A few days ago I mentioned the Shadowline/Image ‘create a superheroine’ contest. Which I didn’t win. Hey ho. So, here are my three entries for your entertainment. Your thoughts are very welcome. I may yet do something with these concepts another day, should the world of comics open up to me…

TROUBLE MAGNET

There is zero way that I can be pregnant. The last time I even saw a naked man was when I caught Bishop Simian trying to pass himself off as a howler monkey at the city zoo. Before that, I don’t like to think. Well, OK. That party the Action Faction had for their new HQ? I did lock tongues with some random mutant, but I swear there was spandex covering everything that matters. Dad says I shouldn’t have called myself Trouble Magnet, but if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have inherited the powers and everything — if you can call making being really unlucky work for you a ‘power’ — and as far as I’m concerned that includes the name. And I so don’t have the time for dealing with a foetus. Not when The Fabulist is threatening to mesmerise all of Nixburgh into voting him Mayor on a ‘Repeal the law of averages’ ticket. But hey, I’m a tryer. The Chronicle called me feisty the other week. Even if they did print a picture of that bitch Sheila-Na-Gig.

ZOMBINA

Being undead, you get to find out who your friends really are. Some of them haven’t come near me since I came out, others have been real supportive. Like Wayne, who’s been so compassionate I could throttle him, but hasn’t once touched me since it happened. Which is one more reason for me to get revenge on Commander Skull, once I figure out how. Having the powers of a corpse and an appetite for flesh doesn’t give me much latitude when it comes to dealing with a full-blown supervillain. But I’m pissed, I’ve got contacts on the undead scene, and I know just where the bonehead bastard will be tomorrow night, which might just give me the edge I need to take him down. I’ve even got a name, Zombina, and a costume, to help me feel I’m up to it. Wish me luck, huh?

INAMORATA

A friend told me once that ‘your greatest strength is your greatest weakness’. Then he tried to kiss me. Which was maybe the fifth time that day someone had tried to taste my tongue. ‘Inamorata: to know her is to love her’ is the line the papers tend to run when I crop up. Which I do quite a bit because, well, they love me just like everyone else. Making the business of finding someone I might actually want to love a bit of a drag. And now Canis Rex is on the scene, I have icky proof that I don’t just appeal to humans. He’s threatening to conquer the planet if I don’t consent to be his queen. And if I do marry him, he wants to give me the planet as a gift anyway. Which gives you some idea of the predicament I’m in.