Renee: I went to MCC for a while, so it was my go-to community college for this story. When I look at pics of it online now, it has changed a lot. But the basic layout is still the same. I used to always park in that same lot that Avery picked January up at. The library is up a hill behind where she is sitting, and then the main classroom buildings, which are set in sort of a figure 8, with open air atriums in the center. I really liked that place. I did put in a link to it.
I still remember the Geos. That is why I went to it for a nice, cheap car that no one would think twice about.
I like the name Gadget too. It is partly inspired by Inspector Gadget of course. But mostly it is because Avery makes gadgets. It is also a simple name without the common hyperbole that so many screen names/super names have. That fits Avery to a tee, as he prefers to stay on the down low.
Acadian: At 4k words it is twice where I usually put my cutoff point for posts. But I did not see a good place to cut it up without breaking the flow of conversation. It was mostly just that conversation between characters, so I let it ride. The future posts won't be so big however.
That was an extra of, thanks for wrangling it up for me.
Grits: This first Stormcrow chapter is actually longer than the remainder of Seven Reimagined, and I knocked this out in just a few weeks. And the next Stormcrow chapter as well. So it won't be too hard to wrap up Seven. There are only a few new scenes it will need that require all new writing. Most of it will only be tinkering to fit it into the new setting.
I really loved April Daniels'
Dreadnought duology. I think its only downside is that she includes a big infodump near the beginning about super history. That info was nice to have. But it was also a straight up dump of Telling. I am hoping to weave things in more subtly, over time. Heisenberg was an example here. Yes, he's
that Heisenberg. I envision him as being essentially a brain in a robot body, ruling a technocracy in
Central Asia (all the ...stans. RL Kazakhstan is the worlds #1 exporter of uranium I decided to change that to Central Europe, specifically Austria instead).
You cited all the things I was really hoping to illustrate with the opening. January's martial arts, her psychological/magical centering, her lack of finances, the central place Avery has in her life, plus a few little hints about the nature of the super world that she lives in. Avery himself is a lot of fun to write. He is in many ways the rational counterpoint to January's own psychologial/social issues. Which is another way to say he calls her out on her self-destructive b.s.
The whole reason I gave exact brand names for things like her tablet was that I wanted to show that she was poor. I was going to just be generic and say tablet, phone, and so on. But a Fire 7 says a lot, when it is only $50 full price. Likewise with the phone, and the fake designer jacket, etc...
Book 1.2 - Stormcrow RisingJanuary left the Con Suite and its all-too tempting plates of cookies, doughnuts, pancake dippers, and PBJ sandwiches. Not to mention the positively toxic - but equally delicious - hot dogs. What convention would be complete without those? Instead the apple and honeydew slices she had already munched on would have to suffice for dinner. Well, that and one of those wicked dogs of course.
Her new crow outfit had brought many stares. Whether good ones or bad ones, January could not be sure. There definitely were more people just coming up and talking to her than normal however. She guessed that was a good thing. But it still made her nervous. Being noticed always did. Usually her life became much worse when people paid attention to her.
Still, she did not regret it. All of her life she had been seeing other people cosplaying at conventions and festivals. Now she was finally getting in on the fun. It
was fun too, even if it was outside of her normal comfort zone. It was like she was a different person. Not weighed down by the past. Anything seemed possible.
With a bottle of Fae Cola Ultimate in one hand, and a program sheet in the other, she ambled down the circular hallway toward the elevators. Looking down through the list of times and rooms, she found the block of events that would be starting next.
Star Trek discussion, no thanks, even though Wil Wheaton was attending. Now if it had been about The Guild… Phew, Felicia Day could certainly keep her up all night! Finger-Painting for Kids, eech! Ten year-olds with hands covered in paint were getting nowhere near her brand new corvid costume. Dungeons and Dragons, no thanks, she was not fourteen anymore. Too bad there was not a Shadowrun game though… Adventure in Short Stories, now that sounded like a discussion group right up her alley.
A loud bang made her stop short. It was very, very loud. Like thunder ringing through the corridor. A second and third roar followed, along with a muffled crash.
Those were gunshots. January had been in Detroit on New Year's Eve enough times to know the sound. If the gun had been outdoors it would have sounded like a pop. But given the noise, it was definitely inside the hotel.
A fellow Con-goer dressed in white stormtrooper armor ran past her, back toward the Con Suite. "It's a meta!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sped past. "And they've got guns!"
The FaeCo and schedule fell forgotten from January's hands. What should she do? Should she play it safe, and run, or hide, like all the active shooter drills in school said? Or should she do what they always say not to, and advance?
Naturally she did what they said to never do.
Air, give me speed. She sprang forward as if shot from a cannon, covering at least ten feet with a single, horizontal bound. That nearly put her into the outer wall, since the hallway curved in a large circle. She put one hand on the wall to steady herself, reoriented, and leaped once more.
More people ran past, looking entirely non-science fictiony in their button down shirts and khakis. January briefly mused that these must be traveling business types.
Then an open door caught her eye. For a moment a bright light burst from within, only to vanish a moment later, leaving afterimages dancing before January's eyes. A loud thump came to her ears, followed by a male voice.
"Hand over the stones you bastard," it growled like a hungry tiger, "or you'll be next."
"I don't know what you're talking about," came a second man's voice, in an Indian accent so heavy you could spread curry on it. "I am just a salesman. I don't know what you are-."
January heard a meaty smack. She had been on the receiving end of enough punches to know that sound well. It was all the convincing she needed to spring through the open doorway.
She found herself in the entrance of a large suite. A kitchenette and mini-bar ran along the wall to her left. An overturned dining table, its chairs scattered away, lay nearby. A pair of couches faced one another across a coffee table deeper into the room. One had a wide hole torn through it, rupturing its stuffing like an open wound.
Two men lay on the floor. Both were alike in that they wore khakis, sport coats, and sunglasses. Guns lay on the floor nearby, and the two were as bloody as they were still. They could not have looked more like bodyguards if they had tried. A third man in a suit knelt on the floor. He was pudgy, dusky-skinned, and had long ago lost the battle to keep his hair. He wrung his hands in a panic. A bright red spot was quickly forming across one of his cheeks, and blood flowed from the side of his temple.
"Sissy-boy!" Just like that, January had traveled back in time. She was twelve years old, and two bullies pinioned her arms, while a third took his time working over her stomach and face.
"Take it like a man pervert!"The memory came and went in a fleeting instant. But it left an aftertaste of frustration, rage, and adrenaline. Outside, thunder pealed in the otherwise clear evening sky.
It was not a mere schoolyard bully who stood before her however. Instead it was a tall man wearing gleaming silver, white, and blue armor. It did not completely cover his skin, which January could see was a much deeper brown than the kneeling man. A cuirass did cover his torso, along with separate plates on his upper arms, wrists, and thighs. Gauntlets protected his hands, and boots sheathed his feet. A helmet covered his upper face and wrapped down around his jaw, leaving an open space between which left his mouth and lower cheeks bare.
He held one hand out toward the kneeling man, palm open. He turned as January entered, and brought that hand to bear upon her instead. Built into the palm of his gauntlet was a ring of metal, that encircled some form of clear crystal. A warm, white glow ignited from deep within it, and January did not need anyone to tell her it was some sort of energy weapon.
"Stay out of this, cosplay," the armored man commanded. "This is none of your business."
"It's everyone's business when a thug beats up an old man." January bared her teeth. Her fingers curled into fists of their own accord. Her eyes narrowed, and she judged the distance between them. She wondered how quickly he could fire that weapon, and how quickly she could get into range of her own, inborn armaments.
It did not take a genius like Avery to see that she was going to take a hit.
Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm. She was about to pounce when she saw the old man reach into a pocket, and pull out a pistol. It was small, barely larger than his palm. He raised it to point at the armored man's back.
But the malefactor noticed her gaze shift. He twisted back to the old man, swinging blindly with his fist. The gun went off, filling the room with artificial thunder. January was not sure if it hit the armored man or not. It seemed impossible to miss at such close quarters. He did not flinch however, or slow in any way. A moment later his fist cracked across the old man's arm and shoulder, and sent him flying.
A small, black bag fell from the Indian man's pocket. Clear gemstones spilled from it like water from an overturned cup. They glittered under the ceiling lights, like a bed of stars spread out across the carpet.
Diamonds!
Now everything became clear to January. She leaped forward, even as the thief scooped up the bag in his left hand. That was all the time she needed, and she slammed into him before he could turn back to face her. She hit him like a hurricane, and a bolt of lightning outside the windows dazzled her eyes. It was followed by a peal of thunder, as the force of her charge sent them both into the glass.
It shattered like fine china under a bull's hooves. January and the armored man tumbled through, arms and legs tangled together. The pavement rushed past January's eyes as they spun in mid-air. She heard a thrum of energy, and was aware of the thief somehow pulling away from her. Light flared from his boots, and she realized that he could fly as he rose into the sky above. But she was still falling...
"It's a wingsuit," Gadget's voice rang out in her memory.
"You can fall and not go splat."She spread her arms out to either side and hit the triggers built into both of her gloves. With a leathery crack the cape that had trailed out behind her snapped out into pair of wings. But that seemed to just make things worse. Instead of falling in a smooth arc, the wings were now catching the air unequally. That sent her into an even more chaotic tumble.
Gravity pulled at her. Every time she spun and saw the ground flash by, it was frighteningly nearer. Rain pelted her. Thunder rumbled. Lightning cracked loudly. January frantically tried to hold her body stiff and level, so that the wind could catch evenly upon the surface of the wings.
Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly. The wind caught her up, and her fall smoothed out into a shallow dive. Somehow she had gotten into a stable, rigid position. Now each of her wings caught the air in equal measure. She pulled her head back and arched her body. She hoped that by changing the angle of the wings, it would bring even more of their surface to bear on the wind. She told herself that it was just like gymnastics. She could be strong, and graceful, and fly through the air.
Somehow she traded speed for altitude, and soared back up. She banked hard, and saw the circular tower of the hotel rising up to her left. She almost recoiled when she saw that the armored thug was just a few feet away, flying free thanks to the bright white energy being expelled by his boots. With one hand he tucked the bag of diamonds into a pouch on his belt. His other hand reached out to her, and grabbed hold of the leading edge of one of her wings.
January tried to reach up to slap away his wrist. But her wings got in the way. Worse, the movement completely destroyed her flight profile. Air spilled from her wings. She began to skid to the left, and immediately felt herself tumbling once more. The armored robber hung on. He slowed their descent, but could not stop it.
She saw the hotel's annex loom beneath her. It was a wide, two story structure that stretched away from the central tower that she had fallen from. She realized that she was going to hit it in a matter of seconds. She did not know what that would do to the wings, or to her body if one of them caught the roof unevenly. Visions of skiers snapping their legs after catching their skis on obstacles flashed through her mind.
She was a gymnast. She knew how to land. With that in mind she hit the triggers in her gloves, and her wings collapsed back to a simple cape. It flapped up in the wind above her, with the armored man still holding a fist-full of the material.
That made them fall much faster, but January found she could control her form. An instant later they plummeted into the roof of annex. They smashed through a skylight, and crashed into a wide hallway below that ran the length of the structure. Falling glass clattered around them in shards of glittering light as they slammed into the carpeted floor. January tucked into a roll and sprang to her feet just as nimbly as if she had performed an ordinary tumbling pass, rather than fallen from fourteen stories.
The Best Western Premiere of SouthfieldHotel Pic 01Hotel Pic 02ConFusion is a real Metro-Detroit sci fi convention. I once went to it (or maybe it was another one) at the hotel aboveNew Year's Eve In Detroit (been there, its true)