. “We can discuss this!”
“Hold that thought,” Becky said, and WordGirl zipped into the crumbling building.
“Oh, come on, Big,” Tobey was cooing as his robot’s eyes lasered craters in the ground, dangerously close to where the other villain was standing. “You’re so good at telling other people what to do. Can’t take a bit of fair play?”
“Collaboration offer rescinded!” Mr. Big bit out, between jumping from one nearly-stable point on the increasingly precarious floor to the next. “Leslie, tell our lawyers to draft up a strongly worded email!”
After a beat (and a laser getting particularly close to his leather oxfords), he turned, frowning. “Leslie– oh!”
His shoe slipped, and he plummeted down with a strangled scream, Tobey gleefully waving after him, until a golden blur zipped in.
“In my defense,” Mr. Big, dangling by his suit collar like a cat dangling by the scruff of their neck, said, looking up at WordGirl, “it seemed like a very good idea at the time.”
“And this is why we need our friendly neighborhood WordGirls not mind controlled.” Becky dropped him onto the rubble-strewn floor gracelessly, before turning her ire on the other villain.
“Tobey, were you just going to let him fall?”
“Of course not,” Tobey said, even as the robot whose hand he stood in nodded. But the teen genius couldn’t even spare a glance for Mr. Big; he was busy grinning, unabashed, pale blue eyes gazing into hers like they were a wonder. “WordGirl, It’s really you!”
Becky snorted. “Last time I checked.”
“Please, allow me to accompany you somewhere more tasteful.” He jittered back, making room on the robot’s hand for and gesturing to it with something suspiciously like a bow.
“I’ll fly, thanks.” In a flash, she had Mr. Big by the scruff again, hovering next to Tobey. “Someone has to keep an eye on him.”
Still she hovered beside him as the robot lowered Tobey to the ground. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, smiling to himself, and for whatever reason, something in her stomach fluttered every time she caught him.
“So…” She coughed, flushing. “Is anyone going to inform me what happened or do I have to conjure up some fabrication myself?”
“Well–” Mr. Big started, then immediately stopped as Tobey drew a line across his neck.
“Huh?” Becky blinked, and Tobey snapped back, beaming at her.
“Nothing at all, darling!”
She leveled him a look.
“Okay, I believe Big sent an… altered you over to convince me to give him some robots.” Tobey sniffed, tugging at his bowtie. “And obviously I don’t give my babies over to just anyone, so I had to give a polite refusal.”
“Yeah, and then your boyfriend over here–”
“–HE’S NOT MY–” “–I’M NOT HER–”
The superhero and villain started and stopped at the same time, sending everyone into awkward silence as the robot’s hand hit the ground with a clang.
“Right.” Mr. Big tilted his head. “Then your– McCallister here showed up, ranting and raving about how it wasn’t the you he want–”
The robot’s eyes began glowing red.
“– the real you, and he started punching my building! Do you know how much money it takes to fix the biggest building in Fair City?”
Second biggest!
Mr. Big leveled a glare at the sky. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered sullenly, drowned out by the sound of incoming sirens.
“Geez, Leslie,” Mr. Big said, conversationally, as they were loaded into the police car. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone as oblivious as those two.”
“Oh,” she said, looking at him steadily. “I think I have.”
“Really?” He tilted his head. “Who?”
From the other side of the lot, a voice rang out. “Theodore Tobey McCallister!”
Tobey’s face went ashen.
“Oh, um, hello, mother!” He turned around with a frantic smile, an American accent suddenly layered over his voice. “Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it?”
“You are in a world of trouble, young man.” She snatched him by the ear, dragging him off, heedless of his protests and complaints.
“Mrs. McCallister!” WordGirl called, and the McCallisters turned, surprise in Claire’s eyes, something dangerously like hope in Tobey’s. “Don’t go too hard on him. He wasn’t the cynosure of this.”
She blinked. “Cynosure?”
“Oh, cynosure means the center of attention or the guide of an event. For example, Mr. Big was the cynosure of this battle, since he started it, not Tobey.”
She came alive when she defined words, eyes sparkling with starlight and voice tripping and trilling with delight, in a way no mind control could ever replicate. And all Tobey could do was stop and stare, until she turned that smile on him. “Tobey really helped me out, actually.”
Claire blinked, releasing Tobey’s ear. “Is this true, Theo?”
“I…” His voice went soft, typical accent lilting at the edges of his words as he gazed at the superhero. “I just knew I couldn’t do anything else.”
“In that case…” Claire cleared her throat, laying a large hand on her son’s shoulder. “Come along. You can tell me all about it in the car.”
“R-right!” He turned, even as his mother trundled him along, and waved to Becky. “Bye!”
And, despite herself, Becky raised a hand and waved right back.
When Huggy pulled up in a cab, five minutes later, her brows were furrowed, one hand pressed to her cheek.
He scampered up, squeaking furiously.
“Oh, there you are, Huggy!” She scooped him up in a hug, burying her face in his soft fur. “I’m so sorry! I never would have gotten mind controlled if you were there.”
He shrieks.
“I’m fine, I promise! Tobey actually… he saved me.” She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Are you warm? I’m warm. Let’s get out of here.”
He chirped, climbing on her back, but she didn’t move.
He tugged on her cape, but she had that far-off look in her eyes, a hand pressed to her cheek like she was trying to replicate something. “Hm? Oh, I'm fine, I just…” A small, unconscious smile tugged at her mouth.
“I think I’m forgetting something important.”