Acadian: Now we know that things were not quite as simple as they seemed in the hotel battle.
Gadget is a fun character to write. He's just as super as January, but in a very different way.
Renee: We do have a Beverly Hills. In spite of the name, it is nothing like the one in California however. It is just an ordinary little 'burb. The rich place to live in Metro-Detroit is Bloomfield Hills and Birmingham (the latter always pronounced with an over the top snobbish English accent).
It is always fun to write when Avery and January get together. They both really come out of their respective shells and shine like polished gold. They are even more fun to write than Aela and Loria.
Book 1.6 - Stormcrow RisingThe trip back to the hotel passed in relative silence. January did not know what to say. This morning she had been a - relatively - normal girl. Now it felt like she was living in a different world. Was she really a meta? Or was she just lucky? Was she really going to continue this… investigation? The smart thing would be to call the police, and let them handle it.
As if the police had ever handled anything that didn't involve sprinkles and jelly filling…
No, she had mucked everything up with Subramanian and Lighthammer. She had to make things right.
She almost jumped through the roof when her phone rang. Her normal phone that is, not the slick, meta-tech communicator that Gadget had wizarded up. She glanced down at the name that glowed on the Hamsung's screen. She bit her lip, knowing that she had to answer, but wishing she did not have to at just this moment.
"Mom?" she finally said after swiping to connect.
She braced herself to weather the barrage of questions that came storming from the speaker of her phone. "Of course I'm fine. No, I didn't see any of it. Avery and I were in this really intense session of Call of Cthulhu. We didn't even find out until afterward. Yes I've seen it's all over social media. No I don't know when I'll be home. Yes I'll be careful."
"I bet Blood Raven doesn't have to make excuses to her mom when she goes out fighting evil," January grumbled after she hung up.
"You never know," Avery said, "she must have been nineteen once too."
"That was probably so long ago they had rotary phones," January mused.
"You know about them?" Avery smiled.
"It saw it in a documentary about the Stone Age." January kept a straight face. "The Neanderthals used to throw them in front of mammoths. The mammoths would be so confused trying to turn that dial thing with their trunks that the cavemen could sneak up on them and attack them with their spears. Scientifically proven fact."
"Um, I think they were an early interface for telecommunication…" Avery said.
"I believe my version is much more plausible," January insisted.
By then they had exited I-696 and gotten onto Northwestern Highway, only to take the first exit from that onto Telegraph. Southfield's roads were a Gordian Knot that not even Alexander could have undone, and sadly cutting them in half was just not an option.
In moments they rolled up to the hotel. Its cylindrical glass tower rose high into the night sky. Jutting off to one side was the two story adjunct of the building, where most of the convention was taking place. Gadget barely found a place to park in the surrounding lots, and January noticed several news vans and police cars parked at the curbs.
Gadget began unfolding his suite of monitors and keyboards as January got out of the car. Clad in the sci-fi disguise of a pair of cargo pants and Cthulhu For President shirt, January slipped into the hotel without drawing a second glance. She was relieved when she walked past police, reporters, and convention-goers, and none paid her a second glance. It struck her as ironic that whether on a secret mission, or just in normal life, her thoughts on being noticed were exactly the same. Then again, normal life was like a secret mission for her. One where anonymity was safety.
The elevator to the fourteenth floor was slower than a Hutt on molasses. After what seemed like a thousand years it finally got there. She impatiently stepped into the hallway that ringed the tower. But she found the door to Subramanian's suite barred by yellow tape, and guarded by a police officer. She walked by nonchalantly, and headed in the direction of the Con Suite. Once out of sight she ducked into a restroom instead. Checking to make sure the stalls were empty first, she contacted Gadget.
"The police are at the door," she said, "but I have an idea that might get me in. I'll need your help though."
"I'm in the hotel's system," his voice came through her earpiece. "Lay it on me."
"Where are the housekeeping offices?" she asked. "If I can get a uniform…"
"You can pretend to be the maid and walk right in," Gadget said. "I have it, basement level. The door will be open when you get there."
January was half tempted to jump out the window rather than face another interminable elevator ride. But she did not know if her powers - if she really even possessed such things - would allow her to survive the fall. She did not have her suit on, so that would be of no help. She wondered if Gadget could find a way to miniaturize it, maybe fit it into a fake lipstick tube? She did not see how she could wear it under her regular clothes, like they did in the comic books. Where would she put the boots? Let alone the cape?
In time she was back down, and with a few directions from Gadget she found the door to the basement. As he promised, the badge reader turned green as she stepped up, and she heard an audible click as the door unlocked. Taking a ramp down, she smelled soap in the suddenly humid air, and guessed that the laundry was somewhere nearby. She stepped through an intersection of two hallways, but was brought up short by Gadget.
"Hold up," he said in a tense voice. "Step aside and turn around."
January did so without a second thought, stepping into one of the side hallways. Loud voices came from the corridor that she had been about to continue down, followed by the clatter of hard-soled shoes on the floor. She pulled out her phone and pretended to be listening to it. A moment later the two employees walked by behind her, talking about the super battle that had taken place earlier.
"I saw it all," a male voice exclaimed. "That Stormcrow chick was
tight, you know what I'm saying?"
"Girl superheroes?" a different male voice responded. "No way. She's probably just some real super's piece."
"You see Jack, that's why girls don't want to talk to you," the first voice faded away into the distance. "This may shock you, but that kind of…"
The sound of a door shutting muted the rest of the conversation. January put away her phone and rolled her eyes. It was so nice to be reminded that misogyny was alive and well.
"Okay, you're in the clear," Gadget's voice said in her ear. "You've got the whole floor to yourself now. Lockers are down and to the left."
She followed her partner's directions. Was Gadget her partner now? Were they really superheroes? That was an idea that would take some getting used to. In any case, he was right, as he always was. After several storerooms and an office, she came to a large locker room and shower. She searched through the rows of lockers to make sure she really was alone. Then she turned to the door, and remembered the security cameras mounted in the ceiling out in the hallway beyond.
"Are they going to look at their video tomorrow and see me come in here?" she asked.
"Nope," Gadget said smugly. "Not a single camera has recorded you since we parked."
"Good, because this isn't going to be exactly legal." January picked a locker and sized up the combination lock that sealed it. The electronic lockpick that Gadget had given her would not work on this type of lock. It had to be a padlock for that.
But if she really was a meta. If she really had powers. A simple lock would be no problem.
Earth give me strength. She took the shackle in her fingers, and snapped the steel in half as easily as if it was a toothpick.
January stared at the broken metal loop of the combination lock in her fingers. That had really happened. It had really come apart. Solid steel. At least, that is what she imagined that such locks were made of. Maybe she really was a meta after all? Beyond just making the weather awful.
Inside were several pairs of white shirts, dark pants, and vests. She held one up to herself, and saw that it was about four inches too short. She put the hotel uniform back with a sigh, and moved to the next locker.
This time Gadget stopped her before she could snap the lock. Instead he coached her through a process of pulling on the shackle until it was taut and twisting the dial in one direction or another until it stopped each time. He did some sort of arcane math, and spat out the combination. January was not surprised when it worked. He was always good at that sort of thing.
Unfortunately, the next uniform was too long. Feeling a little like Goldilocks, she tried a third locker, and finally hit struck gold. This time she found a maid's dress within, and had no difficulty slipping into it. That is when she realized that there were no shoes, or hose to go with it.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the extra nylons she always kept there, just in case of runs. She at least had that covered. She would just have to make due with her sneakers, and hope no one thought they looked strange. Feeling very domestic, January found a cart loaded with cleaning supplies and headed out.
Gadget stopped her as she passed the office. At his direction, she went inside and borrowed a housekeeping keycard. Then she headed back up to the fourteenth floor.
Her legs drew a few stares from the hotel guests on the way up, but no one said a word to her. She pushed her cart into the hallway and stopped for a moment to compose herself. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and her mouth was suddenly as dry as Tatooine.
"Be cool," Gadget said softly in her ear. "You can handle this. You are just here to clean the room."
She imagined that the sky had gone cloudy again outside. She thought back to her book on Wicca, and the energy exercise she had been practicing that very same morning. Was it really only this morning? It seemed like a thousand years ago.
She blocked out that thought, and instead visualized herself as a tree. She felt herself planted firmly on the carpet, sending roots deep down into the ground below. She breathed in slowly, and pulled energy up through her imaginary roots. She felt that power flow through her body, washing her clean like a cool mountain stream. She breathed out, and felt that power flow out of her virtual branches, only to drip back down into the ground once more.
Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.
Air give me quickness in body and wit. Let the weights of the world fall from me.
Water make me flexible in thought and form. Let me flow, let me crash.
Fire give me passion and energy. Let me burn bright in the night sky.
Spirit weave all together in balance. Give me peace.She opened her eyes once more, and strode down the hall like she owned it. She did not pause when she came to the door with the policeman. Instead she reached out with her pilfered key card to open it, and only stopped when the patrolman stepped in her way.
"Sorry miss," the older man shook his head. "No one allowed."
"But my supervisor told me I had to get this cleaned tonight!" January pretended that she was one of those entitled mean girls she knew from school. The ones who felt like the entire world existed only to wait upon them. She twirled one finger around a lock of her hair for added effect. "I have to do my job too, or I'll get in trouble."
"What was your name?" the cop asked.
January's heart stopped. All of her cool, calm, and collectedness vanished faster than ethics in the White House. She stared back at the gray-haired man like he had fallen from Mars.
"Gabriella Wilson," Gadget whispered in her ear.
"Gabrielle," January parroted him, "Wilson. I've only been working here for two weeks, and I can't look like I'm a slacker. Now I don't know what you're doing up here, and I don't care. I just need to clean this room."
"Not tonight honey," the policeman declared. "If your boss complains, tell him to take it up with the Southfield PD."
"
She won't like that." January bit her lip.
"Yeah well, you're breaking my heart missy." The patrolman was as obstinate as a usb stick that refused to fit into its port, no matter how many times you flipped it over. "But I got my orders, and my orders are no one goes in."
January made a loud huff, turned her cart around, and stomped down the hallway. "Great, Paul Blart just foiled me," she whispered.
"We need to get a look in that room," Gadget said. "Maybe I can fake a call from his captain to pull him off."
"Don't," January insisted. "I have another idea. I'll be back out in a minute."
With that January returned her purloined cleaning supplies and uniform. Before leaving, she stopped at the first locker she had broken into and left a few dollars for a new lock. Heroes were not supposed to go around destroying things after all, not even locks, certainly not those belonging to innocent people.
Samsung Galaxy J1Cthulhu For PresidentPicking a combination lockMake an electric lockpickGabriella Wilson