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It'd been a night or so after the “puppy scare” that Jezebel woke up feeling rather...uncomfortable. Her usual pajamas – a pair of purple sleeping pants and a t-shirt – weren't fitting correctly around the arms and legs, and her feet were decidedly cold. Sitting up, the toddler looked down at her feet in surprise, seeing them poking out of the covers.

The night before, Jezebel'd been easily covered by her blankets and her pajama bottoms had been a tad too large. Now, apart from one leg that was rolled up to her knee anyway, the toddler could clearly see a large portion of her ankles. This was enough of a problem to bother her parental unit about.

Standing up and trying to force her shirt down from where it'd ridden up to the top of her tummy, the girl surveyed her room. It was dark, but she could see her night table and a glass of water that was usually on it. The water was half drunk already – probably from when she'd first woken up that night – and the table seemed so much shorter.

Whipping her brown hair out of her eyes, the girl dashed down the hall, tripping over her own feet in a few unladylike manner a few times. Since Kerrigan liked her privacy, the girl had to pound on her mother's door to get the woman to get up and unlock it. The woman had weird sleeping habits so it took a couple of loud shouts before much progress was made.

“Mom! MOM GET UP!” Jezebel shouted firmly, pounding with her somewhat bigger fists till a very sleepy Kerrigan opened the door.

“Whasshoupfer?” came the reply from the messy head of pink hair peering at her from a darkened room.

“Mom, my pajamas don't fit right.”

“Didye roll your pantleg down agin?” the woman asked, rubbing at her eyes and trying to stifle a few yawns.

“Yes, Mother.” Jeze grumbled, glaring up at Kerrigan's face through her hair. While she'd previously barely come up to the woman's thigh, she was now at almost chest level with her mother, and Kerrigan was starting to get up enough to notice.

“You hadddddddddaaa growf spurt.” Kerri said in as matter-of-fact a tone as one can do while yawning and stretching.

“Yeah I realized that Mom. What do I do?” Jeze was exasperated. Her mom wasn't a morning person, or a middle of the night one for that matter.

“Merf.” Kerrigan shuffled away from the door and a few bangs and bumps were heard as the woman walked over to her dresser and looked in it for a few minutes. After a bit, she came back with a pair of silky dark blue pajama bottoms and a matching. “Put this on, go back to bed.” and with that, the door closed and locked again, followed by the unmistakeable thump of her mother falling face first back into her covers.

Jezebel looked down at the pjs before shrugging and going to change. Well, they were nice looking at least, even if they would be huge on her. It was probably better than being in really tight toddler clothes anyway. She'd bug Kerrigan for regular clothes when she woke up again. Both of them needed to go back to bed.

Who wrote in journals anymore anyway? This was the thought going through Jezebel's head as she headed into the stationary store, looking to buy just that. She wasn't the diary sort of person but it seemed a good place to put plots and plans for evil villany. Stuff like schematics for evil machines – not that she knew anything about building those. Maybe she'd have to learn magic for that instead? If her opponent was tech based, she should be magical right? That's what the comic books and movies said.

It took her half an hour to find one she deemed “right”. It was beautiful but plain – leather bound and black, without lines on the pages so little doodles could be done while writing. It was perfect for her. She'd have to get a special little necklace to put the silver key to it on, but that wouldn't be too expensive.

Soon enough, the girl was home and seated at her writing desk. She'd been trying to figure out something to write for several minutes. There were lots of things scrawled on the first page, from crossed out Dear Diaries and Dear Journals to pretty decent doodles of a chibi of herself chasing Pilot with Roro. And still no idea what she was writing.

Sighing, the girl closed the book and went to flop on her bed. She had to talk to someone. This whole “villain” thing was harder than she had thought and she just kept getting lost on what the hell she wanted to do. What she needed to do was talk to someone about this – someone who'd GET it.

Idly she cursed her dislike of people and socializing in general – it left her very little choice in who to talk to about stuff. Well, who all did she know? Jezebel closed her eyes, imagining the people she knew and their reactions to her questions.

Firstly, there was her Mom. Kerrigan wouldn't understand what the hell her daughter was going on about. All she could really see was that Jeze had a sort of amusing relationship with some boy that she seemed to strongly dislike. She hadn't bothered to tell her mother about “the dream” so it was hard to explain how she'd gone from utterly hating Pilot to realizing a strange comradery with him, sharing comic books and movies.

Next, there was Faris. While she was nice and one of Jezebel's best friends, the other girl just wasn't the sort of person who'd understand her problem or be able to help. Sure, Faris was a sweetie and she'd try really hard, but it just wasn't her forte.

Jeff intruded on her thoughts by putting his head across her stomach and yawning loudly. The pup was one of her best friends too, she though, scratching his ears in an idle and affectionate manner. “You can't help me with this, Jeff.” the brunette told him, “But thanks for the thought.” the Puppy just yawned again and stretched out across her bed.

Well, there had been that girl – Tori – that she'd met. She would probably know about dealing with boys and – hey wait, that wasn't right! Jezebel didn't need help with BOYS or FEELINGS! She needed to figure out how to become a better super villain! What a silly thought! She didn't need to talk to that silly Tori person at all! What a weird idea!

Without even thinking about it, she reached out to pick up the phone and dialed a number Jezebel hadn't even realized she'd memorized. Holding it to her ear, the girl barely registered speaking to Ophelia and asking if Pilot was around, and giving a message that she wanted to talk to him when he DID get home, thank you very much good night Ma'am.

Magic is super hard to study when you haven't got a damn clue where to start. Jezebel had decided she was going to avoid asking her mother for help till she'd had a chance to look over some forms of magic herself. She'd gone through several books by now and had finally stopped to bang her head on the desk and pull out the magazine Tori'd given her.

“It's time for a break.” she grumbled, flopping down on her bed. Jeff was presently out with her mother – Kerrigan'd agreed to walk him today since Jezebel was studying – and she had the room to herself. Opening the magazine, she tried to read over some of the articles and figure out just what was in half of them.

“Information on getting clothes that fit your body shape – no thanks, can do that on my own.” she grumbled, thumbing through the pages and commenting on the articles, “The perfect makeup for your skintone! Pff, like I need makeup.”

“Meet your celebrity body match – that'd involve actually meeting someone, stupid magazine.” she growled, annoyed at it. Why did she need this? “Get to know the star of some show I don't watch? No thanks.”

It was then that she spotted a heading that was of a bit more interest. “Top 50 guy mysteries answered, huh? Like why they're so dumb?” she inquired and turned to the page.

The article turned out to be a load of crap spilled by “hot heartthrobs” causing the brunette to toss the magazine aside in disgust. “Yes because I totally needed any of that. What was Tori thinking?” she grumbled, shaking her head and rolling over. Now was time for a flipping nap, that's what it was.

Jezebel rolled over in her bed, brown curls falling across her back as she drifted off. Her dreams were of magic and power over whoever and whatever she wanted. She found herself seated by Roro on a throne and staring into a mirror. What she saw before her was not the Jezebel that had gone to sleep – not an eleven year old girl with curls that fell in waves along her back, and jeans that were starting to get rips on the bottom from playing with a puppy too much.

The girl in the mirror was a drawing, in the style of so many comic books she'd read. Brown curls were pulled tight into a large ponytail atop her head, leaving her bangs long and loose, flopping lightly over one of her eyes. Her slim figure was covered by black clothes, looking both elegant and intimidating. It wasn't the most practical of outfits but it was kind of nice.

Jezebel leaned over, shaking her head a bit. “Still needs work.” she told her own mental design, tweaking bits of the idea she'd been working on for days. When she slept, it was easier for her to visualize what she wanted, having yet realized she could just jot it in her notebook. “Needs a more magic flair to it though.” she commented, adding a few symbols here and there, maybe a staff. “Getting better.”

About that point, actual sleep started to overtake the half dreamy state she was in and things faded into a much more sensible dream about chasing Pilot with her rocket launcher. They ran through valleys, hills and through his lab. “You're an idiot!” and insults of the kind were shouted at each other as she chased him around the table in his work room, throwing RoRo down on it so she could dive forward and pin him.

When he rolled over to keep fighting her and they wrestled for a time till she kissed him did Jezebel wake up looking confused and weirded out. The hell had THAT been? Okay, she'd DEFINITELY spent too much time with that weirdo Tori. Cause she did NOT want to kiss PILOT. And she most certainly did not think it might be nice!

The girl growled and threw the magazine back into her bag. Stupid Tori! Stupid Magazine! Stupid Pilot! She was not some love sick teenager! She was a young super-villian in training! And she was going to be the best! Heading back to her desk, the girl picked up the tome she'd been pouring over and went back to searching. Jezebel was going to find some sort of magic that'd make EVERYTHING better! She'd be the strongest and she'd never have to dream about dumb boys or anything!

Somewhere mid-page she realized she'd left Roro behind in that dream. Closing her eyes, Jezebel sighed and willed herself back into that place, that awful dream she'd just awoken from. Pilot was still on the floor and staring at her in bewilderment and bafflement. She just grumbled something about “I'm not here for you.” as he tried to speak and grabbed the rocket launcher from his desk before opening her eyes again. She was NOT leaving her precious RoRo in a dream with Pilot! Who knew what dumb things he'd do to it?

Jezebel was annoyed and nothing good ever came from Jezebel being annoyed. She was STILL all bumpy, itchy, miserable and uncomfortable, even with the air turned on and the room at a comfortable state. She had absolutely no idea what was up with her but it SUCKED! Her arms and legs just were so itchy and they hurt. Over the past few days large welts had even been forming on the girl's skin and things with them were going from bad to worse.

The large bumps followed a strange pattern. They were thickest and larges on her shoulders, trickling down in a row straight over her arm to the back of her hands, where they formed a thick mass. She had even larger ones going down her thighs to her feet, but the pattern was less straight and simple, curving in some places and partly wrapping around her leg before finishing. Had she taken a good look at the way the bumps formed and the patterns, she'd have noticed they were something other than just itchy bug bites or welts from scratching her sweaty skin too much.

Today, however, the bumps were worse. Instead of just being itchy, the biggest ones HURT too. They were hard and starting to push against her skin, making the redness even worse. Was this what acne was supposed to be like? Because if these were pimples, they were the most disgusting, awful and painful thing Jezebel had ever felt. She was lucky in that they actually weren't, but unlucky in what they actually were. The girl was about to find out just what was wrong with her, and not in a very pleasant manner.

The real trouble started during the afternoon. She'd just brought Jeff in from outside and was rubbing one of her shoulders, which had started to ache violently. Heading to the bathroom, the child took over her shirt to stare at the tremendous bulges on top of her shoulder. A white tip was starting to become visible on one so Jezebel was sure it was ready to pop. Reaching out, she pushed down on the “pimple” hoping to have whatever was inside of it burst out.

Instead, to her horror and agony, the thing poking out from her skin ripped through, coming out all at once and ripping through the skin. Jezebel shrieked, summoning her mother to room as blood started pouring from the awful thing. What was this? Had someone stuck KNIVES in her skin? As Kerrigan pulled her close, Jezebel's shrieking dissolved into tiny whimpers of pain through a bit lip as she clutched her mother.

“Okay, honey, we're gonna get this out of the way NOW.” she told her daughter and promptly knocked Jezebel out with a small pinch to the right location.

When the girl came to, she felt weak. Her face was sweaty and she wasn't on her proper sheets. Jeff was barking at her closed bedroom door, and as she reached to try and make it open, a jolt of pain shot up her arm, causing Jezebel to yelp loudly and fall back to bed. It didn't help her much – now that she was aware of being awake and able to feel pain, her whole body was aching terrible, particularly her shoulders, hands, hips and feet.

“Don't move. You'll pull something.” Kerrigan told her daughter, walking over and applying a bit more salve to the holes now in Jezebel's skin. “You already have it seems.” she commented, using the towel her daughter was resting on to mop up some of the blood that had been released when she'd reached.

“Mom...why are their knives in my skin?” she asked quietly. “And why's my face itch?”

The pink haired woman sighed, applying a bit more salve. “You, my dear, are growing jewels. The ones on your arms and legs had already started to come out, but the smaller ones, and the ones on your face were still forming.”

“I am WHAT?” She'd have put more emphasis on the word had her face not been in pain. Jezebel breathed heavily, biting her lip once more as her vision clouded from the pain of moving and talking.

“Jewels.” Kerrigan repeated. “I had to go have a look at your item while you were unconscious but it's true – your item was beautifully bejeweled when it was brand new, and now you're apparently growing your own gemstones.”

“Oh.” What else did she have to say to something like that? “Can you make it stop?”

“Afraid not, sweetie. I just had to finish bursting out the ones that were growing so you wouldn't have to spend the next three weeks with giant honking crystals popping out of your flesh.” Kerrigan commented, applying a bit more numbing agent. “I can numb things but that's about it. You are gonna hurt for a while, especially when the ones on your face start growing out. You'll have to stay in bed for a few days.”

“Oh...” Jezebel nodded as minimally as possible before she thought of something, “Hey...Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Does this mean you're waiting on me for the next few days? And taking care of Jeff?” the child asked, looking blearily at her mother from the pillow as Kerrigan packed things up.

“Yes. I'm going to have to.”

“Okay...Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't you dare tell Pilot about this.”

The pink haired woman snorted. “I make no promises.”