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“Ay, bella di zio,” Angelo called as he tromped up into my living room, “you got a secret admirer?”

My uncle sounded unusually cheerful, and he roused my curiosity. I pulled on some scruffies—a tank top and an old pair of jean shorts—and a pair of slippers and padded out of my bedroom.

“No secret ones,” I yawned, “just James.”

Angelo sniffed. “This is not from Jimbo,” he noted. “Where is the boy, anyways?”

“I sent him home, last night,” I said, “I needed my beauty sleep.”

Angelo didn’t quite guffaw. Even with my hair tousled and dressed in my jammies, my power pretty much guaranteed that sleep wouldn’t substantially enhance my already-augmented attractiveness, and Angelo knew it.

He looked at me a little closer. “You were out again last night, weren’t you?”

I shrugged. I was, but it was an old argument and I didn’t feel like getting into it, today.

Angelo pursed his lips. “I thought Jimbo was supposed to put some meat on your bones,” he said. It was another old argument; apparently, Angelo just wanted to grump at me… or about James, anyways. He liked my boyfriend, but he was firmly convinced that James wasn’t good enough for me. To be fair, I’m pretty sure he was convinced no one was good enough for me, so there was that, too.

“I’m not exactly starving,” I pointed out, giving my left arm a light flex and making my biceps pop.

Angelo frowned. “You are too skinny,” he said, “and too muscular. Boys do not like girls with muscles.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I agreed placidly, “boys don’t. Fortunately, James does, and he’s the one that counts.”

Angelo looked like he was getting ready to make another argument, so I held up a hand, stopping him. “You said I had a secret admirer, right?”

He harrumphed good-naturedly. “Someone left a package on your doorstep,” he said, “and there’s no return address.”

My eyes lit up; I’m rich, but I still love getting presents. “Oh yeah?” I said. “Gimme!”

He put the brown-paper-wrapped package on the table and I about pounced on it.

I didn’t smell anyone I knew other than Angelo; there were no easily discernable fingerprints. I could already tell there was nothing toxic or hazardous inside, although I did smell plastics, cardboard, and various esters that defined certain commercial inks.

I peeled back the outer layer, revealing the brightly-wrapped package underneath. The paper was neatly folded and taped; I smelled the oils of human hands, so I was fairly sure it hadn’t been machine-wrapped, but I still didn’t recognize the scent. The paper was red, white, and gold, which was something of a clue, although not a conclusive one. Still, I had suspicions, and the person I was considering could certainly have arranged for minions to do her dirty work. Further, she knew how good my senses were from first-hand experience; if she wanted it to be a surprise, she’d also know what she had to do to make it happen.

The package wasn’t huge—about the size of a shoe box, actually, and she’d been trying to get me to update my footwear for a while, now—but it felt surprisingly heavy, and the weight distribution was wrong for heels.

I finished unwrapping the box, and it turned out to be—as I’d suspected—a shoe box, white with fine golden diagonal stripes. I suspected they were, in fact, real gold. Her distinctive symbol was embossed on the top along with the legend, “Quantum Toys.”

I giggled. I knew what was in the box, all of a sudden. I finished opening it and pulled out the blister pack. There I was, a 1/5th scale model in my costume and a pretty decent fighting pose. I flipped the card over and saw that this was the first model off the production line, number 00001. “Ambitious,” I muttered, and Angelo came over to look.

“That is not bad,” Angelo remarked with obvious approval.

“Pull the stunnade to hear her speak?” I commented, reading off the back. I didn’t remember us discussing that option.

Angelo produced his jackknife and I used the sharp blade to finish opening the package.

I pulled the model out- she must’ve weighed a good five pounds, and she was sturdily built; I had no doubt that she could stand up to a fair amount of abuse before she would break, and I approved of the construction.

I tugged on the stunnade and there was pleasing resistance; the cord was fairly heavy-duty, too, and wouldn’t snap easily. I was pretty sure a determined adolescent could break it, but it wouldn’t happen by accident.

The cord retracted back into her body and I heard my voice. It wasn’t just a recording; it was actually a synthesized voice, accurate down to my voiceprint, and I was suddenly glad I didn’t rely on my voiceprint for security.

Then I registered what she’d actually said.

“Es el tiempo de clobberin’?!” I repeated.

Okay, that was a surprise. Not so much the content of what she said—after all, as Tyche I had a reputation of being a sort of vigilante tough chick—but…

“I speak English, Italian, Greek, Japanese, and Thai,” I noted, listing them off for my uncle. He knew that already, as he’d taught me Italian and Greek, but he nodded. “I read and write sacred and secular Latin.”

He nodded again.

“So, explain it to me: why is this doll speaking Spanish?”

**********************************************************************************************

I blame .

He wanted a picture of his OC, Comet Girl, done up as an action figure and sold in a blister pack. Well, naturally, he caught wind of 's Quantum-Publishing's Black Friday Sale!:iconlady-quantum: :iconsaysplz: Hiya!
Today through Cyber Monday 11-27-2017 at midnight PST (USA) we will be taking rendering commissions of people's OC's, super heroes and heroines for the Annual Black Friday Sale!
Who, or WHAT is Quantum-Publishing you ask? GOOD QUESTION!
We are the dynamic duo of :iconlady-quantum: and :iconwhisakedjak: who have formed a partnership to fight crime, right wrongs, and...wait...um...uh...do...renders? (Jak promises that LQ will be the only one doing the first two parts of this... )
So...let's get down to the nitty gritty...how much is it gonna cost? That's what you're really thinking, right??? (Which most of you are thinking, as close to free as humanly possible! ) HOWEVER...we can't do that...we still need to eat. (Well Jak does, I just need stuff for DAZ, and the occasional bottle of wine. ) SO, in an effort to provide the poor teacher with money, AND me with wine, as well as give you all a cool discount, we'v (check it out while you still can!) and got a cheap commission to get it done. Of course, having seen what she looked like, and I couldn't leave it alone, which is where this figure came in.

Go on, admit it- she's awesome. Even better, you can get one of your very own- well, at least, you can get a picture of your OC hero or heroine (or villain or villainess, or just about any other OC you want) made to look like a doll... (If you actually want a doll, that would cost a bit more, but we can arrange that, too...)

Tyche and her minime belong to .
Rads & Radicals and belongs to .
Quantum Toys belongs to , the producer of the art on this page.

Description

“Ay, bella di zio,” Angelo called as he tromped up into my living room, “you got a secret admirer?”

My uncle sounded unusually cheerful, and he roused my curiosity. I pulled on some scruffies—a tank top and an old pair of jean shorts—and a pair of slippers and padded out of my bedroom.

“No secret ones,” I yawned, “just James.”

Angelo sniffed. “This is not from Jimbo,” he noted. “Where is the boy, anyways?”

“I sent him home, last night,” I said, “I needed my beauty sleep.”

Angelo didn’t quite guffaw. Even with my hair tousled and dressed in my jammies, my power pretty much guaranteed that sleep wouldn’t substantially enhance my already-augmented attractiveness, and Angelo knew it.

He looked at me a little closer. “You were out again last night, weren’t you?”

I shrugged. I was, but it was an old argument and I didn’t feel like getting into it, today.

Angelo pursed his lips. “I thought Jimbo was supposed to put some meat on your bones,” he said. It was another old argument; apparently, Angelo just wanted to grump at me… or about James, anyways. He liked my boyfriend, but he was firmly convinced that James wasn’t good enough for me. To be fair, I’m pretty sure he was convinced no one was good enough for me, so there was that, too.

“I’m not exactly starving,” I pointed out, giving my left arm a light flex and making my biceps pop.

Angelo frowned. “You are too skinny,” he said, “and too muscular. Boys do not like girls with muscles.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I agreed placidly, “boys don’t. Fortunately, James does, and he’s the one that counts.”

Angelo looked like he was getting ready to make another argument, so I held up a hand, stopping him. “You said I had a secret admirer, right?”

He harrumphed good-naturedly. “Someone left a package on your doorstep,” he said, “and there’s no return address.”

My eyes lit up; I’m rich, but I still love getting presents. “Oh yeah?” I said. “Gimme!”

He put the brown-paper-wrapped package on the table and I about pounced on it.

I didn’t smell anyone I knew other than Angelo; there were no easily discernable fingerprints. I could already tell there was nothing toxic or hazardous inside, although I did smell plastics, cardboard, and various esters that defined certain commercial inks.

I peeled back the outer layer, revealing the brightly-wrapped package underneath. The paper was neatly folded and taped; I smelled the oils of human hands, so I was fairly sure it hadn’t been machine-wrapped, but I still didn’t recognize the scent. The paper was red, white, and gold, which was something of a clue, although not a conclusive one. Still, I had suspicions, and the person I was considering could certainly have arranged for minions to do her dirty work. Further, she knew how good my senses were from first-hand experience; if she wanted it to be a surprise, she’d also know what she had to do to make it happen.

The package wasn’t huge—about the size of a shoe box, actually, and she’d been trying to get me to update my footwear for a while, now—but it felt surprisingly heavy, and the weight distribution was wrong for heels.

I finished unwrapping the box, and it turned out to be—as I’d suspected—a shoe box, white with fine golden diagonal stripes. I suspected they were, in fact, real gold. Her distinctive symbol was embossed on the top along with the legend, “Quantum Toys.”

I giggled. I knew what was in the box, all of a sudden. I finished opening it and pulled out the blister pack. There I was, a 1/5th scale model in my costume and a pretty decent fighting pose. I flipped the card over and saw that this was the first model off the production line, number 00001. “Ambitious,” I muttered, and Angelo came over to look.

“That is not bad,” Angelo remarked with obvious approval.

“Pull the stunnade to hear her speak?” I commented, reading off the back. I didn’t remember us discussing that option.

Angelo produced his jackknife and I used the sharp blade to finish opening the package.

I pulled the model out- she must’ve weighed a good five pounds, and she was sturdily built; I had no doubt that she could stand up to a fair amount of abuse before she would break, and I approved of the construction.

I tugged on the stunnade and there was pleasing resistance; the cord was fairly heavy-duty, too, and wouldn’t snap easily. I was pretty sure a determined adolescent could break it, but it wouldn’t happen by accident.

The cord retracted back into her body and I heard my voice. It wasn’t just a recording; it was actually a synthesized voice, accurate down to my voiceprint, and I was suddenly glad I didn’t rely on my voiceprint for security.

Then I registered what she’d actually said.

“Es el tiempo de clobberin’?!” I repeated.

Okay, that was a surprise. Not so much the content of what she said—after all, as Tyche I had a reputation of being a sort of vigilante tough chick—but…

“I speak English, Italian, Greek, Japanese, and Thai,” I noted, listing them off for my uncle. He knew that already, as he’d taught me Italian and Greek, but he nodded. “I read and write sacred and secular Latin.”

He nodded again.

“So, explain it to me: why is this doll speaking Spanish?”

**********************************************************************************************

I blame .

He wanted a picture of his OC, Comet Girl, done up as an action figure and sold in a blister pack. Well, naturally, he caught wind of 's Quantum-Publishing's Black Friday Sale!:iconlady-quantum: :iconsaysplz: Hiya!
Today through Cyber Monday 11-27-2017 at midnight PST (USA) we will be taking rendering commissions of people's OC's, super heroes and heroines for the Annual Black Friday Sale!
Who, or WHAT is Quantum-Publishing you ask? GOOD QUESTION!
We are the dynamic duo of :iconlady-quantum: and :iconwhisakedjak: who have formed a partnership to fight crime, right wrongs, and...wait...um...uh...do...renders? (Jak promises that LQ will be the only one doing the first two parts of this... )
So...let's get down to the nitty gritty...how much is it gonna cost? That's what you're really thinking, right??? (Which most of you are thinking, as close to free as humanly possible! ) HOWEVER...we can't do that...we still need to eat. (Well Jak does, I just need stuff for DAZ, and the occasional bottle of wine. ) SO, in an effort to provide the poor teacher with money, AND me with wine, as well as give you all a cool discount, we'v (check it out while you still can!) and got a cheap commission to get it done. Of course, having seen what she looked like, and I couldn't leave it alone, which is where this figure came in.

Go on, admit it- she's awesome. Even better, you can get one of your very own- well, at least, you can get a picture of your OC hero or heroine (or villain or villainess, or just about any other OC you want) made to look like a doll... (If you actually want a doll, that would cost a bit more, but we can arrange that, too...)

Tyche and her minime belong to .
Rads & Radicals and belongs to .
Quantum Toys belongs to , the producer of the art on this page.