Yvonne finished up with her last client at six in the evening, and then stayed behind and wrote her progress notes concerning the counseling session. When she was done twenty minutes later, she left the clinic and biked to her apartment near Lake Merritt.
After taking a shower, she wrote some more client notes for the people she saw during the past week. Each of them came from different walks of life, had different issues, but were similar in that they were all low income and poor. Her client caseload was diverse as well: individuals from various races, different faiths, and different genders.
A few of them were Native American like herself. Specifically, she was Navajo and Apache, and in her late twenties. She was a tall woman, 5'11" in height, and had a thick, muscular build. Her black hair was shoulder length, and her skin a native brown.
She didn't believe in favoritism, but cared about her Indian clients very much. Some of them were around her parents' age and she sometimes looked up to them as parental figures. Some of their mannerisms, gestures, and histories reminded her of her mother and father. It may be their smile, their nod, their laugh, or a twinkle in their eye that would make her think of her folks. Sometimes her eyes would get watery. One thing she was very good at was not mixing her professional life and personal life together. Sure, she'd offer a client a ride somewhere sometimes, but that was as far as she went. Yvonne saw too many of her coworkers suffer from burnout because of doing too much for their clients. She learned a lot from them.
When she was done with the charting, she pushed her glasses up her nose and yawned. It had been a long day. But it wasn't over yet. She went to her room and started packing for her camping trip. As she did so, she looked at the posters on the walls. Most of them were for Indian political causes and marches. Equal rights for indigenous peoples, empowerment for women of color, powwows, feminist demonstrations, anti-war rallies, and environmental protests. She had helped coordinate many of these events, and was proud of her work and achievements in the native community. She believed there was still a long way to go. In fact, this Saturday she and several other Indian coworkers were coordinating an Indigenous People's Day event in Berkeley.
As an Indian woman in the twenty-first century she was still angry at the injustices and discrimination her race had suffered. That's why she attended as many protests as she could and tried to involve herself politically as much as possible. Yet there was another side to her that was very positive and calm. That part of her yearned for a nice, long vacation.
Yvonne drove up north and camped for the next few days.
It was warm and muggy as she fished in a river. In the late afternoon, she set up her tent. During the middle of the night, she was awakened by a loud thud, as if something heavy had landed on the ground. Getting out of her sleeping bag, she threw on some clothes and grabbed her flashlight.
Walking barefoot, she followed a trail of smoke and ashes that led her near the river where she had been fishing earlier. On the bank of the river was a giant, glowing orb. It was the size of a car. Her sleepy eyes immediately widened at the intriguing sight, at the pulsating white light. The clear ball had made quite a depression in the dirt. A low, monotonous hum emitted from the orb.
"What the heck is that?" she whispered to herself, stunned.
She approached the orb slowly and cautiously, her bare toes wet from walking on the damp earth near the water. There was nothing inside of it, and when she pointed her flashlight at it there was no reflection. Pushing her glasses up her nose to study the object more carefully, she suddenly realized she was being drawn toward the ball by some unseen force.
Yvonne resisted fiercely, trying to pull herself away, but the force seemed too powerful. It was like trying to run in water. She eventually dropped the light, and wound up clawing and kicking as the energy slowly sucked her into the orb.
Her screams echoed in the night.
When she woke up, she had the biggest headache. She'd kill for some aspirin or Tylenol. It felt like a giant rock was sitting on top of her brain. As she struggled into a sitting position, she discovered she was still at the river bank but now it was morning. Strangely, she was butt naked and shivering from the cold. When she got up, her head swirled around and around and she vomited. She felt like her head was going to explode. It was not a pleasant feeling. She puked a few more times before forcing herself to get up.
Massaging her forehead, she had to get her bearings. Her glasses were intact, perched over her nose. After remembering where her campsite was, she walked in that direction. Fortunately, everything was still there including her vehicle. She quickly threw on some spare clothes and took a couple of aspirin. Minutes later, her head felt a little better but not completely.
What was that thing? she kept wondering. Why did it suck me in? She had already checked her body and found no unusual cuts, bruises, or wounds. Most importantly, she examined her private body areas and everything was okay as far as the naked eye could see. The only thing that bothered her was the lingering headache.
Yvonne began packing her belongings, and soon left, totally puzzled.
She checked various news sources but found no stories involving weird orbs or the like. She also considered calling the police but then decided against it. The whole thing was just too freakishly bizarre. Her headache eventually disappeared and everything was back to normal at the clinic. It was Tuesday, and in addition to seeing her usual clients, she also facilitated a women's support group for depression, as well as one for substance abusers.
The day was busy and hectic, and after her support group for substance abusers was over, she felt her hands get warm. They soon got very hot to the point where she had to race to the restroom and run cold water over them. She sighed in relief, looking at her red hands. After turning off the water and drying them, she felt them get hot again. Holding them palms up, her jaw dropped open when she saw a fireball materialize and hover above each hand. They were the size of a grapefruit.
"What the hell. . ." she said, staring at them. When she turned her hands palms down, they disappeared. Flipping them over again, the fireballs reappeared. She repeated this motion a few more times, and the balls would always come back when she had her hands palms up. "This is so freaky." With the fireballs still active, she said, "Turn off," but nothing happened. "Turn fireballs off." Nothing. "Deactivate fireballs." Nothing.
She played around with this bizarre new phenomenon for a while, and then discovered she could make the balls vanish with a simple mental command. If she wanted them back, she used her mind to will them into action. She smiled. "Cool."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the restroom door. "Everything all right in there?" her coworker asked.
"I'm fine." Or am I?
Several days later, she and her colleagues coordinated the Indigenous People's Day event in a park in downtown Berkeley. There was live music, Aztec dancers, various political speakers, and great food. Free Leonard Peltier signs were everywhere, including ones that said, Columbus did not discover America. She ate some fry bread and tamales as she sat on the grass, chatting with different friends and acquaintances from the community. Afterwards, she got on stage and made some announcements before introducing a tribal drumming group.
Following the event, she accompanied a friend as he walked his dog. As they approached the intersection, his dog got excited and started running across the street.
"Justin!" her friend said.
She saw a car coming fast towards the dog. Yvonne started running after him, and before she knew it, she was flying in the air. She swooped down and grabbed Justin before the car slammed on its brakes. Then she landed safely back on the sidewalk, with Justin in her arms.
The look on her friend's face was just as stunned as hers. "What the hell was that?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"Hey, lady, are you from the circus?" asked the motorist.
Still in awe of her powers, Yvonne drove to an empty field and practiced her flying technique, as well as the one for the fireballs. The orb must've caused all this, she thought. What was it? Was it from another world? She had no answers but figured she was stuck with these talents for a while, and might as well use them for good causes. Like perhaps for the empowerment of her people. That was an idea. How about for the empowerment and mobilization of women of color? That was another good one. She kept brainstorming. To fight crime and criminals! She could be the first Native American superhero, she thought with amusement.
When she returned home, she thought about a costume. She laughed, appalled at how ridiculous and foolish the super heroine concept was. She was surprised she was even thinking of an outfit! But for some reason, she found it intriguing, it was something to kill the boredom. After pondering for a while, she drove to a costume shop in Berkeley and bought a bird mask that covered half of her face. When she got back to her apartment, she put it on and then stripped naked. Studying herself in the full length mirror in the bathroom, she nodded.
"I like it," she said. She looked at her large brown breasts with their big, dark nipples, at her giant, shaved pussy, and her big, shapely ass. Her thighs and calves were huge and muscular, not to mention her arms. "It's different and I like it."
She tackled her first case one Saturday afternoon as she was flying naked in the skies over Oakland. She witnessed a violent carjacking on Mandela Parkway and followed the car. Moments later, she landed in front of the vehicle and it braked immediately.
"What the. . .?" asked the driver, a thin, gaunt white man.
"It's a frickin' naked woman!" laughed his partner, a stocky black man. "Man, look at the size of those hooters. And her cunt, it's huge!"
"This is nuts." The driver honked the horn angrily. "Get the hell out of our way!"
Yvonne didn't budge, looking at them from behind her bird mask, her black hair touching her shoulders. "This BMW doesn't belong to you, gents. So get out."
"Go to hell, lady!" the driver said. "Now get outta the way before I run you over."
"Try."
"Don't test me, lady."
"Try," she repeated calmly.
The gaunt man slammed on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward. Before it had a chance to even touch her, she stopped it dead in its tracks by pressing her hands down hard on the hood. The man pounded the pedal again. The engine roared and the wheels spun, but the BMW didn't move an inch. The distinct smell of burnt rubber was in the air.
"I suggest you gentlemen get out of the car," she said firmly.
They obeyed. "Can't believe we got stopped by a beautiful naked woman," the stocky man said.
"I ain't buyin' any of this," his partner said, pulling out a gun. He aimed it at her.
Oh, shoot! she thought. What about firearms?
