“Oh, that’s right baby. Work it, work it! Show the camera some love baby. Camera’s got some daddy issues and he needs more lovin’, Ashley-style.” The camera flashes over and over again as I shield my eyes. What the heck is wrong with this guy? “Come on baby, what you doing? People think I’m taking pictures of comatose people here. I need action shots baby, action shots.”

I turn my foot left and then right, wrinkle up my toes, tap my heel against the floor…I’m not really sure what he’s looking for here. Geez, this is a new low for me: foot modeling.

I suppose some introductions are in order first, actually. My name is Ashley Crawford, and by day I’m Wisconsin’s biggest supermodel. When I’m not on the clock, however, I'm Wisconsin's biggest superhero; I go under the alias of Big Bertha and work alongside my teammates, the Great Lakes Avengers. As the only member of the Great Lakes Avengers with a steady paycheck, I’m also the one who supports the team’s functions; without me, the GLA wouldn’t be able to afford to exist, literally.

While you may think supermodeling really rakes in the dough, and to an extent it does, it hardly fronts the bill for running an entire superteam; the rent on the apartment, the grocery bills, hospital bills…etc. Trust me, it’s not cheap. So while I preferred, in the past, to keep my modeling on a classier scale, I’ve found meeting the bills harder and harder lately. And so, here I am, modeling my feet for this perverted weirdo, Fernando Jewels, the “top photographer” for Foot Magazine. God, I don’t even want to think about their clientele.

“Come on baby, I’m asking for sexy feet and you’re just giving me regular feet.” Fernando lowered his camera and narrowed his eyes at me. He flung his red shawl over his shoulder, whipped his long brown ponytail through the air and let out a deep sigh.

“You know what? I’ve had enough of this. I’m done here.” I quickly slide some socks over my exposed feet and storm off the set, much to the chagrin on Fernando. I can hear him yelling something after me but I’m still far too furious to listen to anything he's saying. I’m a little chilly, so I throw a blanket around myself and stare into the mirror as a million-dollar face stares back. Short, but well-kept electric red hair sits atop a slender, pretty face. Sparkling blue eyes rest on either side of a delicate nose, all perched as atop thin red lips which, at this point, are frowning.

As strange as it may sound, its’ sometimes hard to believe that this beautiful face is my own; with the few heroic deeds and many mishaps and bumbles the GLA has had, when I crack open the newspaper over the years I see Big Bertha’s bloated face staring back at me just as often as I see Ashley Crawford’s modeling-worthy mug. You see, my mutant power allows me to adopt super strength and invulnerability anytime I want, but at a price: my body mass finds itself skyrocketing. While this look may be great for superheroing, it’s not so great for modeling…unless I suddenly have the urge to model for some BBW website, which I don’t.

“She’s the hottest supermodel this side of Lake Erie! You can take your business elsewhere, but I promise you, you’ll never find anyone who compares to Ashley!” That’s my agent Antonio, chewing off Fernando’s ear. He really is the best agent a gal could ask for. He doesn’t quite understand my plight and where all my money is going to, but he’s supportive.

“Your girl may have the face of a princess, but she has the feet of a witch!” Fernando twirled his ponytail around, smacking Antonio across the face as he stormed out of the set. As he walked past me he made sure to cast a nasty look in my direction before proceeding out the exit. I simply stare straight ahead as he slams the door behind him, and then turn my attention to Antonio.

Antonio holds his hand up to his cheek where he was just smacked by the man’s hair, chuckles slightly, and then begins to walk towards me. He smiles warmly as he approaches, opens his arms wide and sighs. “What are we going to do with you Ashley?”

I smile back and shrug my shoulders. “I’m sorry about that back there Antonio. It’s just humiliating…One minute I’m in the midst of a thousand dollar photo-shoot, next thing I know I’m headed over here to take pictures for a foot-fetish magazine. I don’t like it one bit.”

“I hear ya Ash, but it’s like I’ve been telling you all along…you’re just too big for Milwaukee. You’d be much better off in New York, LA, Miami, wherever. You’d be raking in the millions in a day. Over here in Milwaukee, well…you’re just a very big fish in very small pond.”

“I know Ant, I know…But I can’t leave Milwaukee.”

Antonio sighed and rubbed his temple with his hand. “I know, I hear it all the time Ashley. Just think about it though. It’ll be the best thing that ever happened to your career. I understand there might be some things holding you back here in Milwaukee but, sometimes, you need to just learn to let go.”

“All right” I say, flashing a smile, “I’ll think about it.”

August 5th 2001

“Well, ummm…I’m sure you all know why you’re here today. Each one of you responded to my newspaper article about forming a brand new superteam and, well, here we are today.” The skinny, blonde young man standing before us all scratches the mop of hair atop his head nervously. He’s wearing a rather silly looking blue and red costume with a giant white block down the middle. I’m not quite sure what the significance is. I look around and see the other weirdos who have gathered here with me today; to my left is a man who appears to be completely two-dimensional, right down to his neatly cut brown hair, though excluding his glasses which, due to the lack of any lenses, seem to be completely decorative; next to him is a man who is completely black, as dark as night, except for his startlingly bright white eyes…he’s kind of creepy, honestly; finally, to my right is a giant pink…dragon thingy…in a white leotard. I instantly begin to wonder if I made the correct choice in coming here today.

As a supermodel, I have a cushy career and probably never should have entertained the idea of superheroing in the first place. But, ever since I was a young teen, I’ve always had to hide this other side of me that emerged: Big Bertha. I found that I had the ability to drastically alter my body weight and, with it, my strength. And ever since then Bertha’s just been dying for an excuse to come out. When I saw Craig’s newspaper article, I just couldn’t resist the overwhelming sense of adventure. But now that I’m here…I have my doubts.

“So, does anyone have any questions?” Craig asks, looking around eagerly. I realize that he must have been talking for the past few minutes but I didn’t hear a word. Damn you inner monologue!

“I have one!” I shout out, raising my hand and hoping to brush over the fact that I hadn’t been paying any attention at all. “So, what did you say we were gonna call ourselves? The Milwaukee SuperTeam or something?”

Craig smiles and shakes his head, the wild blonde faux-fro whipping back and forth. “No, no, no Bertha…it was Bertha, correct?” I nod as he continues, “You need to dream big Bertha!”

I’m a little taken aback by Craig’s enthusiasm and anxiousness. I tend to wear my emotions of my sleeve however, so I quickly try to recuperate and sputter something back. “Oh…ummm…ok…how about the Champions of Wisonsin?”

Craig chuckles. To my left I see the flat man turn to the shadow man with a puzzled look on his face. The shadow man nearly squints his eyes and shrugs. “Bigger Bertha, bigger!”

Wow, is this guy for real? We’re just a few average Joes looking for some thrill-seeking after work (these guys do work, right?). We’re not real, honest-to-goodness superheroes here. “I…I really don’t know then”, I say, with mixed shame and skepticism.

Craig grins from ear to ear, placing his hands on either side of his hips. “Why, we’re going to be the Great Lakes Avengers, of course!”

“Here, here!” shouts the flat man, raising his fist in the air. The weird pink dragon thing begins to clap ferociously and slowly the shadow man begins to join in, looking a little confused.

I, too, slowly begin to clap, though rather halfheartedly. “Are we really authorized to use the Avengers name?” I inquire. Nobody seems to have heard me however, as they are all caught up in the excitement of the moment. I feel a deep sinking sensation in my stomach. What exactly have I gotten myself into this time?

Present Day

I slip into my red, heeled shoes and throw a sweater around my shoulders. Even during the summer, it always manages to get a little chilly late in the day here in Milwaukee. I’ve lived here my entire life, born and raised. As much as I can’t imagine myself ever leaving Milwaukee, I also can’t help but mull over Antonio’s words. He’s right, of course, and there’s really no denying it. Milwaukee may be known for their beer, cheese and sub-par baseball, but they’re certainly not known for their modeling. I could be making a killing over in New York or California…

I hop into the front seat of my car, a 2008 Corvette which I never, ever let any of the other GLA members drive. I love them and all but you just have to draw the line somewhere, right? Ok, so I don’t spend all my money simply financing the GLA, but a girl has the right to spoil herself every once in a while, I say.

It’s as I’m speeding down the highway that it hits me, the whole severity of the situation. Sure, Fernando was a jerk and a weirdo, but I really needed that paycheck. I’ve been having a hard enough time of it as it is making ends meet. Am I going to have to sell my Corvette just to pay the bills? It’s pretty much the only thing I have…

I shake my head as the wind whips through my hair. No, I’m just going to have to put my foot down and make the others get some jobs. No more of Val’s excuses that he’s discriminated against because he’s flat. We live in a post-mutant society; for Christ’s sakes, there’s a new one popping up every second! In a world where Maggot can find a line of work, I think Flatman can get a job at the local Burger King.

I adjust my rearview mirror and see my reflection through my rose-tinted sunglasses. Then again, it would be nice to see this face plastered across billboards all around Times Square. Like Antonio said, sometimes you just need to learn when to let go, even when it’s hard…

January 12th 2002

Ok, I admit it…I’m enjoying myself. The GLA is the most fun I’ve ever had and, since I joined five months ago, I’ve really started to warm up to the whole crew…except that bitch Dinah Soar. She keeps making fat jokes. Craig seems to be crushing on her hard though, so I don’t have the heart to break it to him. But, Dinah or no Dinah, the Great Lakes Avengers have truly been like a second family to me. Craig, DeMarr and Val are the three best guys a gal could ask for and, sure they may be a little nerdy, but they sure beat the stuck-up crew I usually meet during my modeling gigs. Best of all, they haven’t once tried to get me drunk and attempt to seduce me back to their apartments. Sure, it helps that we all live in the same apartment, but it’s nice to deal with some actual gentlemen for once.

As we take off down the road in Flatman’s infamous “Flatmobile”, I lean back and grimace a little. The cold January air is coming in through the window and whipping me in the face. The harsh chill is a raw kind of pain. Unfortunately, the window doesn’t roll up for some reason (just one of the perks of the GLA) so I’m forced to endure it. I chuckle to myself under my breath. We really are the world’s most low-budget superhero team and I can’t help but find myself loving it. Sure, the bills are starting to sap me a little dry as, thus far, I’m fronting the cost of the team for them. The rest of them are unemployed and I have money to spare thanks to my modeling gigs. I really don’t mind too much though and, besides, they all swear they’re looking for jobs and should be employed real soon.

“All right guys, listen up.” From the passenger side seat of the car, Craig glances at Val and then turns around to face the two of us in the back. Dinah (that whore) is flying above us and thanks to their “secret link” Craig doesn’t need to fill her in on the plan. We still don’t have the heart to tell him their link is a lie. “Word on the street is that Stilt-Man is attacking a construction, just five blocks south of Main Street. We’re not sure what his motives are but apparently the site is where they’re building that new shopping center. We need to go in, shut the Stilt-Man down and rescue any hostages and civilians. And remember, let’s make Hawkeye proud!”

Hehe, Hawkeye…sometimes it’s hard to believe that we’re sponsored by an actual Avenger! Not to mention he’s a really cool, and kind of cute, guy. He and Mockingbird are always willing to lend a hand whenever they’re in town (which, granted, isn’t often but, hey, that’s what we’re here for isn’t it?) In spite of ourselves, the GLA might actually make a difference in Milwaukee. Someday, we might even be household names!

We screech to a halt at the construction site and I instantly spot Stilt-Man…he’s kind of hard to miss. Wilbur Day is this guy’s real name, at least according to Wikipedia. He’s got a giant, silver suit that’s installed with some sort of telescopic legs which allow him to reach massive heights. The suit also imbues him with moderate superstrength but, let’s face it, it’s basically a glorified pair of stilts, hence the name…

“What seems to be the problem here officers?” asks Craig, casually walking up to a police officer as he rapidly fires his gun up at Stilt-Man.

“Wh-What? Who the hell are you guys?” he screams over the clamor, continuing to shoot his gun up Stilt-Man.

“We’re the Great Lakes Avengers, sir” shouts back Craig, the smile still plastered across his face, “And I assure, you we’re here to help.”

“The Avengers, eh?” says the officer, obviously intrigued. “I didn’t think the Avengers gave a shit about anything not located on a coast. Well, we sure could use your help as you can see…” He pointed skywards towards Stilt-Man, who brought his iron fist crashing down through an I-beam.

“Well, we’re not technically Ave…you know what, nevermind. Just tell us anything you can about what’s going on here.”

“Well, about 10 minutes ago this lunatic here showed up on the scene. He flew into a rage, we’re not quite sure why, and started smashing up the construction site. Biggest problem is, there’s still construction workers trapped up there.” He points towards the top of the unfinished building, where one can barely make out figures running rapidly, this way and that.

“All right officer, we’ll do our best” says Craig, shaking the man’s hand. He turns to us and his voice grows more serious. “All right gang, this is really our moment to shine. Bertha, Val and I are going to work on taking down Stilt-Man while Dinah and DeMarr work on making sure those construction workers get down safe. Now, everybody in.” We all nod and place our hands into the center of our huddle. “Great Lakes Avengers…..ROLLOUT!” shouts Craig as we all throw our hands skyward and charge forward.

At first it seems as though Stilt-Man doesn’t even notice us but, as he takes a step backwards and completely crushes Craig underfoot, he notices the sickening crunching noises and looks down at us. Val and I continue to charge forward hoping that, as usual, Craig will be all right.

“Why can’t you wannabe heroes just let me be?” he roars, his eyes glowing with pure rage. “I came out to Milwaukee to get away from you people!” He brings his fist swinging down but Val is able to easily maneuver his paper-thin body out of the way.

“What are you doing this for, Stilt-Man?” shouts up Val as he narrowly dodges another one of Day’s attacks.

“Why???” he shrieks back, as though the answer was obvious to all. “Because they’re building a mall without a Big & Tall Men’s store! I’m tired of the discrimination that we tall people face in America!!!”

For a brief moment I contemplate debating the logic of this flawed statement with a man who chooses to wear a height-enhancing suit but, before I can attempt to calm the lunatic down, he reaches down and swiftly scoops me up. Damn, the suit really does enhance his strength…picking up me in my Bertha stage is no easy task. He brings me up to face level and smiles an evil smirk. “Bye-Bye” he shouts menacingly, before sending me hurtling through the air. I smack into one of the I-beams and the wind is temporarily knocked out of me.

As I struggle back to my feet, I hear a desperate cry for help to my left. I stagger for a moment and quickly realize that I’m standing atop the uncompleted structure. I seem to be at the absolute highest peak and down below I can see Doorman helping some civilians escape and Flatman attempting to avoid capture himself. Afraid to move too much I turn my head to the side and look for the source of the cry. Sure enough, a man in a hardhat dangles desperately from the edge of the beam, screaming for help.

Despite my fear of falling off myself, I begin to notice the man’s fingers slipping. I’m itching to jump back down into the fray but Doorman is very clearly occupied. I look skyward and find no sight of Dinah. Figures… I can only hope that she is busy bringing some of the other stragglers up here down to safety. Knowing I have to act quickly, I make a desperate lunge and grab a hold of the man’s hand, as I find myself lying sprawled across the beam.

“T-th-thank y-you…” the man stutters as he looks up at me, tears welling in his eyes. He then turns his sight downwards to the ground far, far below and lets out a whimper. “Please don’t let go”, he adds.

“Trust me”, I assure him as I groan, trying to grit my teeth against the pain and strain, “I have no intention of letting go.”

Though I know it’s merely seconds, minutes at most, that I lay there tightly gripping the man’s hand, it feels like hours to me. From my position there’s no way I can lift him up and the pain that the beam causes as it digs into my side is becoming absolutely unbearable. My only hope is for Doorman or Dinah to get here soon…

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Val leap into action, twirling himself Stilt-Man’s giant stilt legs. He tries to take a step forward but immediately begins to come crashing down. Nice one Val! Unfortunately it seems I celebrated a little too early, as he’s coming this way…His armored suit clangs against the side of the structure, nearly sending me flying. Thankfully my weight keeps me grounded and, for now, we’re safe. However, my feet are dangling off the edge and I can feel myself slowly slipping backwards, finding it especially hard to maintain my grip.

“Please…please…I want to see my family.” The man had burst into absolute tears at this point as he looked upwards at me, his eyes pleading me to bring him to safety.

It was hard for me to look him in the eyes but I forced myself to do it. “Don’t worry, sir. A true hero never gives up. I’ll sit here all day if I have to.” I force a smile despite the fact that I can feel my grip slipping quickly now. This sure was going to come down to a photo-finish… Now where the hell are DeMarr and Dinah? Never mind them, I need to focus…I can’t let go…never let go…

Present Day

I realize that, as hard as it may be to accept, Antonio is right and I need to force my hand. Postponing it and drawing it out isn’t going to suddenly make it any easier. Ties need to be cut… I pick up my phone and dial.

“Hey, what’s up?” is the cheerful answer. I can’t shake New York from my mind… I know it’s a big risk but... I need to say it.

“I…well…I…”

“Are you okay, Ash?”

“I need you to go ahead and cancel all my future photo shoots Antonio” I quickly blurt out, like peeling off a bandaid.

“Wait a second”, comes Antonio’s confused voice, “Are you feeling okay, Ash? Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I take a deep breath. “I’ve never been more certain in my life, Antonio. Cancel all my future plans. It’s like you said: sometimes, no matter how hard it is, we just need to learn to let go. I’ll keep in touch Antonio.”

I hang up the phone, lean back in my seat and let out a long, deep sigh. I slowly run my hands through my hair and look back up at the road ahead. I find myself in the same position I did almost seven years ago….wondering if I made the right choice. Well, it’s too late to wonder now. I push down hard on the gas pedal and peel off towards my home and my family.

NEXT ISSUE: What the fuck is your problem? I'm not going anywhere, you're just some roided out freak with a fucking clipboard. And your stupid little fucking rope! You know what, you may have power now but you are not god. You're a doorman, okay. You're a doorman, doorman, Doorman, Doorman, DOORMAN, so... Fuck You! You fucking fag with your fucking little faggy gloves.