The Stormcrow, A Superhero's Tale Options

[Acadian]

The Air and Space museum. Wonder what Bismarck wants there? Whatever it is, it seems that he may have found it.

Silverlight is engaged in a classic duel between the forces of light and darkness – literally.

And a mystic motorcycle archer! Bowbiker? No, his name is Hwarang according to the ever-so-handy Cray.

And what do you get if you cross a next gen terminator with a bullet train? Mercury the metalman! Very cool images you conjure with your descriptions.

That Crow-chick from out of town quite helps to turn the tide with her deadly wings.

Let’s hope Silverlight can shed a little light on what’s going on at the museum!

[SubRosa]

Renee: January does not care if people are making bootleg Stormcrow shirts and the like and selling them for their own profit. Just so long as the money is not being used to fund Nazis. If people are using it to pay their rent or buy dinner, then more power to them as far as she is concerned. That is just one more way that her identity is doing some good in the world.

Silverlight does live right next door. So she's definitely going to be surprised, but happy, to see January turn up.

Hwarang the character was inspired by a K-drama called Hwarang, about the historical hwarang. That is where my picture of him below comes from.

I love the name Metro Man! Maybe that will be a comic book character in January's "real" superhero world, like Nightman, Superious, and Miss Fortune.

You know what, I had not thought of Mercury being descriptive of how he can control and reshape metal. I just took the name from the RL train that he was inspired by. I saw a picture of that once, and knew it had to be a superhero. From there I decided that rather than being a guy who wore powered armor, instead his metal control ability would *be* the power in the armor.


Acadian: You can be sure that Bismarck does not want to just get some pics of the airplanes. He's got a goal, find two lost puppies, that will level two cities in atomic fire. We are finally circling back to the events that started out this story.

I expect you will like the bow-biker. He is the result of a lot of time spent working out an arcane archer I had. Once I narrowed down that he was going to be a Korean hwarang, I was going to make him a horse-archer (since that is what the historical hwarang were). But then I thought, it's the 21st century. He should have a modern ride. So instead he has an electric motorcycle from the Technocracy.

Mercury is definitely metal. He is inspired by a couple of podcasters who are also big train nerds. They did a 9 hour or so series on the Penn Central Railroad and its bankruptcy. I think that is where I first saw a picture of the New York Central Mercury train, and knew I had to turn that into a superhero somehow.

We have some more fighty posts, before we finally get down to answering the question of what the baddies are up to in the museum.






The Atomkrieg were inspired by the real life Atomwaffen Division

Hwarang is based on Park Hyung-sik

MiG-17


Book 12.21 - Broken Arrow

"These hombres you are tangling with are the Atomkrieg," the elder hacker went on. "Bad dudes. Not big fans of you by the way. They burned an effigy of you on the steps of an Alabama courthouse a few months ago, after your fight with the National Socialist League at Motor City Pride. The local police took selfies with them while they did it."

"Their leader is a cyborg named Bismarck. He's that guy you saw earlier on the ground. He's a telekinetic, is strong, and heavily armored. The one in the air throwing down against Silverlight with elemental darkness is Reinhard. Watch it, he's a rumored to be a mage. Besides the regular goons, there's three more metas to look out for. One's a vibration emitter called Blitz. He can literally shake things apart. Another is Skorzeny, who is their commando. He can turn two-dimensional. He's good at hiding, and slicing things apart with the edges of his hands and arms. The last is a big guy named Tirpitz, classic brick. Oh, and Duck!"

January did not think, she simply did what Cray told her to. She did the splits, and splayed out her legs at a ninety degree angle to either side of her body. That dropped her down to the floor just in time to feel a whoosh of air pass by overhead. She caught sight of something big and metallic flashing past. It looked like a fist, but was far too large to be that.

She rolled back in the direction that the attack had come from, pulled in her legs, and shot them up into a double kick. She felt her boots crunch into something hard. She followed through with the motion, and leaped to her feet. She put on a half twist in the air as she did so. That put her face to face with what could only have been Tirpitz.

Everything about him was oversized and overdone. He stood about seven feet tall, and January wryly imagined that he might have been the same in width. His frame burst with muscle, and was suffused with a soft glow that January suspected was a force field. His head was encased with one of those coal scuttle helmets that the Germans had worn in the Second World War. But this one had a solid steel mask that covered the entire face as well, which was painted with a full white skull. His hands were sheathed in a pair of massively outsized metal gauntlets that shone with energy. Each knuckle was the size of a tea saucer, and was shaped like a skull.

Four of those skulls were coming January's way. She chose not to dodge or block. Instead she stood there and took it, just to see what he had. Granted, she cheated. She called upon Earth and suffused her body with that element's ideal. She was stone, she was the mountain, she was adamant. Nothing could harm her now.

He hit hard enough that the shockwave of the strike shattered a glass case beside them, and sprayed broken shards across the early radar screen displayed within. But the blow merely glanced off the side of January's face, as did his follow up to her gut. He came in for a third punch, but by this time January had a good idea of his strength.

She let go of Earth, and instead became Water. She flowed under his left cross, and continued going low. She crashed a fist against his stomach a moment later. She found that the faint glow around him was definitely a force field, for it prevented her from actually touching his body. He merely grunted in reply. She could have sworn that the skull painted upon his helmet smiled down at her.

He brought both fists straight down at her in a double blow. But she rolled aside, and he merely gouged out a massive chunk of the marble floor. She replied with a kick to his knee. But while this was usually the weak spot in any opponent, he merely grunted again, and appeared entirely unfazed.

"Long Live Death!"

January turned her head to see a pair of henchmen across the space level their rifles upon a single woman. The other heroes appeared to be too occupied with other foes to deal with them. The two neo-Nazis were likewise too far away for January to reach. Well, reach with her hands at least.

She called upon the sky. It answered by transforming into a blanket of gray clouds that rumbled with force and sheeted rain. This would be something new for her. She had never done it indoors. So she had to concentrate. She stretched her arms up to the firmament overhead, and pulled down very deliberately and precisely. She focused upon exactly what she wanted from the elements, and then willed it into reality.

The sky responded with a jagged bolt of lightning. The electricity lanced down, and crashed through the glass ceiling overhead. That shattered a wide plate of the transparent material, and sent shards of it flying down below. January hoped that would not hurt anyone. But broken glass was better than bullets.

The lightning continued down, and forked out into two distinct bolts of energy. Each of these slammed into a neo-Nazi. Both were thrown from their feet. Sparks flew around their bodies and smoke curled from their uniforms. Their rifles clattered away with metal bent and polymer melted off.

Of course all of this left January wide open to Tirpitz's next attack. She did not even have time to turn back to face him. Before she knew it, he hit her in the back of the head like a truck. She went flying forward and crashed face-first into the wide stone tiles of the floor. The world spun around her, and lights danced before her eyes.

She tried to scrabble to her feet, but she could not climb up. The floor seemed to slide out from under her boots, and she could not tell up from down. Then she felt herself lifted up into the air, only to come crashing back down a moment later. Granite tile exploded around her, as she sank down deep into the floor.

She tasted blood in her mouth, and felt fire rise inside her. This bastard was not going to be the end of her. Not by a long shot.

She kicked out hard, and felt her foot impact something. Then a strong hand clamped down upon her ankle, and flung her through the air. The next thing she knew, she saw the SR-71 coming up in front of her. She was about to crash through it!

She snapped out her wings. Their tips dug into the granite floor, and gouged deep furrows into it. Her feet came down a moment later, and again, cut more trenches into the wide stone tiles. She slowed, and came to a halt just inches from the legendary Blackbird. She took a moment to kiss the fingers of one hand, and then press them lovingly against the black hull of the famous spy plane.

She turned to see that Tirpitz was charging after her like an enraged bull. He was clearly intent upon slamming directly into her and carrying them both through the great plane. January smiled, he was telegraphing his attack from a mile away. That gave her plenty of time to respond.

She twisted slightly, so that her left side faced the neo-Nazi. Then she reached out with her left hand, and curled her fingers inward to beckon him forward. It was half invitation, half taunt. But its only real purpose was to distract him from what her right hand was doing on the other side of her body. It reached down into her belt, and pulled forth a party favor.

"There are no Nazis in Valhalla," she snarled at the oncoming brute.

He was almost upon her. Just before he could reach her she leaped skyward in a forward somersault. As she did so, she tossed her toy right in front of the Nazi's face. The flash pack went off an instant later, and sent brilliant strobes of light out in every direction. The flashes were so intense that even though January had screwed her eyes shut, she still saw bright afterimages against the back of her eyelids.

That was enough to stagger and slow the charging rhino of a Nazi. Still in the air, January reached down and wrapped her arms around the tree trunk of his neck. She continued through with the motion, and pulled him up off the ground with her. That sent them both spinning through the air back the way he had come from. But this time they ended with January slamming him down belly-first into a new crater in the granite floor.

He was slow to rise to his feet this time. January was quicker. She had some pent up anger to work out, and this guy was the perfect target to unload it upon. In her mind's eye she replaced that coal scuttle helmet and skull mask with the face of Patricia Fine. Lightning burned through her veins, and she bared her teeth in a predatory grin. It was time to end this.

She stepped up to the neo-Nazi, and rested one hand on his shoulder. She used that as a springboard to lift herself into the air above him. She came down a second later and unleashed Ragnarok. She led with her elbow, and it crashed directly into the top of his armored skull.

The Nazi's force field winked out in an instant, overwhelmed by the force of the blow. His helmet and metal mask shattered immediately afterward. That revealed him to be a man with a shaven head, a bristly five o'clock shadow, and a swastika tattoo right in the middle of his forehead. His blue eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

January turned to see another neo-Nazi that Cray had warned her about: Blitz. He was a skinny man dressed like his comrades: in a black uniform, helmet, and half skull mask. His body was a blur however, as if the space around him was shivering or shaking at some insane speed. He was not armed with a rifle. Instead he gestured with one hand, and that blur of motion lanced out from his fingers.

This beam of energy leaped out across the museum, and tore up the granite floor in a long furrow beneath it. No, it was not exactly energy. It was not like the lasers or arcane bolts that Silverlight could fire. Rather it was a disturbance in space. It seemed to cause matter to shake apart, perhaps even at a molecular or atomic level, so far as January could tell.

January followed the line of the oscillating beam, and saw that it reached out for Hwarang. The Korean-American zoomed across the floor of the museum on his motorcycle. He still fired from his arcane bow as he rode. A single one of these arrows struck the floor amidst a trio of the ordinary neo-Nazis. It exploded in a shower of blue and white energy, which quickly spread across the surface of the wide stone tiles. Frost wafted up, and January realized that it had created a sheet of ice. The Nazis slipped and slid in an almost comical fashion, and spilled most unceremoniously from their feet.

The archer looked up too late to see that Blitz's attack was homing in upon him. It sliced through a display panel about surface-to-air missiles, and then through one such missile that had been placed on exhibit. Thankfully it did not possess a warhead or fuel, so the metal skin of the weapon simply shredded under the attack with no further harm.

January was in the air by then, and she winged her way to intercept the Nazi. But an instant later his energy beam finally caught up with Hwarang. That trench he had gouged through the floor rose up to meet the center of his bike. Steel tore apart under the oscillations, and went flying in all directions.

The motorcycle lifted up as if it had exploded. Hwarang seemed to make use of the motion to leap forward off the bike. He somersaulted through the air and came down on top of a parked MiG-17. He ran across the fuselage of the craft, and drew his glowing, semi-transparent bow back to his ear.

He loosed, and five arrows shot from the string all at once. They spread out horizontally, and bent out in a wide arc, each arrow equidistant from the next. Halfway to Blitz they all bent back inward, and came homing in upon him from front, left, and right all at once. The Nazi tried to roll out of the way. But he was too slow, and all five arrows slammed home into his body at once.

The arcane arrows sliced through Blitz's oscillating energy shield as if it did not exist. They bit into his torso an instant later, and sent him straight to the ground. January wondered how much of those arrows were physical at all, or if like the standard arcane bolt it was primarily astral in nature. As Silverlight had explained, strike the aura, and the damage ground down to the physical body. As the saying went: as above, so below.

January altered her course slightly to swoop down upon the three Nazis who flailed about on the new sheet of ice. One went down when a golden arrow vanished into his body, then another. She was just about to dip a wing down to clip the last one, when a final arrow finished that terrorist off as well. January noted that all of them were still breathing, even though none showed any obvious wounds. So clearly those had been sleep or stun arrows of some kind, a handy tool for a super to have in one's kit.

At the same time though, January silently criticized herself. She had just wasted her time on henchmen that the other hero had been able to take care of on their own. That was inefficient and just poor teamwork. But then again, she supposed a lack of synergy was inevitable given that she had only just met the archer a few moments before.

January looped around and came down to land beside the glass canopy of the MiG-17, just a few feet from the Korean-American. The archer nodded to her, and then cast his eyes across the exhibit. So far as January could tell, that had taken care of all the Atomkrieg except three: Reinhard, Skorzeny, and their leader Bismarck.

[Renee]

Yeah, that'd be sooo D.C., "I'm Metro Man! ... Now please watch your step, when exiting the car."
Who is Superious, if you don't mind? What sort of abilities and powers?

Ah yes, mercury's the only metal which is fluid at room temperature, as you know. Which is why it's used in thermometers. Anyway, let's see what's up this week. By the way, your YouTube link for Mercury led to a 3-second Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure clip!

They burned an effigy of Jan??? And the police proudly stood by??? How dare they. mALX and I had some long PM talks about the south by the way, since she's from Tennessee, and I've never seen anything racist when I used to travel in the south, not like in the movies, especially. But she confirmed that definitely, such things exist (in modern times, I should note). There are such things as entire towns where the law might look the other way (or worse) when such actions occur.

Blitz's superpower does sound rather cool, certainly unique from any others, so far. Too bad he's on the other side.

Whoa... Skorzeny can turn into a slideshow! Wicked! But again, too bad he's on the other side. What can ya do? Damn, the fight isn't over! I assumed since Cray's on the comm that it is.

Lemme catch up to this in a few. Someone knocking at the door.

and a swastika tattoo right in the middle of his forehead.

Manson did it first. You're just a copycat wannabe who won't be remembered in the long run.

A Reverse Arrows spell! The part when the ice sheet makes them all fall over is great. If only...

This post has been edited by Renee: Apr 16 2024, 06:25 PM

[Acadian]

An exciting fight for sure - well described and action packed.

‘I’m gonna let him hit me full on in the face to see how strong he is.’ Surely, Stormcrow must have learned that trick from Rocky Balboa!

She does get flung around a fair bit here. I chuckled when she mentally pictured Patricia Fine’s face on her big foe, Tirpitz. That reminds me of a scene from ‘The Waterboy’ when Adam Sandler similarly pictured his nemesis on the face of another football player and rage-stomped him.

Precision guided lightning! Well done, Stormcrow!

The human vibrator dude blew apart Hwarang’s ride! The mystic archer barely missed a beat though as he showed what his bow could do.

Still more baddies to take out though it seems. Fight’s not over yet.

[SubRosa]

Renee: Superious is just a Superman clone, like Nightman is a Batman clone. They seem like good names for comic book characters. They are a little silly and light-hearted, like the other fictional characters in January's world, such as Jet Gladiator or Wolfstone the Barbarian.

There is nothing about that which is unique to Tennessee. That's all over the US. American law enforcement has a long association with the KKK. There have been times where police departments directly deputized mass groups of KKK members. The same goes for other right wing fascist groups. Whenever fascists march, the police protect them. The Battle of Cable Street is a prime example from the 30s. But it is no different today.

Yep, Manson did it first. One thing I don't want to do is make Nazis look cool. Because in real life they are not. They are pathetic, and always have been. Everything about them is stolen from other people, like the swastika. It was a holy symbol from South Asia for thousands of years, used by the Hindus and other religions. Then the Nazis appropriated it. They do the same with Norse Paganism. Even the term red-pilling that modern neo-Nazis love, was literally stolen from the Matrix movies (which were made by two trans women).


Acadian: Ryo did point out that January went to the Rocky Balboa school of fighting a little while ago! Seriously though, being the team tank really does inform her decision-making process. Putting herself in the line of fire is what January always does.

You know the old saying: "If you can't be with the one you hate, hate the one you're with." Wait, well, maybe that's not the old saying. But working out some anger issues on a deserving target is always a win-win scenario.

Blitz could have had a lucrative career in porn, or followed Richard Gere's footsteps as an American Gigolo. But no, he chose to use his powers for evil...








U2 "Dragon Lady"

F-4 Phantom


Book 12.22 - Broken Arrow

She could see Reinhard floating in the air above, still locked in his duel with Silverlight. As before, the diametrically opposed abilities of the pair continued to result in a stalemate between them. Both of them were effectively out of the fight, having cancelled out one another's ability to determine its outcome.

This meant that she, Hwarang, and Mercury would now have to tip the balance themselves. With all the ordinary henchmen now taken care of, they had a golden opportunity to do exactly that. The three of them would simply scratch all the other Nazis off the list, then join in with Silverlight to take down Reinhard in the end.

January could not make out Bismarck however. An F-4 Phantom was parked between her and the last place she had seen the man. With its distinctive upturned wingtips and the downward angled horizontal stabilizers on its tail, that was a plane that January recognized. It was one of Avery's favorite planes to fly in his Air War World videogame.

She took a moment to push her senses into astral space. The auras of everyone within the exhibit instantly glowed with brilliant life, while planes, displays and artifacts faded into near total obscurity. That confirmed what she had guessed. The mundane neo-Nazis were all down, along with Tirpitz and Blitz. The auras of the latter pair were aglow with the violet threads of meta-humanity. However, Reinhard overhead showed the golden threads of a mage stitched through his own astral self. So Cray had been right about that.

Bismarck's aura was a curious thing. Large parts of it had faded to near blankness, like all the machines around her. Unlike the artifacts on display however, she felt energy that sizzled hot and strong through the mechanical parts. It was not electricity or plasma. January was quite familiar with what those felt like in the astral by now. This was something much more exotic. She wondered if it might be quantum foam? Avery had once told her that Zero Point of the Sentinels used that in his powered armor. Yet the meat portions of Bismarck's aura were laced with violet, which betrayed his meta-humanity. So from what she could gather, he was both a meta and a cyborg at the same time. That was interesting.

There was still no trace of Skorzeny at all. Unless he could cloak his presence in astral space, he must have been elsewhere. Perhaps he had some other mission to perform? Or maybe he had a falling out with the others, and he'd been given the old Ernst Röhm treatment? Nazis were catty bitches after all. Sooner or later, they always turned on one another.

Between her and the Atomkrieg's leader were a pair of smaller, weaker auras. They were huddled within the cockpit of the F-4 Phantom. It had two seats, laid out one in front of the other. Each aura hunched down in a separate chair. But Bismarck seemed to pay no attention to them. Instead she could see in the astral that he was intent upon something else. It might have been that same parachute she had seen him studying before. Now that her awareness was in astral space, she could tell that he was projecting some sort of power onto it. Or perhaps divining some sort of information from it. There was definitely a transfer of energy and information going back and forth between them, though to what purpose she could not guess.

"So... fancy bumping into you here," Hwarang said out of the corner of his mouth. All the while his eyes scanned the museum for more targets. For the moment Reinhard had moved out of view, having flown behind the U-2 spy plane that hung from the ceiling overhead. "You're the Crowgirl right?"

"At your service flower knight," January quipped. She saw the energy of his aura stir momentarily with surprise. She also noted the distinctive violet stitching of a mage throughout his astral being. So as she had already suspected, he was definitely a magician. More specifically, he was an arcane archer. January had not known that was a thing. But as Blood Raven had been wont to note, the world was indeed a wider and stranger place than anyone imagined.

"My pal Ôkami loves K-dramas. So I know what a Hwarang is. You're a long way from Ancient Silla."

"And you're a long way from the Dragon City," Hwarang smiled in return.

"I was just in the neighborhood, and thought I'd drop in." January shrugged. Then she went back to business.

"Our bad guy is down there, on the other side of that plane." She now pointed out Bismarck to Hwarang. "But we've got friendlies in the cockpit."

"You can see that?" the Korean said. "I can't get a shot from here."

"You should have come to Silverlight's astral sensing class a few days ago," January smiled. Then she nodded up to the U-2 hanging overhead. "How about from on top of that?"

"Oh, that will do nicely."

January leaned forward and cupped her fingers together to form a saddle with her hands. The archer stuck a foot within and leaped skyward. January gave him a super strength assist, and sent him rocketing up skyward. The modern flower knight somersaulted in mid-air, and came down lightly upon one wing of the great old spy plane.

January did not waste any more time watching him. She lowered her eyes to Bismarck, and the two auras in the F-4 Phantom between them. She dropped her astral perception in order to better focus on the physical world. Then she leaped out from the MiG-17, toward what she imagined was one of its old rivals. She came down lightly in front of the cockpit of the Phantom a moment later, and saw two teens huddled within.

She glanced over at Bismarck. He still stood within the same shattered display case, and continued to pore over that old parachute. Now she could see a holographic map of North America and the Atlantic Ocean spread out in the air before him. A thread of glowing energy rose from the parachute, and connected to the map. She could see it move across its surface, and create a small dot wherever it touched. It was as if the parachute was trying to pick out a specific spot on the map, but could not quite make up its mind where.

January looked back down at the two teens beneath her. Right now they were more important. They were too close. She had no idea what powers the Nazi leader might unleash if she engaged him straight away. They could all too easily be killed, even if by pure accident. That was a chance she could not take.

She bent down to grab the forward canopy, and tried to figure out how to pull it up. The teen inside the front seat shook his head with terror. He reached up to grab the glass dome, and pulled back against January's efforts. January could not blame him for not wanting to leave his hiding place, not with a supervillain just a few feet away. But it was not helping either. They could not be there when the fighting began once more.

She wished she could say something to the teens to reassure them. But Bismarck would hear it if she did. At the moment he appeared engrossed in what he was doing. But surely he would put it on hold if he noticed a superhero next to him. Nazis were not known for their restraint after all.

So January pushed harder on the canopy. She did not exert her full force. She did not want to destroy it. It was a priceless historical artifact. Not to mention the noise would certainly attract Bismarck's attention. But it appeared that the teens inside had locked it shut from inside. That forced January to gradually push harder and harder, hoping to force it open without wrecking the thing.

She wished that Ôkami was here. He could have faded through the hull of the plane, and faded right back out with the two civilians. It would have been nice, neat, and without a sound. But apparently her current, ersatz team did not include a rogue to handle such subtleties.

January heard hard, metallic clomping ring out from beyond the tail of the interceptor. Her head jerked up to see the author of the noise, though she had a sneaking suspicion that it was something railroad related. Sure enough, a moment later Mercury stamped out from behind the plane. His silvery armor glinted in the light that streamed down through the glass ceiling high overhead. His train wheels and passenger car had vanished, and the metal that had formed them had once again taken its original places around his body.

Talk about a complete lack of subtlety.

Bismarck looked up at the clamor, and his eyes set upon both January and the Philadelphian hero. The neo-Nazi raised one hand to January, and before she could react, a gray-white haze extended from his palm. It enveloped her a moment later, like a giant, glowing blanket. It felt like a giant invisible hand had clapped down around her body. Yet while she could still move her arms and legs, it was all to no avail. Nothing she did could pry the energy field from her body.

That gray-white force picked her up, and in an instant it violently jerked her sideways and down. That sent her toward the floor, and straight at Mercury. He did not see her coming until the last moment, and by then it was too late. January crashed directly into him. She felt the metal of his armor dimple under the impact. But it held, even if he went flying back head over heels.

He and January went careening across the floor in a most undignified heap of arms and legs. January imagined it must have looked like bowling for superheroes. They crashed through a display of cockpit instrument panels, only to skid to a halt amid a group of mannequins clad in the uniforms of various nations.

"Watch where you're going!" the armored hero snapped.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" January shot back. She pushed a dummy clad in an old Soviet uniform off of her. Then she tempered her response. "That guy's a telekinetic."

"Stormcrow, you and Mercury need to concentrate on Reinhard." Cray's voice was a calm, mellow tonic in her ears. "Leave Bismarck to Silverlight and Hwarang, he shouldn't be able to stop their magical attacks."

"Got it coach," January nodded as she rose to her feet. Apparently Bismarck had released her from his telekinetic grip, for she was once again free to move.

"Who are you talking to?" the railroad-themed hero asked, as he clambered to his feet.

"My fairy godfather," January quipped.

She idly realized that she never would have come up with such a smarmy one-liner just a few months ago. She had indeed leveled up quite a bit since then. She hoped that Cray at least appreciated the joke.

She was about to relate what the hacker had suggested to the other superhero, when Bismarck took the matter out of her hands. He turned off that energy field that he had created around the parachute. Now that he was finished with it, he tossed the piece of life-saving equipment carelessly aside.

Bismarck looked up and shot skyward. As he flew up, he reached out with both hands. That gray-white energy field reached out once more, and wrapped up the unconscious forms of Tirpitz and Blitz. They rose up in the air with him, plucked aloft by his telekinetic grip. However, the other terrorists sprawled out around the museum did not accompany them. Whether that was because Bismarck could not see them, or because he had reached his limit and could lift no more, January could not tell.

"Damn, we've got to move!" January leaped after the Nazi leader and unfurled the wings from her back. But he was too far away for her to reach. Without thinking she called for the sky overhead. Once more it turned dark as coal, and a blanket of storm clouds instantly raged overhead. Then the elements answered January's call, and a ragged bolt of lightning crashed down through the glass ceiling.

The silver white energy slammed full into Bismarck. The thunderclap that followed the blast caused the remaining windows to shake, along with the displays down upon the museum floor. But when January's eyes cleared from the bright flash, she saw that while Bismarck was a little singed, he continued to rise up in the air. He seemed otherwise unaffected by the blast.

In fact, she saw her electricity play around his frame for a moment. He smiled, and his eyes glowed brightly. The energy seemed to fall down into his body like water going down a faucet. Then his eyes turned to brilliant scarlet, and an instant later one beam of ruby light after another blossomed forth from them. These new lasers lanced up and around, and sliced through the wires that held the nearby U-2 spy plane aloft as if they were made of string.

"Speckt!" January cursed.

The U-2 was directly above that F-4 Phantom on the floor, the plane in which those two teens were still hidden. As if that was not enough, Hwarang still stood atop one of its wings. Now the archer fought to maintain his balance as his footing literally dropped out from under him. The five-missile finishing shot he had been just making against Bismarck wobbled far off course, and burned its way through the ceiling of the museum instead.

January dove for the falling plane. Even as she did, she knew that she had unwittingly caused this. Bismarck had clearly absorbed her lightning, converted it to laser energy, and finally emitted it back out once more. She had given him the ammunition he had needed to not only interrupt Hwarang's finishing move, but also to scratch the Korean-American off the playing board for what remained of the fight. Not to mention the falling U-2 now threatened to kill the two civilians that still remained below. It was a perfect storm of ineptitude on her part.

But there was no time for self-recrimination. That could come later, in the after action report. She had lives to save, before it was too late.

She called upon Air to impart greater power to her flight. She swooped under the plummeting surveillance plane, and then looped back upward. She hit the hull face-first. But at least that was intentional. She spread her arms as wide as she was able, to get the most purchase she could against the plane. Finally her wings beat furiously, and she pushed up against the weight of the falling aircraft.

A few months ago she had struggled to hold a car aloft from the edge of the Ambassador Bridge for more than just a few minutes. In the end both it - and her - had plummeted straight down into the Detroit River below. The spy plane was not very big, at least as far as planes went. In fact, it looked quite spindly with its narrow fuselage. But it had to weigh far more than that car ever could.

But as January had so recently noted, she had leveled up since then. She was not the same woman that she had been before. She had learned, exercised, and grown; both as an aerialist and as a magician. Now she poured all that she had learned into her flight, and willed herself to hold the U-2 aloft.

Air give me quickness in body and wit. Let the weights of the world fall from me.

The solid black aircraft slowed its descent as January called upon the classical element of Air to further refine her power. But it still did not stop. The floor was coming up closer and closer under her. Then Silverlight appeared beside her, and joined her on the bottom of the plane. Wings of pure light spread from the other heroine's back. They did not flap like a bird's did, as January's did. But she could feel the power within them nonetheless. They altered reality around the lunar heroine, and held her in the sky through the force of her will.

Out of the corner of her eye January saw Hwarang fall to the floor. He went down back first, and fired his bow skyward again and again as he dropped. But if his arrows hit anything, January could not tell. The bulk of the spy plane lay between her and the Nazis, whom she imagined must be making good their escape through the glass ceiling overhead.

The U-2 slowed further, but even together, the two heroines could not completely arrest its descent. Then January saw Mercury below. He had created those train wheels around his feet once more, and he rolled up behind the F-4. He pushed against the tail of the plane. After a heart-stopping moment, it went lurching forward. January could imagine she heard the man's armor chugging like a train. But maybe that was all in her head. In any case, the Cold War interceptor slid out of the way, even as January and Silverlight brought the U-2 down to a soft landing where it had sat moments before.

Mercury had cleared the Phantom out of the way with seconds to spare. He took the time afterward to remove his wheels once more, and caused the metal to flow back into the rest of his armor. Then his frame altered again, and the metal flowed straight down under his feet, and pushed him skyward. It formed what was essentially a pair of wide stilts under his boots. That lifted him to the same height as the cockpit of the interceptor.

He touched the metal rim of the canopy. January heard the bolts that had locked it shut pop open, as if through the will of Mercury alone. With that the single canopy seemed to split apart, and revealed that it was in fact divided into two halves: fore and aft. From each a curved section of glass rotated up from rear-mounted hinges. That allowed the occupants within to finally make their way out of the long, narrow cockpit.

January and Silverlight moved out from under the U-2, once they were sure it was safely down on the floor. January breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. But they had all managed it by working together. She paused to look skyward, but saw no sign of the Nazis. They had clearly made good their escape.

"Sister, you have excellent timing," Silverlight observed. She leaned in close, and wrapped up January in a brief hug. January heard the distant wail of sirens as Silverlight pulled away. But for the moment, the exhibit space was otherwise quiet now that the battle was over.

Hwarang appeared to be uninjured from his fall. His magical bow vanished from his fingers, and he leaped up onto the wing of the plane. From there he hopped up onto one of the bulbous air intakes that ran down the sides of the fuselage, just behind the two seats of the cockpit. Mercury passed one, then the other teen from the cockpit to the Korean-American. The archer then helped them back along the intake and down to the top of the wing.

The two students were white as sheets, and shook profusely. January did not blame them. They had nearly been pasted by the falling U-2 spy plane. It was the oldest villain trick in the book. Endanger civilians to distract the heroes. It always worked too, and January knew it would continue to do so. She would always place the lives of people like those two teens over "winning" any day.

She stepped over to the edge of the wing and helped the teens down to the ground. She put on her usual post-battle smile for the public, and tried not to show any winces or make any groans from her latest set of bumps and bruises. Tirpitz could pack a wallop, especially when her guard was down. She would have to ask Silverlight if she had anything for a headache...

"Well, that could have been better, but could have been a lot worse too." With the last civilian down and safe, Mercury's legs shrank down to their normal length. The Philadelphian took in the scene around them. The exhibition hall was a mess. The floor was chewed up in numerous places with trenches and craters from the battle. Melted and broken glass was scattered everywhere, and numerous display panels and cases lay in ruins.

But there were no dead or critically wounded people that January could see. In fact, her previous astral sensing had already told her that the hall was empty, save for the last two civilians from the F-4. They were already headed to the door. All the planes had made it through intact as well. So that was something.

"Everyone goes home alive. That's the important thing." Silverlight declared.

[Renee]

Okay, Superious is just like Superman, got it. Ah, they've also got their own version of Conan/Grognak!

No worries, you aren't anywhere near to be making Nazis look cool. We wouldn't be reading if they were portrayed as so. Correct, I know they stole their symbols from other societies. Too bad. The swastika should have completely different connotations than it does. I bet those ancients looked upon this symbol in a more positive light.

Avery has a flight simulator game. ✈ Funny how most of these Gen Zers are gamers. Not sure if it's been mentioned if Ryo also gamed, or games.

Kalea, maybe. Anyway GOOD, most of the neo-Nazis are down.

Seems like she's seeing Bismarck's yucky brain robotics. :yuck:

So from what she could gather, he was both a meta and a cyborg at the same time. That was interesting.

Yup. He's maybe kind of unique in this story.

Who is Ernst Röhm? I'm thinking one of the Nazis from way back. Looks like the fat guy on Hogan's Heroes. Anyway, that's the advantage of going into the astral, she can see everyone who's trying to hide. So what the heck could Bismarck be doing? What's he trying to 'project power' onto?

Hmm, does the parachute have anything to do with that other bionic dude (whatever he was, maybe bionic is the wrong word), Rook?

Oh no, January's encased inside whatever Bismark just threw at her. And that's interesting. Cray's now attempting to direct them. Go to Reinhard, not Bismarck. Welp, too late for that directive!

Whoa, he converts her shock energy into his own. This is one formidable foe they've got. He's just like a lot of other foes, however; there often comes a time in Stormcrow when we're saying "how're they gonna get out of THIS one?"





This post has been edited by Renee: Apr 20 2024, 07:10 PM

[Acadian]

Having an F-4 showcased is a plus in any story. The Phantom was a Fighter for sure but your use of the more precise term for its primary mission (Interceptor) and detailed description of how the cockpit opens, displays your customary precision when it comes to researching your subject.

"And you're a long way from the Dragon City," Hwarang smiled in return.’
- - What a natural and logical piece of the bigger story that Detroit would be now known as the Dragon City.

When Bismarck threw Stormcrow at Mercury, I was relieved that Mercury did not fully assume she was attacking him and simply yelled at her instead of insisting on fighting her. I’m figuring that these metas are famous enough to recognize each other on sight. Certainly Stormcrow is.

And Crowgirl once again reveals the Stormie side of her with a precision guided lightning bolt from the heavens. Uh-oh. Who coulda known that Bismarck would refocus the power of her lightning bolt so masterfully? This guy may be a baddie but he’s got some tactical savvy. That said, it is not Stormcrow’s fault. But of course she blames herself.

’It was the oldest villain trick in the book. Endanger civilians to distract the heroes. It always worked too, and January knew it would continue to do so. She would always place the lives of people like those two teens over "winning" any day.’
- - Henceforth, this shall be known as the Stormcrow Doctrine.

A win for sure. . . but the escape of some of her foes grates I’m sure.

[SubRosa]

Renee: The swastika is still in use by a billion people - Hindus, Jainists, and even some Native Americans still use it. I am sure it makes for... interesting situations when Jewish people visit India and see them all over the place.

That is the Ernst Röhm. He was a gay man who was also a Nazi. Turns out that is not a good combo. They murdered him and his supporters in the Night of the Long Knives, a few years after they took power. Nazis always turn on each other in the end.

You are onto something with associating the parachute with Rook. Remember that Rook was trying to steal two nuclear bombs from a B-52 in flight. And the Atomkrieg is after two lost nuclear bombs...


Acadian: Yes, I decided to go with the factory-assigned nomenclature of interceptor for the F-4, rather than the role it was pushed into. Granted, if one chooses to identify as an Air Superiority Fighter, I will be the last one to misgender them for it!

It was originally going to be The Motor City that Hwarang referred to Detroit as. Then in a later edit I remembered the dragon, and changed it to reflect Detroit's new status.

If you go back a few weeks, Mercury did recognize January as "The Crowgirl", so he did recognize her. Thanks to everything she has been involved in, January is one of the most well known supers in the world. Even when a lot of that fame is for absolutely trite reasons, like kissing another girl on national television.

That is a good Stormcrow Doctrine. Like the Silverlight Mission Statement we ended with last week: "Everyone goes home alive."

It is only a minor victory to be sure. This particular war goes on, as we will learn in today's episode. The rest of this Book is laser focused on the Atomkrieg, and those two nuclear bombs.







Book 12.23 - Broken Arrow

"My bike!" Hwarang now stomped across the exhibition space to his broken motorcycle. He threw his hands up in the air in clear frustration. "I'm not even done paying for it!"

"Don't worry, I got you bro," Mercury insisted. The powered armor hero clomped across the torn up stone floor tiles to the motorcycle. Once there he passed a hand over the rent metal of the bike. The bits and pieces that had been scattered around leaped up into the air and all snapped back into their original places within the motorcycle. Those that were broken turned to liquid and flowed back into their proper shapes. Then they turned solid once more. In the end the bike looked as pristine as it must have when it first rolled off the factory floor.

It reminded January of how Blackhawk could reshape metals with her magnetism. She had fixed a torpedo-sized hole in a Coast Guard cutter that way. It also brought back a memory of the last time she had fought neo-Nazis. That had been the National Socialist League at Motor City Pride, in downtown Detroit. One of them had been able to control metal. He had pulled it from multiple cars and created a graceless—but effective—suit of armor for himself.

She wondered if Mercury wore a suit of powered armor at all? Or could he too, simply manipulate metal to his will? In essence, he might be the power for the armor.

"Way to go train man!" Hwarang gave the armored hero a high five, then straddled his bike. He started it up with a single click. It was the same sound January's Victory Empulse made when she fired it up. More to the point, it was the same lack of sound, as the vehicle was silent except for the sound of detritus crunching under its tires. So it was definitely electric. The Korean-American leaned over and turned sharply, and coasted up to a halt beside January and Silverlight.

"It's good to meet you Stormcrow," he said. "You've been kind of an inspiration for me. What happened at Belle Isle is what made me decide to put on the cape."

"Yeah, sorry I missed that. I barely made it past Pittsburgh before it was all over." Mercury clomped back over to join them. "We usually only work here in the Mid-Atlantic states."

"I think all the capes in the world wished they could have gotten there in time. Those of us who were able to, well we just happened to be in the right place, at the right time is all." January nodded. "So are you all a team? Silverlight never mentioned that."

"No, nothing that official," Mercury shook his head. "We're more like an anarchist mutual aid network. We're all spread out. We only come together when something is too big for one of us to handle."

"So you each have a solo book, and the comics company does an occasional limited series with you all together," January laughed. "Yeah, I get it."

That brought some chuckles from the others.

"I live up in Baltimore," Hwarang explained. Then he jerked a thumb to Mercury. "The train man here is from Philadelphia. And I see Rebel Yell didn't even turn up. He's from Richmond."

"Yes, he has a habit of not doing that," Silverlight said in a low voice. January suspected that she might be fuming.

"Guy's the only one who doesn't have to work for a living," Mercury groused, "but half the time he's never around. I'm missing work to be here."

"Yes," Hwarang murmured, "I had to cancel a lesson as well."

"Wow, that sucks. I never thought about how having a nine to five job would make doing this... thing we do... harder. What do you all do?" January frowned. Then she realized what she had just said, and how she was crossing boundaries. She held up her hands as a sign to halt. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

"I'm a civil engineer," Mercury said. "That's probably all I should get into though."

"I am a musician," Hwarang noted.

"Really, that slaps, I know..." January started, then stopped herself once more. She had been about to say Blackjack's name. But that was not something she was free to divulge. "I know a musician, who doesn't know that I am Stormcrow."

"Complicated isn't it?" Mercury said. "I'll tell you something kid, it doesn't get any easier, juggling lives like we do."

"We are fortunate, in that the two of us have flexible work lives," Silverlight said directly to January. "Capes who have legal empowerment are compensated by the state. So they don't need day jobs. For the rest of us though, it's not always easy balancing real life with the cape."

"Like that guy that didn't show up - Rebel Yell?" January said. "I'm guessing he's not named after the Billy Idol song, is he?"

"No, more after the War of Southern Aggression," Silverlight observed. "He's got a habit of not showing up in cases of right wing violence, or just not at all."

"And he's the only one of you who's a cop?" January noted. "What a surprise."

"Well, as much as any of us with a badge is a cop," Silverlight said. "It's not the same. It's close, but not the same."

Now January's two remotes hovered down silently from overhead. The spherical drones came to a halt before her, and she took the first and clipped it to her belt. Before she could do the same with the second, Cray's voice was once more in her ear.

"Hold up, and I'll get a picture of you all," he said. "We can put it up in the Raven's Nest."

January then motioned for the others to all stand together with her. She smiled, and waited while the drone captured the moment. Finally the hacker gave the all-clear, and she took it and added it to her utility belt as well.

"What are those things?" Mercury asked. "You got your own cameras to take pictures of you?"

"They're drones that Gadget made. All of my team carries a few now." January explained. "They let our information specialist see what is going on. His name's Cray. He's the voice in my ear, telling me not do stupid things. Which I usually do anyway..."

"Huh, people with their drones these days." Mercury shook his head. "We should get us one of them hackers too."

"So what brings a Detroit crow to a DC super battle?" Silverlight asked.

"I came to meet with a nonprofit to see if I could help them raise money for trans folks." January said. "But I saw the party you guys were having, and decided to invite myself."

"That sounds... exactly like what I'd expect!" Hwarang laughed. Then he took a more serious tone. "You've been a real ambassador for our community. You've made me think about... well maybe being a little more open about some things."

January could not help but arch an eyebrow that a Vulcan science officer might appreciate. Hwarang's use of the phrase "our community" was unmistakable. It certainly implied a great deal, unless he simply meant the super community.

In the very least she imagined that the Korean-American was Queer in some way. A man wearing lipstick was not exactly a great signal of masculinity after all. But granted, that alone did not mean he was gay or trans either. Case in point, the hair metal bands from the 80s like Poison and Motley Crue. Likewise, thanks to the K-dramas she had seen, January knew that wearing makeup was a tradition of the historical hwarang. They had been warrior poets who kicked ass for the old Korean kingdom of Silla, and looked fabulous doing it.

The police lights that now flashed against the glass windows gave January an excuse not to reply. She looked over, and saw that the street outside was now filled with emergency vehicles. She knew from experience that they were about to be inundated with law enforcement and probably paramedics. That was a good thing. They had quite a few unconscious neo-Nazis to clean up.

Then they all turned to face those emergency responders as they flooded into the hall a few moments later, as if they had been summoned by January's thoughts. Most of them spread out and began to handcuff the unconscious terrorists. But a pair of plain clothes detectives walked over to the assembled heroes. Silverlight moved to meet them, and January followed. The other two heroes did not.

"Detectives Hall, Oates," Silverlight said to each cop in turn. "It's a pleasure, as always."

The tone in the magician's voice did not suggest sincerity. Given the sour looks on the cop's faces, January suspected that the feeling might be mutual.

"Did you have to do this inside a museum?" The first one—Hall—sighed with ill-concealed exasperation. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, but if anything his mane of golden hair looked fuller than January's. He took off the aviator sunglasses that he wore, and stared around at the devastation.

"The mayor's going to have a fit over this one, I just know it," he grumbled.

"Talk to them." Silverlight nodded over to the neo-Nazis. Officers were now bent over them, and began to strip them of their force field generators and other meta-tech items. So too their entirely ordinary weapons as well.

"What were they after?" Oates asked. He was the dark to Hall's light, with a head of thick, curly black hair and a mustache. The pair looked like they might have walked straight out of a buddy cop show from the 80s. "Was this some kind of demonstration?"

"They seemed to be interested in that parachute over there." January gestured to the life-saving gear in question, which now lay casually discarded on the floor. It was surrounded by the glass broken from the display case that had once held it.

"Detectives, this is-" Silverlight began.

"We know..." Oates cut her off in a low tone. "The whole damn world has seen her on TV."

January was not sure if he had a problem with her or not. Given that she was publically trans, lesbian, and a woman, there were plenty of reasons for why someone in his profession would feel that way. Right now she did not really care. She could already tell that he and his partner were superfluous at best. If there was going to be any follow up to this, it would be done by her and the others.

January smiled in spite of herself. It seemed that some of Blood Raven had rubbed off on her after all.

Glass crunched under her boots as January turned from the detectives and walked to the parachute. It was plain, green, and faded. She did not know much about parachutes, but this seemed old, like something from the 50s or 60s. She looked over at the broken signage that had flanked the shattered display case. She used the toes of her boots to poke a few pieces of the display back together, until she was able to read most of it.

"What is it?" Silverlight stepped up beside her, and the two police detectives trailed close behind.

"It says this chute is from a B-52 that crashed in 1961, call sign Keep 19." January noted. "It was part of a Broken Arrow incident, whatever that is."

"It's when the government loses a nuke," Mercury observed. January glanced back, to see that now he and Hwarang had moved up to meet them.

"Loses?" January wondered. "How do you lose nuclear bombs? Do they just fall between the couch cushions?"

"Oh, they find plenty of ways," Mercury grumbled. "It happens a lot more than you want to know."

"Stormcrow, you better put me on speaker," Cray said in her ear. January tapped on Sága's screen, and a moment later his voice came out loud and clear for all to hear.

"I know this case," the hacker explained. "It's infamous. The bomber was part of a program the Air Force once had to keep planes armed with nuclear bombs in the air around the clock, just in case the Russkies tried to launch a sneak attack. They eventually stopped doing it, because they lost too many planes—and nukes—from accidents and mechanical failures. This one disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean with two nuclear bombs onboard. They radioed a distress call as they went down, saying that they were under attack. But they never said by who or what, and the call abruptly stopped in mid-transmission."

"It says here that the plane was never found." Silverlight stared down at the information display at their feet. "But some wreckage did float to the surface, like part of the tail and one wing, and this same parachute."

"Yeah, a rescue attempt was launched, but the crew was never located, nor the plane," Cray said. "The Navy tried to search the seabed. But the technology for that wasn't very good back then. It's still not great today. We know more about the surface of the moon than we do about the ocean floor. They weren't even sure where it went down to begin with. It was like looking for a grain of sand in the Sahara. Eventually they had to give up. The crew is all presumed dead, at the bottom of the sea."

"The nukes didn't show up later, and no terrorist group took credit for it. Some people thought it was the Russians, and that maybe they stole the nukes to reverse engineer them. But if so, they kept it so secret that it didn't even come out when the Soviet Union dissolved, and the Kremlin's old files were finally unsealed. I don't buy that though. They didn't hesitate to shoot down our planes if we got too close to their borders. But this was over the North Atlantic. The Soviets wouldn't have had fighters that could have even reached Keep 19. Not they wouldn't have needed to steal any of our nukes. They had plenty of their own that were much bigger. This is about the same time they made the Tsar Bomba after all. In any case, the general belief is that whoever attacked them either bugged out when things got hot, or went down with the B-52."

"So why was the Atomkrieg interested in aviation history?" Silverlight wondered. "Aside from their name of course?"

"They are led by a guy calling himself Bismarck," Cray explained. "His real name is Kaleb Harris. He lived out in Idaho, and it appears he was radicalized by Ruby Ridge. He lived just one county over, and went to watch during the siege, along with a lot of other people. He got indoctrinated by right wing propaganda afterward, joined the militia movement, and tried to make a fertilizer bomb to blow up an FBI building. Apparently he read about it in the Turner Diaries. But the only thing he blew up was himself."

"So an even less competent Tim McVeigh," Mercury sighed.

"He got out of prison four years ago and disappeared." The hacker said. "He reappeared a few years later as Bismarck. No one knows who chromed him up with the cyberware. But he didn't even try to hide his identity. He formed the Atomkrieg, and has been pushing a white supremacist accelerationist agenda. Their goal is to start an apocalyptic race war that will destroy the United States, so that a fascist white ethnostate can take its place."

Mercury said nothing. But the tortured groan of bent steel spoke volumes as his fingers tightened into fists.

Detective Oates whistled. "A couple of nuclear bombs could do a lot of destroying." he noted grimly.

"So how does this parachute help him with that?" January said. "He was doing something with it, scanning it somehow. He was creating a map. I saw a hologram of it. It showed the Atlantic."

"What I have on Bismarck's abilities is that he's a cyborg," Cray said. "He's a telekinetic. From what we just saw he can absorb energy too, and can convert it to other forms and emit it back. Zero Point and Stinger tangled with him once, and they think that he does all this by manipulating quantum fields."

"He's a meta-human too," January noted. "I saw it in his aura."

"How can you tell that?" Mercury asked.

"I had good teachers," January glanced over to Silverlight, and smiled. Then she looked back down to Sága's screen. "So could he have used this quantum stuff to create a map of where that parachute was in say, 1961?"

"Yes, yes he could have." Silverlight interjected before the hacker could answer.

The detectives cursed in unison. Hall pulled out his phone and walked away. Oates began to fidget noticeably.

"So he could be headed to get the bombs right now?" January thought.

"Maybe," Cray said. "But he's going to need a submersible to get them. It's on the bottom of the ocean. Even for meta-humans, that's not an easy place to reach. Or he'll need some kind of tech or powers to survive the crushing depth, breathe the water, and not freeze to death. And he'll need a ship to store the bombs in afterward. Unless he can carry them both with his telekinesis and fly across the ocean at the same time."

With that Detective Oates pulled out his phone too. He began by telling someone that they needed to shut down all shipping in Chesapeake Bay, and possibly the entire East Coast. Then he too walked out of earshot.

"Did you get a good look at that map?" Hwarang asked.

"Not really, it was too quick," January shook her head. "Cray, what about my body cams?"

"Way ahead of you," the hacker replied. "Here it is."

Sága's screen filled with the video in question. It was taken by January's forward-facing helmet camera. The quality was good, but it shook with every motion of her head. It was enough to reveal that Bismarck's map was indeed of the North Atlantic. But exactly where was not clear. Cray slowed it to a single frame at a time. But even so the exact spot that his scan indicated was hidden behind the cyborg's shoulder.

"You have cameras in your suit?" Hwarang asked, clearly surprised by that revelation.

"Yeah," January replied. "Like the drones, they let Cray see what is going on. He saves the video. It helps when we create our after action reports, and make dossiers on our opposition."

"Clever girl," Mercury nodded. "It's like watching the tape after a football game."

"But it is still not good enough," Hwarang frowned. "Is there some magic way to reconstruct the missing video?"

That seemed impossible to January. But what she did not know about magic could fill the Atlantic. So she did not say anything.

Silverlight however, seemed to mull that over. She massaged her white marble chin with her thumb and forefinger. Then she bent down and picked up the parachute.

"Remember your magical theory Stormcrow; the Law of Contagion. Things that have been in contact remain in contact, even after they have been physically separated. This was part of Keep 19. It will lead us right back to it."

"Then let's get going," January said.

"Do you want me to get the rest of the team?" Cray asked. "I haven't yet, because you're so far away."

"If we are all out here, then there won't be anyone to cover it if something happens back home." January shook her head. "Besides, I think we can handle it."

"We have a sister who has an affinity for the sea," Silverlight observed. "Can you contact her? In the meantime I'll arrange us transport to meet her in the North Atlantic."

"You have a boat?" Hwarang asked.

"No, something better," Silverlight said, "a friend in the Pentagon."

* * *

[Renee]

Good, nice to know when speculating pays off. Been wondering about Rook. Maybe he did escape from that plane, using that parachute. I can only imagine the mess that's now in the Museum!

I suspect Mercury has full command over anything metallic. Doesn't need a power-suit. Hmm. 🌡

The capes are gabbing, comparing notes, talking shop. Hmm, wait. So Hwarang is the guy who lives in (or near) Mt. Vernon you were talking bout before?

Ha ha Rebel Yell! Can't wait to meet him. Or not. Seems like he's not wanting to be on scene, except perhaps on his very specific terms.

Mercury has a day job? What kind of job? Wondering if he gets to use his unique talent at this job. Maybe he's a welder or something. Or works in a refinery. His job is nothing like this though, he works as a Civil Engineer. I'm googling that, yeah, go ahead and laugh!

Civil engineers plan, design, and supervise the construction and maintenance of building and infrastructure projects.

Okay, that's totally up his alley.

Capes who have legal empowerment are compensated by the state. So they don't need day jobs. For the rest of us though, it's not always easy balancing real life with the cape.

Wow.

Just had a thought about Hwarang. Bet the guy knows John Waters, maybe even offhand in some way, like not PERSONALLY, but he's seen the guy. And he knows some specific things about his persona or whatever. 🌹 Waters can be seen in public once in a while in B'more, especially while working on whatever next film. I once sat next to the guy in a dive bar, for instance (without knowing who I was next to). I'm thinking there's something there with Hwarang; some sort of interaction. Whatever.

Hall & Oates! Hall even has gold hair! Which means Oates has a mustache and silly poodle haircut. See, January might not even know the original duo.

Ah, so this does seem to be a parachute from that bomber which crashed. I can't remember if Rook had to use the 'chute. But it seems so. My memory sucks, okay? I'll just preface that right now. So going by memory, last we saw him he was stuck in the plane, and couldn't get out using any of his own devices. So maybe he had to resort to an older-fashioned method. Well... maybe not older-fashioned. From what I recently read in an unrelated story, parachutes were new at the time.


This post has been edited by Renee: May 3 2024, 04:08 PM

[Acadian]

”He's the voice in my ear, telling me not do stupid things. Which I usually do anyway..."
- - I have an elf who could say the same thing.

I figured that Bismarck was communing with that parachute to determine the bomb-laden B-52’s underwater resting place. Fabulous that it looks like Silverlight can sort of do the same thing.

Wow, Mercury would be worth his weight in gold at an auto body repair shop!

Oh, I forgot about WaterWoman the Calypso Neried. I bet she’ll come in very handy!

"Complicated isn't it?" Mercury said. "I'll tell you something kid, it doesn't get any easier, juggling lives like we do."
- - I know Jan/Stormcrow already has a theme song but here’s another most appropriate song highlighting that she really does live her life Between Two Worlds.

[SubRosa]

Renee: We will be seeing Rook again, once we reach the sunken plane. Though he is not what he used to be...

Hwarang is indeed the person who lives in Mt. Vernon. Rebel Yell does not show up in this story. I am not sure if I will ever actually use him. I just wanted an example of someone who was not present, to show that Silverlight's cohorts are not a real team in the full sense. As Mercury said before, they just come together sometimes to fight bigger threats.

TBH, as an engineer his job is not that different from your original ideas. He is the one checking the welds of the steel beams in a skyscraper, things like that. Which I see you found out just a sentence later.

Hwarang probably has bumped into John Waters then. I had no idea he lived in B'more. Especially if Waters is into the music scene. He's probably seen Hwarang play (in his secret identity).

I needed a pair of detectives for that scene. They are not important to the plot, and won't appear again. They are just sort of there because someone like that naturally would be. So I started thinking about partnerships. Hall and Oates just jumped into my head, and I ran with it.

This was an unused parachute. So not something that Rook could have used. Also if you go back, you will see he was still in the cockpit when the plane hit the water. So it would not have helped him in any case.


Acadian: For both Bismarck and Silverlight I basically used the same idea: the Law of Contagion in Sympathetic Magic. Or Quantum Entanglement. Things that have been in contact remain in contact. Bismarck does it with meta-technology, Silverlight with wizardry. The end result is that both can now find Keep 19, and its payload of nuclear bombs.

It is funny that you mentioned Nereids. Because later on in the story we are going to meet an actual Nereid, when Silverlight summons one for help.

Thank you for the song. That was lovely.








The Mabahith Amn El Dawla is Egypt's secret police

Joint Base Andrews can be found on the Stormcrow Map

Sikorsky CH-53K King Stallion Pic

Sikorsky CH-53K King Stallion Interior Pic

Devtac Helmet



Book 12.24 - Broken Arrow

Nitokris slinked across the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse. The tar under her feet was not only cracked, but in many places it had entirely peeled off the old rooftop. That revealed rusted metal and rotten wood underneath. The rest of the building below was a similar study in decrepitude. Broken windows peeked out from walls whose paint had peeled away decades before, and rain gutters sagged from the brackets that barely held them aloft.

However, the Brooklyn docks all around stood in stark contrast to the dilapidated structure. Evidentially most of the waterfront had been recently revitalized. Old docks and warehouses had been replaced with shiny new playgrounds, micro-breweries, offices, and retailers. The area looked to have been recently gentrified. Nitokris would not be surprised if this particular warehouse might be slated for demolition soon, to make way for a mini-mall or axe-throwing bar.

Ventilation fans rose at regular intervals along the upraised spine of the aging warehouse. Long since unpowered, their curved blades still squeaked as the August breeze passed slowly through them. It was to one of these that the Egyptian stopped and set her ear. She called up her magic, and used it to extend her hearing down through the shaft and into the open space below.

"Gruppenleiter, we should go back and rescue the others," a male voice said. It was entirely unremarkable. But her astral senses told her that it issued from the one mage in their group, the one with the elemental darkness spells.

He had some skill, but like the others, his operational security was sloppy. It had never occurred to any of them that someone might be watching them. So they did not even take the most mundane precautions, such as placing alarms or cameras around their hideout. Nor had they created any magical wards, or even scanned the area in astral space. It was wide open.

All these white nationalists seemed to be the same. They were part of the in-group whom the law protected, but did not bind. That privilege made them lazy. They had not grown up under a regime that bound them under its oppressive heel. That was aimed at those of the wrong color, or religion, or gender, or land of origin in their nation's savage utopia. It never occurred to them that the police might actually come after them. It had never happened before after all.

In spite of the persecution complex that they loved to revel in, they had no idea what real oppression felt like. They just liked to pretend to be downtrodden. They had never felt fear when looking at the open sky. They had never had to wonder if an unseen drone might drop a missile on their school bus at any moment. They had never seen the Mabahith Amn El Dawla burst into their home at night, and shoot their mother and father dead before their very eyes.

This crew was smart enough to at least wear masks. Well, most of them did at least. Their leader appeared to be beyond caring however. He had been in the system already though. He had no secret identity to escape back to at the end of the day. Nitokris imagined that made him more committed than the others. Unlike them, he had no way out, and nothing left to lose.

Not even his body. She could see in astral space that half of it was missing. The empty pieces had been replaced by the faded lines of prosthetics. They were meta-tech prosthetics however, for in the astral they brimmed with power. Combined with the meta-human talent she felt laced through the still living portions of his aura, that told her that he would be a dangerous foe to face, head on at least.

"There is no going back Reinhard," their cyborg leader replied. His voice was the rasp of sandpaper on old stone. "They have done their part to get us here. They will be remembered as holy martyrs for the cause. But the cause goes on."

"But they're with us, they-" the magician responded, only to be cut off by the cyborg.

"They are kaput!" he snapped. In spite of the German word, he spoke in prefect English. It was clearly his native tongue. All of them cosplayed at being German, but she would bet that not a single one of them had been actually born in Europe. "And if we waste our time going back for them we will be as well. No, we go on now, and finish this."

"This is our time!" his voice rose with passion and authority. "We have the power now, the power to end this Jew government that has oppressed us for so long. These liberals and their Black dogs and Homo pets won't know what hit them. They cannot stop us now. In a few hours Washington DC and New York City will both be vaporized in atomic fire."

"America will fall in an inferno of glory!" he went on. "It will be the Day of the Rope! Our kameraden will know it is time, and rise up with us. From the ashes of the Old World, we'll remake a pure state, a White state, one where people like us can stand tall and proud once more, as our forefather's did. Now what say you to this?"

"Long Live Death!" they all shouted in unison, and thrust out their hands in the flat-palmed Nazi salute.

"Skorzeny." Their leader now turned to one of the meta-human soldiers. "Report!"

"I have the rebreathers." This one said in a voice that practically over-flowed with cockiness. He was dressed like the others: in a black uniform, Nazi stahlhelm, and half-skull mask that covered his lower face. But he did not carry any meta-tech upon him. Instead Nitokris could sense the threads of meta-human power stitched through his aura. But she could not tell what his abilities were as of yet.

He held out what looked like an old-fashioned aluminum camera case. He spun it to face his leader, who stepped up and popped its lid open. Nitokris could not see exactly what was within. But the writing on the side of the case announced it as the property of the National Oceanographic Institute. An identical case lay at his feet. Clearly this was their means of surviving the ocean's depths.

Nitokris was tempted to send an arrow through each case and destroy the equipment within. That would prevent the neo-Nazis from claiming their prize. But she still needed them to lead her to the crashed bomber. So she bided her time, waited, and watched.

"Heinrich," Bismarck now turned to one of few remaining ordinary, non-meta Nazis. "What is the status of your mission?"

"The salvage ship is ours." A literally faceless neo-Nazi answered. "The others are waiting there, and are ready to go."

"Good, then we move out," the cyborg commanded. He turned to face all of his underlings, and raised his voice to a shout. "Long Live Death!"

"Long Live Death!" the others all shouted back the Franco-era fascist war cry. Nitokris wondered if they felt the irony of mixing Spanish fascism with German. Then again, their kind seemed incapable of understanding such subtleties. They were blunt instruments. But they were instruments that would lead her to two nuclear bombs.

The Accountant had been right to distrust this man, and hire her to monitor him. Bismarck clearly had his own agenda, one that even his billionaire backers would not sanction. It would definitely hurt their business interests to destroy New York City and its financial district. Perhaps even closer to home, the think tank through which they secretly financed far right groups such as this one was located within Washington DC. So too were many of the defense contractors they owned. Bismarck was planning to bite the hand that fed him, in the most literal fashion. That came as no surprise to the Egyptian. Fascists always ate their own.

She already had a paycheck coming for her discoveries. There would be a gigantic bonus if she could stop them, or at least delay them long enough for Silverlight and her cronies to do that for her. But now her mind turned with new possibilities. In the past she had killed one Egyptian president with her bare hands. She could do much more than that with two nuclear weapons...

* * *

It was less than a ten mile journey from Washington DC to Joint Base Andrews. Mercury formed those railroad wheels of his and rolled along down the surface streets to get there. Hwarang followed close behind on his Willendorf electric motorcycle. January and Silverlight soared overhead, one on wings of white light, and the other on those of a black crow.

Even with their ground-bound members, what January had taken to calling The Mid-Atlantic Coalition made good time. A nearby interstate took them out of the city core and past the Navy Yard on the Anacostia River. She recognized it from one of the computer games she had seen Avery play. But no one here was living in an old aircraft carrier, and there were no mutants or raiders lurking in the shadows. She did get to see a Cold War-era destroyer that was tied up at the docks however, so that was something at least.

They continued on through the parkways and streets of Maryland afterward, and were at the air base in no time at all. Thankfully they were expected at the gate, and an old, open-topped humvee waited there for them. January and Silverlight dropped down from the sky and climbed aboard. Hwarang remained on his motorcycle, and Mercury retained his road wheels however. The humvee led them through the streets within the sprawling complex of administrative buildings, barracks, and dining halls. She even saw a gas station and veterinarian, and January would have bet that there was a golf course as well.

Then they were out on a wide apron that was flanked on one side by a long line of massive hangars. Not one, but two actual airstrips ran parallel to one another on the other side of this staging area. Each stretched on for around two miles in length, though it was hard to tell exactly how far with any certainty. They just seemed to go for what seemed like forever.

January could not identify all the planes she saw parked on the apron itself. Lighthammer would know. Some were so big that they had to be cargo planes, or perhaps fuel tankers. Others were smaller, and were clearly fighters. She did recognize a handful of large, wedge-shaped aircraft as B-2 bombers. She had seen those looming over Belle Isle near the end of the battle there. Each was capable of leveling a mid-sized country with the push of a button. Most of the planes had USAF markings, but others appeared to belong to the Marine Corps, and still more the Navy. So as the name implied, the Joint Base really was used by all the armed services.

The humvee led them to the end of the apron. Sitting in front of the last hangar were several rows of helicopters. They were led to one that January could only describe as thicc. It was big, much bigger than the other choppers. The wide sponsons on either side of its lower hull gave it the impression of even greater bulk. It had twice the number of rotor blades of the other helicopters as well, and a long, rounded frame.

The rotors on the chopper were already turning as they arrived, and the cargo ramp in its rear lowered as the humvee stopped before it. An officer leaped out of the ground vehicle and motioned to the utility aircraft.

"Major Stevens has assigned this king stallion to you," he had to shout to be heard over the roar of the giant helicopter's engines. "It has the heaviest lift in our entire fleet, and it can refuel in mid-air if need be. He's also arranged for an additional team member, who's already on board. If you need anything more just tell the pilot."

"Thank you lieutenant," Silverlight said. Then she turned to January and the others, and motioned for them to follow her into the aircraft.

In some ways it reminded January of the interior of Viuda's spidercraft Charlotte. Like it, this vehicle was wide enough to drive a car up into. The floor was interspersed with inset rings to strap down cargo. The bare walls revealed stringers and hull ribs that ran the length and breadth of the fuselage. Jump seats were folded up along either side of the bay, and January guessed there were enough to seat about thirty. However, this ship lacked the amenities of the Charlotte. There was no water cooler, or microwave, or folding beds. There was certainly no tarantula sidekick. It was purely utilitarian.

There were two crew members in the cargo bay who greeted them as they came onboard. One of them helped Hwarang tie down his motorcycle to the floor, so that it would not slide around. The other shut the cargo ramp behind them.

As the lieutenant outside had said, also waiting there for them was a man in tan desert US Army fatigues. A full helmet covered his head. It looked more like something from a suit of powered armor than anything a common foot soldier might wear. A pistol rode at one of his hips, under his standard issue plate carrier torso armor. Otherwise he carried no obvious weapons.

"I recognize that helmet," Cray said in January's ear. "That's a next-gen prototype, he must be field-testing it."

"I'm Ranger," the newcomer declared. January wondered if that was supposed to mean something to her. "I'll be in command of this operation going forward. First I-"

Without saying a word Silverlight glided through the air past him, and disappeared into the cockpit beyond. She still held the parachute from Keep 19 in one hand. In the meantime January and the others folded down some of the jump seats that lined the walls, and made themselves comfortable.

"Hey, where's she going?" Ranger cried. "You can't do that! She can't do that. Can she do that?"

"You in the Army sonny?" Mercury sprawled out across several of the jump seats with his legs spread wide. But even man-spreading as he was, the folding chairs groaned ominously under his armored bulk.

"I am a lieutenant in the US Army, Ranger school qualified, and graduate of BUD/S," the soldier responded. January noted that his chest puffed up notably as he reeled of his accomplishments. "I've been deployed in Africa and Afghanistan for the past two years on special operations."

"Well that's nice. Take a load off and relax son." Mercury responded. He pointed one thumb toward his own chest, then nodded to the other heroes in turn. "I'm the train man. She's the bird girl, excuse me, crow girl. He's a warrior poet inspired by the ancient Korean kingdom of Silla, and Silverlight up front's the moon wizard."

January could not help but chortle softly to herself. From the seat beside her, she heard Hwarang giggle as well. But even as she snickered, January could not argue with the train man's description of them all. It was as absolutely ridiculous as it was entirely accurate. It just went to show how silly the whole super business could be; at least when no one was trying to end the world.

"What are you two laughing about?" Ranger barked defensively. The black, glossy lenses of his helmet now swiveled from Mercury to January and Hwarang.

"We were just comparing lipstick shades," Hwarang said in a totally deadpan tone. "Would you like to add something to the conversation?"

Even though his face was hidden, January could easily imagine Ranger's eyes bugging out under his helmet. In the very least, his head cocked up and sideways in surprise.

"Holy buttcakes, you're a dude?" the lieutenant nearly sputtered. Then he caught himself, and changed gears. "I mean, I didn't know you were trans like Stormcrow... I mean, ah crap, I didn't mean to misgender you. I'm so-"

"I identify as a man." Hwarang's soft red lips gleamed as they remained curled up in a smile. "So you were right."

"No kidding?" Ranger slowed down. "You've got a pretty solid androgynous anime hero vibe going, like the protagonist of a Final Fantasy game."

The helicopter rose skyward with a lurch. That sent Ranger scrambling for a jump seat beside Mercury. January saw him lean over to the other man, and heard him whisper in a low voice.

"Do you ever have a problem with chafing?" he asked. One of his hands hovered over his crotch, making it plain what he was referring to. "I spend a lot of time in the desert, and let me tell you, after half a day in the sun, I got a swamp worse than Camp Rudder down there..."

"Baby powder," Mercury nodded sagely. "It's the armored man's best friend."

It was looking like the newest member of their makeshift team was going to fit in just fine after all. January had to admit, she was curious what life was like for a meta-human in the army. On one hand—like everyone else—she knew that metas had been part of militaries since the First World War. In it Grognard and the Red Baron had become heroes for France and Germany respectively. Some would say they were the world's first superheroes.

But on the other hand those who joined the army were just as mysterious and secretive as the capes like her in the civilian world. It was for the very same reasons of course. A hostile foreign power could kidnap a meta soldier's family or loved ones, and hold them hostage to manipulate them. So while everyone knew names like Red Storm, or Panzer, or Arizona, it was usually only long after their deaths that the public learned their actual identities, if ever at all.

"So you and Silverlight know one another?" Hwarang's voice brought January around from her wool-gathering. The Korean-American sat straight as an arrow in the jump seat, all poise and grace. That made January feel self-conscious, and she likewise locked her knees together and straightened up her own posture to a more lady-like pose.

"Yeah, were sisters," January answered breezily.

"Well, 'sisters'," she said again. Now she made quotation marks with her fingers around the second word. "We both had the same teacher: Blood Raven."

"Really, the Blood Raven?" Hwarang did not contain the look of surprise from his face. Thanks to his open faced helmet, January could easily read his expressions. Even under the face paint that covered half of his features. She kind of envied him that. It made him appear much more open, expressive, and just friendly than the solid metal which covered January's own upper features.

"I didn't think Blood Raven like... played well with others," Mercury said from across the space.

"She often does not," January laughed. "She's relentless, stubborn, opinionated, misanthropic, and a real pain in the rear. She's also a good friend, and the best mentor you could ever hope for. She's trained a lot us over the years."

"I never had a teacher," Hwarang frowned. "I just sort of had to figure this out on my own."

"Well I could send you some books that could help," January offered. "I have some by Branwen Renner that are a good starting point for magic. Plus I have a few other more esoteric ones. In fact Silverlight made an annotated English copy of the Scripta Mortis that is quite helpful. Come to think of it, I know an alchemist who makes magical face paint too. You might want to look into that as well."

[Renee]

True, yeah you're right, Hwrang is somewhat new in Baltimore, forgot that. It's great he's already got some students!

This was an unused parachute. So not something that Rook could have used. Also if you go back, you will see he was still in the cockpit when the plane hit the water.

Ah, okay.

Another aging, abandoned workspace. Similar to where we first saw Bismarck. Except this time we've got Nitokris. Is she friend or foe? Oh wow, she's Egyptian. Like Hoda Kotb!

Heh heh heh... "He had some skill, but like the others, his operational security was sloppy. It had never occurred to any of them that someone might be watching them. So they did not even take the most mundane precautions, such as placing alarms or cameras around their hideout. Nor had they created any magical wards, or even scanned the area in astral space. It was wide open."

... Guess we can see where this is going!

Axe-throwing BAR??

Nitokris can get into the astral plane, too. 🪐 Whoa, the law protects them. Which state is this? Must be down south (assumption). Or maybe out west somewhere. Guess I'll find out soon. Brooklyn docks, though. NYC? Hmm...

They had never had to wonder if an unseen drone might drop a missile on their school bus at any moment. They had never seen the Mabahith Amn El Dawla burst into their home at night, and shoot their mother and father dead before their very eyes.

Question is, who has seen these things? Nitokris? Okay, Mabahith Amn El Dawla = Egyptian. So yeas.

But yeah, that is true about these groups of haters. They always think everyone's persecuting them. Coming after them. Which is so silly. So they stockpile all these weapons and live in a bunker. And publish creepy internet newsletters which look like zines made at a demonic version of Kinko's, circulation: more than they deserve.

Ah-ha, sounds like Bismark is here. Man, let me shush.

Bismarck's on a soapbox. All these diabolical types, they all have these moments when they're soapboxing, right?

OH [censored]. Okay, they're after the bombs, now I get it. Kinda silly though. Guess it depends what those bombs are made of, of course. I doubt they're made of something which'll just rust away. Still, seems like all kinds of trouble. There are hundreds of ancient missile silos across America, never used. Wouldn't that be easier? Then again, doubt the gov't would just leave a bunch of nuclear warheads across the land ... (famous last words).

* * *

They're at Andrews AFB, sounds like. Good thing the Enclave isn't inhabiting here.

Holy buttcakes, he's a dude!

Hmm. Brooklyn, Maryland? Would mean Bismarck hasn't got far to travel from the museum, if so. There are docks along the Patapsco river.

It's neat how the Mid-Atlantic Coalition all know of Blood Raven, but only from afar. Seems they've only heard of her ruthless side.

This post has been edited by Renee: May 6 2024, 04:12 PM

[Acadian]

Well, Bismarck and his cronies are looking for the bombs. And so is Stormcrow and her growing, motley crew. Now it seems that Nitokris might launch an attempt to snag those bombs herself for questionable purpose. I smell some twists and turns ahead.

Nit: ’From the seat beside her, she heard Hwarang giggle as wekk {well}.’

[Renee]

Nit: ’From the seat beside her, she heard Hwarang giggle as wekk {well}.’

This seems to have been corrected. How are you able to make edits without the dreaded "This post has been edited by X at 11:34 am..." message?

[SubRosa]

Renee: Hwarang is only new as a superhero. He was born in Korea. His mother was in the US Army at the time and his father was a Korean citizen. She stayed in Korea after she left the Army. They all moved to Baltimore when Hwarang was 10, and he's lived there ever since.

Nitokris appeared way back in Book 7: Hammer Down. She was a reinforcement brought in to help the super assassins that were after Lighthammer, in the final big battle on the docks. She is the one who set the bomb in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and used it as a distraction to make her escape at the end of the fight. She was able to hold her own against Blood Raven, which very few people in the world can say. Blood Raven also recognized Nitokris' magical armor. She has fought other women wearing the same suit over the years. The first in 1911. The second was in 1956. This Nitorkris is the third woman to wear the suit (since Ancient Egyptian times).

You haven't heard of Axe-Throwing bars? Google it. They are kind of a weird gimmick that some bars got into about a decade or so ago. They have axes you can pay to throw at targets. Its really strange.

The law has always protected white supremacists, in every part of every country. Here in Detroit just a few years ago a group of neo-Nazis staged a march at Motor City Pride downtown. The Detroit Police were there, and formed up a ring around the Nazis to protect them the entire time. And most of those cops were black.

When the FBI sends agents undercover into white supremacist groups, they deliberately keep it a secret from local law enforcement. They have to, otherwise the cops will tell the white supremacists and either murder the undercover agents, or just know better than to talk to them in the first place. That is everywhere in the US.

Look up the Battle of Cable Street. It was a march done by the British Union of Fascists back in the 1930s through London. There had been a totally different organization previously scheduled to march that day. But when the fascists came along, the original marchers had their permit rescinded, so the fascists could have the day for themselves. Thousands of cops were bussed in from all over the country to protect them while they did their march. There were thousands more cops than fascists in fact. And the cops arrested hundreds of Anti-Fascist counter protestors who came out to fight them. They did not arrest a single fascist of course.

Check out the Behind the Bastards podcast's series Behind the Police, or Behind the Uprisings to learn more. They also did a series on just the Battle of Cable Street. Come to think of it, they had a two parter on the RAM Nazi fight club. They trained specifically for street violence, ganging up on people 5-10 to 1, since Nazis are cowards. The police always ignored it when RAM did so. But if people fought back and beat the Nazis up, the cops put them in prison. RAM only eventually got shut down when the FBI went after them. But that took years.

Villains love their monologues. At least the ones like Bismarck do, who are motivated by narcissism or a cause, or both. They need to make a statement, not just do violence for its own sake.

All the nuclear weapons the US has are naturally well-guarded. Going after them means going into an air force base or missile silo that is heavily guarded. That means a real fight, and real chance the government might just use those nukes to kill them rather than lose them. That is why Rook tried to steal one from a plane in mid-air. He only had to fight six men armed with pistols to get it, and you saw how that turned out. So just grabbing one that is laying around unprotected is a lot easier, even if its on the bottom of the ocean. The scary thing is that IRL right now there around 4 to 6 nuclear weapons unaccounted for, literally just out there somewhere in the world, and no one knows where they are. That is what inspired me to write this.

Thank goodness no Enclave. But no Rivet City either, or Three Dog.

Brooklyn, New York City. I did not know there was another one. New York City is one of the Atomkrieg's targets after all, and it is the largest harbor on the US East Coast. So plenty of ships to steal there, and old warehouses to hide in.

Most people have only heard of Blood Raven as the dark avenger lurking amid Gothic steeples type. It is an image she cultivated, in order to overawe her enemies. Unlike January, she was less interested in reaching out to people and inspiring them, than she was in scaring the pants off the baddies. They are kind of like Batman and Superman that way, with the different ways they use their popularity.

I am not sure why the forum software does not show the "Edited by..." blurb. It must be a moderator only function. It is not anything I can set.


Acadian: The game is afoot now! I threw in Nitorkis because she will have a very prominent role in future events of the season. She will become January's arch-nemesis in fact, and vice-versa. She has not appeared since way back in Book 7: Hammer Down. So it was a good opportunity to refresh people's memories. It also gave me a chance to throw some extra chaos into events, with multiple different groups now all converging upon those nuclear bombs.

As ever, thanks for finding that nit. I am surprised I missed that one.










Ranger's powers were inspired by The Exile/Victor Kohl from Marvel Rising Secret Warriors

Calypso's suit inspiration

Calypso's sailboat is a 1995 Beneteau Oceanis 440

Its interior looking forward

Its interior looking back at the ladder up to the cockpit



Book 12.25 - Broken Arrow

"Speaking of spell slingers..." Mercury looked up as Silverlight returned from the cockpit. January noted that the team's moon wizard still held the parachute in her hands. "When do we get there?"

"I am not sure," the statuesque woman explained. "I gave our pilot a bearing to rendezvous with Calypso. We will transfer to her boat once we do. We can finish the trip from there."

"You know this Calypso?" Ranger now spoke up.

"She's one of our sisters," January interjected. "She's got a way with water."

"Welcome to the motley crew Ranger." Silverlight smiled at the newest member of their ersatz team, and shook his hand. "It's good to have the extra help. We are likely to face the Atomkrieg again before all this is over. I understand from Major Stevens that they might have reinforcements as well."

"Ope!" January spoke up once more. "I didn't have the chance to mention it before, but Cray told me that they have another meta we haven't seen yet named Skorzeny. We don't know how many more other non-metas they might still have as well."

"So the Major tells me you have been overseas lately," Silverlight's gaze went from January and back to Ranger. "He did not say what you can do however."

"Yeah, they brought me back because of Belle Isle. But it was all over before my plane got there, and youse were all gone." Ranger murmured. "Anyway, I can create and solidify ionic energy. With it I can form armor, fly, create weapons, shoot ion blasts, that sort of thing."

"So a slugger, like me and the Crowgirl," Mercury nodded. "Stick with us, we're the offensive line. Silverlight here's the QB. Hwarang's the sniper. He'll get you out of any jam with an arrow up the baddies' wazoo."

"And Calypso?" Ranger asked, quite seriously.

"She's the Queen of the Waves," Silverlight declared. "The ocean is her domain. So we all do whatever she says. She's our lifeguard."

They passed the rest of the journey quietly. As she was wont to do in these down times, January took the time to center herself, and concentrated upon her breathing. With each deep breath in she pulled her mana up through her body. She imagined that she was a tree, and that the energy was water that flowed up through her trunk. She directed it out to her branches, where it dripped back down to the metaphorical ground with each exhalation. Then she breathed in once more, and repeated the process all over again.

In this way she exercised her mana, and allowed it to flow clean and pure through her body. As she did, she ran her elemental mantra through her mind.

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. Transform me in the night sky.

Spirit weave all together in balance. Bring me peace.

January was pulled from her energy exercises when the crew chief of the helicopter announced that there was a sailboat dead ahead. Silverlight directed the crew to take the helicopter down to meet it, and in no time the cargo ramp lowered once more. January sprang to her feet and headed to the back of the aircraft. Thanks to her meditation, her aches and pains from the recent fight were a thing of the past. She now felt refreshed and ready to go once more.

She glanced down at the boat below, which lacked a name upon its rear hull or a flag of origin. It was a small yacht, or a large sailboat. January was not sure which. A single mast sprouted like a tree from its slender white hull, and its sail was furled in tightly against it. The deck was relatively flat, though it angled up around the mast to form a low superstructure in the center of the vessel. She noted several solar panels installed in front of that. Behind the mast, the rear of the deck had been scooped open. Here in the cockpit of the vessel a U-shaped bench seat wrapped around the back of the boat. In the center of this space was a huge, round steering wheel, just as one would expect from a sailing ship of old.

Standing behind the wheel was Calypso. She had already taken her sea form, so her body was covered in soft green scales. These were interspersed with irregular patterns of dark blue that flowed around her body and face, contrasted by similar swathes of pink to red. She had no hair, but rather her head was framed with a nest of fin rays, like delicate fans that rose up to frame her features.

She wore her armor of course. Its base layer was of crisscrossed gray leather strips. Over that lay a set of green coral armor cut into intricate, swirling designs. A set of pauldrons ran over her shoulders, then fell down her chest in a cuirass, and wrapped across her waist and wrists. A headpiece of the same green coral covered her forehead and fell down her cheeks, but left the spiny frills that grew from the side of her head bare.

In her hand she held her staff Bagua. It looked like glass, but January knew that it was comprised of solid water. Not frozen, just solid. At its head grew a symbol of two parallel swirling lines, that constantly turned about one another to form a whirlpool. Thanks to some of her recent studies into runes and symbols, January recognized it as the Taino symbol for water.

The heroes dropped from the helicopter to the boat below. As they could fly, January and Silverlight helped their allies who could not. They left Hwarang's motorcycle behind in the big helicopter. It was not likely to be of much use in the ocean after all. That left the king stallion orbiting overhead, waiting for further instructions. January imagined it would do so until they could recover the missing nuclear bombs, and load them onboard the craft.

January and the others got their first taste of what to expect from Ranger as they moved down to the boat. He took a moment to gather himself, and then a field of brilliant blue energy flowed out of his body, and wrapped him up in a suit of very solid-looking armor. It instantly reminded January of Gadget's powered armor, which also employed ionic energy for much of its abilities, such as flying.

Ranger did just that a moment later. He stepped from the back of the helicopter and soared through the air. A trail of blue ions stretched out behind him. Once again, January was reminded of Gadget's armor. Only Ranger was clearly more adept at flying than the meta-inventor was.

Still, that made January miss her friend all the more. In spite of what she had told Cray earlier, she would have much preferred Gadget to be at her side than this new guy. She would prefer him to pretty much anyone in fact. But one did the best with what they had.

"I was not expecting to see you two again so soon!" Calypso grinned when January and Silverlight came down to land on her boat.

The Bahamian's rich, mellifluous voice did bring a smile to January's face. Even if she could not have Gadget, it was always a relief to have another of her raven sisters by her side.

"That's the great thing about this job," Mercury declared. "You never know what is coming next."

Introductions were made all around Then with a wave Calypso led them through the companionway down below the deck of the small yacht. This was accomplished by descending a hybrid of a ladder and stair. It was made up of several curved steps that jutted from the wall, each growing larger as one descended.

The interior was a narrow, roughly rectangular space, and was built from lustrous cherry wood. Directly to January's right was a communications and navigational desk, with radios, a satellite phone, GPS, and even an old-fashioned plotting board and charts. A dinner table rose up from the floor beyond, flanked by long couches on either side of it.

A kitchen area stretched out on her left, with a long counter that was topped with white laminate. She noted that it had an upraised edge to prevent anything from sliding off of it. January also saw that the oven sat upon a cradle which allowed it to rock back and forth and side to side with the motions of the boat. So it was a standard kitchen, but adapted to the unique challenges of life on the sea.

A pair of small doors at the far end of the room led farther into the bow. One of those was open, and revealed a bed barely crammed into the triangular space beyond, along with a narrow dresser and shelves. A glance behind January showed her two similar doors leading to other rooms in the stern. Another open door here revealed a bathroom, with a shower stall and toilet crammed into its tiny space.

For all that the sailboat looked big from the outside - a little under fifty feet long or so - it was definitely tiny inside. She imagined that her bedroom in the Witch House might be the same size as the entire interior of the vessel. It certainly was if she counted her adjoining bathroom and walk-in closet.

"So Cray has apprised me of our situation," Calypso intoned in her rich, lyrical voice. "This sounds dire indeed, if the Atomkrieg can reach those bombs. After all, there is a reason the US Navy was never able to recover them, nor anyone else."

"Yeah, about that," Mercury eyed the narrow seats, and instead elected to find a corner and lean his armored frame back into it. "Not all of us are exactly aquatically-inclined. Notably, I don't swim too good in all this iron."

"Yes," Hwarang agreed. "While I can swim, I don't know how to scuba dive."

"I've been through BUD/S, and have done several waterborne ops," Ranger practically bragged. "So I've got it covered."

"Well the good thing is that scuba is useless at the depths we are likely to be going," Calypso smiled.

"Wonderful," Mercury breathed. "I can't wait to hear the bad news."

"If we are only going to the bottom of the continental shelf, then we are in luck," Calypso explained. "The depth there is only two hundred meters-."

"Ummm, how far is that in freedom units?" the Philadelphian interjected, one hand held up like a student in class.

"About 650 feet or so," Silverlight mused, "If I am doing my math correctly."

"Ok, I've never been that deep before," Ranger murmured.

"It is well beyond the range of scuba, or any unaided human survivability," Calypso declared. "After that, it begins to become dangerous. Once we go down the continental slope, to the continental rise and abyssal plain beyond, the temperature will drop to just a few degrees above freezing. Then there is the pressure... Well, at that depth the good thing is that it will crush you so quickly you will not even feel yourself die."

"And we go from being biology to being physics..." Mercury noted. "You really do know how to spin a cheerful tale."

"Well, I can project into the aether," Silverlight declared. "None of that will affect me there. I won't be able to physically pick up the bombs. But I will still have use of my magic. Perhaps more importantly, I shall be able to summon elemental assistance."

"A water elemental would be handy right now," January nodded. "I don't suppose you could coax Mishipeshu out of the Great Lakes to come and help?"

"Not a chance sister," Silverlight shook her head. "The lakes are the underwater panther's domain, not the seas."

"I do have something that can help," Calypso offered. She squeezed past Mercury and leaned through the open door of one of the forward cabins. She rummaged around in one of the drawers in the dresser there, and pulled out several nautilus shells. She handed one to each of the other heroes.

January turned hers over in her gloved fingers. The sea shell was bone white, and covered in irregular, rust-colored stripes. It was not only beautiful, but an amazing display of symmetry. It formed a graceful spiral as it turned around and around itself, continually winding outward. But more than that, she felt power within, a deep reservoir of magical energy that just waited to be engaged.

"These will enable you all to breathe, speak, and survive the cold and crushing depths," the Bahamian superheroine explained. "I have had occasion to use them during rescue missions in the past. They will serve you well."

"These are magic, aren't they?" Hwarang asked. He turned his over in his hands, and studied the artifact with care.

"You missed our last lesson," January murmured, "It was all about astral sensing."

"It is magic, powerful magic. After this is all over, we can talk about training." Silverlight turned from the Korean-American to January. "It is a subject Stormcrow has been an ardent supporter of."

"We all have a lot to learn," January nodded, "especially me."

"So how do we use this... shell?" Mercury stared at the nautilus shell in his hand. "Don't tell me we have to swallow it?"

"It is a suppository," Calypso said, completely deadpan. Everyone stared back at the woman in horror. January could swear that she felt her jaw drop.

Then Calypso began to laugh.

"You should see your faces!" she grinned.

"That was not funny," Mercury shook his head.

"If we could see your expression, it would be," January admitted with a smile.

"Here, allow me to show you." Calypso leaned over, and took the nautilus shell from the man's hand. She held it up to the side of his head, and pressed it against his armored helmet. January felt magic flare to life, bright and warm. The shell moved through the metal that protected the man, as if it was sinking through water. In just a moment it disappeared from view. But January could still feel it there, wrapped about the Philadelphian in power.

"This is... not so bad," Mercury admitted. "Okay, I can do this."

With that both Ranger and Hwarang followed suit. They each raised their nautilus shells to their helmets, and allowed them to sink into their beings. Hwarang smiled afterward and nodded in approval. Ranger gave a thumbs up.

That left only January. She stared down at her shell, and made a face.

"What is wrong?" Calypso wondered.

"I don't think I'll need it," January insisted. "I have a water breathing spell, and my Nordic blood gives me 50% frost resistance. As for the pressure... well, standing up to that's what I do best. I am a tank after all."

"This isn't a video game," Silverlight warned.

"I know," January nodded. "But this is the kind of thing I am good at. I'm not a DPS rogue, I'm not crowd control, or a healer. I'm the brick. Besides, I do have a lot learn. When I started out I relied on gadgets a lot. Well, on Gadget too. But that can be a crutch. I think relying on the wingsuit in my original armor may have kept me from developing my real wings sooner. Likewise, relying on the suit's armor probably held me back from improving my own natural invulnerability."

"Your water breathing spell may not be adequate," Calypso cautioned. "You need more than just air alone. Pressure affects gases, especially nitrogen. It will cause the rapture of the deep, and then the bends. Show me."

January did as her sister asked. She called up her magic, and fixed her mind upon the spell she had created in her grandmother Sarah's bathroom sink. Her will forced it into reality, and a moment later a thin sheet of air formed over her mouth and nose. Even out of the water, it was clearly visible by the faint glow around the edge of the field.

"That is good, for a beginner," Calypso nodded. "But I can teach you to do better. In my current form I can naturally breathe water. But there are places in the oceans and rivers where there is no oxygen at all. They are literal death zones where nothing can survive. So I have developed a means to invoke the element of Air to supply oxygen directly to my body. I do not need to breathe at all, not in the conventional sense at least. This allows me to survive not only underwater, but also within a vacuum, or smoke, or a poisonous atmosphere."

"Awesome!" January smiled. "Teach away."

"Yes, I would like to learn this technique as well," Hwarang added.

* * *