Renee: You are right, even if she tried to ignore Avery's call to arms, how could you go back to Wilhelm Wundt?
We will be seeing much more of the Face-Bot in the future, and even learning its name.
Many, many moons ago I used to sometimes have dreams of riding my bicycle. Then I realized I was not riding in my dreams, but flying along the ground. I am afraid of
heights too. Scratch that. I am fine with heights. I am afraid of falling to my death from heights... But I still loved those dreams. I have not had one in a very long time though.
Admiral ReneeAcadian: One of these days, January might even be able to fly outright...
An interesting thing is that if you look at old superhero tv shows, films, and even comics, the lone hero was always truly on their own, with no lifeline out there to know where they were, what they were doing, and able to call in backup or even just offer advice. But these days that is completely different. Now what appears to be the lone hero commonly has a least one person like a hacker or scientist backing them up across the internet, through a suit camera, etc... The Arrow-verse tv shows are big on this. Sometimes for every single person out in a suit, there are half-a-dozen people at the other end of their suit camera working things out in their heads, making strategy, offering advice, providing information, and so on. I think that is partly because of the proliferation of technology. We truly do live in an information age now. But as a writer, it also gives you an opportunity to bring in more characters for your lone hero to interact with. So they are not truly alone after all.
I do keep going back to those crows, don't I? I do not have anything specific in mind for them, at least so far. But just like with Teresa of the Faint Smile, they are January's spirit guide. So they will always turn up when something important is happening.
Darkness Eternal: I am hoping the Google Map can make things more clear when I go off on my landscape porn binges. I am hoping that in the end the city itself will come alive as a real place to people reading. Rather than being as vague as Metropolis or Central City.
I have faced many vagina ciphers. Sadly, I am no crytographer.
The big airport fight was a lot of fun to write. I originally only had two mercs for Crowgirl and Ligthguy to deal with. Then a week before I posted the first episode of the fight I realized that did not give as much of a challenge as I would have liked. So I doubled it to four mercs.
I picked Krav Maga because unlike January's other martial arts - Karate and Muay Thai - it is does not have a specific focus on one or two different styles of striking. Instead Krav Maga is a collection of so-called 'dirty tricks' that work in all kinds of situations. It gives her a lot of diversity in her fighting ability, rather than just punches, kicks, and elbows.
I had a lot of fun writing Crowgirl and Lightguy. Look for more interactions between them in the future. They have very different philosophies when it comes to supering. That creates an opportunity to each to challenge the others ideals, and examine their own. Fertile ground for developing character in both. They also do have things in common, which makes it possible for them to disagree and still retain an alliance. Or at least a relationship of some form.
Emilia is another character to watch for. We will be seeing her appear more in the future, as January begins reaching out to forge alliances with the 'authorities'. She knows she does not want to be a rogue outlaw type like Lightguy. That means building trust with people like Emilia.
Beatrice Grand Trunk Warehouse & Cold Storage BuildingThe Junkman's Lair, adjacent scrapyard, and City Incinerator (top)The Junkman's Lair, adjacent scrapyard, and City Incinerator (left)The Junkman's Lair 01The Junkman's Lair 02The Junkman's Lair 03ArchimedesBook 2.11 - Stormcrow RecycledIt was a massive, white building. January guessed it was at least nine stories tall. A square block of concrete, its lower two stories were pierced by the wide bays of a loading dock that ran the entire length of one wall. The yawning black abysses of smashed out windows loomed for three stories above. The remainder of the building over that was an uninterrupted wall of solid white, like the face of a snow-bound cliff. She noted a rusted out water tower on the roof, along with four structures the size of small buildings themselves. January imagined there might be air conditioners, or heaters, of other machinery within them.
A lower, two story annex branched off from the nine-story cube of the building. This abutment also had smaller structures rising from its roof, along with actual trees that had somehow taken root there. One of these structures was particularly large, and rose up a good six stories. This portion of the building was entirely windowless. The only way in or out seemed to be a metal roll up door in its back wall. January saw this clank open to allow the robo-truck to drive within.
"I have them," January said. "It's a big abandoned building beside the Incinerator. I can see some old writing that says 'Division of Beatrice…', the rest is too faded to read."
"Ok, I've got it on Googol Earth," Gadget replied. "But I just lost the GPS."
"You think they found it?" January bit her lip. Her sneak attack might have just turned into a trap.
"Or maybe they just have better jamming around the building," Gadget speculated. "How do you want to play this?"
"You mean should we just sit back and call the cops?" January asked. "You know my answer to that."
"Yeah, well, the lasers those bots have are pretty dangerous," Gadget warned, "and they're probably not going to hit you with electricity again. As far as they know, that didn't hurt you the last time."
"All the more reason for me to be the one who goes in," January insisted. "These things will turn a SWAT team into a puddle of goo."
"Ok, so maybe you can try to sneak in?" Gadget offered.
"You mean rather than just bust down the door and shout 'Stormcrow Smash!'" January chuckled. "I'll consider it…"
Most of the ground around the building was wide open. But January's eyes gravitated to the scrapyard directly north of the building. The graveyard of iron was lined with trees, which led directly to the white building. That would make for her best approach.
January leapt back into the sky and skimmed over the treetops. She sailed across St. Aubin road, and after it the fence that rimmed the eastern border of the junkyard. There she disengaged her wings, and dropped to the earth amid the piles of metal. The sounds of heavy machinery filled her ears, along with the pungent stench of diesel fumes. The giant orange claws of excavators rose up over the piles of scrap, digging through them like children scooping up sand at a beach.
January trotted through the mountains of tortured iron and hoped that no one would notice her. There were a few trees, and she leaped to them for cover. They thickened as she continued south, where she eventually came across another fence. The tall, white, Beatrice building loomed beyond. The fence was lined with trees, so January followed the cover they provided around to the side of the building.
That brought her within just a few feet of her target. A single leap took her up through a gaping window in one of the lower floors. She found that the interior was just an empty, open space. She wondered if it might have once been an office in the past, or a warehouse? It was now so bare that there was no way to tell. She took her time and tried her best to remain silent as she moved through the building, one barren floor after another. She looked for cameras and alarms that might betray her presence, but found nothing.
"The main building is empty," she said softly. "I'm going to check out that smaller area off the back."
"Copy that Stormcrow, no sign of activity from the outside either." Gadget's voice came in her ear. "I did some digging, and found that this was the Grand Trunk Warehouse and Cold Storage of Beatrice Foods. They were a huge company once, but went under back in the 80s and their pieces got bought up by other companies. The building's been abandoned since then."
"A perfect place for a lair," January murmured.
Eventually she came upon a steel door that looked very new, and very solid. This did have a camera perched over it, and a keypad beside it. Obviously the bad guys were on the other side. Given its position, it had to lead into the smaller annex that branched off from the main building. Rather than try to break it down, or make a futile attempt at guessing the code, January turned around and went back up.
She leaped over to the roof of the annex. Using the trees that sprouted there for cover, she snooped around the small structures up there. All were empty. But she did find a promising air shaft leading down. It was no trouble at all to pull out the wire mesh that covered it. Then she slid down the narrow metal passage, and soon found herself dropping into a gigantic open room.
It was a mad inventor's lair. The edges of the space were lined with a mesh of copper wire. Walls, ceiling, everything. She even saw that the copper vanished into the cement floor, and imagined that it must stretch beneath it as well. She wondered how many abandoned buildings must have had their copper stripped out to outfit the room with so much of the metal?
A great iron scaffolding rose up five stories tall. It was made of a mish-mash of metal parts all welded and bolted together. Hanging from chains within it was the skeleton of a giant robot, or perhaps a mecha. It was humanoid in shape, and built from gleaming steel. Metal conduit was welded to the bones, and sprouted bared wires at the joints where the limbs separated. Rubber hoses ran up and down the metal frame as well, disappearing into what may have been pumps or generators of some kind. A lattice of steel rose up from around the bared bones, outlining what might have been the eventual skin of the colossus. January wondered if that stolen titanium might be destined to clamp onto this framework, and create an armored hide?
The other side of the room contained a design lab. The walls were covered in diagrams, and even more blueprints and schematics hung from portable chalk boards. There was a giant drafting table, and several bins filled with PVC tubes, which January imagined might contain more rolled up diagrams.
A box-like office rose up from the floor along one wall, with a wooden stair leading up to it. A single window was cut into its side to look down over the floor. Beneath it was a small kitchenette and dining space, with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and microwave behind a long table and plastic lawn chairs.
However, most of the space was piled high with what January could only describe as junk. Partly disassembled car engines, household appliances, an old lawnmower, a rusty bicycle, pipes, conduit, wires, hoses, levers, knobs, chairs, windshields. It was a phantasmagoria of cast-off machinery. Some of it was bursting from metal and plastic bins. Some was loaded into buckets and barrels. But most of it was just piled about like a dragon's treasure hoard. Some of those piles were even taller than January was herself.
Avery would have swooned from envy.
The garbage truck was parked near the scaffolding and the unfinished mecha, and several of the man-bots were clanking around unloading the stolen titanium. The Face-Bot floated around from behind the truck, its twin eyes glowing red. Alongside it was an old man.
His brown skin was lined and cracked, like a dried up river-bottom baked in the sun. His short hair had gone dull gray, and a pair of small bifocals hovered above the tip of his nose. He was dressed in plain blue coveralls, and he carried a wrench in one hand. His eyes looked as worn and tired as his skin. It was like they had seen far too many miles, and now just wanted to sit down and rest beneath the shade of a sheltering willow tree.
The Face-Bot immediately opened fire. January tried to dodge, but this time its cherry-red lasers caught her in the side. It was hot. Really hot. Touching a frying pan hot. Enough for her to cry out in spite of herself. She concentrated on Earth, and its strength and resilience. Just as it persevered, so too would she.
She bounded forward, and was on top of the Face-Bot in an instant. This time it was not quick enough to escape. She grabbed hold of both of its backward-flaring shoulders and sent a devastating head butt directly into its faceplate. One of its eyes cracked and went dark. The other set off a shower of sparks.
The Face-Bot tried to fly out of her grasp, but she held on. Its final eye glowed red once more, and January pulled her head down out of its line of fire. She continued the motion and swung her entire body around the robot, until she was literally doing a handstand atop it. Then she doubled over and brought her legs down. Her feet crashed into the top of the flying machine. More sparks erupted, and its cowling was clearly dented inward.
"Enough!" The old man cried out. "Stop it! Leave Archie alone."
"Archie?" January leaped off the robot, and could not resist adding in a forward flip and sticking the landing on the concrete floor. "You named your killer robot Archie?"
"He is not a killer robot!" the old man snapped, "and Archie is short for Archimedes."
Then he turned to the Face-Bot, and ran a soothing hand along its dented cowling. "It's ok Archie, the mean girl won't hurt you anymore."
"Mean girl?" January bristled. "I'm not the one who started shooting!"
She glanced down at her side, where the robot's lasers had struck her. Smoke curled up from her armor, but otherwise it still appeared to be intact. Gadget had said that the hagfish fibers were fireproof. She hoped that her flesh had fared as well underneath. She probed with uncertain fingers. It was hot, but everything still felt solid underneath.
"You scared him," the old man insisted.
"
I scared
him?" January stared incredulously. Then she realized that he was not holding a drone controller, or even a phone. "Wait a minute, you're not flying it. That's an actual AI, isn't it?"
"Well of course Archimedes is an AI. He's a person." The old man gestured at the man-bots who were still unloading the stolen titanium, oblivious to all that was unfolding. "He's not a brainless drone like those other things."