Acadian: I enjoyed writing the fight between January and the Robo-Villains. It shows how much she has grown as a super, and how far she still has to go. It was a great sophomore effort.
Gadget is up for the challenge. January's lack of a ranged component, and what she might do to fix that deficit, is something I have spent hours turning over in my head. Guns are right out. They are just not in Jan's character. I thought about various thrown weapons, like shuriken. But I keep shooting them all down. A piercing weapon is not like her. I guess she is just a blunt instrument... I thought about bean bag rounds from shotgun, only used as a thrown weapon. But even those are sometimes fatal, and she can throw hard enough to put one through someone's chest. Baseballs have the same problem. A boomerang (or Crowarang) is too exotic. When is she going to have time to learn how to use that effectively?
You will see my solutions in Chapter 4, which I am in the middle of writing right now. Both Gadget and January step up. One with gizmos, and one with magic.
treydog: January is definitely earned some experience points in that fight, and in the aftermath we will see today.
I recall Dee Foxy's Of Blades, Assassins (and something else?) thread on the old Beth forums. One of the things he pointed out is that kicks are always a gamble, because they make your foundation unstable. The higher the kick, the greater the danger is to your balance, and the more vulnerable you are to a counter. The safest ones are down low, at the other person's ankles or knees.
That is always on my mind when I am writing kicking in my fiction. Back in Seven Reimagined Perspehone faced an opponent who tried a front kick at her face, and she broke his leg. January is an expert in Karate (among other things), so kicks are part of her arsenal. She usually goes for the high ones only as part of a combination, where she tries to distract the opponent with punch to one part of the body, then follows with a kick somewhere else.
Renee: Jan has definitely been exposed to Fallout. Though it is probably Avery who was always playing it. He is the computer nerd after all...

We will see him playing one of the Portal games in Chapter 3 in fact.
Of course the bot is flying!

In many was the Face-Bot is the antithesis of January. It has no arms, and so cannot fight in melee at all. It flies effortlessly, which January still struggles with. Finally it is all about ranged combat, which Jan is completely lacking in. He is an opponent who forces Jan out of her comfort zone, and forces her to adapt.
Michigan has a 10 cent bottle return lawBook 2.7 - Stormcrow Recycled"Gadget, can you hear me yet?"
He still did not reply. She did not like that. It was not the broken equipment that bothered her. It was not hearing his voice in her ear. She had only been in real action three times now, not counting the recon at the hotel. He had only been there to talk to her once. But it had given her so much more confidence, knowing he was out there watching, thinking, turning things over in his head. She had not been alone, like she was now.
A small fire was burning in the garbage truck now, adding a flickering orange glow to the pale white fluorescents hanging over the street and parking lot. Several cars had pulled over, and people had run out of the gas station on the corner of Nineteen and Mound to watch. January knew the police would be coming soon. She debated whether to leave, or stick around to explain.
She did not have legal empowerment. Not like the Sentinels in Chicago did. That meant that technically she was a vigilante. But everyone knew that the reality of super beings had long since taught the law to play things fast and loose where metas were concerned. White Hats were generally given a lot of leeway by the police. So long as they did not kill people, or destroy too much property. Like Emilia Mercado at the airport the week before, most of them knew who their friends were. Or they at least knew when not to poke the wrong bear. But still, you never knew who you were going to meet.
The orange-red light grew brighter, as the paint on the garbage truck's body caught flame. January bit her lip. If the wind picked up, the fire from the truck would spread. That could set the nearby building on fire. She could not allow that.
The cab was now blazing merrily. January wondered where the gas tank was. If it was even gas that powered the truck, and not something more exotic. Then again, it was probably diesel. What had Avery said about diesel vs. gasoline? Gas explodes, diesel burns? No, that was gasoline burns, fumes explode. But she did recall something about diesel being less likely to explode than gas. If only she could reach him on the comm…
She looked around for something to put it out. Her eyes lit on the gaping maw cut into the rollup door. She dashed inside the metal shop. Her hands went to turn on the night vision in her helmet. But nothing happened. Apparently that had been knocked out too, along with her comms.
She squinted in the dark until she found a light switch and flipped it on. Racks and bins lined the walls, and were stacked row after row deeper into the building. They were filled with metals in many shapes: sheets, ingots, big pellets, rods, and so forth. Some shone with lustrous silver, like the titanium that littered the ground. Some were burnished bright reddish-orange, and others were dark, almost black.
But metal was not what she was interested in. The fire extinguisher hanging from one wall was. She leaped over to it and lifted it from its cradle. It was light as a feather in her hands. She jumped out through the doorway, and back into the alley. She fumbled with the handle of the extinguisher while she puzzled over how it worked. She had it sorted out after a few moments, and began spraying the burning truck with foam.
This would be a great time for some rain, she mused. But the slate gray sky had not a single drop of water to shed. January guessed she was just not sad enough for it to rain, or stressed enough, or whatever it was that made her affect the elements.
She had just finished putting the fire out when the bright red and blue lights of a police car illuminated the alley. January looked up in time to see a patrolman step out of the car, one hand on the pistol at his hip. Now she noted that at least half a dozen onlookers were clustered around the edge of the alley as well, watching and recording with their phones.
"Holy shit!" a familiar voice exclaimed. "It's the real Stormcrow. I sold Stormcrow a pop!"
January recognized the clerk from the nearby gas station, looking positively ecstatic. She started to wave at him, but stopped when she noticed the policeman draw his gun and point it at her. That made her realize that the motion of her hand might have been misconstrued. In a world where some people could shoot bolts of energy from their fingers, a simple wave could be a lethal attack after all.
She stopped, and gave her full attention to the cop. The bright red and blue lights flashing from atop his car made it hard for her to see him clearly. She imagined that was the idea behind them. He looked young. But who was she kidding? He was still older than she was. He had that square set to his face, and that tight, hard way of standing that always made her think of the Army
"It's ok officer," she said. "I'm Stormcrow. I was just putting out the fire."
"Did you do this?" he asked. He did lower his gun to a forty five degree angle. But he did not put it away either.
"I busted the robots," January nodded to the wreckage of the three ground bots. "But not the truck. The last robot did that before it got away."
"Where's the driver?" the cop stepped nearer, looking from her to the burned out cab of the garbage truck.
"There wasn't one," January shook her head. "It's fully robotic. They were all robots. They were trying to steal titanium. I think it's related to two other thefts of rare metals."
"She stopped them!" one of the onlookers shouted. "It was awesome! I've got the end on video!"
"Yeah, Stormcrow kicked ass!" another person cried.
"And I sold her a FaeCo..." the clerk added.
More police cars rolled up, along with a fire truck. January found herself explaining what had happened again, and again. The original cop holstered his gun. January wondered if the reinforcements made him feel safer around her, or if he just finally trusted her. In any case, the police gave her a cool reception, but they were not hostile either. She imagined that they did not know what to do with her, just as she did not know what to do with them.
On the other hand, the firefighters barely gave her a second glance. Instead they immediately started going over the truck. They made sure the fire was truly out, and spent a few moments searching the surrounding area for any injured people. One of the firemen pointed out the dumpster, and wondered what had caused the deep, Stormcrow-shaped impression within its steel frame.
"That dent is me," January admitted sheepishly. "Their warrior-bot sort of got the drop on me. It packs a real punch."
Now the bystanders began to crowd closer. Some were asking for selfies with her. One asked if she was single. The clerk told the questioner that she was a lesbian. Obviously they did not know she was trans. Given the experience she had in avoiding bulges in the wrong places, that was no surprise however.
The police moved to block them, which January imagined was probably the prudent thing to do. She must still be a big unknown to most people. For all they knew she might snap at any moment and start punching people. Not to mention it was still a crime scene after all.
One of the cops gave her an imploring look. "You had better fly Stormcrow," he said. "Things are all under control here."
He did not say "they might not stay that way if you stick around," but January could imagine the words easily enough. She had never thought that fame, whatever tiny amount of it she now possessed, could make things more difficult for her as a superhero. She had just hoped that it might make people more willing to cooperate with her. But it seemed the whole super world was more complicated than she had thought.
"Stormcrow likes FaeCo," she heard the clerk declare to someone else in the crowd. "Come back for more!" he cried to her.
January shook her head. That did remind her of the pop. She must have dropped it when the fight had started. She leaped back onto the roof, and found it rolling along, now empty of its contents. She picked it up and put it away in the panniers of her motorcycle, beside her license plate. There was no sense leaving any DNA evidence laying around. She was not going to end up like Hailstorm…
Besides, there was a ten cent deposit on that bottle.