Stephanie (Talia Version) (Patreon)

The following short story was written at 4am after a burst of absurd inspiration (you can find receipts for this on the Sanctum Discord). There will be another Mind Blind short story later this month as well which will be slightly more serious, but I wanted to share this one as well because the concept made me giggle. I adore Valero so dang much.

STEPHANIE

Stephanie Valero absently chewed on a strand of her hair that had made its way into her mouth. Being decisive had never been her strong point, although Kim had once claimed that she was “unexpectedly competent” when pressed for time. But if she had the space to dwell on a dilemma, to examine it from all angles without that burst of adrenaline that came from working under a time constraint . . . well, she often got stuck. As she was now.

Her hand reached towards the Limited Edition Justice Holo Card, only to be hastily pulled back before it could touch the foil illustration. The card distributer, an upperclassman whose name Stephanie couldn’t recall, had scolded her the last time when she’d accidentally left a thumbprint on the unpurchased goods. No, there was no touching allowed until the card of her choice was selected and paid for.

The paying part wasn’t hard. Despite the high quality of the UCRT Trading Cards, their mysterious creator didn’t price gouge. At least, Stephanie didn’t consider the prices to be unreasonable. She’d gladly part with fifty dollars to own a full set of Shirtless Fortitudes. In fact, she already had seven Shirtless Fortitudes. Did she really need another?

Stephanie glanced to the Limited Edition Justice Holo, and then back to her other option: Shirtless Fortitude 13A, “Fortitude In Repose.” She didn’t know who took the photographs for these cards, but she’d give her soul to learn how they managed to get a picture of the infamously private Grayson Black asleep and shirtless on his couch at home. Unless the photo was staged? That made sense, and honestly the prospect made Stephanie feel a bit better about her hobby (which her mother had called . . . no, best not to dwell on that). Stephanie liked the idea that every card she bought directly supported a hero—or more likely, a charitable cause that they backed. And Fortitude looked so at peace in the card’s depiction, so content, that simply gazing at it made her smile.

But, again, she already had seven Shirtless Fortitudes. And that Justice Holo was a limited edition. Not to mention a foil.

“Valero, right?” the salesman drawled.

“Present!” Stephanie squeaked before mentally kicking herself. Roll call had ended hours ago; she was on her lunch break, not in class.

The upperclassman snickered. “Cute, but I’m not Rosy. No need to reach for the sky in surrender when I call your name.”

“Yes! I mean, sorry!” Stephanie resisted the urge to bow in formal apology. Why was she always so dang awkward? She could feel her cheeks burning red, but the upperclassman was graceful enough not to further acknowledge her embarrassment.

“Look,” she said, “you’re a good customer. You’re having trouble picking between the Limited Edition Justice Holo and Fortitude 13A, right?”

Stephanie nodded mutely.

“How about we make a deal then? You buy both, and I’ll throw in a copy of Justice: The Early Years.”

Stephanie’s eyes widened. “I thought they were all sold out.”

The upperclassman shrugged. “For you, I’ll scrounge one up.”

She paid for her purchase with trembling hands, careful to hold each card by its edge as it was handed over. “Thank you so much,” she breathed.

Stephanie left Aeon that day feeling content, which wasn’t an emotion she often experienced after Kim was done yelling at her. Justice and Fortitude were protected in the breast pocket over her heart; she couldn’t wait until the day when she became a good enough MIV to help them in person.

* * * *

Later that evening, Glitch rubbed her hands together in glee. To the casual bystander, she rather resembled a malicious leprechaun leering over her pot of gold. Truthfully, however, she hadn’t possessed any ulterior motives when she’d first befriended Ellery Wiseman. No ulterior motives related to starting a card trading company, at least. Never in a million years would she have anticipated being able to leverage their relationship into a cool million dollars (minus Ellery’s share, of course).

Ellery had initially been reluctant to hand over the family baby albums, but their reticence had faded after the first sales numbers came in. The demand for UCRT Cards had been sky high from the moment that Glitch had started printing them, and The Early Years Editions sold like, well, even hotter hotcakes. It helped that Nick had agreed to sit in on a single signing session, scrawling his signature across the acetate depiction of himself, age two, in Mighty Ducks pullups.

But the successful run of The Early Years would pale in comparison to this next batch that Glitch had just dropped off at the printers. Ellery had just shared years of Halloween photos, all with Nicholas Wiseman wearing next to nothing. And if she could convince Nick to sign a few cards while wearing that Tarzan getup from two years ago? Why, Glitch would never have to work again.