Reyes. A lover’s quarrel, perhaps, or another meltdown from the former child star? Is another trip to rehab far off for Konrad?
Ree read the article three times, wavering between anger and worry. Just what I don’t need: attention. It’d be hard to snoop around the city with paparazzi following her hoping to get exclusive dirt or access to Jane.
She closed the message, scanned the rest of her email, and very deliberately didn’t make the rounds through the TV-focused sites she followed.
One thing at a time , she thought. She looked up and noticed that the DVD menu had looped around again, so she put the laptop down and pressed play.
• • •
As the credits started rolling, Ree’s mind was bursting with the magical energy of the film, the power of change, the metaphors made real. Ree controlled her breathing and focused on Raven’s story for the film: her sense of alienation, her totally obvious crush on the equally oblivious Xavier, and her desire to truly belong.
She’d discovered that for emulating a character and their power, the more she empathized with the character, the better off she was. So watching the whole film was way more effective than just watching a Raven Darkholme badass reel.
Ree closed her eyes and held an image in her head that she’d had up on her laptop the whole time during the movie, that of Pearson Patriot reporter Kelly Dominguez.
She’d met Kelly once before the press panel, at a launch party for a webseries a friend of a friend had been involved with. Between that one meeting, the press panel, and Kelly’s video reviews, she hoped she’d be able to do a passable enough job of impersonating the reporter to get onto the set and try to dig up some information, maybe even talk to Rachel MacKenzie in person. Any other magic on-set would be bug-frak-crazy, so it’d have to be strictly recon, in and out. Plus, the charge wouldn’t last long enough for anything else. Ree bet that a full-body change like this would drain the battery way faster than the kinds of powers where she just tapped the energy for bursts, like she did with Buffy, the Matrix, and the like.
Energy rippled across her body. Her hair grew longer, her face shifted, nose and mouth and jaw settling into new positions. Her torso shortened and grew more curvy, going from twig-like to rubenesque. She walked to the bathroom and checked herself in the mirror.
Yep, it worked. Kelly Dominguez looked back at her from the mirror, complete in the media professional outfit she wore in one of the Pearson Patriot team profile pictures and a press badge dangling hilariously above her ample cleavage. Ree stretched out, feeling the differences and marveling at the weird awesomeness of being in someone else’s body.
Note to self: Don’t do this too much. It could get creepy.
Plus, if she wanted to, with this and some other tricks, she could be one hell of a criminal. Not that impersonating a member of the press wasn’t already on the gray side, but it’s not like she was going to take up a career as a cat burglar.
Though there are also the kinky possibilities , her libido offered.
Down, girl. Work now, play later , she told herself, trying to stay present in the moment.
The clock was ticking on her X-Mojo, so she gathered up a purse (with a lightsaber, a sonic screwdriver, and Magic: The Gathering cards for escapes, counterspells, and assorted one-off fixes) and headed out.
• • •
After a twenty-minute subway trip, Ree turned onto the corner of Pearson Plaza and zoned in on the signs of the shoot. She power-walked her way over, annoyed that Kelly was the kind of woman who wore three-inch heels as a matter of course.
Ree kept her eyes open as she closed in on the production, futzing with the press badge around her neck.
A young Middle Eastern woman in a black T-shirt, sunglasses, and cutoff jeans stopped her at the edge of the shooting area.
Ree presented her press badge, trying to look like she’d
Ree read the article three times, wavering between anger and worry. Just what I don’t need: attention. It’d be hard to snoop around the city with paparazzi following her hoping to get exclusive dirt or access to Jane.
She closed the message, scanned the rest of her email, and very deliberately didn’t make the rounds through the TV-focused sites she followed.
One thing at a time , she thought. She looked up and noticed that the DVD menu had looped around again, so she put the laptop down and pressed play.
• • •
As the credits started rolling, Ree’s mind was bursting with the magical energy of the film, the power of change, the metaphors made real. Ree controlled her breathing and focused on Raven’s story for the film: her sense of alienation, her totally obvious crush on the equally oblivious Xavier, and her desire to truly belong.
She’d discovered that for emulating a character and their power, the more she empathized with the character, the better off she was. So watching the whole film was way more effective than just watching a Raven Darkholme badass reel.
Ree closed her eyes and held an image in her head that she’d had up on her laptop the whole time during the movie, that of Pearson Patriot reporter Kelly Dominguez.
She’d met Kelly once before the press panel, at a launch party for a webseries a friend of a friend had been involved with. Between that one meeting, the press panel, and Kelly’s video reviews, she hoped she’d be able to do a passable enough job of impersonating the reporter to get onto the set and try to dig up some information, maybe even talk to Rachel MacKenzie in person. Any other magic on-set would be bug-frak-crazy, so it’d have to be strictly recon, in and out. Plus, the charge wouldn’t last long enough for anything else. Ree bet that a full-body change like this would drain the battery way faster than the kinds of powers where she just tapped the energy for bursts, like she did with Buffy, the Matrix, and the like.
Energy rippled across her body. Her hair grew longer, her face shifted, nose and mouth and jaw settling into new positions. Her torso shortened and grew more curvy, going from twig-like to rubenesque. She walked to the bathroom and checked herself in the mirror.
Yep, it worked. Kelly Dominguez looked back at her from the mirror, complete in the media professional outfit she wore in one of the Pearson Patriot team profile pictures and a press badge dangling hilariously above her ample cleavage. Ree stretched out, feeling the differences and marveling at the weird awesomeness of being in someone else’s body.
Note to self: Don’t do this too much. It could get creepy.
Plus, if she wanted to, with this and some other tricks, she could be one hell of a criminal. Not that impersonating a member of the press wasn’t already on the gray side, but it’s not like she was going to take up a career as a cat burglar.
Though there are also the kinky possibilities , her libido offered.
Down, girl. Work now, play later , she told herself, trying to stay present in the moment.
The clock was ticking on her X-Mojo, so she gathered up a purse (with a lightsaber, a sonic screwdriver, and Magic: The Gathering cards for escapes, counterspells, and assorted one-off fixes) and headed out.
• • •
After a twenty-minute subway trip, Ree turned onto the corner of Pearson Plaza and zoned in on the signs of the shoot. She power-walked her way over, annoyed that Kelly was the kind of woman who wore three-inch heels as a matter of course.
Ree kept her eyes open as she closed in on the production, futzing with the press badge around her neck.
A young Middle Eastern woman in a black T-shirt, sunglasses, and cutoff jeans stopped her at the edge of the shooting area.
Ree presented her press badge, trying to look like she’d
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