Turn 5

--- Maya ---

Even after finishing out a different project and getting a night of sleep, the buzz of creativity her brother had instigated the day before, had yet to settle.

Forgoing breakfast for the time being she moved to her computer and began typing, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as a tune began to hum from the whispers in the back of her mind.

She’d grown use to the whispers when building or programming, enough so that she didn’t really think on them too hard, just listened to their advice as they told her the secrets to the universe.

This though, this was different.

Usually she was the hand of the voices, piecing together their directions to try and bring marvels she could just barely understand into reality.

This time however, she was the one directing things, she understood everything the whispers were telling her, or rather they were telling her exactly what she needed for what she wanted, rather than all of the unnecessary background information that she could barely recall.

By itself, this made her M.A.D. state feel more like she was making art, instead of the frantic fervor that made up the rest of her inventing.

But while she was inventing, this meant she worked twice as fast as she usually did, remembered twice as many of the secrets the whispers had given her, and that she figured out how to conduct sound into the symphony of her programs.

---

As she finished out the last of the program she was working on, and she noticed the whispers of inspiration beginning to fade back into the shadows of her mind, a curious question came to mind.

“Why are you two so different from the other voices?” She asked the space around her.

(Whatever do you mean?)

“Like, you two are different from the rest of the voices in my head. You’re not like the whispers going on about plans, questions, and what I need to do next.” She tried to elaborate. “And you guys don’t really fill in the blanks on whatever I’m building like they do.”

(Well, I like to think I fill in the blanks on your survival instincts.) Her inner reason stated plainly.

(But survival instincts are boring!)

“No, you see this is what I mean though.” She interrupted before the two could go off on another tangent. “I’m tinkering, building, or anything like that and yet you two are still talking. Yet I can’t actually hear any of the other voices right now.”

(Hmm… I suppose that is a little curious…) Her inner logic admitted.

(No, voices and whispers are two completely different things!) Her more childish self stated as if it were obvious.

“Different how?”

(Voices are louder than whispers, and whispers are subtler than voices.)

(That’s… She’s not wrong, but…)

“That’s not quite what I was looking for.” She finished for herself as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

(Well, it’s what I got.)

Forcing down her irritation, she decided to try coming at this from a different angle. “So, I know we already talked about how you guys are parts of my personality, but how exactly are you different from me?”

(I’m tons of fun, and she’s no fun at all.)

(I’m your survival instincts, she’s your recklessness.)

(Well, I guess that’s one way to answer that question…)

(Two ways.) Her inner child (un-)helpfully pointed out.

“Alright, well then… what exactly do you two want? I mean you’re stuck in my head, so… I don’t know.”

(Well, we’re you. So, I suppose we want what you want.)

(Porn and adventure?)

(…)

She tried very hard not to blush at the awkward silence in her own head.

(Okay, we admittedly want different things that you want…) The… more modest voice reasoned carefully. (What I want us if for us to survive and succeed whatever this world throws at us.)

“Well, I can get behind that.” She admitted.

(What about my stuff?)

“No comment.”

---

Eventually after a long, migraine-inducing, talk with herself, she ended up wandering downstairs and into the kitchen to grab a late breakfast/ early lunch. (It’s formally called a brunch.)

And as she sat down to eat, she couldn’t help but look out the door to the backyard and notice Izzy going through a number of katas and forms as she practiced (how to break someone’s legs!)

(Not all martial arts are about breaking people’s legs.)

(Just the fun ones!)

Ignoring her other-selves’ bickering she continued to watch her sister as she ate, before slowly coming to the realization that, (if we’re going to be fighting crime, we should probably learn how to actually fight.)

(And how to break their legs!)

(Well, Izzy is taking three different martial arts classes…) Her more logical half reminded. (Perhaps she’d be up for offering a few pointers.)

(On how to break legs?)

Shaking her head clear, she cleaned up her mess before heading over to her sister.

“Hey, hermanita!” She called, once outside.

Izzy paused what she was doing to give her a curious look. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you, uh, you wanted a sparring partner.” Maya explained, as she walked towards the practice mat.

Izzy blinked, “Uh, aren’t you…” Her sister coughed into her hand. “Do you even know how to fight?”

“Of course.” She waved off her younger sister’s concern. “Just because you’re the one who likes to fight doesn’t mean mom and dad didn’t make sure the rest of us knew how to take care of ourselves.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you know how to handle a real spar.” Izzy pushed, though the fact that she was making space for Maya on the mat was telling.

“Look, I’ll be fine,” She assured her sister, as she stretched her arms out, “After all I know Mortal Kombat.”

“Dios mio.” Izzy shook her head as she took her stance with a smile on her face. “I am going to kick your butt so hard.”

Let it be known Isabella Williams is not a liar.

---

Laying in a pile of agony and humiliation, she waited for the bruises from the twenty-three consecutive times she’d gotten her ass kicked by her younger sister.

(Well… No one can call us a quitter at least.)

(Really they can’t.)

“You two aren’t helping.” She grumbled, too tired to care about the fact that Izzy was watching.

“May’ve kicked your butt a little too hard.” Izzy admitted without an ounce of guilt.

“Izzy! Maya!” A voice shouted happily, before something shadowed her view and began licking her face.

“Down girl, down.” She ordered, spitting out and wiping off the drool from her face.

(Eww!)

It was of course the moment she got her face clean that thirty-five pounds of toddler decided to jump on top of her, to the audible amusement of her other younger sibling.

“Oof!” She gasped, before taking in a shaky breath as she wrapped her arms around her brother. “Seamus.”

“Maya!” Seamus greeted back happily.

“And what are you up to today?” She asked, trying to ignore the way her little brother had exasperated the bruises left by her little sister.

“Playing!”

She gave the boy a curious look. “Oh, and what are you playing?”

“Superhero!” Seamus answered bouncing, in a way that forced her to set him down or suffer. “And Missy ‘s my sidekick!” The boy told her pointing to the family’s pit bull who was happily watching the proceedings.

“Oh, well if you’re going to play superhero, then you know what you need?” She asked in a serious tone.

“What?”

“A supervillain!” She declared, striking a dramatic pose.

“Maya you’re a supervillain!” Seamus gasped.

“I’ve considered it.” She admitted, seeing no reason to lie to the soon to be pre-Ker. “That said…”

Spinning in place she struck another pose as she pointed dramatically as Seamus. “You shall not thwart me today-” She leaned in and asked. “What’s your superhero name?”

“Seamus!” Her toddler brother shouted with a giggle.

Dropping into a crouch she gave her brother a look. “Okay, I’m going to level with you kid. We need to workshop this hero name of yours.”

Bouncing back into a pace, she began unleashing a filtered stream of thoughts from the depths of her own madness. “You see, a name is an identity, a mask, a persona, that influences who you are. As such you need something with a certain gravitas. A title to empower you, and allow you to reach to heights you could never achieve with your mortal name, as forever etch it into the legends of history!”

She turned back to her little brother who was watching with the appropriate amount of awe. “You understand?”

“Yes!” Seamus nodded happily.

“Then…” She coughed into her hand before once more striking a pose. “You shall not thwart me today-” She gave Seamus a look.

“Captain Seamus!”

“Right…” She trailed off.

(Remember, the dear hasn’t even started school yet.)

“Right… I know that…” She shook her head, before once more resetting her appropriately dramatic pose. “You shall not thwart me today Captain Seamus and…”

“Miss Missy!” Seamus filled in.

“Miss Missy!” She finished, trying very hard not to cringe as she played along for her brother.

(Just wait, we’ll be dealing with proper professionals soon enough.)

“Today me and my minion,” She grabbed Izzy before she could escape, “shall reign victorious!”

“Don’t drag me into this…” Izzy whined.

“Do it or I’ll tell mom you beat me up.” She hissed back quietly.

“You told me to!” Her sister shouted indignantly.

“Mom doesn’t know that.” She pointed out, despite both knowing full well their mother would punish both of them for actually fighting, rather than just going through katas.

Izzy glared at her. “I defect!”

Maya couldn’t help but blink. “What?”

“I defect.” Izzy broke out of Maya’s grip and walked over to Seamus’s side. “I’m a good guy now.”

“Yay!” Seamus cheered.

(Death to the traitor!)

“No! Betrayed by my own minion!” She cried, taking a dramatic step back. “I knew I should have gone in on those robo-minions!”

She paused as she fully processed that line. (Huh, you know that’s not a bad idea all things considered…)

Sadly, this revelation did very little to change the fact that their game was three vs. one, given how voices in the head do not count. -(Hey! I totally count!)- Meaning, for the second time that day Maya was thoroughly trounced by her younger siblings.