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Chorrol.com _ Fan Fiction _ The Stormcrow

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 19 2019, 11:34 PM

About a month ago I got inspired to write a superhero character. Actually two. My original idea was what if Aela and Loria were superheroes. I worked on the idea, and with a little help from folks here, January and Avery have become fully-fleshed people in their own right. Ones whom I am really loving to write.

I learned a long time ago that when it comes writing, I need to strike when the iron is hot. So I am putting Seven Reimagined on hold for the moment, and concentrating on Stormcrow and Gadget. I will finish Seven, have no worries on that. There is only one third of the story left to go.

Like with the Seven thread, I am going to use this post for general info and a collection of resources. I'll start posting the actual stories with the next post.

Since these stories are set in the contemporary world, I am taking advantage of reality for once, by setting the stories here in Metro Detroit. Almost all the locations in the upcoming stories are real. You can actually use Google Earth to follow along. A few places are fictional, in that they are from other cities, and transplanted here to The D.

Timeline
March 24 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during the Nain Rouge Parade. it is not anchored, and easily banished
May 4 and 5 (Saturday and Sunday) = Stormcrow Rising
May 5 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Cinco De Mayo, using elemental symbols to anchor it, making it immune from banishment
May 14 and 15 (Tuesday and Wednesday) = Stormcrow Recycled
May 25 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Technofest, anchoring it with an animal sacrifice
May 25 and 26 (Saturday and Sunday) = Stormcrow Burning
May 27th = Memorial Day.
May 27 - June 1 (Monday -Saturday) = Stormcrow Pride [Ferndale Pride on Saturday]
June 1 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Ferndale Pride, anchoring it with a human sacrifice
June 1 - 9 = Crystal Death [Motor City Pride]
June 1 = Chad overdoes on Crystal Death at Leland City Club.
June 3 = first Crow Tales, featuring Frankenstein
June 8 = second Crow Tales, featuring This Spell For Hire. January stops the Death Dealer. Blood Raven humiliates Nazis at Motor City Pride
June 9 = Nazis on Crystal Death attack Motor City Pride
June 11 = January records interview with WNN.
June 13 = January quits working at the dojo, starts working on Artemis Argent with Rus
June 14 = January's interview is aired in its entirety, as well as in print and on WNN's website. It generates massive waves of both support and backlash against her. The same night she faces off against Gola at Eloise.



People
https://i.imgur.com/q0HOo4T.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/DsYFn3R.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/rBKnlRy.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/YTAxKhM.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/CaWQjY5.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TVXLCnr.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/4PK6vm7.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/1TIVdcc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/u6c4m9y.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Sagan

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro_Boomin

https://heightline.com/h-e-r-gabriella-wilson-grammy/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecilia_Br%C3%A6khus

https://i.imgur.com/T2hMNZB.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EL4pzwo.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/79UglsL.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/2Lfpdcx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/40BOPmC.jpg

https://pulitzercenter.org/reporting/blood-diamonds-armed-rebels-and-cambridge-educated-warlord

https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/detroit-packard-plant-abandoned-factory-al-hill-palazuelo-1.3460551

https://callsam.com/

http://archimedespalimpsest.org/about/history/archimedes.php

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Hite

https://i.imgur.com/PoRanUO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/43LmcWb.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/sdHTLVW.jpg


Society
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hipster_(contemporary_subculture)

https://youtu.be/f8Ke60zlj1s

https://qz.com/india/459422/how-indian-families-took-over-the-antwerp-diamond-trade-from-orthodox-jews

https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-dark-truth-about-blackwater/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCXiCS0f1gg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bat%27leth

https://mwo.gamepedia.com/Stormcrow

https://i.imgur.com/8zscJOi.jpg

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=TERF

https://tht.fangraphs.com/old-english-d-a-look-back-at-tigers-uniforms/

https://ghostintheshell.fandom.com/wiki/Laughing_Man

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/420-meaning-the-true-stor_n_543854

https://www.berenstainbears.com/

http://www.ncsl.org/research/environment-and-natural-resources/state-beverage-container-laws.aspx

https://youtu.be/Bg9fVjhM8Ds

https://www.pixlee.com/definitions/definition-instagram-influencer

https://www.wehoville.com/2013/09/05/wehos-riot-house-4-reasons-really/

https://youtu.be/Fqr8r7L8LN0

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portal_(series)

https://www.sarna.net/wiki/Kell_Hounds

https://www.wired.com/2011/11/in-depth-rpg-review-trail-of-cthulhu/

https://www.radiotimes.com/news/2016-04-06/why-are-daredevils-superpowers-so-confusing-in-his-netflix-series

https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Shoggoth

https://aliens.fandom.com/wiki/Xenomorph

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunguska_event



Literature and Art
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42324

http://www.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:1016264/FULLTEXT01.pdf

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1952

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/f.aspx

https://www.bl.uk/learning/langlit/changlang/activities/lang/anglosaxon/anglosax.html

https://myshakespeare.com/macbeth/act-5-scene-5

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/trajan-column/article.html

https://www.bayeuxmuseum.com/en/the-bayeux-tapestry/

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/99/John_William_Waterhouse_-_The_Crystal_Ball.JPG



Music
https://youtu.be/mVf2EeTMNJo

https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE

https://youtu.be/xH_Z8xb2gvs

https://youtu.be/Xydf351l-gw

https://youtu.be/WxlE7Z18qD8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFQYaoiIFh8

https://youtu.be/9L7mZH2u3Qc

https://youtu.be/Jmk5frp6-3Q

https://youtu.be/GqheY8Yz5to

https://youtu.be/K-UIf_StpdU

https://youtu.be/Y5yXXzbrsqM

https://youtu.be/-oqAU5VxFWs

https://youtu.be/1D5PtyrewSs





Places
https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://www.macomb.edu/about-macomb/maps-directions/south-campus.html

https://i.imgur.com/1uIs7MH.jpg

https://www.bestwesternpremierdetroit.com/

https://i.imgur.com/GKrx457.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/JQmegns.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campus_Martius_Park

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_Soldiers%27_and_Sailors%27_Monument

https://www.law.umich.edu/Pages/default.aspx

https://i.imgur.com/9BhluM4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hzxetqb.jpg

https://www.bishopairport.org/business-fnt/about-fnt/about-flint-bishop

https://i.imgur.com/s7SFWaR.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/kpN1R28.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/7xkYBsP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/crwCcYN.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/5MsBegm.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/YM7PYIm.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EsOOobF.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/46OoEIi.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/MASu4c8.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/bbG1VV4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/tXtEpIz.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/cEjrwA5.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Packard_Automotive_Plant

https://i.imgur.com/9r610HK.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/rvYfHvO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lUVU9Ob.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/N98BBYg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/yKMigmf.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/n06fIw3.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/7rCCWrB.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/U8vO7ep.jpg

https://patch.com/michigan/detroit/richest-zip-code-michigan

http://fitz.k12.mi.us/fitzgerald-high-school/

https://i.imgur.com/rlBxwbx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/egzjSEC.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/vddjzLz.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/GnpVckP.jpg

https://msu.edu/

https://umich.edu/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lower_Peninsula_of_Michigan

https://i.imgur.com/XaCXecg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/jjbr8Lu.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EXHwvUr.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/ito9jK3.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/LJ8xuqq.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/03CpTDn.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/5CYGI5H.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/tLFIB8I.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/txudJl7.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/Hu0uAD1.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/WxBcoRx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/wAUkVIj.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/PKX80Y8.jpg

https://www.nailhed.com/2014/11/endurance-test.html

https://i.imgur.com/ERjRm6a.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/uR3Yr0E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/vACB27E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/jJfnVCO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lbx9ZtV.jpg

http://www.saintandrewsdetroit.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_A._Hart_Plaza

https://i.imgur.com/k8WIwmE.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EuhvKM6.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/paqnkBD.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/GiZxGzh.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/izQn8En.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/osnIVIp.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hPB0pLN.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Louis_Arena

https://i.imgur.com/75ClFZP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/p4M4LQh.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/sphOrIc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/QytB2uM.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/t4XUphi.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/2bNPwoF.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/1CCJkOS.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/2bPNmhK.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/9AtcL7v.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/KjXVRwE.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/Sk6WKlN.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Detroit_Receiving_Hospital

https://i.imgur.com/HDYnHRP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TZAKqVc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/HlcYpqw.jpg



Real Events
http://confusionsf.org/

https://i.imgur.com/2E6VTXs.jpg

https://www.movement.us/pages/experience

https://i.imgur.com/fmaUDQA.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/6BGN1iW.jpg




Clothes
https://i.imgur.com/AWSzLZG.jpg

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/1928466-ohms-law-of-resistance

https://www.cafepress.com/mf/17989097/cthulhu4prezfinal5_tshirt?productId=671118472

https://www.madeindetroit.com/collections/womens/products/womens-long-sleeve-tri-blend-performance-baseball-tee-black-shadow-grey

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karate_gi

https://dayoftheshirt.com/shirts/73440/ms-marvel





Real Tech
https://www.wired.com/2017/10/review-amazon-fire-7-2017/

https://www.amazon.com/Samsung-J1-Smartphone-Carirer-Verizon/dp/B00YAE9DXM

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geo_Storm

https://www.bennetts.co.uk/bikesocial/news-and-views/features/bikes/hydrogen_powered_bikes_future_fuel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-OdJmAefOY

https://lock-picking.wonderhowto.com/how-to/crack-master-lock-combination-padlock-easy-way-403808/

https://www.instructables.com/id/Electric-Lockpick/

https://www.revzilla.com/common-tread/2016-victory-empulse-tt-review

https://i.imgur.com/hHuCERx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TPkwZaa.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/fL0Pm6f.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TY2HRZ4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/C0hJ8JV.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/xiaNFJb.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/VMkoxEu.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/yRrvIFG.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Avalanche



Real Science
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohm%27s_law

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hagfish

https://www.nextbigfuture.com/2017/10/synthetic-hagfish-slime-for-better-body-armor-fire-suppression-and-faster-ships.html

https://www.iflscience.com/physics/crystallized-light-reveals-potential/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voynich_manuscript

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vigen%C3%A8re_cipher

https://www.thaitechnics.com/fly/principle.html

https://www.azocleantech.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=419

https://io9.gizmodo.com/scientists-create-fuel-more-dense-than-the-core-of-the-5252952

https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/themis/auroras/sun_earth_connect.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesseract

https://www.simplypsychology.org/wundt.html



Meta Tech
https://i.imgur.com/xfnyqr4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/YXWecFW.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/aYvptGj.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/XPFki7E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/pGiqXIp.jpg

http://www.unmuseum.org/pharos.htm

https://i.imgur.com/ZdzQ4Z8.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lUA0k9H.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/qLGUFXe.jpg



Myth and Religion
http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/oshun.php

http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/erzulie.php



Martial Arts & Gymnastics
https://youtu.be/DhF6H3AaV6g

https://i.imgur.com/R2GEJEI.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/g3ACJrj.jpg

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 20 2019, 12:04 AM

Chapter 1 - Stormcrow Rising


Early May, 2019


Book 1.1 - Stormcrow Rising

January breathed in deep, allowing the cool spring air to fill her lungs. As she did so, she visualized more than just air permeating her body. She imagined power flowing up from the earth beneath her. She pictured it moving through the concrete bench upon which she sat cross-legged, and into her flesh and bones. She exhaled, and envisioned that energy flowing out of her.

She imagined that she was a tree. Her roots drank up the power from below. She drew it up through her body, and then sent it out through her branches. Finally it fell back down to the ground her once more, like leaves dropping from a tree.

She concentrated upon her breathing, in and out. She thought of the energy, flowing through her like a crystal clear stream. It would wash her clean: of tension, of stress, of frustration, of anger, of doubt. It would leave her pure of body, heart, and spirit.

At least that is what the very first Neo-Pagan book she had ever bought - The Complete Idiot's Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft. In spite of the self-deprecating title, it had been most helpful. Simple and straightforward, it was an excellent introduction to the ideas of modern Witchcraft for a beginner like herself. She had moved on to reading other books on the subject of course - like those by Branwen Renner - but the Idiot's Guide would always hold a special place in her heart.

January was still not sure how seriously she took the idea of magic. There were some superheroes who claimed their powers were magical in nature. But maybe they had just convinced themselves of that, and they were really just meta-humans, like all the other capes?

Another Neo-Pagan author - Branwen Renner - had exhorted her readers to dedicate themselves to an ideal, and to will that into reality. Not by simply thinking or meditating upon it of course, but by mastering one's emotions, steeling the mind, and then going on into the world and taking real, physical action.

Between her advice, and the the meditation exercise from the Idiot's Guide, January found that she could focus herself with laser-like precision. Whether she was about to take a test, or work out on the uneven bars, the combination of the two always put her mind in the right space to act with clarity.

She knew she probably should not be doing energy exercises in public. It seemed like a great way to get her purse snatched. Not that the Macomb Community College south campus was a hotbed of crime. The nice, neat suburban teens and adults that occasionally walked past her were far from outlaws. The scruffy and fuzzy people were not either. They might be killers in Sword Science Online or World of Guncraft, but hardly in the real world.

She closed her eyes and went back to the exercise. As the writer had suggested, she added her own spin on the centering ritual.

Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.

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

Water make me flexible in thought and form. Let me flow, let me crash.

Fire give me passion and energy. Let me burn bright in the night sky.

Spirit weave all together in balance. Bring me peace.


She felt small, bony feet settle on one of her shoulders. Talons dug in hard, but she did not flinch. She looked to Earth for strength, and willed her skin to toughen. She imagined it was stone, and she felt no pain from the tiny claws digging into her. A raucous caw rang out in her ear. She did not need to open her eyes to see who its author was. She knew the crows, and they knew her. She had for as long as she could remember.

She continued to slowly breathe, follow the cleansing energy exercise, and silently repeat the elemental chant in her head. Another caw came to her ears, and soon a third. She had no idea why the crows always came to visit her when she meditated. They just did, and she had to admit, it felt right. It was always a good sign when she saw or heard a crow after all. It was like they were watching out for her.

That gave her an idea. She opened her eyes and carefully drew the tablet from her purse and powered it on. She was careful to move slowly, so the crows would not be startled. She ignored the ad for World of Guncraft at the lock screen and punched in her pin. Then she went to her story notes page and began jotting things down.

For not the first time, she wished for a better tablet, with a larger screen. Or even for an actual laptop. But the Fire 7 was all she could afford. Once it had been on sale for nearly half off that is. As with everything else in her life, she just had to make do with what she could scrounge up.

All the while the crow perched upon her shoulder looked down, as if reading the screen. Then the two flanking her on the bench stepped this way and that, as if agitated by her motion.

One began a strident cawing, which the others took up a moment later. January glanced up to see a pair of hipsters walking by: plaid, man-buns, and big bushy beards. The only thing they lacked were top hats and unicycles. January wondered if those were not ironic enough anymore.

January smiled at the thought. They stared silently at her and her crow guardians. One arched an eyebrow. The crows continued their verbal assault upon the hapless hipsters until they passed through the trees that ringed the edge of the parking lot, and vanished into the campus beyond.

"Slow your roll, they're just trying to be cool and still be rebels at the same time." January said to the birds. Then she breathed more quietly: "Says the girl who will never be cool, and couldn't stop being a rebel even if she wanted to."

A car horn bleated so weakly that it sounded like it was upon the verge of reeling over and dying. She looked up to see a rusty old Geo Storm pulled up to the edge of the parking lot. Its yellow paint had clearly seen better days, and a crack ran across the bottom of the windshield. But it was quiet as a whisper, even though January knew it was not shut off.

She could not restrain a smile as she rose to her feet and slung her purse - heavy with the tablet sticking out of it - over one shoulder. The crow perched upon her other shoulder leapt into the sky, soon followed by his two comrades.

"Hasta mañana!" She waved at the departing birds and walked to the car. Opening the door, she let herself in, buckled her seatbelt, and settled her purse onto her lap.

"You know that is seriously creepy right?" January looked to the boy - no he was definitely a man these days - who sat in the driver's seat. His brown skin was smooth as silk, but broken by a patchy stubble on his chin and upper lip. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. He wore a tee with a giant clenched fist taking up most of its surface, and the letters "R=V/I" written across the bottom.

"Hi Avery," she smiled. "What's creepy?"

"The crows you fool!" Avery exclaimed in his best Mr. T voice. "What did you think I meant, pink sweaters? The way they follow you around. That's just creepy."

"They don't follow me," January looked down at her designer imposter Clululemon fitted jacket. It was pink. But not that pink. Just enough to be pink, but not overpoweringly so. "Crows are everywhere. They are just, my friends. They come to visit me is all."

"Visit? If one of those birds sat down on my shoulder, I'd be worried. That's like, a bad omen or something."

"It's a good omen," January insisted. "Crows are always good luck for me. You know the valkyries were called krakeit, or crows, because of the coats of crow feathers they wore. And The Morrigan took the form of a crow."

"Valkyries, and what did they do again?" Avery shifted the car into gear and smoothly drove off. It never ceased to amaze January how well he could do that. Who drove a manual after all? Yet he shifted up and down through the gears without a hitch, as if he had been born with a clutch under one foot, and shifter in one hand.

"They choose who lives and dies on the battlefield," January said, "and take their souls to Freyja's hall. Well, the half that she doesn't give to Odin of course."

"Exactly."

"Everyone dies sometime," January rolled her eyes. "Don't you want someone to be there to lead you through the darkness? A guide and guardian to see you through the worst in death, and take you to the golden halls of your ancestors?"

"My ancestors didn't live in golden halls."

"Neither did mine," January shrugged. "But Freyja does. Speaking of Freyja, you were on Grindr again weren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" January did not fail to notice the way his tone changed, or how his shoulders stiffened up.

"Besides you being an hour late to pick me up?" January raised an eyebrow with as much irony as a monocled hipster. "You're wearing one of your 'I'm a clever boy' shirts. You wanted to see if he was smart enough to know what Ohm's Law is. And do I smell cologne?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." Avery winced and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, like he always did when he was self-conscious. "We just met up for coffee is all. I sort of lost track of time."

"You don't even like coffee." January made a face.

"I know." Avery winked. His grin lit up the interior of the ancient sport compact.

"Anyway, sorry I am late."

"It's ok," January shrugged. "It gave me time to work out some ideas for a new story. I think I really have something good here."

"Aela and Loria again?" Avery asked. "Or someone new this time."

"Remember that western you dragged me off to see?" January asked.

"Fistful of Boners?" Avery suggested. "High Plains Donger?"

"The Magnificent Seven." January rolled her eyes, but had trouble suppressing a smile nonetheless. "The remake of the remake, with Denzel. Well I was thinking of that."

"I think about Denzel sometimes too," Avery said, "Yul Brenner too."

"Not that way you perv!" January laughed. "Don't you guys think of anything other than sex?"

"Stop taking your spiro and find out," Avery shot back.

"Ugh," January frowned. The very thought of not taking her anti-androgens filled her with loathing. "Anyway, I watched the original last night. Well the original of the original, the Seven Samurai."

"A classic," Avery acknowledged, "It clocks in at what, three point five hours? Tough to watch in one sitting. But pretend it's a TV show and do it an hour at a time, and its awesomeness is of the purest distillation. Kurosawa was a true master."

"Well I was thinking of using it as jumping off point..." January said. She went on to detail how the film had inspired her to write a new story with her existing characters - Aela and Loria. Desperate to pay back their student loans, they join an effort to fight off raiders. The raiders themselves were cannibals worshipping a dark goddess inspired by wendigo lore. She was even determined to find an opportunity to use the term 'tenebrous'."

Avery laughed when she was finished. "You know, I thought being a nerd made me weird, but you take it all to a whole new level girl!"

"Why thank you!" January smiled. "That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all week."

"So you never said how your date went," January pointed out.

"It was..." Avery shrugged, and stared back at the road.

"Hot? Steamy?" January offered. "Boring? Snoozefest? He stood you up?"

"No he was there." January definitely noticed the warmth creeping into Avery's chocolate brown cheeks. Given the smoky quartz shade of his skin, he did not turn red, but she could see all the signs in how his facial muscles tensed.

"And..."

"And a gentleman does not kiss and tell woman!" Avery exclaimed.

"So spill already!" January laughed. "Tell me everything! Maybe I can write it into the story. Was he an elf or a dwarf?"

"Human," Avery said, "with these abs that just don't... What am I saying? Never you mind my love life."

"Well it's not like I'll ever have one," January frowned. "I have to live it vicariously through others."

"Oh you never know," Avery said. "Some hot Viking chica might come down on her winged horse and sweep you off to adventure in a distant fantasy realm, with some epic girl-on-girl action on the side."

"That sounds great to me!" January admitted. "At this point I'd take a smelly Pict."

"Be careful what you wish for blondie..." Avery said.

"I just might get it, I know," January groused. "But the most I get now is ghosted. The exorcist gives me a discount for customer loyalty."

January pulled down the visor and flipped open the mirror built into it. Blue eyes, blond hair, she had what every girl seemed to want. Except of course for that pesky old penis tucked between her legs. No girl wanted that. At least not one attached to her. They were supposed to come attached to the boyfriend - a factory standard option with most female models.

She caught herself biting her lip, again, and stopped. She checked her teeth, to make sure there was no lipstick stuck on them. Then she did a quick scan of her makeup: eyeliner, shadow, lipstick. Nothing smeared or running.

Feeling self-conscious, she shut the mirror and pushed the visor back up against the ceiling. She knew that Avery would never make fun of her for primping. But she could not count the number of times others had ridiculed her for doing so since she transitioned back in junior high school.

"Look at the little sissy boy! Isn't he pretty!"

The words came back across the years like vengeful knives. Every one was a jab in the guts. The actual kicks and punches had healed so much quicker. The words never seemed to fade.

"You're doing it again."

January snapped back to reality. She saw that Avery pointed one finger up from the steering wheel. She followed it, and saw that the sky outside had turned slate gray.

"Don't you make it rain girl," he insisted. "Not today."

"Sorry," January stared down at her lap. For years the local meteorologists had been talking about the Weather Witch of Warren. Thankfully no one knew it was her. Except Avery of course. He knew everything. Or at least he acted like it.

If only she could control it, she could make a fortune. Drought bothering you, say no more, here comes the rain. Flooding got you down? Sunny skies and warm air on the way. Not to mention Climate Change be gone.

But the world didn't work that way. She could put her fist through a brick. She could do cartwheels off a moving car. But she couldn't do anything really useful. Not like Avery could.

"When are you going to get a car of your own?" the black man asked. "I don't mind driving you, but this is the D. You can't live without wheels here."

"Soon," January murmured. "Since I learned Muay Thai I picked up another class at the dojo teaching it."

"So how many martial arts is that?" Avery asked.

"With the Kick-Boxing and Krav Maga, that just makes three," January murmured. It hardly seemed anything at all. Here she was, about to turn twenty years old in August. She was practically an old maid, and that was all she knew about fighting. But with gymnastics, and yoga, and school, and writing, when was there ever enough time? Yet Bruce Lee had been slaying dragons at her age, and Chuck Norris had most likely wiped out entire alien civilizations.

"Oh, is that all," Avery said. He was using his sarcastic voice, the one that was supposed to cheer her up by pointing out how full of it she was whenever she was moping.

"Adin did get me a self-defense class next week at Sterling Heights High." January noted. "Maybe after that I'll have enough to start looking for a car that actually runs."

"About that, I might have something," Avery said. "I know a guy online who knows someone who's got a motorcycle they want to get rid of. Something about a DUI and not being able to drive anymore."

"A motorcycle?" January stared at her friend in disbelief. "Me? What am I, a Daughter of Anarchy?"

"A lot of female superheroes in comics ride them you know," Avery insisted. "Look at Nightgirl, and all the Preybirds. Besides, they hardly use any gas at all. So they're environmentally friendly."

"When is the last time you bought gas?" January arched an eyebrow.

"2015," Avery said. "I know what you're thinking, but I might not be able to get another cold fusion reactor going. The one in this thing was a nightmare. If I hadn't found just the right coffee filters and spring water it never would have worked."

"I still can't believe you put a fusion reactor in a Geo Storm." January raised one eyebrow. "I mean, maybe step up your game a little. I know you have the money, with all the gadgets you make for people."

"My game is up honey!" Gadget exclaimed. "My game us so up. But I need to keep a low profile. You of all people know that don't no one notice you, don't no one give you static. The last thing I need is the IRS getting up in my business. That's what got Al Capone. And what do you think the Warren Police are gonna do when they see a brother driving an Aston Martin? They'd be pulling my black ass over every fifty feet!"

"But don't you change the subject on me now," he went on. "You need to step up your own game girl. You get this bike, and you are gonna be lit. Put a pic of you on the back of that on Scissr, and you are gonna get so many swipes, there's gonna be a finger-furrow down your hips."

"Yeah, and they'll be swiping out even faster once I say the 'T-Word'." January rolled her eyes. "I swear the last one left a burn mark, she blasted off so fast."

"But I wouldn't be able to ride a bike in the winter anyway," January switched gears. "So a motorcycle is no good."

"I might be able to do something about that," Avery said. "I got this idea about molecular bonding. Sort of a glue I was thinking of, only without the actual glue. Instead it's a waveform, like sound or electromagnetism are. Turn it on, and things stick. Turn it off, they release. If I could get the timing working with the spinning of the wheels, in theory they should stick to anything, water, snow, ice, you name it."

"The side of a building?" January wondered.

"Well, yeah," Avery nodded. "That would probably work, as long as I could get enough torque out of the engine. It might be slow though, pulling against gravity like that."

"I am sure you can figure it out," January said. "Maybe you could put in a matter-antimatter engine while you are at it."

"Who do I look like, Janos Heisen?" Avery stared at her like she was the insane one. "Anti-matter's expensive to create, and I'm not the Technocrat of Central Europe you know. I was thinking maybe a hydrogen fuel cell. Suzuki has the Burgman hybrid fuel cell scooter already out, using just vanilla tech. Honda filed a patent for one of their own too. I am sure I can meta one up to increase the electrical output. And everyone has battery-powered electric bikes already."

"A motorcycle…" January thought aloud. It just might work. "I would need a helmet, and what about my hair." She pulled out her phone, and tapped away at the Hamsung's screen.

"I could wear a braid, or a braided ponytail!" She exclaimed after seeing several examples of hairstyles ideal for helmet-wearers. "When can we look at this bike?"

"I'll set it up," Avery smiled. "Oh, and if that doesn't turn your frown upside down, take a look in the back seat."

January twisted around to look back. There on the torn upholstery was a large cardboard box, looking just as old and battered as the rest of the car. January wrestled it up between the seats, and set it on her lap. She gave Avery an expectant look.

"Well open it!" he laughed. "Unless you would rather go to ConFabulation in just jeans and a Cthulhu t-shirt?"

January opened the box, and literally squealed in fangirl delight. On top of the pile of clothes was a winged helmet, with an attached cowl that would cover the top of her face. It reminded her of the classic Viking goggle helm, or the Sutton Hoo helmet, except with wings. The real ones did not come with those, just like they did not have horns. They were clearly decorative, but drek did they look good.

Beneath the amazing helmet was a long-sleeved tunic. It was emblazoned with the image of a crow in profile, set against a white field, and surrounded by a black ring. Along with it were gauntlets, leggings, boots, and even a cape, all of the same jet black, woven fibers.

She instantly pulled the helmet over her features, and found that it left a hole in the back for her hair to spill out across her neck. It fit perfectly. In fact, it seemed to mold itself to her head. January was certain that was not just her imagination. Not given Avery's expertise with meta-tech. She tapped on it, and it felt as hard as steel.

"This is the awesomesauce on top of awesomesauce!" January cried. "It's like a jam sandwich, except without the bread. It's all jam! If you weren't gay I'd kiss you!"

"Well, you don't have to let that stop you. Just, you know, don't let any guys see it. I don't want to send out the wrong signals…" Avery kept his voice cool. No, he was not Avery now. He was Gadget - the inventor of amazing things, which by all the laws of nature should not work. But they did work. It wasn't a name he bandied about. After all, he preferred to live on the down low. So he only used that name online, with other inventors like himself. January was the only person in the real world who knew it. To their rest of their friends, he was the OG - the Original Gamer.

Then January did lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

She pulled on the gloves next, and was amazed at how sensitive her fingers still were with them on. It wasn't quite the same as bare skin, but it was close. For example, she could still feel the textures of the things she touched, even through the gauntlets, be it the cloth car seats, the plastic dashboard, or her faux leather handbag. She sensed more meta-engineering at work, and added that to the million other things she had to thank her inventor friend for.

"What is this material," January ran her hands along the fabric of the suit. "It isn't leather, or cloth."

"It's slime," Gadget smiled.

"It's… what?" January raised one eyebrow, and then the other. What did she have on her face?

"Ever hear of the hagfish?" Gadget asked. He went on when January shook her head. "I read that the military was experimenting with it, so I checked it out. It's a three hundred million year old fish. It's older than the dinosaurs. It excretes a slime for self-defense that suffocates predators. Well that slime can be dried out into fibers that are insanely durable. I made a few improvements on Mother Nature. It moves like cloth, but it should stop a bullet. I think. I haven't tested it though. Since, you know, my mom doesn't like guns."

"Wow, that is some slime," January bit her lip, but only for a moment. Then she decided that in spite of what it was, it was still pretty damn cool. She made a mental note to look up hagfishes when she got home. Then again, maybe she did not really want to know...

She pulled out the cape next, and ran her armored fingers along the gray interior lining. Then she turned the material over to the black outer surface.

"Check it," Gadget said with a definite note of satisfaction. "The cape is not only bullet-proof, but also fireproof, and thermal-insulating. But the pièce de résistance is that it's shape material. The gloves have built in triggers - don't use them now - that will stiffen the fabric into wings. It basically turns the entire outfit into a wingsuit."

"You mean I can fly in this!" January's eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

"No, it's a wingsuit," Gadget said carefully. "You can fall and not go splat right away. You can only glide in it. I haven't tested that either, so be careful with it. Don't go jumping off any buildings. Not just yet anyway. 'Cause there's no parachute like a regular wingsuit has."

"Wow," January breathed. "Just wow. I mean, I only wanted something for cosplay at the Con. Like a Nightgirl or Ms. Miracle costume. With something like this, I could be like, a real superhero. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"You are a real superhero," Avery murmured. "Even if you don't run around smiting bad guys like Blood Raven does. You deserve something as good as you are."

Now it was January's turn to blush. The sun was shining brightly outside, and it was turning out to be a wonderful day after all.


https://youtu.be/mVf2EeTMNJo

https://www.macomb.edu/about-macomb/maps-directions/south-campus.html

https://www.wired.com/2017/10/review-amazon-fire-7-2017/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samsung_Galaxy_J1

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hipster_(contemporary_subculture)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geo_Storm

https://i.imgur.com/AWSzLZG.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohm%27s_law

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hagfish

https://www.nextbigfuture.com/2017/10/synthetic-hagfish-slime-for-better-body-armor-fire-suppression-and-faster-ships.html

https://i.imgur.com/xfnyqr4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/YXWecFW.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/aYvptGj.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/XPFki7E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/pGiqXIp.jpg

Posted by: Renee Apr 20 2019, 02:21 PM

Hee hee, this is awesome! She's doing meditation in public! biggrin.gif

I couldn't resist a quick search for Macomb Community College. Says it's in Michigan. Interesting.

Whoa. Geo Storm. smile.gif Whatever happened to Geo? Friend of mine had a Metro back in the '90s, that thing was so easy to park in the cramped streets of Baltimore...

What constitutes a hipster in Michigan? Last time I heard that word I lived on the west coast, where hipster meant cat eye glasses and plaid skits for women, and basically retro clothes from the '60s and '70s. cool.gif The Weezer song "Buddy Holly" explains it all, basically. Guys who look like Buddy Holly, gals who look like Mary Tyler Moore, pretty much. But i know this term changes from era to era, region to region.

"Avery... or 'Gadget' as everyone called him online..." laugh.gif

Awesome.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 20 2019, 03:27 PM

QUOTE(Renee @ Apr 20 2019, 09:21 AM) *

Hee hee, this is awesome! She's doing meditation in public! biggrin.gif

I couldn't resist a quick search for Macomb Community College. Says it's in Michigan. Interesting.

Whoa. Geo Storm. smile.gif Whatever happened to Geo? Friend of mine had a Metro back in the '90s, that thing was so easy to park in the cramped streets of Baltimore...

What constitutes a hipster in Michigan? Last time I heard that word I lived on the west coast, where hipster meant cat eye glasses and plaid skits for women, and basically retro clothes from the '60s and '70s. cool.gif The Weezer song "Buddy Holly" explains it all, basically. Guys who look like Buddy Holly, gals who look like Mary Tyler Moore, pretty much. But i know this term changes from era to era, region to region.

"Avery... or 'Gadget' as everyone called him online..." laugh.gif

Awesome.

Hon, Hipsters are basically the same thing these days as they were when you were on the West Coast. They have just updated it. They are kind of the modern equivalent of Mall Goths in the 90s. They want to rebel from 'normal' society, so they dress and do things 'ironically'. Like big bushy beards, wearing plaid, riding unicycles, wearing monocles, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon. Basically they make a pastiche of outdated trends in an effort to be un-cool, and thusly be cool. Someone once called them "the assassins of cool".

This is a good quote from the wikipedia article I linked to above:
"In a Huffington Post article entitled "Who's a Hipster?", Julia Plevin argues that the "definition of 'hipster' remains opaque to anyone outside this self-proclaiming, highly-selective circle". She claims that the "whole point of hipsters is that they avoid labels and being labeled. However, they all dress the same and act the same and conform in their non-conformity" to an "iconic carefully created sloppy vintage look".

The whole revitalization of Detroit has brought tons of hipsters. Because once things finally started to turn around land was cheap. So hipster businesses could move in easily. (The same is true of Foodies. Tons of snobby restaurants have opened here in the last ten years). The same thing is going on in Brooklyn, NY.

A lot of people hate hipsters, which I don't really get. Probably because they look and act different. Some of them can be snobby though. I am different, so I appreciate someone making an effort to not be one of the mindless herd. But at the same time I find it amusing, because they are just trading one style of conformity for another in the end.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 20 2019, 06:32 PM

Oh this was a hoot! January, her crow fan club and her very own gadget-making pal. Lots of info presented in this long intro but all of it was engaging and fun to read.


Nit: ’She concentrated upon of her breathing,’ - - extraneous ‘of’?

Posted by: Grits Apr 22 2019, 06:17 PM

I’m very excited to see Stormcrow so soon! (And thank you for the reassurance that Aela and Loria are not forgotten!)

Right away I love that I can infer that some things are different about January’s world without getting a history lesson. I also love that she is spending time practicing her power flow and her martial arts. In the same way we get to see her financial situation through what she wears and uses rather than just having her mention it.

Wow, it really is Stormcrow and Gadget. Avery is awesome!

Yay, I already love this story!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 26 2019, 04:32 PM

Renee: I went to MCC for a while, so it was my go-to community college for this story. When I look at pics of it online now, it has changed a lot. But the basic layout is still the same. I used to always park in that same lot that Avery picked January up at. The library is up a hill behind where she is sitting, and then the main classroom buildings, which are set in sort of a figure 8, with open air atriums in the center. I really liked that place. I did put in a link to it.

I still remember the Geos. That is why I went to it for a nice, cheap car that no one would think twice about.

I like the name Gadget too. It is partly inspired by Inspector Gadget of course. But mostly it is because Avery makes gadgets. It is also a simple name without the common hyperbole that so many screen names/super names have. That fits Avery to a tee, as he prefers to stay on the down low.



Acadian: At 4k words it is twice where I usually put my cutoff point for posts. But I did not see a good place to cut it up without breaking the flow of conversation. It was mostly just that conversation between characters, so I let it ride. The future posts won't be so big however.

That was an extra of, thanks for wrangling it up for me.



Grits: This first Stormcrow chapter is actually longer than the remainder of Seven Reimagined, and I knocked this out in just a few weeks. And the next Stormcrow chapter as well. So it won't be too hard to wrap up Seven. There are only a few new scenes it will need that require all new writing. Most of it will only be tinkering to fit it into the new setting.

I really loved April Daniels' https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30279514-dreadnought. I think its only downside is that she includes a big infodump near the beginning about super history. That info was nice to have. But it was also a straight up dump of Telling. I am hoping to weave things in more subtly, over time. Heisenberg was an example here. Yes, he's that Heisenberg. I envision him as being essentially a brain in a robot body, ruling a technocracy in Central Asia (all the ...stans. RL Kazakhstan is the worlds #1 exporter of uranium I decided to change that to Central Europe, specifically Austria instead).

You cited all the things I was really hoping to illustrate with the opening. January's martial arts, her psychological/magical centering, her lack of finances, the central place Avery has in her life, plus a few little hints about the nature of the super world that she lives in. Avery himself is a lot of fun to write. He is in many ways the rational counterpoint to January's own psychologial/social issues. Which is another way to say he calls her out on her self-destructive b.s.

The whole reason I gave exact brand names for things like her tablet was that I wanted to show that she was poor. I was going to just be generic and say tablet, phone, and so on. But a Fire 7 says a lot, when it is only $50 full price. Likewise with the phone, and the fake designer jacket, etc...



Book 1.2 - Stormcrow Rising

January left the Con Suite and its all-too tempting plates of cookies, doughnuts, pancake dippers, and PBJ sandwiches. Not to mention the positively toxic - but equally delicious - hot dogs. What convention would be complete without those? Instead the apple and honeydew slices she had already munched on would have to suffice for dinner. Well, that and one of those wicked dogs of course.

Her new crow outfit had brought many stares. Whether good ones or bad ones, January could not be sure. There definitely were more people just coming up and talking to her than normal however. She guessed that was a good thing. But it still made her nervous. Being noticed always did. Usually her life became much worse when people paid attention to her.

Still, she did not regret it. All of her life she had been seeing other people cosplaying at conventions and festivals. Now she was finally getting in on the fun. It was fun too, even if it was outside of her normal comfort zone. It was like she was a different person. Not weighed down by the past. Anything seemed possible.

With a bottle of Fae Cola Ultimate in one hand, and a program sheet in the other, she ambled down the circular hallway toward the elevators. Looking down through the list of times and rooms, she found the block of events that would be starting next.

Star Trek discussion, no thanks, even though Wil Wheaton was attending. Now if it had been about The Guild… Phew, Felicia Day could certainly keep her up all night! Finger-Painting for Kids, eech! Ten year-olds with hands covered in paint were getting nowhere near her brand new corvid costume. Dungeons and Dragons, no thanks, she was not fourteen anymore. Too bad there was not a Shadowrun game though… Adventure in Short Stories, now that sounded like a discussion group right up her alley.

A loud bang made her stop short. It was very, very loud. Like thunder ringing through the corridor. A second and third roar followed, along with a muffled crash.

Those were gunshots. January had been in Detroit on New Year's Eve enough times to know the sound. If the gun had been outdoors it would have sounded like a pop. But given the noise, it was definitely inside the hotel.

A fellow Con-goer dressed in white stormtrooper armor ran past her, back toward the Con Suite. "It's a meta!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sped past. "And they've got guns!"

The FaeCo and schedule fell forgotten from January's hands. What should she do? Should she play it safe, and run, or hide, like all the active shooter drills in school said? Or should she do what they always say not to, and advance?

Naturally she did what they said to never do.

Air, give me speed.

She sprang forward as if shot from a cannon, covering at least ten feet with a single, horizontal bound. That nearly put her into the outer wall, since the hallway curved in a large circle. She put one hand on the wall to steady herself, reoriented, and leaped once more.

More people ran past, looking entirely non-science fictiony in their button down shirts and khakis. January briefly mused that these must be traveling business types.

Then an open door caught her eye. For a moment a bright light burst from within, only to vanish a moment later, leaving afterimages dancing before January's eyes. A loud thump came to her ears, followed by a male voice.

"Hand over the stones you bastard," it growled like a hungry tiger, "or you'll be next."

"I don't know what you're talking about," came a second man's voice, in an Indian accent so heavy you could spread curry on it. "I am just a salesman. I don't know what you are-."

January heard a meaty smack. She had been on the receiving end of enough punches to know that sound well. It was all the convincing she needed to spring through the open doorway.

She found herself in the entrance of a large suite. A kitchenette and mini-bar ran along the wall to her left. An overturned dining table, its chairs scattered away, lay nearby. A pair of couches faced one another across a coffee table deeper into the room. One had a wide hole torn through it, rupturing its stuffing like an open wound.

Two men lay on the floor. Both were alike in that they wore khakis, sport coats, and sunglasses. Guns lay on the floor nearby, and the two were as bloody as they were still. They could not have looked more like bodyguards if they had tried. A third man in a suit knelt on the floor. He was pudgy, dusky-skinned, and had long ago lost the battle to keep his hair. He wrung his hands in a panic. A bright red spot was quickly forming across one of his cheeks, and blood flowed from the side of his temple.

"Sissy-boy!" Just like that, January had traveled back in time. She was twelve years old, and two bullies pinioned her arms, while a third took his time working over her stomach and face. "Take it like a man pervert!"

The memory came and went in a fleeting instant. But it left an aftertaste of frustration, rage, and adrenaline. Outside, thunder pealed in the otherwise clear evening sky.

It was not a mere schoolyard bully who stood before her however. Instead it was a tall man wearing gleaming silver, white, and blue armor. It did not completely cover his skin, which January could see was a much deeper brown than the kneeling man. A cuirass did cover his torso, along with separate plates on his upper arms, wrists, and thighs. Gauntlets protected his hands, and boots sheathed his feet. A helmet covered his upper face and wrapped down around his jaw, leaving an open space between which left his mouth and lower cheeks bare.

He held one hand out toward the kneeling man, palm open. He turned as January entered, and brought that hand to bear upon her instead. Built into the palm of his gauntlet was a ring of metal, that encircled some form of clear crystal. A warm, white glow ignited from deep within it, and January did not need anyone to tell her it was some sort of energy weapon.

"Stay out of this, cosplay," the armored man commanded. "This is none of your business."

"It's everyone's business when a thug beats up an old man." January bared her teeth. Her fingers curled into fists of their own accord. Her eyes narrowed, and she judged the distance between them. She wondered how quickly he could fire that weapon, and how quickly she could get into range of her own, inborn armaments.

It did not take a genius like Avery to see that she was going to take a hit.

Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.

She was about to pounce when she saw the old man reach into a pocket, and pull out a pistol. It was small, barely larger than his palm. He raised it to point at the armored man's back.

But the malefactor noticed her gaze shift. He twisted back to the old man, swinging blindly with his fist. The gun went off, filling the room with artificial thunder. January was not sure if it hit the armored man or not. It seemed impossible to miss at such close quarters. He did not flinch however, or slow in any way. A moment later his fist cracked across the old man's arm and shoulder, and sent him flying.

A small, black bag fell from the Indian man's pocket. Clear gemstones spilled from it like water from an overturned cup. They glittered under the ceiling lights, like a bed of stars spread out across the carpet.

Diamonds!

Now everything became clear to January. She leaped forward, even as the thief scooped up the bag in his left hand. That was all the time she needed, and she slammed into him before he could turn back to face her. She hit him like a hurricane, and a bolt of lightning outside the windows dazzled her eyes. It was followed by a peal of thunder, as the force of her charge sent them both into the glass.

It shattered like fine china under a bull's hooves. January and the armored man tumbled through, arms and legs tangled together. The pavement rushed past January's eyes as they spun in mid-air. She heard a thrum of energy, and was aware of the thief somehow pulling away from her. Light flared from his boots, and she realized that he could fly as he rose into the sky above. But she was still falling...

"It's a wingsuit," Gadget's voice rang out in her memory. "You can fall and not go splat."

She spread her arms out to either side and hit the triggers built into both of her gloves. With a leathery crack the cape that had trailed out behind her snapped out into pair of wings. But that seemed to just make things worse. Instead of falling in a smooth arc, the wings were now catching the air unequally. That sent her into an even more chaotic tumble.

Gravity pulled at her. Every time she spun and saw the ground flash by, it was frighteningly nearer. Rain pelted her. Thunder rumbled. Lightning cracked loudly. January frantically tried to hold her body stiff and level, so that the wind could catch evenly upon the surface of the wings.

Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly.

The wind caught her up, and her fall smoothed out into a shallow dive. Somehow she had gotten into a stable, rigid position. Now each of her wings caught the air in equal measure. She pulled her head back and arched her body. She hoped that by changing the angle of the wings, it would bring even more of their surface to bear on the wind. She told herself that it was just like gymnastics. She could be strong, and graceful, and fly through the air.

Somehow she traded speed for altitude, and soared back up. She banked hard, and saw the circular tower of the hotel rising up to her left. She almost recoiled when she saw that the armored thug was just a few feet away, flying free thanks to the bright white energy being expelled by his boots. With one hand he tucked the bag of diamonds into a pouch on his belt. His other hand reached out to her, and grabbed hold of the leading edge of one of her wings.

January tried to reach up to slap away his wrist. But her wings got in the way. Worse, the movement completely destroyed her flight profile. Air spilled from her wings. She began to skid to the left, and immediately felt herself tumbling once more. The armored robber hung on. He slowed their descent, but could not stop it.

She saw the hotel's annex loom beneath her. It was a wide, two story structure that stretched away from the central tower that she had fallen from. She realized that she was going to hit it in a matter of seconds. She did not know what that would do to the wings, or to her body if one of them caught the roof unevenly. Visions of skiers snapping their legs after catching their skis on obstacles flashed through her mind.

She was a gymnast. She knew how to land. With that in mind she hit the triggers in her gloves, and her wings collapsed back to a simple cape. It flapped up in the wind above her, with the armored man still holding a fist-full of the material.

That made them fall much faster, but January found she could control her form. An instant later they plummeted into the roof of annex. They smashed through a skylight, and crashed into a wide hallway below that ran the length of the structure. Falling glass clattered around them in shards of glittering light as they slammed into the carpeted floor. January tucked into a roll and sprang to her feet just as nimbly as if she had performed an ordinary tumbling pass, rather than fallen from fourteen stories.



https://www.bestwesternpremierdetroit.com/

https://i.imgur.com/GKrx457.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/JQmegns.jpg

http://confusionsf.org/

https://youtu.be/f8Ke60zlj1s

Posted by: Acadian Apr 26 2019, 06:33 PM

’Naturally she did what they said to never do.’ - - January has plenty of courage - doubtless to help compensate for her questionable judgement. tongue.gif

And so she’s into a heart-pounding encounter! Loved her struggle to try and control those new-fangled Gadget wings as she tumbled toward the ground. Well, as they say, any landing you can walk roll away from is a good one. Seriously, it seems her martial arts training has quite benefited her.

What a fun story so far!

Edit to add a couple more thoughts -

Though I was absorbed in January's first flight lesson, I was very much aware of the other part of her name and her ability to 'not quite control' the weather as the storm was clearly reacting to Stormcrow's emotions.

With so much action in this episode, I am thankful you provided so much background into what makes January tick in the preceding episode. Her actions and thoughts flowed clearly from we already know of her. Nice job!


Posted by: Grits Apr 28 2019, 11:29 PM

Awesome, a fight and flying sequence! I thought the pace was perfect with enough description so I could picture it easily but not too much to slow things down.

The close POV and details like the Pepsi and the program sheet in January’s hands brought me right into that corridor with her. Which was very cool when she started leaping, falling, and flying!!


A comma suggestion: Instead of
"Stay out of this cosplay," the armored man commanded.

Perhaps
"Stay out of this, cosplay," the armored man commanded.

I read it the second way, with the armored man vastly underestimating January (and her suit).

What a fun episode!


Posted by: SubRosa May 3 2019, 09:35 PM

Acadian: Courage + questionable judgement sounds like a requirement for all superheros... laugh.gif

We will be seeing her martial arts training front and center in this episode. The same with her gymnastics training. I have had a lot of fun writing the latter into the current and upcoming stories. She would not be January without her back flips, handstands, and stuck landings.

I am glad the sudden thunderstorm resonated. We will be seeing more bad weather in today's episode. Like her gymnastics, the weather has become part and parcel of who she is in my mind now.


Grits: I had fun working on the events in the program sheet, as well as inventing Pepsi Ultimate. I imagine the ads for the latter go something like: "Twice the calories, Twice the sodium! Twice the Taste!" biggrin.gif

I can see what you mean about the comma. The original way sounded like Lighthammer was part of a cosplay that he didn't want January joining in. The extra comma makes is clear that he is referring to her as 'cosplay' instead.




https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE


Book 1.3 - Stormcrow Rising

Each side of the sprawling hall was lined with huge conference rooms. Paper signs marked events, classes, panels, or other activities taking place within each. Large tables were set up along various areas of the hall itself. January instantly recognized the registration table, with its trio of middle-aged women handing out badges and information packets to conventioneers. A white-bearded man wearing a black fisherman's cap sat at another table signing books for a line of people. Other tables were piled with all manner of items for sale: novels, hats, t-shirts, cosplay outfits, you name it, someone was selling it.

There were people everywhere. Many were dressed in costumes just as elaborate as January's, if not more so. Some were of real metas such as Blood Raven, the Veil, or Doctor Heisen. Others were fictional characters such as Nightman or the robot from Found in Space. Still more people were in street clothes. Nerds with tees emblazoned with the chemical symbols for coffee or various sayings in binary rubbed shoulders with goths in black leather and lace. New Agers and Pagans with ankhs and pentacles stepped past button-downed mundanes. Every race and age, every kind of person, were all thrown together in the science fiction convention.

The crash had separated January from her armored opponent. He was slower to clamber to his feet, and she took advantage of that to rush back to his side. Her hand flew to his belt, and tugged out the black bag of diamonds. He had the presence of mind to catch her wrist. With her free hand, she grabbed hold of the offensive digit and willed it loose.

His other hand rose up to her face. The metal-ringed crystal set into his palm filled her vision, and she realized that it was inset with diamonds. She had started to duck when the light blasted forth and took her in the face. It felt like she had been kicked by a horse. Her head snapped back hard. Without thinking, she let the rest of her body flow with the motion, and turned it into a back flip. She felt her feet catch the armored man as she spun in midair, and heard the whoosh of air being forcefully expelled from his lungs.

"Now water can flow, or it can crash," Bruce Lee's words rose unbidden in her mind. "Be water my friend."

She landed in a crouch, and felt along her forehead with one gloved hand. She was afraid that her fingers would come back sticky with blood and brains. But apparently the hagfish slime that armored her cowl was stronger than whatever the marauder had hit her with. Unless the strength and resilience of Earth really did fill her flesh and bones. But the real world didn't actually work that way, did it? It was not like she was a real magician after all, like Blood Raven was said to be.

She blinked spots of light from her eyes, just in time to see the thief level his opened hand for another shot. Again, she was too slow, and the bright laser-like energy that sprang forth hit her hard. This time it struck her hand, sending the bag of diamonds flying away to one side.

Thunder pealed from above, and rain began to pour through the broken skylight. January and her opponent both edged toward the diamonds, eyeing one another all the while. In the meantime the conventioneers spread out to give them room. Some fled entirely, but most remained to watch, albeit from a distance. Many produced phones and began recording them. A few even had old-fashioned camcorders.

January noticed Gadget in the crowd, dressed in his own Cyborg cosplay outfit. He moved to intervene, but she shook her head ever so slightly. He was a whiz with machines, but no fighter. She could never bear it if something happened to him.

The armored man tried to follow her eye movement again, glancing quickly in the direction of her gaze. But Avery - bless him - gave no sign that he was the object of her gesture.

"It's Lighthammer!" she heard someone in the crowd exclaim.

January glanced back to Gadget. "Gray hat," he silently mouthed now that her opponent was no longer looking in his direction. He gestured with his fingers, as if they were erupting from his other palm. "Light-Based," he seemed to mime.

The armored man - Lighthammer - trained both hands upon January this time. She prayed to Air for speed. She was upon him faster than he could fire, knocking both of his hands up and away. She followed with a front kick directly into his armored gut. It was like hitting a brick wall. But she could break bricks...

He doubled over, and she instantly followed with a knee lift into his jaw. Again, his armor seemed to absorb most of the blow. He staggered back, covering up defensively with his arms in front of him. So she followed with a side kick at his ribs. This time however, an oval of light sprang up around one of his forearms, and he moved it down to block the attack. She followed with a lower kick, and he leapt up into the air to avoid it.

But he could not dodge the lightning fast jab that followed. Instead he parried with his other forearm, this one now protected by a small force field of light as well. She moved in closer, and sent a flurry of elbows and jabs at his torso and head. He blocked some, and took the rest with his armor.

Relentless, she jabbed at his face with her left and stepped closer in. That brought her close enough to slash the same elbow across his face. She twisted her entire body with the move, using all of her mass to pull the elbow through him. He blocked with a force field once more, but she could feel it shiver as he backed away.

He covered up when she made to follow with the left again, this time with a cross into his face. But that had never been her intention. Once she saw him fall for the feint, she leapt forward. She rested one hand on his shoulder for leverage, and lifted herself up into the air above him. Then she crashed down with her opposite elbow, driving it into his forehead and down across his face. Armor shattered, and half of his mask disintegrated under the blow. Blood and bits of composite armor sprayed about as she dropped to her feet.

Then a bright light filled her eyes, and she was propelled back through the air once more. Again, she moved with the blow, and landed on both feet and one hand. She slid across the carpet in that three-point stance for several feet before stopping. It felt like a tyrannosaur had hit her. But she didn't notice any real pain. She imagined that was because of the adrenaline, and the armor Gadget had so presciently built.

She focused on the elements, as ever, and looked to them for inspiration and focus. Earth would ground her with strength and resilience. Water would allow her to adapt and flow with changing events. Air would give her speed and force, like a tornado. Fire would inspire passion and vigor. Spirit would bring it all together with balance and clarity.

Now January saw a pair of hotel security guards coming through the crowd. She waved them back. There was nothing they could do against someone like Lighthammer. They weren't even real cops. They didn't have guns, or meta-tech suits like the one that Avery had made for her. They didn't have years of martial arts training. They didn't know that their will could reshape reality. But she did have those things, and she was not going to let anyone else get hurt by a laser-powered thug.

"This isn't what you think white hat," Lighthammer now spoke. "I'm not the one who covered these diamonds in blood, and I'm not looking to add more to them already."

"You sure fooled me," January snarled. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Indian diamond trader in the crowd. He held a bloody washcloth against the side of his head with one hand. He still clutched his pistol in his other hand. But he held it down along his side, unobtrusively against one leg. No one would notice it unless they took their eyes off the meta fight.

Thunder roared, and January was the lightning that followed. Lighthammer blasted again with both of his lasers. But she broke through the eruption of solid light to plant a fist in his jaw. She followed with kicks, elbows, and punches. Again he defended with his laser shields. She tried to trip him, but he rose into the air with his light-assisted flight.

He tried to fly up out of reach, but she leapt into him. That propelled them both into the ceiling, which they skidded across before smashing into a wall. January planted her feet against it and pushed off while he fell. She performed a back flip in mid air and landed on both feet, facing him.

She tried to hit him before he could get to his feet. But he was too fast with his lasers. Again, he hit her with both palm-blasters. Her eyes filled with bright light as she went back. This time she was ready however. Rather than tumbling through the air, the solid light merely pushed her back several paces.

She smiled. She had taken his measure. She would wear him down, and defeat him.

Then he turned his glowing hands upon the crowd, and January's exultation vanished faster than a lawyer's morality. Lasers flashed bright. Thunder crashed overhead. Rain pelted the hall. January leapt fast as a tornado, and stood between the innocent conventioneers and Lighthammer's attack.

She was expecting another semi-truck to the chest. But instead she barely felt the strike. Again, she wondered if it was just the adrenaline that allowed her to shrug it off so easily.

"Just like I thought," Lighthammer jeered, "typical white hat."

She followed the motion of his hands as they rose slightly. Lasers spat once more. This time they struck the ceiling overhead, and now they hit with titanic force.

The ceiling exploded in a shower of fiberglass, plaster, wood, and steel. All of it came directly down upon January, as if Lighthammer had somehow shot it out with surgical precision. January felt herself driven to first one, then both knees as a mountain of rubble crushed down atop her. All she could do was turtle up with her hands over her head, hoping to ward off the worst of the deluge.

Somehow, she did just that. She could feel the full force of the material, especially the steel beam that drove down into her shoulder. But again, it did not really hurt, at least not that much. It was almost as if she was as solid as iron and stone herself. Of course, she wasn't after all. It was not like she was a meta herself. It was the suit that protected her.

She coughed. Her will, and Gadget's suit, could not do anything about the dust that choked her lungs. She shoved the steel beam off her, and heard it thump loudly upon the carpeted floor. Brushing off the rest of the debris, she rose back to her feet. She looked around, and saw that she had indeed been the only one struck by the wreckage. Again, she wondered if that had been Lighthammer's design. Gadget had said that he was a gray hat after all, not a Black one.

Of the villain himself, there was no sign. She imagined that he had made his escape while she was buried. He had set her up perfectly, and she had fallen for the trap, like an idiot.

"Are you ok miss?" someone asked.

"Wow, she's a real meta!" another cried.

"That was amazing!" another voice came to her ears.

People began to crowd closer now. She scanned the crowd for Avery, but there were just too many people moving in now. She could not see the Indian diamond trader either, or his valuable cargo. She hoped he and his bodyguards would be all right.

"What's your name?" A phone seemed to jam itself almost in her face. There were phones all around now, cameras lit up and pointing directly at her.

She glanced down at the crow emblazoned across the chest of her suit.

"Umm, a crow?" she wondered aloud. Thunder hammered loud in her ears. There were too many people, with too many questions. As a child she had always daydreamed about being a hero and saving the day. This was nothing like that. She didn't know if she was a hero, or if she had truly saved anything.

She was thirsty, and now her body did begin to ache. She looked up to the hole in the skylight, where the dark sky stormed overhead. She crouched down to fill her legs with power, and sprang up, through the open hole in the roof. Lightning crashed, and she was gone.

https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE

https://i.imgur.com/CaWQjY5.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/4PK6vm7.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/1TIVdcc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/u6c4m9y.jpg

https://www.iflscience.com/physics/crystallized-light-reveals-potential/

https://youtu.be/DhF6H3AaV6g

https://i.imgur.com/pGiqXIp.jpg

Posted by: Acadian May 8 2019, 07:31 PM

I’ll take your wonderful Two Steps from Hell music vid and raise you the https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMkCXuZiYaw

A fun ‘tour’ of the convention floor – even if only what January could convey to us during the brief seconds it took to get her bearings after her crash landing.

I’m looking for – and seeing – how the weather is indeed responding to January’s mood or feelings.

Lighthammer – we have a name for her adversary now and it makes sense.

What a fight! January’s years of martial arts training certainly paid off – as did the suit Gadget made for her.

Neat how you ‘showed’ us the use and meaning here of the terms White Hat, Gray Hat and Black Hat. That does indeed inform as to why Lighthammer extricated himself from this fight without collateral damage to bystanders once he found himself lacking for continuing to go ‘toe-to-toe’ with his angry tornado opponent.

You tease us near the end by dancing around it but not quite naming her. Better hurry though - we don't want to risk having her labeled EarthAirWaterFireGirl. tongue.gif

Finally, she who will be Stormcrow leaves the scene in a fully appropriate superheroinesque manner!

Posted by: Renee May 9 2019, 03:55 PM

Whoa, she's wearing her superhero outfit in public! Well hey, why not? viking.gif Oh wait. Okay she's at a convention.

She summons the words of Bruce Lee. IS that true about the hagfish slime being able to be crafted into hardened superhero gear? laugh.gif I'll feel silly if I google that and it's not true!

Hey, what happened to Lighthammer? Did he vanish? Maybe he caused that explosion so he could slip away. Well, she shouldn't beat herself up. Not like anybody else tried to take care of that thief.


Posted by: SubRosa May 10 2019, 10:05 PM

All: I created a https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl. It has both current, and future sites of January's adventures. In the case of real places, I included links about them.


Acadian: I love music battles, everyone wins!

I went to a sci-fi convention at that very same hotel many years ago. That is what gave me the idea for not only a convention, but to use that particular hotel. It has changed a lot since then however.

I had a lot of fun creating Lighthammer, his name, and his powers. I think he would be a fun character to play. He has a lot of potential for advancing his powers.

I mulled over several ideas for how to denote good guys from bad guys. In the end I went with Black Hats and White Hats because of how they are used in hacker culture. Gray Hats were just an obvious addition. As you noted the way Lighthammer distracted January with a threat to innocents - but one ultimately empty - really showed the color of his hat.

Earth, Wind, and Fire would be a cool name... But there would be copyright issues. Have no fears though, Stormcrow gets her moniker in today's episode.


Renee: I was working over different ways to get January out in her super outfit without her deliberately deciding to be a super. I took a lot of inspiration from Batgirl: The Year One, which had Barbara Gordon going to a policeman's costume ball dressed in a Batman-esque costume. A supervillain had the same idea, and a super smackdown ensued that set Barbara on her course to becoming Batgirl. Instead of a costume party, I went with a convention, since those are such magnets for cosplay.

That is true about the hagfish slime. It is being developed as both ballistic armor and fireproofing. I put a link to it in my first post. I put links to tons of relevant stuff at the bottom of every post. The first post in the thread also has a collection of all the links so people can easily look things up.

Lighthammer dropped the ceiling on January specifically so he could make his getaway.




Book 1.4 - Stormcrow Rising

"That was incredible!" Avery exulted. No, he was not plain old Avery, but in full Gadget mode now. "I always knew you had it in you to be a hero."

The young black man sat in his chair, which was a cross between something off the bridge of the Enterprise and an old garage from American Pickers. It had more lights and buttons and speakers than most computers. Speaking of which, he had parked his nerdcore throne in front of his computer. If such a simple term could be used to describe the water-cooled monstrosity of circuit boards, drives, chips, and cables that served as his home away from home.

The rest of the basement - The Gadget Cave as January thought of it - was similar. It was a mix of old junk that Avery had somehow rehabilitated into technological masterpieces, and modern bric-a-brac which he had pushed far beyond the thresholds of science and nature with his meta-genius. She could not even name half of the things scattered around the room, and while she was not a rocket scientist by any stretch of the imagination, she was no stranger to Carl Sagan either.

Hanging incongruously in this helter-skelter of gizmos and just plain junk was a heavy leather punching bag. If it ever had a brand name, it had long since been worn away. Or perhaps it was buried under the rolls of duct tape that crisscrossed the worn brown leather like an ancient mummy. The Blob, January mused, it could always take a hit.

"I was an idiot." January flopped down on the dilapidated couch that took up the center of the room. It was one of those hand me downs passed from one generation to another since the dawn of time. Its upholstery was so stained and faded that there was no guessing what the original color might have been. They still took bets on it however. The wooden frame was chipped and scratched. Stuffing rose like angry volcanoes from rips and tears. Naturally it was the most comfortable thing January had ever sat upon.

"Did you start smoking the devil's lettuce when I wasn't looking?" Gadget cried. His fingers danced across his keyboards (yes, there were more than one). Images filled the plethora of monitors that not only hovered over his desk, but were also scattered about the basement. All of them showed raw footage of her battle with Lighthammer, each from a different source. "Social media is lighting up over you. You are trending, even bigger than that singing cat!"

"The cat made more sense," January pulled the cowl back from her head, and rubbed her temples. "I screwed up everything from the start. I hit him so hard I took the two of us out of a fourteen story window. A plate glass window! Then it just went downhill from there."

Gadget slid his chair across the room with a kick of his feet. It did not roll, so much as hover across the floor.

"Ok, trash talk mode off." Gadget said in his serious voice. "You really were fantastic. You know that don't you? You fought a real, live, meta to a standstill. You beat him. You know that right?"

"What if he hadn't been a meta?" January bit her lip. "What if he had just been a derp in a cosplay outfit, like me? I would have killed him with that first tackle. I should have killed us both."

"Tell me about it, step by step," Gadget leaned forward. He put his elbows on his knees, and cradled his chin in his hands. It was his paying attention pose. "A good scientist experiments, records results, analyzes, and draws conclusions from the data. Give me the data."

"Well, I heard the gunshots, I guess from the two bodyguards." January took a sip of Dr Piper. Gadget never seemed to have FaeCo in his cave.

"Right, those guys." Gadget put his phone on his forearm, and it stuck there as if it was glued in place. With a tap of one finger it folded out into a full-sized computer screen, while a keyboard snapped out in front of both his hands. "I did a quick check on them on the way back from the hotel. Both are Whitewater Security."

"Those mercenaries who are always in the news about murdering people in Iraq and Afghanistan for shits and giggles?" January asked.

"The very same ones," Gadget responded. "Funny how a company doesn't get investigated when it has billion dollar contracts with the government. Anyway, one of these guys is a former Army Ranger, the other used to be a beat cop in the D for ten years. I'm not sure which is more badass."

"Well, they were out cold on the floor, and Lighthammer was smacking around that Indian guy." January frowned. Just thinking about it made her angry all over again.

"Bhavin Subramanian." Gadget's fingers tapped again, and a picture of the diamond trader popped up across the screens in the basement. "Works for the Mahta Diamond Syndicate in Amsterdam."

"Yeah, Subram- damn that is a name. I am such a racist because I can't remember how you said it. He pulled out a gun and I think he shot Lighthammer. I couldn't really tell if he hit or not. Then Hammer just smacked the guy across the room like it was nothing."

"Right, so you found two of the scariest dudes in Detroit laying out cold on the floor, while a bulletproof super sent a third guy flying," Gadget said plainly. "And you're second-guessing yourself about uncorking on said armored monstrosity?"

"I shouldn't have," January scowled. "I know how it sounds. But I have to be careful when I fight, so I don't hurt people. I mean, I could kill you right now in less time it would take for me to say it. I always have to be in control of myself. I have to stay calm, measured, and only use as much force as is really necessary. That's one reason I do yoga. It's not just about stretching. I have to purge my negativity and stay centered. It's why I'm reading up on Paganism. I can never, ever, let my temper rule me."

"You know, sometimes I forget just how cool a chick you really are," Avery smiled, and laid a warm hand on her arm. Then he straightened up, and his voice took on a more formal tone. "So what have you learned from this?"

"Learned?" January scoffed. "That I almost got a lot of people killed, including myself."

"So what are you going to do differently next time?" Gadget asked. "Like someone said in one of your stories. Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment. You got a lot of experience tonight. How are you going to grow from it?"

"Grow?" January still did not understand what he meant. "I am never going to do anything like that again, that is how I'm going to grow!"

"Are you crazy?" Gadget scoffed. "You were made for this. You always were. I knew it since we were kids. Why do you think I made that suit for you? That is no cosplay outfit. I wouldn't have armored it with that hagfish snot, or made the wings for just a Nightchick costume. That's why I put a crow on it. It's not a copy, it's an original. It's a hero's armor. It's your armor. Not that I think you really need it."

"Not that I need it?" January stared at the images of her now playing across the screen again. "I would have been killed without it."

"I don't think so," Gadget shook his head. He brought up a vid of her smashing Lighthammer into the ceiling, and then literally leaping off of the wall, doing a back flip, and landing on her feet. "No suit did that. That is Olympics gold medal shit. Beyond gold medal shit. Only metas can do things like that. "

Next he brought up a vid of Lighthammer hitting her with twin blasts of light, and merely shoving her back across the hall.

"The suit wasn't made to stop that," Gadget said. "Like I said, I hope it's bullet-proof. But I don't know if it'll even do that."

Finally he brought up a clip of her rising from the wreckage of the collapsed ceiling. As casually as if she were flicking off lint, January saw herself toss a steel beam off of her shoulder.

Gadget did not say a word. He just gestured at the screen. Now a live feed came up from Worldwide Network News. The camera moved to a middle-aged woman with dark hair and glasses, and a chin that nearly came to a literal point. She stood behind a long, curved desk that was covered in pictures and artwork of various superheros and villains.

"Hello world, this is Gilda Gadfly, and do I have the dish for you!" she began in a gossipy tone. A picture of January leaping out of the skylight in the hotel came up behind her, captured just as a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky overhead.

"This is a first folks. A brand new white hat has created a literal storm in Detroit. Hundreds witnessed her debut in a knock-down, drag-out battle against the vigilante Lighthammer. All of this took place in the middle of a science fiction convention of all places. Dressed in black and gray armor, the crow silhouette on her chest declares a definite corvid inspiration, if not origin. This... Stormcrow... displayed some impressive martial arts skills as she rocked Lighthammer's world."


"But how?" January pulled her feet up onto the couch as the gossipy superhero reporter continued on in the background. She wrapped her arms around her legs, while resting her head upon her knees. "I mean, I wasn't a nefarious experiment by a mad scientist. I'm not an alien baby sent from a dying world. I'm not a princess. No girl can have any agency without being a princess… I'm just... me."

"I don't know exactly how," Gadget said. "I don't know how I do all of this!" He swept his arms out across the cacophony of insane technology that littered the basement.

"We both just do it," he continued. "It's what we do with it that matters, not how. I build stuff. I always have, and I try to do it for a good cause, or at least not for a bad one. You, you have always been a hero, ever since we were little. When you came out and transitioned, I knew it then. You were a superhero, even with no powers. When you fought those bullies, well, I think we all knew you had something extra."

"Something extra," January frowned. "Why can't I just be normal, like everyone else? Why do I have to be even more of a freak?"

"Don't you ever call yourself that woman," Avery insisted. He had not raised his voice, but it had turned to iron nonetheless. "Never!"

January recoiled, and frowned even deeper.

"I'm sorry," Avery continued in a soft, measured tone. "I didn't mean to go all 'Angry Black Man' on you. But sometimes you are so thick, you just don't see how amazing you are. Not because you can do back flips off the ceiling and punch out supervillains. Because you are the bravest, stubbornest, kindest, most thoughtful person I have ever known. Myself included, which is saying quite a lot. You have always been my hero, my litmus test. Whenever I don't know what to do, whenever I feel like losing my shit, I think: 'what would January do?' That is all I need."

January tried not to cry. She really did. Of course she failed. The next thing she knew, Avery had his arms around her. She clung to him like a drowning woman to a life preserver. He was right. He was always right. She always had these abilities. She had just never wanted to acknowledge them. Was it because she was afraid of being even more different than she already was? Was it because she was afraid of what she might do with them, or of what she should do with them? What was right and wrong, where metahuman abilities were concerned?



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Sagan

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-OdJmAefOY

https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-dark-truth-about-blackwater/

https://qz.com/india/459422/how-indian-families-took-over-the-antwerp-diamond-trade-from-orthodox-jews

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCXiCS0f1gg

Posted by: Acadian May 11 2019, 09:10 PM

Neat Gadget Cave! Replete with ingenious technocuriosities.

"Social media is lighting up over you. You are trending, even bigger than that singing cat!" - - Yup, Catwoman can’t hold a candle to Stormcrow!

Whitewater Security. wink.gif laugh.gif

I really like January’s concern about remaining in control of her temper/negativity and in control of her application of force. Auspicious for a superheroine to feel a deep sense of responsibility to temper her power.

Aww, what a steadfast friend Gadget is to our self-doubting SuperCrow.


Nit:’Next he brought up an vid of Lighthammer hitting her with twin blasts of light,’ - - Looks like some editing gone awry – I know you want ‘a vid’, not ‘an vid’.

Posted by: SubRosa May 17 2019, 04:41 PM

Acadian: The Gadget Cave is a fun setting. I have a closet like that with old computer parts. I imagine that closet on steroids to get the Gadget Cave.

I couldn't resist a nod to Blackwater when it came to creating an amoral mercenary corporation.

When it comes to January's attitude toward the use of force, I am reminded of Superman. Imagine if he ever lost his temper? That would be a bad day for the planet. I think controlling your temper would be one of the hardest parts of being a super. I imagine the ones who go Black Hat tend to be the type who can't control their anger and frustrations, and end up killing people by accident. Then they are wanted for murder, and trapped in the life.

Gadget is a solid friend. In many ways he is the epitome of cool. Though we will eventually see that his life is not all that it is cracked up to be either.



Book 1.5 - Stormcrow Rising

"Now enough with the existentialism," Gadget said as she finally pulled away. "The first battle is over, and the game is afoot. It's time we plot our next move."

"Our next move?" January wondered aloud. "Shouldn't we..."

She let the words die on her lips. Let the authorities handle it? She had learned what good they were when she was expelled for fighting back against the bullies in school. When she wasn't even allowed to use the bathroom, like all the other kids. Gadget was right. They had these abilities. They had to use them.

"First things first," January reached down into one of the pouches on her utility belt, and pulled out her convention badge. It had the image of a trio of identical dragons. They stood in a circle, and all pointed accusing fingers at one another. In the blank space beneath she had written 'She/Her' in a sharpie, rather than her actual name. She had written it there as a joke. But now it might have turned out to be providential. "Did we leave a trail behind us?

"Good call btw, being clever instead of using your real name." Gadget nodded. He set off in flurry of typing. "But I can whittle down those odds a bit more. There, neither you nor I were ever registered with the convention. So at least there's no paper trail leading to either of us."

She rose to her feet, and walked over to his computer station. "I hope that is good enough," she frowned. "I don't want to end up like Hailstorm."

"No one wants to end up like Hailstorm," Gadget breathed. "Here, I just set up a bot to continually search for any instances of your name being used in conjunction with Stormcrow. That will give me a heads up if anything does leak."

January nodded. This superhero business was new to her. But it was certainly not new to the world. Ever since Grognard and the Red Baron had fought in World War I, metas had been front page news. Their identities had always been carefully hidden secrets, for good reason. After what had happened to Hailstorm…

"What do we know about this Lighthammer?" She pulled her mind from ancient history to current events. "He had lasers, but they didn't burn like I thought a laser is supposed to. It was like he was hitting me with a truck. Like... well... a hammer."

"It's solid light." Gadget slid back across the room to his computers. "It was just theoretical. But with metas, theory becomes reality every day. He can project it from his hands. He can use it to fly. He can even form small force fields with it."

"Now it's all making more sense," January nodded. "His gauntlets had these little emitters in them. Or maybe that's not the right word. Maybe they're focusers. They're filled with diamonds. I think he sends his light through them, and it amps his powers."

"So that is why he would want to steal more," Gadget breathed. "It's not for the money. It's more power. He could put them in his boots to fly better, or in his arms to make stronger shields."

"So what do we know about him?" January asked. "You knew his name right off. I've never heard of him."

"He's a Gray Hat," Gadget said. He brought up a series of pictures and articles about Lighthammer on his screens. "He hasn't been around for long. He fights bad guys: smugglers, drug-dealers, even a few Black Hats. He's not picky about whether they die or not, and takes their money to finance himself. Not shy about fighting cops either, though he hasn't killed any of them. He seems to try to avoid hurting civvies though. That makes it kind of strange that he would try to shoot those people at the end of your fight."

"He was never going to hurt them," January shook her head. "The shots he fired at them were so underpowered they wouldn't have ruffled their hair. I guess that was just in case I didn't jump in front of the shot. He played me. He wanted me standing in exactly that spot, because he knew he could drop the ceiling on me there, and only on me."

January could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Fighting was not just throwing punches. It was moves and countermoves. It was playing to your strengths, concealing your weaknesses, exposing your enemy's, and exploiting them. It was like chess, just with sweat and bruises. That had been check and mate. He had completely outplayed her.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Gadget never took his eyes from his screen. "He's been doing this longer than you have."

Gadget was right, Lighthammer had already done the beating up. Now that the fight was long over, whatever it was that gave January strength and some measure of invulnerability was gone. She ached where those bolts of hard light had struck her. But it did not really bother her much either. She had felt worse after her first serious gymnastics workout.

"He said something about blood on the diamonds," January reflected. "I was too caught up in the fighting at the time. But now I wonder if he meant something else?"

"As in blood diamonds?" Gadget murmured. He pulled the diamond trader back up again, and began opening window after window about the old man. It all flew by so fast that January could not keep up with all the information spilling across the screens. But somehow Gadget seemed to absorb it all like a digital sponge.

"According to the airlines, he's been taking regular flights between the Central African Republic, Antwerp, Surat, and a whole bunch of US cities - Detroit, Philly, Pittsburgh, Chicago, St. Louis, and others."

"Surat?" January asked.

"It's in India." Gadget brought it up on Googol, and both images and articles on the city filled one screen after the other. "Large city on the Tapi River. Commercial center for textiles. Ooh, they have a fancy new cable-stayed bridge too, very chic. Oh wait, here we go. Ninety percent of the world's diamonds are polished in the city."

"I thought the diamond trade was all Jewish?" January scratched her head.

"Well, according to this article not anymore," Gadget's fingers flew and more text scrolled past his screens. "The Indians took it over a few years back. They have big extended families that do all the work cheaper. So they send the rough diamonds to them in Surat for processing. Then they sell them on the international market. The main offices are still in Antwerp. This one Mahta bigshot is a Baron in Belgium!"

"Sounds like a bad rap song," January murmured. "Bigshot Baron of Belgium..."

"Metro Boomin could put the beats behind that to make it a masterpiece..." Gadget laughed.

"So let me guess, the Central African Republic has a problem with conflict diamonds?" January became serious again.

"Oh snap does it..." Gadget sighed as he looked from one screen to another. Between the text were pictures of warlords, child-soldiers, and all-too thin people toiling under the watchful gaze of armed men. "One of the poorest countries in the world, civil war, ethnic cleansing, and diamonds. As you can guess, the diamonds don't make things better. They just make all the horror profitable."

"So he buys blood diamonds in Africa, takes them back to his family in India for polishing, then brings them here to sell." January frowned. She had fought for this man. She had risked her life for him. "Lighthammer had been in the right all along. I was the bad guy."

"No," Avery said firmly. "Busting into a hotel room, beating the crap out of people, and robbing them is not in the right. You did what any decent person would do."

"So what are we going to do about this guy?" January fumed. "We can't let him get away with it. I helped him. I've got to stop him."

"Well just beating him up isn't going to solve anything." Gadget mused. "We need some kind of proof that those are conflict diamonds."

"Can't you tell just by looking at them?" January said. "Don't they have a serial number or something engraved on the diamond?"

"According to what I am reading, not all diamonds do." Gadget filled more screens with information. "Only those graded by the Gemological Institute of America are like that."

"But his diamonds are coming from Africa." January observed. "Even the legit ones from there won't have that."

"Hmmm, this says the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme was created by the UN to validate diamonds from all over the world. If it's been through the process, it's shipped out in a sealed container and has a certificate to say it's legal."

"Well there was no sealed container," January recalled, "just a bag. Anyway, he'll probably just say that Lighthammer destroyed the certificate."

"Yeah, but he's a businessman. So he has to have some kind of spreadsheet," Gadget reasoned. "He needs a way of tracking what he buys and what he sells. Otherwise he has no idea if he's making money or losing it."

"Or if any of his own people are ripping him off." January said. "So his phone then?"

"I've got that covered." Gadget got up and went rummaging through a drawer full of junk. With a bark of triumph he pulled out a palm-sized gizmo of buttons, knobs, and lights. "I did some experimenting on this last year. It's a Kingfish. It's based on the Stingray tracking devices that the military and cops use. It will completely clone every phone in ten feet. All data in just a minute."

"So I put this in my pocket, get within ten feet, and boom, we have him!" January smiled. "So where is he?"

"The police probably have him for questioning," Gadget thought aloud. "They love questioning. It gives them an excuse to sit around doing nothing."

"I can walk into the police station no problem." January could not believe she had just said that. A transgender person just walking into a police station. She might as well have said that she would walk into the lion enclosure at the zoo. But neither thought filled her with trepidation. Not anymore. "But how do I get close enough to him? They're going to have him back in an interrogation room, or some high muckety-muck's office."

"Hmmm," Gadget rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He went back to his computer and set to typing again.

January stared at Subramanian's picture, willing it to tell her his secrets. As if a picture on a computer screen could suddenly talk.

"You know, he doesn't look like someone who's exactly on the bleeding edge of technology," she thought aloud. "He's an old timer. He doesn't strike me as someone that would trust computers, or the internet, or smartphones."

"Probably like my Nana," Gadget said. "Can't even use a VCR..."

"What's a VCR?" January asked innocently. Gadget mimed slapping her, and she smiled.

"You think he's got something physical, like an old time ledger?" Gadget said seriously. "Practically prehistoric. But you might be right."

"He'd have to keep it close to him," January deduced. "But the police would have taken it after they searched the room."

"Unless he hid it somewhere," Gadget said. "He had plenty of time before the cops showed up."

"All right, head back over there and look, and I'll see what I can dig up on this end." He stood once more, and went to a battered old dresser that was half-buried under a tidal wave of junk. Fighting one drawer open, he produced a gold mine of decidedly advanced equipment, starting with an ultra-thin rappelling line.

"No need for a claw, it uses my molecular bonding technique, well, it will once I get it working," he explained.

An encrypted phone miniaturized down to an earbud came with it, an electric lock pick made from a toothbrush, a few smoke grenades, and of course the phone cloner. January was glad for the utility belt he had added to her armor. Otherwise she would have needed a pack to carry it all!

"Umm, unless I am going to take the bus, you are going to have to drive me," January pointed out.

"You can just take the Geo," Gadget said. He began to rummage around in his pockets until January brought him up short.

"And who is going to drive it?" she asked. "It's a stick shift."

"Oh, right," Gadget winced. "I guess I am coming with you, in the mobile command center."




https://www.iflscience.com/physics/crystallized-light-reveals-potential/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surat

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central_African_Republic

https://www.kimberleyprocess.com/en/what-kp

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro_Boomin

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stingray_phone_tracker

Posted by: Acadian May 17 2019, 09:54 PM

What a fun episode, as the plot thickens with more info on the dirty diamonds.

The Gadget cave still has me smiling, but now it’s off in the Gadgetmobile to drop off January – fully ladened with gadgets - for some ledger snooping and perhaps cell phone cloning. Hopefully.

Posted by: Renee May 24 2019, 07:07 PM

There's a Beverly Hills in Michigan!

I used to watch the original Batman when I was a kid, Batgirl and Catwoman were couple of my faves.

Lol moments: "nerdcore throne" ... "Its upholstery was so stained and faded that there was no guessing what the original color might have been. They still took bets on it however." ... "His fingers danced across his keyboards (yes, there were more than one)" .... ". "It was his paying attention pose. "

.. I give up! Half the chapter 1.4 has me cracking up.

QUOTE
"You know, sometimes I forget just how cool a chick you really are," Avery smiled, and laid a warm hand on her arm. Then he straightened up, and his voice took on a more formal tone.


Ah. MmmHmmm. *whistles*

Aww, I love 1.4's end. In general I love the dynamics between Gadget and January.

QUOTE
I put links to tons of relevant stuff at the bottom of every post. The first post in the thread also has a collection of all the links so people can easily look things up


Oh okay. Sorry, I don't always check links (only have so much time, so I spend most it reading the story itself). I had a feeling the hagfish thing might be based on something real though. I'll try to check links in the future before I ask questions.





Posted by: SubRosa May 24 2019, 10:18 PM

Acadian: Now we know that things were not quite as simple as they seemed in the hotel battle.

Gadget is a fun character to write. He's just as super as January, but in a very different way.



Renee: We do have a Beverly Hills. In spite of the name, it is nothing like the one in California however. It is just an ordinary little 'burb. The rich place to live in Metro-Detroit is Bloomfield Hills and Birmingham (the latter always pronounced with an over the top snobbish English accent).

It is always fun to write when Avery and January get together. They both really come out of their respective shells and shine like polished gold. They are even more fun to write than Aela and Loria.




Book 1.6 - Stormcrow Rising

The trip back to the hotel passed in relative silence. January did not know what to say. This morning she had been a - relatively - normal girl. Now it felt like she was living in a different world. Was she really a meta? Or was she just lucky? Was she really going to continue this… investigation? The smart thing would be to call the police, and let them handle it.

As if the police had ever handled anything that didn't involve sprinkles and jelly filling…

No, she had mucked everything up with Subramanian and Lighthammer. She had to make things right.

She almost jumped through the roof when her phone rang. Her normal phone that is, not the slick, meta-tech communicator that Gadget had wizarded up. She glanced down at the name that glowed on the Hamsung's screen. She bit her lip, knowing that she had to answer, but wishing she did not have to at just this moment.

"Mom?" she finally said after swiping to connect.

She braced herself to weather the barrage of questions that came storming from the speaker of her phone. "Of course I'm fine. No, I didn't see any of it. Avery and I were in this really intense session of Call of Cthulhu. We didn't even find out until afterward. Yes I've seen it's all over social media. No I don't know when I'll be home. Yes I'll be careful."

"I bet Blood Raven doesn't have to make excuses to her mom when she goes out fighting evil," January grumbled after she hung up.

"You never know," Avery said, "she must have been nineteen once too."

"That was probably so long ago they had rotary phones," January mused.

"You know about them?" Avery smiled.

"It saw it in a documentary about the Stone Age." January kept a straight face. "The Neanderthals used to throw them in front of mammoths. The mammoths would be so confused trying to turn that dial thing with their trunks that the cavemen could sneak up on them and attack them with their spears. Scientifically proven fact."

"Um, I think they were an early interface for telecommunication…" Avery said.

"I believe my version is much more plausible," January insisted.

By then they had exited I-696 and gotten onto Northwestern Highway, only to take the first exit from that onto Telegraph. Southfield's roads were a Gordian Knot that not even Alexander could have undone, and sadly cutting them in half was just not an option.

In moments they rolled up to the hotel. Its cylindrical glass tower rose high into the night sky. Jutting off to one side was the two story adjunct of the building, where most of the convention was taking place. Gadget barely found a place to park in the surrounding lots, and January noticed several news vans and police cars parked at the curbs.

Gadget began unfolding his suite of monitors and keyboards as January got out of the car. Clad in the sci-fi disguise of a pair of cargo pants and Cthulhu For President shirt, January slipped into the hotel without drawing a second glance. She was relieved when she walked past police, reporters, and convention-goers, and none paid her a second glance. It struck her as ironic that whether on a secret mission, or just in normal life, her thoughts on being noticed were exactly the same. Then again, normal life was like a secret mission for her. One where anonymity was safety.

The elevator to the fourteenth floor was slower than a Hutt on molasses. After what seemed like a thousand years it finally got there. She impatiently stepped into the hallway that ringed the tower. But she found the door to Subramanian's suite barred by yellow tape, and guarded by a police officer. She walked by nonchalantly, and headed in the direction of the Con Suite. Once out of sight she ducked into a restroom instead. Checking to make sure the stalls were empty first, she contacted Gadget.

"The police are at the door," she said, "but I have an idea that might get me in. I'll need your help though."

"I'm in the hotel's system," his voice came through her earpiece. "Lay it on me."

"Where are the housekeeping offices?" she asked. "If I can get a uniform…"

"You can pretend to be the maid and walk right in," Gadget said. "I have it, basement level. The door will be open when you get there."

January was half tempted to jump out the window rather than face another interminable elevator ride. But she did not know if her powers - if she really even possessed such things - would allow her to survive the fall. She did not have her suit on, so that would be of no help. She wondered if Gadget could find a way to miniaturize it, maybe fit it into a fake lipstick tube? She did not see how she could wear it under her regular clothes, like they did in the comic books. Where would she put the boots? Let alone the cape?

In time she was back down, and with a few directions from Gadget she found the door to the basement. As he promised, the badge reader turned green as she stepped up, and she heard an audible click as the door unlocked. Taking a ramp down, she smelled soap in the suddenly humid air, and guessed that the laundry was somewhere nearby. She stepped through an intersection of two hallways, but was brought up short by Gadget.

"Hold up," he said in a tense voice. "Step aside and turn around."

January did so without a second thought, stepping into one of the side hallways. Loud voices came from the corridor that she had been about to continue down, followed by the clatter of hard-soled shoes on the floor. She pulled out her phone and pretended to be listening to it. A moment later the two employees walked by behind her, talking about the super battle that had taken place earlier.

"I saw it all," a male voice exclaimed. "That Stormcrow chick was tight, you know what I'm saying?"

"Girl superheroes?" a different male voice responded. "No way. She's probably just some real super's piece."

"You see Jack, that's why girls don't want to talk to you," the first voice faded away into the distance. "This may shock you, but that kind of…"

The sound of a door shutting muted the rest of the conversation. January put away her phone and rolled her eyes. It was so nice to be reminded that misogyny was alive and well.

"Okay, you're in the clear," Gadget's voice said in her ear. "You've got the whole floor to yourself now. Lockers are down and to the left."

She followed her partner's directions. Was Gadget her partner now? Were they really superheroes? That was an idea that would take some getting used to. In any case, he was right, as he always was. After several storerooms and an office, she came to a large locker room and shower. She searched through the rows of lockers to make sure she really was alone. Then she turned to the door, and remembered the security cameras mounted in the ceiling out in the hallway beyond.

"Are they going to look at their video tomorrow and see me come in here?" she asked.

"Nope," Gadget said smugly. "Not a single camera has recorded you since we parked."

"Good, because this isn't going to be exactly legal." January picked a locker and sized up the combination lock that sealed it. The electronic lockpick that Gadget had given her would not work on this type of lock. It had to be a padlock for that.

But if she really was a meta. If she really had powers. A simple lock would be no problem.

Earth give me strength.

She took the shackle in her fingers, and snapped the steel in half as easily as if it was a toothpick.

January stared at the broken metal loop of the combination lock in her fingers. That had really happened. It had really come apart. Solid steel. At least, that is what she imagined that such locks were made of. Maybe she really was a meta after all? Beyond just making the weather awful.

Inside were several pairs of white shirts, dark pants, and vests. She held one up to herself, and saw that it was about four inches too short. She put the hotel uniform back with a sigh, and moved to the next locker.

This time Gadget stopped her before she could snap the lock. Instead he coached her through a process of pulling on the shackle until it was taut and twisting the dial in one direction or another until it stopped each time. He did some sort of arcane math, and spat out the combination. January was not surprised when it worked. He was always good at that sort of thing.

Unfortunately, the next uniform was too long. Feeling a little like Goldilocks, she tried a third locker, and finally hit struck gold. This time she found a maid's dress within, and had no difficulty slipping into it. That is when she realized that there were no shoes, or hose to go with it.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the extra nylons she always kept there, just in case of runs. She at least had that covered. She would just have to make due with her sneakers, and hope no one thought they looked strange. Feeling very domestic, January found a cart loaded with cleaning supplies and headed out.

Gadget stopped her as she passed the office. At his direction, she went inside and borrowed a housekeeping keycard. Then she headed back up to the fourteenth floor.

Her legs drew a few stares from the hotel guests on the way up, but no one said a word to her. She pushed her cart into the hallway and stopped for a moment to compose herself. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and her mouth was suddenly as dry as Tatooine.

"Be cool," Gadget said softly in her ear. "You can handle this. You are just here to clean the room."

She imagined that the sky had gone cloudy again outside. She thought back to her book on Wicca, and the energy exercise she had been practicing that very same morning. Was it really only this morning? It seemed like a thousand years ago.

She blocked out that thought, and instead visualized herself as a tree. She felt herself planted firmly on the carpet, sending roots deep down into the ground below. She breathed in slowly, and pulled energy up through her imaginary roots. She felt that power flow through her body, washing her clean like a cool mountain stream. She breathed out, and felt that power flow out of her virtual branches, only to drip back down into the ground once more.

Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.

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

Water make me flexible in thought and form. Let me flow, let me crash.

Fire give me passion and energy. Let me burn bright in the night sky.

Spirit weave all together in balance. Give me peace.


She opened her eyes once more, and strode down the hall like she owned it. She did not pause when she came to the door with the policeman. Instead she reached out with her pilfered key card to open it, and only stopped when the patrolman stepped in her way.

"Sorry miss," the older man shook his head. "No one allowed."

"But my supervisor told me I had to get this cleaned tonight!" January pretended that she was one of those entitled mean girls she knew from school. The ones who felt like the entire world existed only to wait upon them. She twirled one finger around a lock of her hair for added effect. "I have to do my job too, or I'll get in trouble."

"What was your name?" the cop asked.

January's heart stopped. All of her cool, calm, and collectedness vanished faster than ethics in the White House. She stared back at the gray-haired man like he had fallen from Mars.

"Gabriella Wilson," Gadget whispered in her ear.

"Gabrielle," January parroted him, "Wilson. I've only been working here for two weeks, and I can't look like I'm a slacker. Now I don't know what you're doing up here, and I don't care. I just need to clean this room."

"Not tonight honey," the policeman declared. "If your boss complains, tell him to take it up with the Southfield PD."

"She won't like that." January bit her lip.

"Yeah well, you're breaking my heart missy." The patrolman was as obstinate as a usb stick that refused to fit into its port, no matter how many times you flipped it over. "But I got my orders, and my orders are no one goes in."

January made a loud huff, turned her cart around, and stomped down the hallway. "Great, Paul Blart just foiled me," she whispered.

"We need to get a look in that room," Gadget said. "Maybe I can fake a call from his captain to pull him off."

"Don't," January insisted. "I have another idea. I'll be back out in a minute."

With that January returned her purloined cleaning supplies and uniform. Before leaving, she stopped at the first locker she had broken into and left a few dollars for a new lock. Heroes were not supposed to go around destroying things after all, not even locks, certainly not those belonging to innocent people.






https://www.amazon.com/Samsung-J1-Smartphone-Carirer-Verizon/dp/B00YAE9DXM

https://www.cafepress.com/mf/17989097/cthulhu4prezfinal5_tshirt?productId=671118472

https://lock-picking.wonderhowto.com/how-to/crack-master-lock-combination-padlock-easy-way-403808/

https://www.instructables.com/id/Electric-Lockpick/

https://heightline.com/h-e-r-gabriella-wilson-grammy/

Posted by: Acadian May 25 2019, 06:41 PM

This was a wonderful episode that sleuthed the story along nicely. What really stood out to me, however, was the clever/fun dialogue and observations January included. Such as:

"The Neanderthals used to throw them in front of mammoths. The mammoths would be so confused trying to turn that dial thing with their trunks that the cavemen could sneak up on them and attack them with their spears. Scientifically proven fact."

’She did not have her suit on, so that would be of no help. She wondered if Gadget could find a way to miniaturize it, maybe fit it into a fake lipstick tube?’

’The patrolman was as obstinate as a usb stick that refused to fit into its port, no matter how many times you flipped it over.’


This episode also really showed us that, just as January mentioned, AveryGadget and JanuaryStormcrow really are partners in this superhero business.

And finally, a beautifully telling tidbit that says much about January’s character:
’Before leaving, she stopped at the first locker she had broken into and left a few dollars for a new lock.’

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 1 2019, 05:09 PM

Acadian: Working in the pop culture references is one of the fun things about writing this particular fic, as opposed to the Aela or Teresa stories, which lack such coolness as rotary phones and usb cables. smile.gif

Likewise, while it may appear to some that Stormcrow is a lone wolf crow, in reality this is very much a team effort. She would not get very far without her partner.

Whenever I am watching a super movie or tv show, it always annoys me when the heroes - who are supposed to be good guys - go around wrecking cars, houses and other things. That is people's stuff. In some cases their livelihoods. Heroes should be preventing destruction, not causing it. While a broken lock is pretty minor in the scheme of things, January is keenly aware that she wants to improve people's lives, not make them worse.




Book 1.7 - Stormcrow Rising

She made her way back to the car, and dove into the back seat. There she began to wriggle out of her clothes and into her costume. Should she call it a costume? That sounded silly, like something you wore to a Halloween party. Was it a uniform? armor? colors? She had to decide what it deserved to be called.

"This is always so much easier in movies and comics," she murmured as she fought with her cargo pants.

"You know, some metas have a power that lets them change faster," Gadget said. His eyes remained carefully glued to his computer screens as January undressed. "Maybe you could look into that?"

"I think I forgot to pick that at character creation," January said as she picked up one boot. With no heels and a thick tread, Gadget had clearly made them to be functional, rather than for show. It was something which her feet were eminently grateful for.

She wondered what would even make changing quickly possible. What did she know that she could use that way? Air lent her quickness and agility, among other things. At least that is what Branwen Renner said in her book about Wicca. Would that help her change faster? No, Fire was the key. Fire was the symbol for transformation. That was a phenomena near and dear to her heart after all. Could she use Fire to change?

Fire give me passion and energy. Transform me in the night sky.

Just like that, she had both boots on, along with her gloves, leggings, the torso armor, helm, and cape. January blinked. It had happened just like magic...

"Note to self, Fire is cool," she murmured.

"What's that? Don't go setting my car on fire now." Gadget glanced back, and did a double-take. "That was fast. You just started."

"I just finished," she said. "Looks like I had few experience points to spend."

"Like I said, you have always been super," Gadget smiled.

"Wish me luck," January smiled back at him. Stepping from the car, she hunched over and skulked through the parking lot, staying behind the cars to remain out of sight. When no one was looking, she took a deep breath and invoked Air. Then she leapt up into the sky with all the strength she could muster. She extended her arms to either side as she rose into the sky, and hit the twin triggers in her gauntlets. Her cape snapped out into wings, instantly catching the wind beneath her.

She soared over the two story annex, feeling her heart in her throat. But she was not scared, not exactly. It was more like… exhilaration. It was a rollercoaster ride. She rode it the best she could, calling for Air to coax more lift into her wings.

But even magic, if that was what it was, had its limits. She reached halfway up the tower before running out of steam. Then gravity's claws began to drag her back down. January bit her lip. She couldn't go back down and ride the elevator up in her armor. This was going to have to work.

She saw an insurance building across the street. It rose perhaps six or seven stories, just a little lower than her current height. January twisted her body and canted her head in that direction. Air spilled from one of her wings, and she felt herself start to tumble. It reminded her of her first time gliding, after she had gone out the window with Lighthammer. She had completely lost control then because she had not kept her wings level.

She fought the panic that rose up within her, and concentrated on her form. She kept her body rigid, and dipped one arm down slightly, while raising the other. She could feel the lift decrease on one side of her body, and increase on the other. She found herself banking in the same direction as her lowered wing. Once she was oriented toward the insurance building, she straightened out her arms. Her flight leveled once more, and she soared across the road.

If anyone in the passing cars below saw her in the night sky, they made no sign. January had heard that no one ever thought to look up. She hoped that was true in this case.

She came down toward the roof of the glass and steel office building, and realized that she had no idea how to land. It was not like she had ever done it before after all. Crashing through skylights did not really count. She thought of her elemental chant, and let it calm her racing brain. She would do what she must.

The gravel on the roof came rushing up fast. But January breathed easy, and just before her feet touched, she triggered her wings. They instantly lost their shape, and flapped out behind her as an ordinary cape. She hit feet first, tucked into a forward roll, and sprang back up. It was no different from a thousand tumbling passes she had performed.

Except of course that she had just flown across the street!

January allowed herself a brief smile. Was it ok for this to be fun? Just a little bit? She hoped so, because it was.

Taking a few moments to breathe, she centered herself again before turning to face the hotel. Then once more she leapt up into the night sky. This time she waited longer to trigger the wings, until it felt like she was at the top of her jump. Then she was gliding back across the busy street, toward the tall cylinder of the hotel.

Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly.

She felt a strong gust of air rising up along the side of the hotel. It gave her just enough lift to put her over the top floor. Before she could sail across the other side, she disengaged her wings and dropped to her feet.

She was just about to congratulate herself for how much better she was getting at this, when she crashed into an air-conditioning unit growing from the rooftop. Her legs stopped instantly as they slammed into the steel. But her upper body kept going. She pinwheeled forward through the air, and sailed across the machinery. Thanks to years of gymnastics, she was able to pull her arms and legs in, and turn the disastrous landing into a forward roll, or sorts. Finally she dropped to the rooftop in a crouch, and came to a halt.

She really hoped that no one had seen that.

She rose to her feet, gingerly testing her arms and legs. That could have been a really good way to break something. But thankfully her training, or the hagfish armor, had saved her from serious harm. She was not even sure if she had any bumps or bruises. She would have to wait and see when the night was over, and she changed out of the armor.

The rooftop around her was a nest of machinery. January imagined most to be air conditioning units of some kind, while other metal structures must have been vents. Some of the equipment was completely beyond her however. She walked to the edge of the roof, and traced its curve to the broken window of Subramanian's room.

She spent a moment just taking in the view. The expressways rose up to the north, noisy concrete serpents lifted up on gigantic pylons. Telegraph road was another bright snake gliding by underfoot, while smaller serpents led this way and that in the darkness all around. She could see people walking into and out of the parking lot below, and even picked out Gadget's yellow Geo Storm. She also noted that the skylight that she had fallen through in her battle with Lighthammer had already been covered up in plastic sheeting.

She was fourteen stories up, without a window or a rail between her and oblivion. She breathed in the night air, and felt more alive than she ever had in her life.

She pushed that aside. She had work to do, a mess to clean up, made of her own mistakes.

Rummaging through her utility belt, she found the rappelling line that Gadget had mentioned. The one whose molecular bonding did not quite work yet. She wrapped it around a length of sturdy pipe and tied what she hoped was a strong knot. Tossing the other end out over the roof edge, she took hold of it with both hands, and made her way down.

Since Subramanian's room was on the top floor, she did not have to go far. It was dark inside, with the only light coming from the crack under the door to the hallway. January hung beside the broken window, and wondered how she was going to get inside. She tried reaching out with one hand, but there was nothing but broken glass to grab hold of. Putting one toe forward, she again found nothing to lever the rest of her body against.

Then she smiled, and put both feet against the solid pane of glass beside the hole. She squatted down against the window, then pushed out. She swung out away from the tower and leaned to one side. In a moment her momentum peaked, then reversed, and pulled her back toward the building. Only now she found herself in front of the broken window as she pitched forward. She swung inside as easily as from a theme park zip line. Once within she pulled up her rappelling line, and coiled it up on a chair near the broken window.

Avoiding the few pieces of broken glass inside the room, she began her search. Keenly aware of the cop outside, she was careful not to make noise. At least she tried to be careful not to make noise. She must have succeeded, because he never came inside.

Gadget whispered in her ear to try the night sight mode in her cowl. She grinned. He thought of everything. She fiddled with the armor plate around her eyes, and suddenly the room bloomed into brilliant blue-white illumination. With the room lit as bright as day, she commenced her search. She looked in every drawer, and even pulled them out to look for things taped to their undersides. She had seen that in a dozen detective shows. She checked under the cushions, lifted the furniture to check their undersides, scanned the closets, the mattress and bedding, everything she could find. Even the inside of the toilet tank met her scrutiny. But there was no sign of anything.

"If it was here, the cops found it," January breathed softly. "Have they arrested him?"

"Let me see," Gadget hummed. Plastic keys clattered in January's ear as he typed away.

While he was busy January took hold of the rappelling line and swung back out into empty space. She was fourteen stories up, with just a thin line between her and the concrete below. It was literally no sweat at all for her to climb back up to the roof. In fact, it was easier than anything she had ever done in gym class.

"Subramanian's still at the cop shop," Gadget finally said. "But he's not under arrest. So my guess is that they didn't find anything incriminating."

"So where is his account book?" January wondered aloud. She coiled up the line, and stuffed it back into one of the pouches on her belt. "Wait a minute, he came down from his room during the fight. Can you look at the hotel security cameras? Go back and see if he stopped anywhere after leaving his room."

"Right," Gadget murmured. "That's it! He stopped in the public bathroom on the fourteenth floor. There's no cameras in there, so I can't see what he did."

"Did he have a ledger with him?"

"No way to tell," Gadget said. "He could have it tucked under his shirt."

"The bathrooms were on the inside of the floor, so no access from the windows," January recalled. "I can come back down, change again, and come back up."

"Frak it." She walked across the roof to stare at an access door. "Just open this door for me."

It clicked open a moment later, and she made her way down a short staircase to small landing. Another door from that put her back into the main hallway that circled the tower. She went in the opposite direction from where the cop stood guard, and avoided eye contact with the one person she passed. Moving quickly, she entered the men's room, and began her search.

"Hey, you don't belong here!" a male voice cried.

"Tell my junior high school," January shook her head at the Klingon using one of the urinals. Thankfully the narrow partitions to either side of the fixtures shielded his bat'leth from view. "They told me I had to use the men's room. I wasn't allowed to use the women's until high school."

Ignoring the convention-goer, she went into the stalls and checked behind the toilets, then in the tanks. Floating in the third one she found a small black book, tightly wrapped in plastic.

"Got it," January said. She carefully unwrapped it, and opened the zip lock seal. Skimming through the book, she saw words and numbers in even columns, but none of it made any sense to her. "This has to be it, but I think it's in code."

"Turn on the camera in your cowl," Gadget said, "right next to the night vision."

"Is there anything this suit doesn't have?" January wondered as she followed his instructions. Holding the open book up to her face, she hoped he could see well enough to make out the characters.

"Yeah, that's a code," Gadget breathed, "maybe a substitution. I'll have to study it."

"All right, I'll be right back."

"No wait," Gadget said. "If he comes back and it's gone, he'll get suspicious."

"You want me to leave it?" January said incredulously. "After all I went through to find this?"

"Yeah, but let's make a copy of it first."

After taking the time to carefully scan over every page of the document, January wrapped it back up and slipped it back into its hiding spot. She found the Klingon waiting for her when she left the stall. For a moment she was afraid he was going to cause an uproar. But it turned out he recognized her from her earlier battle with Lighthammer. Instead she posed with him for a selfie in the mirror.

The world was such a strange place, January marveled, sometimes even stranger than she was.

With no further science fiction entanglements, January made her way back to the roof, and leapt off into space. She practiced banking with her wings, and turned several wide circles around the hotel's tower. She slowly lost altitude as she went, until she gently dropped to the earth beside Gadget's car.

She dove into the back seat and went over her Fire invocation in her head. Then taking a deep breath, she began to change back into her normal clothes. A second later her Stormcrow armor was neatly folded up in her lap, and she was back in her cargo pants and Cthulhu tee.

With no further science fiction entanglements, January made her way back to the roof, and leapt off into space. Gravity tugged at her, but her wings deflected its invasive embrace. It felt like she was floating through space when January banked to one side, and began to turn around the hotel's high tower. The ground steadily rose up to meet her, yet all the while she felt that liberating sensation of being unchained from the earth, of being truly free.

She aimed herself toward Gadget's yellow Geo hatchback. Now the pavement was coming up fast. She triggered off her wings, and they transformed back into an ordinary cape. Too late, she discovered that she was still too high off the ground. She plummeted, the final dozen feet, and hit the parking lot hard.

She let her knees crumple up out of reflex, and turned all of that momentum into a forward roll. She darted forward, and pushed against the concrete with her hands. That sent her bouncing back up to her feet in a handspring, with the energy of her fall finally dissipated.

January turned to Avery's yellow Geo, and crossed the twenty or so feet to it with a single leap. She dove into the back seat and went over her Fire invocation in her head. Then taking a deep breath, she began to change back into her normal clothes. A second later her Stormcrow armor was neatly folded up in her lap, and she was back in her cargo pants and Cthulhu tee.

"So why didn't we take the ledger?" she asked.

Gadget blinked, and for a moment just stared mutely at her suddenly changed attire.

"That is going to take a little getting used to," he finally said. "But I was thinking, if we take the ledger and turn it over to the cops, Subramanian can say it's a fake that we made. We need to set things up so they find it on him, and can decode it."

"Can you decode it?"

"I can try," Gadget said. "It's not the Voynich Manuscript after all, how hard can it be? This might take a while though, so I'll drop you at your place."

* * *




https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bat%27leth

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voynich_manuscript

Posted by: Acadian Jun 1 2019, 07:17 PM

"I think I forgot to pick that at character creation," - - laugh.gif

"Hey, you don't belong here!" a male voice cried.’ - - As soon as it looked like she was going to need to search the men’s room, I figured it would bring up unpleasant experiences from her past – a tribute to how well you have developed January as a character. I’m glad this one ended with a happy selfie instead of harsh words and/or awkward unpleasantries.

A neat episode that moves the sleuthing along nicely as well as continues to show us the growing pains and progress that this dynamic duo of superhero crimefighters are making as the Stormcrow improves her flying skills and speeds up her uniform changes. She also learns more of the capabilities Gadget has built into her wonderful Crowsuit.


Nit: ‘While was busy January took hold of the rappelling line…’ - - Looks like you're missing a 'he' or 'Gadget' after 'While'.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 8 2019, 04:52 PM

Acadian: One fun thing about writing January and Avery is that I get to use all sorts of gaming terminology.

I was also thinking the bathroom scene could be something ugly. But I also thought of how many selfies and even videos are taken in the bathroom mirror. In the end modern internet culture won out with my decision for the Klingon to be a fan.

I spent a lot of time in this first chapter going through the nuts and bolts of January and Avery's detective work because it is the first time for them. In the future when it becomes a more common activity, I will gloss over a lot of the details and just summarize it. Unless of course, it gives me an opportunity to show January learning something new.

I did have a missing 'he' up there. Thanks for catching that.



Book 1.8 - Stormcrow Rising

January's home, well technically her parent's home, was a modest two story affair in Warren. It was an older suburb, so the streets were narrower, and the lots much smaller, than those in newer cities such as Sterling Heights or Clinton Township. This particular house did not even have a garage, though it did possess a two lane driveway. But even that only ran the length of a single car to the front of the house, then turned into nothing but a dirt path to the back yard.

The house itself was paneled with gray aluminum siding, which matched the gray shingles on the roof. A pair of dormers jutted from the roof on either side of the second floor, with wide windows facing out of each. A third dormer lurked farther back between them, with an even larger window set within it. The porch below was made of light green concrete. Three bright teal support beams ran from it to the long eave that overhang the front of the house and shaded the porch. A low fence of wood blocked off the front and right side of the porch. Only the left side, which adjoined the driveway, was open.

It was late when she got home, and her mother's Mini Cooper and father's Chevy Equinox were both in the driveway. January could see from the lights inside that they were still up. Just her luck, Saturday night was their euchre night. The blue Aztek in the street out front told her that the Xiang's were over. Really, who drove an Aztek?

She was about to walk in the front door when she realized that she had her armor piled up in her arms. She could not very well waltz in with that, not when Stormcrow was all over the news.

She glanced up. She could see the dormer window to her room right there beside the driveway. If only there was some way to get there without going past her parents and their friends. Of course there was. The eave was only about eight feet up. How hard could that be to jump?

It turned out to be no trouble at all for her to leap up to. Without wearing the suit, but holding it in her arms instead. That meant the jump was all her. No meta-tech involved.

She moved slowly across the roof, hoping to avoid making any creaks that might be heard from within the house. Thankfully the dormer to her room was only a few feet away. Naturally the window was closed. She could pry the screen off and open it from the outside. But she did not see the point in bending it all up. Her parents still had to see her walk in the front door, like a normal person. Instead she just set her armor down in front of the window. Then she hopped back down to the sidewalk. She barely even had to flex her knees to absorb the impact of the landing.

That made January wonder if she had possessed these meta abilities all along, or if they had only just awakened recently. Gymnastics had never been what she would call easy. It had always taken hard work and concentration. Even so, none of her classmates had ever come close to being her equal in it. In the past she had always put that down to her being more focused. She didn't waste time going to parties, or binge-watching TV, or surfing MeTube, or spending hours talking and texting friends, or shopping for clothes, and all the other things that seemed to preoccupy teenagers so much.

Now she wondered if she really had these abilities all along, just not at the degree she currently possessed. Perhaps recent events had not awakened them, so much as honed them to their current level? If so, did that mean the more she practiced, the more she focused, the more she used these powers, the greater they would become? She hoped so.

She fished out her keys and let herself in the iron barred security door, and then the actual front door behind it. She stepped inside, and the sound of voices came to her ears from the dining room. By the time she had locked the door behind her and turned back around her mother was standing before her.

"Oh I was so worried when I heard the news!" she wrapped her arms around January in a big hug. Then she stepped back, and looked her over. "You really are all right then? You weren't shot, or stabbed, or beaten?"

January's mother was short, shorter than she was, with red hair that spilled across her shoulders like a wildfire. A barely visible sprinkle of freckles dusted across her cheeks, just beneath her sea-green eyes. She wore a pair of old jeans, and a yellow tee that said "Librarians Are Sexy". January had to admit, she did not look her nearly fifty years of age. Or was it fifty thousand? It was so hard to tell the difference with parents.

"Oh he's fine Barb," her father's voice came from the hallway behind her mother. January tried not to show it, but a knife twisted in her stomach at the sound of him misnaming her gender. It had been nearly eight years since January had transitioned, but still her father called her "he" all the time. As if acknowledging her gender would bring the stars into alignment and loose some Lovecraftian horror upon the world.

A blond man of roughly the same age as her mother, January's father Romulus was tall, and wore a pair of thin, steel-rimmed glasses. If one had to guess, one would think he was the librarian in the family. Not that a history teacher was far from that mark. Add in her brother Julian, the lawyer-to-be, and everyone in the family was some sort of academic. Except for her. She had always been the oddball. The one who never fit in anywhere.

The Xiangs popped their heads around the corner a few moments later. Mr. Xiang said that the super battle at the hotel was definitely trending. Apparently everyone was using #stormcrow to post their pictures and videos. Naturally everyone pressed her for what she saw. But all she could do was stick to the story she had told her mother earlier on the phone. She had not seen or heard a thing. Thankfully no one recognized her in the Stormcrow armor. Otherwise her parents would have definitely exploded.

She was taking selfies with fans and had a hashtag. Her fifteen minutes of fame had definitely started. Still, she had no doubt that a singing goat or grumpy dog would displace her in popularity by tomorrow morning. The attention span of the internet was shorter than that of a five-year old off his Ritalin.

January made excuses of being tired, and headed upstairs to her room. The walls were painted a soft ivory, and the floor was carpeted in a slightly darker shade of cream. A pair of ruby curtains braced the window, bringing a bright splash of color to the room. So too did the soft watermelon quilt that covered her small bed. The end table beside it bore a battered alarm clock, phone charger, and a lamp that was now draped with a multicolored scarf.

A print of John William Waterhouse's The Crystal Ball hung from one wall. A collage of female MMA fighters graced another. The third wall held a still picture of the Veil floating over Lake Shore Drive, her lean frame sheathed in elemental darkness. Next to it was an image of Blood Raven striding through Campus Martius, with the grandiose Michigan Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument towering behind her.

A simple white desk was squeezed into one corner, with a flat screen monitor and keyboard on top of it, and her refurbished Dell computer tucked away underneath. The nearby dresser, vanity, and half-size bookcase were of the same manufacture. Aside from the posters and colorful drapes, the room was plain and simple.

January shut the door behind her, and glanced briefly at the plain piece of paper she had tacked there. On it were what she thought of as her Viking Virtues. Excerpts from the Havamal and various Sagas, they all had something in them to live by. She headed each quote with a short title, summarizing their meanings in her own words. Among them were:

Do Not Live In Fear
"The error is the result of letting fear rule your actions" - The Saga of Harald Hardrade, c.46.

Friendship
"A true friend whom you trust well and wish for his good will: go to him often exchange gifts and keep him company" - Havamal, s.44.

Kindness
"A kind word need not cost much, The price of praise can be cheap: With half a loaf and an empty cup I found myself a friend" - Havamal, s.52.

The Law Is Not Always Right
"When truth and fairness are different from what is law, better it is to follow truth and fairness" - Bandamanna Saga, c.6

Be A Part Of The World
"He is truly wise who has traveled far and knows the ways of the world. He who has travelled can tell what spirit governs the men he meets" - Havamal, s.18.

Never Hide My Truth
"Sorrow eats him who can no longer open his heart to another" - Havamal, s.121.

Prepare for the Worst
"A wayfarer should not walk unarmed, but have his weapons to hand" - Havamal, s.38.

Sacrifice
"Nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given." -Havamal, s.138.

Never Give Up, No Matter What
"Often times it is not numbers that wins the victory, but those who fare forward with the most vigor" - The Saga of Thrond of Gate, c.19

It was a reminder that she looked at every time she left her bedroom, and ventured out into the world. Especially the final entry.

Never ever give up, no matter what.

January smiled faintly. She had not given up. She had been a Viking today.

Then she leaped to the window, flung it open, and gathered up her armor. As if a larcenous squirrel might have made off with it. She immediately shoved the black and gray panoply under her bed, and carefully arranged some old shoes in front of it to shield it from easy notice.

She turned on her computer and started her Counting Crows playlist for some background music. Then she began scanning her hashtag. Her jaw dropped at all the pics and short videos. Most were shaky and out of focus. But a few were startling. There she was, framed against the broken skylight in a still picture. Her cape flowed out after her as she leaped into the sky, and a bolt of lightning arced across the firmament behind her. That seemed to be the most popular picture. There was even a meme with it already. "Stormcrow does not simply walk into Mordor. She leaps!"

Others showed her going hand-to-hand with Lighthammer. There were many comments on the fighting styles she was employing. Some said it was clearly Wing-Chun, others Jeet-Kune-Do, which made her shake her head. She had never studied either. But other posts - made by more knowledgeable people - spelled out her Karate, Krav Maga, and Muay Thai moves. Like the downward jumping elbow she had used to break open Lighthammer's helmet.

She stared at Lighthammer. He was bigger than she was. Not just taller, but more muscular. But did that mean much in this super-powered age? He had never really tried punching or kicking her. Instead he had only blocked, especially with those force fields projected from his forearms. He had attacked solely with his light blasts.

She was going to have to face him again. She had no doubt about it. How was she going to defeat him? Perhaps going for the legs might circumvent his force fields? She could try low kicks to the knees to disable him. But could he still fly in spite of that? Or might she take it to the ground? Grappling was not her strongest suit. She only knew a few holds and throws, and those were from a standing position.

She would have to put Greco-Roman wrestling on her to-do list, along with Brazilian jiu-jitsu. It would have been nice to have taken the former in school. But gymnastics had been a nightmare as it was, with people claiming that she was really just a boy trying find an easy way to excel by competing against girls. She could never do anything even remotely masculine, given the backlash that always followed. Simply practicing on the rings had always brought her sneers. Trying a traditionally male sport like wrestling had been simply out of the question.

January shook her head. This was no time to go down unhappy memory lane. She had to plan her moves. Obviously she would need to lead with her strengths against Lighthammer. That meant striking. She would have to try to keep his hands off-line, so he couldn't shoot her. But how could she do that at close range? She would have to pinion his hands somehow.

She crawled into bed with her tablet, still looking at pictures and videos of the fight, and trying to work on strategy. She woke the next morning with the Fire 7 still in her lap. Her hair was plastered against the side of her face, along with a line of drool. She had to wait to use the shower, and passed the time by experimenting with various ponytail and ponytail braids she found on MeTube. She would need to know some for when she got her motorcycle. She no longer considered that a possibility. It would be a fact. She would have it, and that was that.

She dove into the shower once her brother was finished, and by the time she had dried off and dressed, she found that she was last to the breakfast table, as usual. It was Sunday morning, so the entire family was there for a change. She dug into her Eggos without a word, allowing everyone else to ignore her while they talked about the super battle that had taken place the other night.

"I for one think it is a good thing that we have another hero in Metro Detroit," her mother declared. "All we have had for years is Blood Raven, and she cannot be everywhere."

"And she is not exactly a hero," her father said. "How many people has she killed in just the last decade? A dozen?"

"Like that maniac who walked into the Ren Cen and just started shooting people?" her mother countered. "Or the ones who were kidnapping young girls and selling them overseas? The world's a better place without them in it."

"But what happens when she's got the wrong guy?" her brother Julian interjected. He took after their father with his tall frame, blond hair, and rectangular features. January imagined that he was handsome, given how girls seemed to flock to him. "It's only a matter of time before she kills an innocent person, just because they looked guilty. That's why we need the law, and cops, policing us. Not caped vigilantes."

"Like when those bullies were beating me up," January could not help but interject, "and the school did nothing. Oh, except expel me for fighting back. Or the school shooting where the gunman went inside, so the cop there went outside? And just how many hundreds of people in prison have been exonerated by DNA evidence? The police don't care who they arrest, so long as they don't risk their necks in the process."

"You are such a crybaby," Julian sneered. "Bullies beat me up! It's so unfair! Join the rest of the world already."

"Yeah, and like the rest of the world I had to beat the crap out of them all on my own," January said. "Ordinary people have to step up, because the people in positions of authority are too lazy, too bigoted, or too cowardly to do their jobs."

"Step up perhaps," January's father mused. "But we should stop to think about how our actions might negatively impact others first. Just because we might think what we are doing is for the better, it might still be for the worse."

"So is Stormcrow making things better or worse?" January's mother queried. "I think she is making it better, at least so far."

"So far I agree," her father said. "But it's only been one night. We don't know what she is really made of. She might just be some thrill-seeker out on a lark, or a mercenary, and end up getting a lot of innocent people killed. We'll just have to watch and see what kind of person she turns out to be really be. Assuming we see more of her."

"What do you mean?" January asked.

"She might change her mind, and decide that once was enough," her father explained. "She might not even be from here. She could have been any one of those people staying in that hotel. For all we know she might be in San Francisco right now, or New York."

"Or maybe she will get full, legal empowerment, and work with the government?" January's mother added. "Like the Sentinels in Chicago, or the Knight Defenders in the UK."

January was thinking about that, when her brother had to interject his usual brand of poison into the conversation.

"I think Stormcrow is a stupid name," Julian scoffed. "It's a total rip off of Lord of the Rings."

"What because Grima calls Gandalf that once? And Theodon twice?" January countered. She had looked it up last night. "It's just a nickname. A common one."

"Also a mighty fine medium BattleMech," her father murmured. "Or so I hear from my students of course."

"Of course, it's not like you would waste any of your time playing computer games," January's mother smiled conspiratorially at her father. Then her gaze moved to January's brother. "I hope you aren't spending your time at U of M playing online games Julian."

"Yes, you'll have your law degree in just a few years son," January's father said. "Have you thought about your future practice yet?"

"I have." January instantly recognized that Julian was squirming. The slight way he tensed his jaw muscles always gave him away. "I decided to go into criminal law instead of corporate."

"Really?" both of her parents said at once, then her father continued on his own. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"I've been talking it over with some of my friends at Michigan," Julian said. "We decided we are going to start our own law firm. There's a lot of money to be made in criminal cases, so we are sure we can turn a profit in no time."

"Criminal cases," January's mother mulled over. "You would be spending your time with thieves, murderers, the worst kinds of people."

"Like other lawyers…" January breathed. "I think Julian should work for the ACLU, and defend people whose civil rights are under threat."

"I may as well work at Burger Baron, for all the money I would make doing that. I am sure that's where you will end up, but not me." Julian looked down his nose at January. Then he turned back to their parents, and his voice softened. "My friends and I, we think this can work, and we'll be our own bosses."

"I hope you know what you're doing son," January's father cautioned. "It is your future after all."

* * *

https://i.imgur.com/9BhluM4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hzxetqb.jpg

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/99/John_William_Waterhouse_-_The_Crystal_Ball.JPG

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecilia_Br%C3%A6khus

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campus_Martius_Park

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_Soldiers%27_and_Sailors%27_Monument

https://mwo.gamepedia.com/Stormcrow

https://i.imgur.com/8zscJOi.jpg

https://www.law.umich.edu/Pages/default.aspx

https://i.imgur.com/zP4StiF.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EL4pzwo.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/79UglsL.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/2Lfpdcx.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Jun 8 2019, 10:38 PM

Clever how she got her Crowsuit into the house.
’As if a larcenous squirrel might have made off with it.’ - - Whew, good thing mALX doesn’t live in Detroit. tongue.gif

So we get to meet the parents. And brother. Your descriptions were extremely real/believable and quickly brought them to life. Like most families, there is the good, not so good and a pinch of drama.

I enjoyed the conversation about the role of superheroes and implications (good and bad) of not having to answer to any sort of hierarchy.

So a Stormcycle is in the cards it seems. I expect Gadget will apply a fair number of mods.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 11 2019, 03:27 PM

A superheroine who actually knows her Marty Arties? Muay "OOOOWWWEEEEEEEEE" Thai at that?


In the words of Chancy Papa; "We will watch your career with great interest."


Ylenno in particular will. He has a soft spot for chicks with MT kicks, you see. Makes him melt. Can he have her number? kHYUCK-HYUCK-HYUCK-HYUCK. Goofy laughing impersonation and DM sliding aside, I'm in love with the way you wrote in that combat scene with Lightbulb Lighthammer. Jabbing close for an elbow? That teep-knee combo? And that thunder strike elbow that smashed his helmet to bits? HOOOOOOOOOWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. You're making me all hot and bothered with her Thai Boxing, stop it you nono.gif wub.gif. Ylenno and I want to see what she can do in the clinch tho. We subscribe to the sanguine philosophy that the magic of Muay Thai happens in the clinch, you see.

Another thing SubRosa. Do you know Sylvie Von Douglas Ittu? She's one of the most legit Muay Thai vloggers in YT. If you haven't yet, you should definitely check out her channel. There's tons of technique vids she has available and we in the MT community just all love her to bits tbh.

*Salute*

Posted by: Renee Jun 11 2019, 04:30 PM

Ah, typical Renee has fallen behind. blink.gif Life's been busy though. End of school year, etc.

QUOTE
"But my supervisor told me I had to get this cleaned tonight!" January pretended that she was one of those entitled mean girls she knew from school.


Hee hee awesome. I also like when Gadget whispers the name of a maid, just when she falters in front of that cop. And the part about flipping over the USB stick around and around. mad.gif How astute. Mini USB connectors are even worse....

When she leaps into the sky that reminds me of my Sarah Phimm character who rode around on that broom. First time she did it, she had all these fears. But once she was up there she was simply astounded! Every night she'd look for a new excuse to fly again. smile.gif

Is Gadget totally clueless about her Wicca? It seems like she keeps this to herself. Which is fine.


QUOTE
"Turn on the camera in your cowl," Gadget said, "right next to the night vision."

"Is there anything this suit doesn't have?"


laugh.gif

Cool, she managed to find that ledger. What a trilling chapter hon!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 15 2019, 04:58 PM

Acadian: I used the old window trick to sneak things past my parents into and out of the house when I was young. So I jumped to that immediately. Her room being on the second floor gave me a great opportunity to also demonstrate that her powers are from her, not the suit.

In the near future January's family is going to be the source of much more drama than her superhero life. Pretty much like reality there too...

The whole pro and cons of superheros vs. police is kind of an old trope, but I think one needed to justify the existence of superheros in the first place. So it had to go in there. Detroit having a police force as notably corrupt and under-staffed as it is only makes it work so much better. This city needs superheros, because if you call the police they will not come unless you say there is someone shooting a gun at you. So people lie about that just to get them to show up. Of course even then it takes them at least 4 hours to get there. This is literally true, my old roomate has been there, done that. One of our old police chiefs publicly encouraged people to own guns. He did not come right out and say it was because his police department could not protect them. But every Detroiter knows that is true.

I am going to have to remember to call it the Stormcycle. It will be showing up in Chapter 2.


Uleni Athram: Thank you for the vote of approval. I spent a lot of time working on that fight. I kept most of the descriptions generic so it did not get bogged down. But I saw that downward jumping elbow in an mma fight and just fell in love with it. I wish I could find that vid again. One guy just creamed another with it.

I did not know Sylvie Von Douglas. I will have to look her up. Hopefully I can get some more ideas from her vids.


Renee: That is life, we all fall behind sooner or later. The name of the maid is actually an R&B singer - Gabriella Wilson a.k.a. HER. Look her up, she was a child prodigy.

You have touched on something that only came out when I was actually doing the writing: January loves flight. She never feels more alive then when she is in the sky.

Gadget is not clueless about January's study of Wicca. He does remark about the crows after all. As a techie, mysticism is not something he has a lot to offer about.

Unfortunately the suit does not have everything. Not yet at least. Like January, Gadget is still figuring out this whole super thing himself. So things will be slowly added over time as their need becomes apparent, like shielded circuitry and a rebreather.



Book 1.9 - Stormcrow Rising

January worked over the heavy bag. Her brother's words still draped over her thoughts like a dark shroud. Was she destined to end up working at Burger Baron? As the entire world was quick to point out, an English degree did not really qualify you for much else. Except being a teacher of course.

But she was just taking the classes to be a better writer. Her writing was going to be her future, wasn't it? Unless of course no one wanted to read her books. Who would, with them filled with gay and lesbian and transgender protagonists? She knew from bitter experience that the last thing normal people wanted to was to be reminded that someone like her existed. But even given that, January knew that she would never compromise her ideals. She would rather be homeless.

"Take it easy," her mother said from the other side of the heavy bag. "It's supposed to be a workout, not an annihilation."

The older, flame-haired woman was trying to keep the leather bag still as January pummeled away at it with fists, feet, and elbows. Trying and failing, January noticed, for she was hammering both her and the bag back hard with every blow. January realized that she was forgetting herself, and hitting too hard. She had to be better than that.

She stopped, and took a sip of water from the bottle on the table nearby. Their basement spread out around them. A washer and dryer stood in one corner, the furnace and water heater in another. Boxes were piled up, an old bike hung from the ceiling, and an ancient ironing board was unfolded and covered with junk.

The area she and her mother worked out in had been converted into a gym. The floor was covered in thick mats. A heavy punching bag hung from the ceiling, and nearby was a smaller speed bag. A full length mirror was mounted upon one wall. Free weights were stacked up in an iron cradle against another wall, beside a bench press and an elliptical machine. Finally, an inversion bar was bolted to the ceiling, with a pair of gravity boots clipped to it.

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking," January mumbled.

"Or maybe you were thinking too much, knowing you," her mother observed. She motioned for January to change places with her, and began a series of punches and kicks into the heavy bag. "Is something bothering you?"

"You mean more than usual?" January asked. "I don't know. I just have been wondering, what is my life going to be? What am I going to do? How am I going to afford surgery?"

"Oh honey, I wish I could tell you," her mother paused a moment to look around the bag at her. "But I know you are going to be fine. You are smart, you are conscientious, you work hard. Even if you're writing doesn't take off, I am sure you will be ok."

"You can still be an instructor at your friend Adin's dojo," her mother went on. "You are already so far beyond me, it's hard to believe I was the one who first taught you kick-boxing. Now there is so much you could teach me."

"You could even try for the Olympics again," she added. "The Olympic Committee changed the rules on pre-op transgender athletes. If you test under a certain amount of testosterone, you can compete now."

"And do cisgender athletes have to test under that as well?" January spat bitterly. "No, of course not. They make special rules just for us. They won't treat me the same as other people, because I'm not good enough to be a person in the first place."

"You know that testosterone changes-" her mother tried to explain.

"What testosterone?" January cut her off. "I've never had it. I was taking anti-androgens before that could start. I've never had any unfair advantage over other women. They have more testosterone than I do. And they at least have the advantage of being allowed to use the bathroom. They have the advantage of being able to watch a movie and see someone like themselves acknowledged to exist. That is at least as something other than a freak to be laughed at or a monster to be murdered. What about the unfair advantage they have in every part of life?"

"The Olympics can suck my ovaries!" January fumed.

Her mother ceased all pretense at boxing, and walked over to her side of the bag. She put one gloved hand on January's shoulder.

"What's really bothering you Aug... January," she said.

January tried not to cringe at the sound of her original, male name: August. Just like when someone called her "he", it was an icy dagger piercing her heart. Lighthammer's hard light was easier to bear.

"That's what's bothering me." She pushed off her mother's outstretched arm with one hand. "Even after all this time, you don't see me. And why should you? I take a shower and look down at myself, and I don't see me. I look in the mirror, and I wonder who stole my real body, and left me trapped in this… this… thing. This horror. How can I go on a date with someone, when the idea of them seeing me naked makes me sick? When do I get to be me?"

All these powers that she supposedly had, January mused, and she was still not who she was supposed to be. She could jump. She could do back flips off the wall. She could throw steel girders. But she could still not look at a normal girl without feeling jealous. They were so lucky, to simply have been born how they were.

January fought back the tears forming behind her eyes, and the knot growing in her throat. She thought of her elemental mantra. She thought of her breathing, and of moving energy back and forth, cleansing her body of all negative emotion. None of it seemed to help.

"We talked about this before," her mother's face took on that serious cast that meant she had gone from empathy-mode to authority-mode. "We simply cannot afford to pay for surgery on our salaries."

"But you can pay for Julian's political science and law degrees," January spat bitterly.

"We aren't-"

"I know what U of M costs," January retorted. "I've seen the checks with dad's name on them. Julian leaves it all sitting out. I'm sure he wants me to see, so he can rub it in my face. He can never resist that."

"Hon, I don't know what you think you saw, but your brother is paying for it with student loans-"

The ringing of January's phone saved her from hearing the excuse. January dove for it like a drowning woman for a life preserver. It was not the normal bubbling ringtone of her phone, but rather a fuzzy guitar riff from Gary Clark Jr's "If Trouble Was Money." Her heart leapt. Had Avery broken the cipher on Subramanian's ledger?

January fumbled with her gloves, tearing off the velcro strip on the back of one to free her hand to use the screen. That left the scars on her wrist plainly visible. But she did not care. She rarely felt self-conscious about them anymore. She had much bigger things to worry about these days.

She got to the phone just in time to catch it before it went to voicemail.

"Avery!" she cried as she picked it up with her now bare hand.

"We gotta roll," he said, "you know who's on the move. Get your stuff, and meet me out front."

January pulled off her other glove and tossed it on the bench press. "I have to go," she murmured. Clutching her phone in one hand, she raced up the stairs. This was something she did not have wonder about, or angst over. This was something she could act on.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xH_Z8xb2gvs

https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2016/jan/25/ioc-rules-transgender-athletes-can-take-part-in-olympics-without-surgery

https://www.usnews.com/best-graduate-schools/top-law-schools/university-of-michigan-ann-arbor-03082

Posted by: Acadian Jun 15 2019, 07:13 PM

January shows us plenty of raw emotion in this powerful episode.

Good thing she has that punching bag to help drain some of her frustrations. I was pleased to see her working out with her mother and have someone to at least share some of those frustrations with. Poor thing seems like she just wants to be the ‘girl next door’ and, instead, is a superheroine trapped in the wrong flavor body!

Buffy was recently traveling Murkmire in the Black Marsh and encountered an Argonian who explained that he had been born a she and it was neither unusual nor unnatural for some Argonians to commune with the Hist, relay their desires and emerge with a full gender change - no physical trauma or social drama. Made me think of January and the ever so much more challenging path she faces.

Nice touch revealing how January used to be August!

Batman had the bat light that Commissioner Gordon would put up into the sky when it was time for the caped crusader to spring into action. Gadget has his own special ringtone as a call to action for the Stromcrow!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 22 2019, 04:28 PM

Acadian: That was a very intense episode, that gives us a glimpse into the turmoil inside January. Everything about her eventually ties back to her gender dysphoria - being a nerd to escape from the 'normal' world, being a fighter, her need to stand against bullies, her ability to feel empathy for others (especially those not born 'perfect').

I also wanted to avoid infodumps on her history. So I am carefully laying little breadcrumbs about it like her mother's near name-slip. A lot more will be coming out in the next chapter.

Wow, that is very woke of ESO to include a trans person. Lucky Argonians! At least the Hist knows when it makes a coding error, and fixes it.

Actually, it is just a custom ringtone that January set her phone to use when Avery calls her. You can do that with most smartphones. But now you have given me the idea that maybe when he is in Gadget mode, he overrides that, and sends his own custom ringtone down the line.

Back in the day when I ran a tabletop Shadowrun game, the team's decker (basically hacker) was an NPC who was usually away from the rest of the team in his lair. He had a whole Man With No Name motif going, with his internet persona looking like Clint Eastwood, his attack programs being a winchester and a revolver, and so on. Whenever he would call the team I would use my laptop to play the theme from The Good The Bad And The Ugly. It was one of his shticks. Gadget could be doing something similar.



https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl


Book 1.10 - Stormcrow Rising

January bounded up the stairs to her room. With the door securely shut behind her, she emptied out her old gaming backpack of dice and manuals and stuffed her Stormcrow armor within it instead. Then she was off as fast as the wind, racing out the front door and down the block.

Avery lived just two houses down the street. He was just getting into his yellow Geo Storm when she arrived, and hopped in beside him. Once within she focused on the element of Fire, and took a deep breath. Then she thought better of doing her quick change so soon. It would be better to wait until they had reached their destination.

Avery drove down the suburban street, with its small houses and equally small lawns. Someone was out mowing their grass, kids rode past on bikes, and ordinary life went on as if a supervillain emergency was not about to unfold. It felt somewhat surreal to January, knowing that something was going to happen, and that she was going to be part of it. Yet the rest of the world was utterly oblivious.

Someone's sprinkler was throwing water half way across the street, and January was obliged to roll up her window to avoid getting soaked. The Geo was so old that she literally had to roll it with a hand crank. January wondered if they were still riding horses at the time it was built?

Avery drove through a cross street, continued on for another block, then turned onto Dequindre road and headed north. He nodded to the center of the dashboard, where a giant screen had rolled out to display a list of cities and times. It took January a moment to realize that it was the flight schedule for an airport.

"Our man Subramanian is booked on a flight for Atlanta," he said. "From there he's got a connection to Antwerp."

"He's flying out of Flint?" January stared at the screen in disbelief. "I didn't even know they had an airport. Why not just take Metro?"

"Maybe Flint's cheaper," Avery shrugged, "or maybe he figures no one will be watching there."

"So how is the decoding going?" January shifted conversational gears as Avery literally did the same with the Geo. He took a left onto Nine Mile, and effortlessly went from gear to gear as the little car leapt forward past the other traffic. January mused that his driving was a microcosm for his life. Avery was all about gears, moving parts, things fitting together. He somehow saw all the tiny cogs and spinning wheels under the hood of the universe. He understood how that machinery worked, and could run it, or rearrange it, however he liked.

"I broke the code last night," Avery beamed. "Pharos," he said in a loud, clear voice, "display Subramanian Ledger." The dashboard screen cleared, then a moment later filled with a spreadsheet of names, dates, and numbers.

"It took a little while," Avery explained, "but then I realized that like you said, he's not a 21st century man. So I went old school. It turns out he was using a Vigenère Cipher. After that it was easy."

"A vagina cipher?" January scrunched her nose in bafflement. "Sounds like every girl I match with on Scissr."

Avery laughed. "It's a variation of a Caesar cipher. In a Caesar you shift every letter a certain number of spaces up or down the alphabet. The Vigenère takes it to eleven by incorporating multiple Caesar shifts in the same code. Once I figured out the length of the key, I just had to use frequency analysis to crack each individual Caesar cipher."

"Then I had it, a list of all the blood diamonds he bought from a warlord named Ibrohim Alawar. I looked him up. His soldiers hack kids to pieces and gang rape little girls." Avery paused to curl a lip in disgust. "Anyway, Subramanian buys the raw diamonds from him. Then he takes them back to Surat in India for polishing. From there he brings them to the U.S. to sell. He goes all up and down the East Coast, Boston to Chicago, New Orleans to Orlando, and every big place in between. He's got every sale listed here, to shops and individuals. He's making millions, even after all the bribes he's got listed to customs officials."

"Do his bosses know about it?" January asked, staring at the list of buyers, and all of the zeros besides their names. Her head swam.

"There's no way to tell," Avery shook his head as he turned at Burger Baron and got onto the service drive for I-75. "He's making real business trips for the cartel at the same time he's slinging the blood diamonds. They aren't listed in the ledger, but I was able to get it from going back over airline records for the last six months."

"So we have to stop him from getting on that plane," January mused, "and get the police to search him and find that ledger, and whatever diamonds he has left."

"That's the plan," Avery said. He finally got onto the freeway, and immediately had to brake to avoid running into a massive Oldsmobile that suddenly cut into their lane. He down-shifted with ease. Again January was amazed at how expertly he made the machinery sing for him.

"Great driving Grandpa!" he shouted out the window. Then he turned back to January as if nothing had happened. "Just to sweeten the pot I'll dump the entire thing onto social media. Imgrr, Twitt, Instantgram, Eyebook, MeTube, even Pr0n Hub. I've got bots set up to completely saturate the internet."

January mulled that over. Avery could expose it all. But unless they stopped him from escaping the country, Subramanian could go to ground anywhere in the world. With his diamond money, he could vanish into a black hole and never be seen again.

She had protected him. She had helped him. Now she was going to stop him.

January knew she had to prepare herself. No more mistakes. No losing her temper. No allowing her frustrations to control her. So she pulled her feet up onto the car seat and folded them across one another in a lotus position. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply in and out. She focused on her Wiccan energy exercises, and cleared her mind. In time the rest of the world fell away, and there was only her heart, her breath, and the energy of the world flowing through her.

"We're here," Avery's voice snapped January back to reality. She looked around to find that they had already left the freeway, and were headed down a surface street toward the airport. A massive parking lot stretched out to her right. The terminal rose up to the left, behind a smaller lot and a partial screen of trees.

They passed under a large green sign that said "Bishop International Airport" in large white letters, with arrows that pointed out the parking lots. But what January really noticed were the crows. They crowded almost wing to wing along the length of the metal sign. They all took flight when they drove underneath, in a vast murder that winged its way toward the airport.

"That is really creepy you know," Avery murmured, staring at the black shapes as they soared away.

"I think that is my cue," January said. She focused on Fire. A second later she was clad from head toe in her Stormcrow gear.

The sound of an explosion rang out from the left, and a thin stream of smoke began wafting from the terminal.

"Don't slow down." January cranked down her window, and flowed through the open space with the ease of water spilling out of a tap. Balancing herself against the wind, she leapt onto the roof of the car. For a moment she stood there, practically surfing atop the Geo. She crouched down, then leapt skyward with all the strength she had in her legs. Rising into the sky, she put her arms out and hit the twin triggers in her gauntlets. Her cape snapped out into a pair of wings a moment later, catching the wind underneath them.

She was getting better at this. Banking to the left, the long terminal building stretched out before her. It had a very modern look, with multiple scalloped overhangs curving up one over the other along the side facing the street. A driveway broke off from the nearer parking lot to run along the side of the terminal. It was directly beneath the lowest scallop, which shielded it from sun and rain.

The walls of the terminal facing the drive were entirely of glass, as were those at the either end of the massive building. A pair of flags fluttered in the breeze outside. One was the Stars and Stripes. The other was the blue Michigan state flag, with its elk and moose facing one another.

The far side of the terminal was more prosaic concrete and steel. A narrow tube-like structure - too big to be just a skywalk - jutted out across the tarmac from it, and joined the terminal to another huge rectangular building. The latter was free of decoration, unless you counted the multiple jet bridges that jutted from it, like pins from a cushion. Farther out stretched numerous concrete taxiways and the two actual landing strips, which were set at a right angle to one another.

January banked to the left, and followed the swarm of crows down toward the overhanging scallops that lined the terminal. A row of trees seemed to leap up in front of her. For a moment she panicked, and visions of impaling herself upon their branches flashed before her eyes. Then she was back in control of herself. She raised her head, and arms with it, tilting the angle of her wings upward. She lost speed, but gained lift. The top leaves of one tree scraped against her belly. Then she was past the vegetation, and one of the massive metal overhangs loomed in her face.

January ducked, and angled her wings downward. She dove for the concrete driveway below, and the scalloped overhang slipped by harmlessly overhead. Losing altitude had given her speed. She briefly noted that everything with flying seemed to be a trade-off between one thing and another. She really needed to practice flying more, maybe even read up about it.

The blare of a car horn rang out in her ears, and she spared a glance to one side in time to see a giant pickup truck barreling toward her from the right. She pulled back once more, tilting her wings so far up that they were at a right angle to the ground. That stalled her forward momentum. The truck kept on coming, and sped past her with a rushing of air. The red, white, and blue cloth of a massive American flag mounted behind the cab snapped against her nose. Then her feet touched down upon the truck's long bed. Without really thinking, she took a running jump, and used the steel bed to launch herself back into the air.

People were running everywhere. Some paused to shout and point at her, and the murder of crows that preceded her. Most just ignored her however, and got as far away from the terminal as quickly as their feet would take them.

Now before January was a long glass wall facing the driveway, punctuated by occasional glass doors. She followed the cloud of black birds through a shattered plate glass window and finally entered the building itself.

The main floor lobby stretched out to either side, and ran the length of the building. Essentially a wide open hallway, it was carpeted in red and blue. Shining metal baggage carousels jutted out from the far wall. The one before her was even decorated with a bronze statue of a man wearing an old fashioned suit and hat. She saw the name Chrysler set into the plaque at its feet, and imagined that he must be the guy the car company was named after.

To her right there was an actual car, cordoned off by a low glass barrier. January could see that it was a Buick, because it said so on the rear quarter panel in big letters. Past that on the ground floor were the ticket counters and rows of seats. But before the ticketing area was an escalator that rose to the second floor. January could see a gallery from that floor running the length of the lobby, partitioned off by a chest-high glass screen.

January banked sharply to glide down the length of the lobby, and followed the crows. There were more people here. Some ran. Some tried to hide behind the columns that held up the second floor gallery, the car, and the Chrysler statue.

In spite of her pick-up truck assist, January found herself quickly running out of altitude. That gave her an idea as the car came near. She aimed for its roof, and triggered off her wings just before it slid underneath. She hit the roof running, and leapt straight ahead. The escalator ran at a right angle to her path, rising to her left. Her leap took her high over it, directly into a sign with arrows pointing out directions to ticketing and parking on the first floor.

She rolled into ball, and hit the sign with her feet. The crows wheeled around her, winging up and to the left. She sprang out and to the same side, and not only rolled but twisted in mid air as she bounced sideways off the sign. That put her at the top of the escalator, right between a pair of men. The older one was dressed in flannel and had a full beard and cowboy hat. The other was much younger - perhaps the first man's son given their similar faces. He wore a t-shirt with an American flag brightly emblazoned across the front, and tribal tattoos crowded the length of his exposed arms.

"Excuse me," January murmured as the two startled men almost leapt out of their boots. January imagined that few people were prepared for a girl in a crow costume to come flying out of the sky and land inches away. Let alone the murder of crows that croaked past and scattered in all directions, only to vanish completely just a few moments later.




http://www.unmuseum.org/pharos.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vigen%C3%A8re_cipher

https://pulitzercenter.org/reporting/blood-diamonds-armed-rebels-and-cambridge-educated-warlord

https://www.bishopairport.org/business-fnt/about-fnt/about-flint-bishop

https://i.imgur.com/s7SFWaR.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/kpN1R28.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/7xkYBsP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/crwCcYN.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/5MsBegm.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/YM7PYIm.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Jun 22 2019, 07:18 PM

Nice job here, setting the scene and stakes for what seems likely to be an exciting encounter as Avery races the duo to the airport in the Gadgetmobile.

And what an entrance as Stormcrow flows out the open car window and springs into the air! Her abilities in flight are getting impressive but have been hard-gained in a very believable manner over her several flights to date. goodjob.gif


Nits?
’Some paused to shout and point at her, and the murder of crows that proceeded {preceded?} her.’
'He wore a t-shirt with an American flag brightly emblazoned across the front, ad {and?} tribal tattoos crowded the length of his exposed arms.’

Posted by: treydog Jun 24 2019, 05:46 PM

The way you weave “existing” tech in with possible future-tech, as well as just enough supernatural/maybe-it-exists-mundanes-just-don't-know-about-it elements is great. It reminds me of the way Stephen King's best work managed to draw me in- he would build a “regular” world, and get the reader nodding along, “yes, I can 'see' that.” And then- “here, let's add just a little something extra- and you were already completely involved.

QUOTE
Usually her life became much worse when people paid attention to her.


As I constantly remind Mrs. Treydog when she asks if “Anything exciting happened” at work- exciting is bad. It generally means something went wrong.

Second post- one escaped extra word note:

QUOTE
The Pepsi and schedule fell forgotten from January's hands. What should she do? Should she play it safe, and run, or hide, like the all the active shooter drills in school said? Or should she do what they always say not to, and advance?


Extra “the” after “like”.

Most excellent fight scene, again working a perfect blending of what is “current” with what is “possible”.

QUOTE
he had parked his nerdcore throne


Just perfect!

QUOTE
“You are trending, even bigger than that singing cat!"

"The cat made more sense,"


Love it!

QUOTE
"So what have you learned from this?"


Sensei Avery?

QUOTE
No girl can have any agency without being a princess


No Kool-Aid there, nope, none at ALL.

And I love that our kick-booty newest superhero can't drive a stick. I have to admit, that the protagonist having “instant familiarity” with any form of transport is one of the “immersion-breaking” things for me in a lot of movies- like how ANY car can be hot-wired by just twisting a couple of wires together under the dash, or the keys are always in it, or the fact that semiauto or fully auto weapons never run out of ammunition- except when it is “convenient” for the action. Brief sidenote- that was one of the things I loved in the finale of Season One of “Wiseguy”- Sonny Steelgrave (Ray Sharkey) steals a car, which immediately starts intoning “Check Your Fuel Level”- which of course, just piles more stress on what he is already feeling. But back to the point, from which I have wandered beyond even being able to see from here- January's inability to drive a manual transmission car is one of those perfect touches that make writing soar.

QUOTE
the mobile command center.


Another perfect turn of phrase

QUOTE
"I bet Blood Raven doesn't have to make excuses to her mom when she goes out fighting evil," January grumbled after she hung up.


And Athlain wishes that was true....

Oh my aching sides- the rotary phone = Neanderthal mammoth traps. Bless you for that image, which is now stuck in my head forever. Additional points because I grew up with rotary phones....

QUOTE
The elevator to the fourteenth floor was slower than a Hutt on molasses.


blink.gif

And another vote for the cleverest plot being foiled by the dullest of guards. A genius' greatest enemy is not another genius, but a stubborn moron....

I try hard to not be too judgmental- but … her brother will be a perfect lawyer. He is already able to justify his point of view, even if he has to tie himself in knots to do so.

And a deeply intense view of the existential difficulty of being “othered”. Because it is important (I think) to grasp that January is NOT “other”; she is herself. It is the external perceptions and forces that make that somehow “wrong.” And it is not helped by her parents unthinking differential treathment of their two children. Powerful writing.

QUOTE
It turns out he was using a the Vigenère Cipher. After that it was easy."


Extra article crept in there during rewrite- I hate it when that happens.

And now- I am caught up. Darn it. What a ride it has been!

Posted by: Renee Jun 24 2019, 06:52 PM

QUOTE
Mr. Xiang said that the super battle at the hotel was definitely trending. Apparently everyone was using #stormcrow to post their pictures and videos.


Nice.

Also, the whole time her family's having that conversation about her, and she keeps almost slipping about her identity, getting defensive any way. That must be tough. She can't rightly just tell them though, no way. I have a feeling somebody's gonna find out though. wink.gif

QUOTE
"I for one think it is a good thing that we have another hero in Metro Detroit," her mother declared.


Ha! Such a "mom" thing to say. smile.gif Is there such thing as a Michigan accent? I keep hearing the parents sounding like Archie and Edith, which I know is way wrong. My mind keeps drifting back to the Bunkers though. Would it be similar to a typical Midwest accent?

Whoa, so that's where she lives (I looked at the house pic). Yikes! She needs somewhere more secluded, like a secret cave! laugh.gif Kidding. She's probably vulnerable there though.


QUOTE
Gabriella Wilson a.k.a. HER. Look her up, she was a child prodigy.


Sure, I will.

Two more chapters to catch up.....

QUOTE
January worked over the heavy bag. Her brother's words still draped over her thoughts like a dark shroud. Was she destined to end up working at Burger Baron?


Awww. sad.gif

QUOTE
She really needed to practice flying more, maybe even read up about it.


That is awesome. All of this is so new to her. She's kick-boxing, she's learning martial arts, oh, and hey, she's also learning how to fly.

What will happen next?

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 29 2019, 04:15 PM

Acadian: This will be the crescendo of the chapter. Just 3 episodes left, including today's.

Flight is one of those abilities I really want to show January slowly developing over time, as she slowly but surely practices and studies.


treydog: Thee-Dog's in the house!

I am partly taking my cues from Lovecraft with the way I use real world tech with my own supertech. Whenever he would list off a series of magic books and occultists in his stories, he would include real ones in the mix, such as The Golden Bough, Hermes Trismigestus, or Borellus and Agrippa. It lent the entire thing a sense of verisimilitude, because it puts the Necromonicon and Al-Hazred on the same playing field as them.

The other reason is that a lot of real world tech is what we would have called science fiction just forty years ago. Like the phone cloner that Gadget gave to January. The police and government really use those things right now, mining the data of ordinary people without their knowledge.

One thing nice about writing this story is that I can finally use pop-culture as a tool in my writing, which of course I could never do in Tamriel. So I glory in my nerdcores and rotary phones (which I do remember using too).

The princess remark is a dig at the https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/NeverASelfMadeWoman trope, something that makes me roll my eyes every time I watch a movie or show and the only female https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ActionGirl in it is also the daughter of the admiral, or president, or an actual king, and it is inferred that her abilities and position are ultimately due to his influence. Because it is not like any woman could ever possess her own wants or desires. She can only be what her male forebear molded her into.

January is a Millennial, so of course she cannot drive a stick shift! I cannot imagine any who can, since when would they ever be faced with one? Gadget gets a pass because of who and what he is. Machinery, gears, moving parts, are at the very heart of his nature. I did see that episode of Wiseguy! Sonny even bribes the gas station attendant with a bag of golf clubs to let him fill up his tank. Not that he has a chance to when Vinnie shows up. I loved that, because the protagonist is not the only character who should have to overcome obstacles. The antagonist should have just as much trials and tribulations to face as well.

We can be judgmental about January's brother. We will see more of him in in the future... Likewise, January's whole family situation is about to blow up.

Unfortunately, the most difficult part of being trans is not the bigotry of others, but the very sense of Otherness within one's self. Even in a perfect world, trans-people would still have to grapple with that undeniable feeling that they are not who they are supposed to be, and see a stranger every time they look in the mirror. As January said to her mother "I don't see me." One of the reasons I went with January being trans, and at this stage of her life, is I wanted her to have this very real disadvantage to struggle with. In the Champions or Gurps systems that ought to be at least a 20 point Disadvantage... wink.gif


Renee: Many people in Michigan will insist that there is no Michigan accent. "We talk normal here!" But there is definitely a Michigan accent. It is nothing like the Bunkers though. We love to put a hard 'a' in everything, even words that don't have an 'a' in them at all. Like 'to' we will say 'ta'. https://owlcation.com/humanities/Michigan-Accent really goes into detail. How we say Pop instead of Soda. Yoopers. How we use our hand to show where a place is in the state, and so on.


Book 1.11 - Stormcrow Rising

A quick glance showed the airport offices to her right, along with a pair of restrooms and a shoe shine stand. Past that was a gift shop and a book store. To her immediate left was a conference room, and farther down the hall was a small food court. It was partitioned off from the main hallway by a chest-high counter covered in ceramic tiles. Within the corral it created was a single restaurant and a small dining area.

https://i.imgur.com/EsOOobF.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/46OoEIi.jpg

The rest of the second floor continued on straight ahead down a long, wide hallway. January imagined this was that long structure that branched off from the terminal. She had seen it when she had flown in. It connected to the second, rectangular building set farther back on the tarmac that had all the jet bridges prickling out of it.

Far down the hallway January saw a sign saying "Meeter/Greeter Area", next to another proclaiming "All Gates" and pointing to the right. Beside the latter sign the corridor branched out to the right and vanished from sight. While straight ahead were "Do Not Enter" signs. As best January could tell, the security screening must have been somewhere down there, perhaps in the area to the right that she could not see.

https://i.imgur.com/MASu4c8.jpg

She only had an instant to take all this in. The entire area was in complete chaos. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors ran and dove for cover everywhere. The chest high counter that blocked off the food court seemed to be a popular spot for refuge. So too were the desks in the open office areas to the right. The only people standing seemed to be those who were fighting, right out in the middle of it all.

There was Lighthammer, in his glowing silver, white, and blue armor. January noticed that he had replaced or repaired the helmet she had damaged in the previous fight. The small force fields projecting from his forearms glowed with blue-white light. He was putting them to good use against four opponents comprised of what appeared be living darkness.

It took January a moment to realize that what she was seeing were actually people. Each was covered from head to toe by an oval shield of blackness. One turned in profile to get a better shot at Lighthammer, and she saw that the dark shield only protected him from the front. From the side she could see it was a man wearing a sport coat and khakis. There was some sort of metal box or device on his chest, from which the darkness streamed out to form the shield in front of him. She also noted that two metal bars came out from under the cuffs of his sport coat, one at either side of his arm. They joined to form a gauntlet for each hand. Whether the metal exoskeleton extended down under his loose pants - or was only limited to his torso and arms - she could not tell.

January recognized him. He was one of Subramanian's bodyguards from the previous night. She could not remember if he was the former Army Ranger, or the former Detroit beat cop. Not that either was really preferable to fight.

The mercenary pointed one gauntleted hand at Lighthammer, and a bolt of darkness spat forth. It was identical to the energy that formed his shield. Lighthammer must have seen it out of the corner of his eye, because he twisted to the side and raised one forearm to block. The dark missile struck his force field of light, and had no effect. The light seemed to simply swallow it whole, without any impact to Lighthammer whatsoever.

The Gray Hat countered with a bolt of his own solid light. However, it too was harmlessly absorbed by the bodyguard's force field of darkness. Then the vigilante was bounding up in the air to avoid another bolt of darkness. He did a flip, and came down feet first into one of the ebony force fields. It should have flattened the man behind it, but Lighthammer's armored frame simply bounced off ineffectually.

"Elemental darkness, like the Veil from the Sentinels uses," Gadget's voice came through her earpiece. "Looks like they not only got reinforcements, but geared up with something that will nullify Lighthammer's powers. But they forgot his cancels theirs out too."

"Use your guns damn it!" A heavily-accented Indian voice rang out. January saw Subramanian step out from the gift shop, subcompact pistol raised. He punctuated his words with a string of shots directed at Lighthammer.

That was also January's direction, and that of the men standing to either side of her. As she saw the pistol come up, she turned as quick as Air would allow. Grabbing the leading edges of her cape, she flung out her arms to either side and covered the two men beside her with it. A moment later she felt the impacts, like blows from a hammer.

Please be bullet-proof, she found herself thinking, please be bullet-proof.

When the shooting stopped, she looked down and was relieved when there was not any blood. Both of the men she had shielded had dropped to a knee however, and winced in pain. So clearly they had felt some of the force of the blows, even though the bullets had not penetrated her cape.

"Better get down the escalator!" January gently nudged the two men forward, down the moving stairs. Only when they were both on the top step, and being slowly carried down and out of the line of fire, did she turn back.

Now she saw that the bodyguards had pulled out sawed off shotguns. One blasted away from a medium distance, and a bronze bust encased in glass against at the opposite wall exploded. Another struck one of Lighthammer's arm shields. An instant later a woman across from him collapsed to the floor, blood erupting from her upper arm. January noted that she had a handgun clenched in her good hand.

Ricochet, January imagined. She had to do something about these guns, before everyone in the terminal got killed.

She called upon Air for speed. With a single bound, she crossed the thirty or so feet between her and the injured woman. She gathered the olive-skinned woman up her arms, being careful not to jostle the hand that still clutched her pistol. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally get shot herself, or be responsible for that happening to someone else.

"It's ok, I'm here to help," January breathed. She lifted the injured woman with ease. She may as well have been as light as a feather. She vaulted over the chest-high barrier that cordoned off the dining area, being sure to keep her back to the action at all times. That way she would shield the injured woman with her body.

She set the woman down as gently as possible, beside a pair of other people. January scanned the injury, wishing for more experience with first aid than a brief class in high school. It was a big wound, and January could see that the cloth of the woman's top was torn to shreds around it. She did not see a splatter of small injuries, like she would have guessed a shotgun would cause. Instead it was just one big hole.

"Me Cago En Ná!" the injured woman cursed. That was something they had not taught in high school Spanish class. But she could guess the intent well enough.

"It burns!" the woman now cried in English. She dropped her gun, and reached for her injured arm with her good hand. "Get it out!"

January gritted her teeth, and stuck her fingers into the wound. It reminded her of reaching into the Thanksgiving turkey before it went into the oven. But this wasn't dinner. It was a person, all hot, wet, and torn apart.

She found the projectile and pulled it out, fingers slick with blood. It was not a pellet. Instead it was cylindrical in shape, with a wide bottom. From there it suddenly narrowed to a long center section, then tapered to a point. Obviously it was some kind of slug, but not of any kind she had ever heard of. She had thought they all looked like bullets, only larger.

https://www.ddupleks-defence.com/ap-20

"Armor-piercing round," Gadget's said. "I've seen vids of those things going through steel plate. They came loaded for bear."

January dimly registered that it was still hot from being fired. But it did not really bother her. Whether that was thanks to her armor, or her own natural abilities, she did not know. She dropped the slug on the floor and turned back to the wound. She found that the injured woman had ripped out a long strip of cloth from her top, and was stuffing it into the injury.

"She's a cop," Gadget said in her ear.

Then January noticed the Michigan State Police badge that had spilled out of her pocket. Now her having a gun in the airport made sense.

"I'll take care of this," the state cop said though gritted teeth. "You get out there and do what you did last night."

That was all the prompting January needed. Resting one hand on the tile barrier, she vaulted over it and back into the wide hall. She saw one of the bodyguards with his back to her. Without another thought she leapt forward, and crashed into him full force.

His body bent over backwards as the momentum of the charge sent them both across the hallway, and into the opposite wall. The bodyguard struck it shield first, and the pair smashed through right through the barrier. Bits of drywall and wall studs sprayed the hallway and gift shop. They finally came to a stop in the bookstore, January atop the bodyguard's back.

Since she still had hold of him, she lifted them both from the ground, spun around, and sent them crashing back into the floor with a suplex. The mercenary took the blow belly-first. But again, his dark energy shield seemed to absorb the impact, and shattered the hard tiles of the bookstore floor beneath him.

He sent an elbow back as a thank you present. January blocked with a forearm. He followed with the other elbow, then leapt to his feet, pushing backward. They slammed into a bookshelf, sending hardcovers of the latest 80s rock band tell-all everywhere. This time it was January who slammed into the wall. She was ready for it however, and merely grunted as she felt wood and plaster give way beneath her armored back.

She let go of him. Grappling was clearly not doing her much good. It certainly was not her strong suit. Instead she struck both sides of his neck with her open hands. She hit the carotid sinus just behind the jaw. Her Krav Maga instructor had taught her that the arteries which supplied blood to the brain separated into two at that spot. A blow to either would confuse the baroreceptors there into thinking that the blood pressure within was too high. They automatically lowered the pressure to adjust. The end result was that the mercenary collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

https://www.fullpotentialma.com/self-defense-slap/

Before January could congratulate herself, another of Subramanian's bodyguards was upon her. He came in like a bull, with a left hook that would have taken January's head off had it connected. She had only seconds to react, but still managed to duck out of the way. Drywall and wood rained down upon her head as he gouged out a chunk of the wall above her. With his black force field in front of her, she could not see his body at all, just his armored fists when they came out to strike.

She just did the best she could, and followed her Krav Maga training. Since she was starting low, she sprang up and forward, using her body like a battering ram. Her head crashed into the inky force field about where she imagined his chin might be. She instantly followed with a knee to the midsection.

He did not go down. Instead he replied with a body shot. She twisted and tensed up, taking the blow on her ribs. She leaned in closer and swept her elbow across his head, putting all of her chest and back muscles into the blow. Then while she hoped he was thinking high, she took a step away and went low with a kick to the shin.

He followed with a kick toward her knee. She raised her leg to take it on the shin. She countered with a palm strike to the head. He came back with a jab to the face that she barely saw coming. There was no time to block or dodge. She just took the hit. It did not seem to hurt though, whether from adrenaline, armor, or her powers, January did not know.

This was going on much too long. She had to put this guy down. She reached up with both hands as if to grab his head. Instead she got hold of the edges of his force field. It felt solid under her fingers, but seemed to tingle, as if it was flowing or vibrating ever so slightly. Pulling herself up with her arms, she drove a knee into where she imagined his solar plexus might be.

He was still standing however, and punched hard into her exposed midsection with both fists. January gritted her teeth, but did not falter. Still holding on to the force field, she used it to vault straight up into a handstand in the air above the mercenary. She was forced to flex her knees into a crouch as her feet pressed into the low ceiling. Then she pushed off it, and rocketed straight down.

She hit the mercenary like a battering ram, striking just behind the protection of his force field. Her body hammered against the bodyguard's forehead, and continued down across his chest. She crashed into the metal device that powered the field, and it shattered into a dozen sparking chunks of metal. The black energy vanished, and she continued on into his legs and feet.

She hit the ground hands first, and executed an effortless front handspring back to her feet. She glanced back to see the bodyguard slumped down motionless on a pile of books, head bloody and force field emitter fallen dark and silent.

January realized this would be the perfect time for a witty one-liner. Something like catching up on a good book, or not judging one by its cover. Or course nothing came to mind that did not sound trite.

"A truly great library contains something in it to offend everyone."

January chuckled as Gadget's voice floated in her ear.

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7181573-a-truly-great-library-contains-something-in-it-to-offend

Posted by: Acadian Jun 29 2019, 06:21 PM

Despite the superhero tech, you rendered everything clearly and easy to follow during this heart-pounding fight. Stormcrow’s carotid slap was pretty cool and very effective!

I’m curious now to see what happens next – if Black Hat slips away and if we learn more about Gray Hat. Given Stormcrow’s focus on protecting innocents, she is most definitely a White Hat.


Nit? ’Instead he replied with body shot.’ - - Do you want an ‘a’ before body shot?

Posted by: treydog Jun 30 2019, 12:34 AM

Most excellent fight scene! And again, very happy with the mingling of tech and "powers". And the quote made me smile.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 30 2019, 06:48 PM

Ooops, I forgot to add some links. I went back and put in some pictures of the second floor of the airport, where the fighting takes place.

Also, is it better this way, with the links to interesting things placed within the text? Or is it better with them all at the bottom?

Posted by: Acadian Jun 30 2019, 07:36 PM

Thanks for the additional links and update.

I wrestled with the same question for my fic regarding screenshots and ultimately concluded that putting them all at the end of the episode worked better for me. Though having links inserted right where they match the content is more 'responsive', I find it slightly more 'disruptive' to the reading flow. smile.gif

Posted by: treydog Jun 30 2019, 08:33 PM

I tend to agree. While on the one hand, it is fun to "see" in real time- it also happens to be bad for my "ohhhh shiny!" impulse- and thus breaks the immersion.

With links or notes at the bottom- I can either click an re-read- OR click first to familiarize and THEN read. My 1/2 Septim anyway... (would that make it a "Martin"?")

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 6 2019, 03:49 PM

Acadian: That Carotid Slap was something I filed away for future use when I was doing my Krav Maga research a few months ago. I was not originally going to use it in this fight. But it made its way back in the mix after I made some tweaks a few weeks ago. What I have really enjoyed writing in this fight is January's gymnastic skills, which have been a key component to defeating the mercenaries.

As you noted, these last few episodes have been again given me the opportunity to Show what White, Gray, and Black Hats are, without having to Tell anything. I am pleased with how that turned out.

Nits picked. Now I am laughing. We Michiganders always want to insert a hard 'a' into everything, even words that don't have an 'a'. How did I miss that! laugh.gif


treydog: I had fun writing this fight scene. A week before posting the first part I was looking at it, and thought it did not seem challenging enough. So I added in two more mercenaries. That did not actually make it much longer. But it did ramp up the action, and make Lighthammer and January come off feeling more super. Unlike the common lackeys in the comics, I wanted these guys to pose a real threat. They would have defeated Lighthammer if he had been on his own. So I gave them real skills and some tech-based powers of their own so they could go toe-to-toe with the supes.

Given the feedback from both you and Captain A, I decided to go back to putting my links at the bottom of the posts instead of mid-stream.



https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE



Book 1.12 - Stormcrow Rising

January stepped out to rejoin the battle in the hallway. She saw that even though he now only faced two opponents, Lighthammer was still taking the worst of the exchange. Like her own battles with the mercenaries, they had gone into hand to hand. These mercs seemed as skilled with fists and feet as her two opponents had been. Lighthammer less so. He was taking hit after hit. Most he deflected on his forearm force fields. Some he was able to slip or dodge away from.

But it was two against one, and his opponents seemed to know how to work as a team. One would distract Lighthammer, while the other would strike from the opposite side. He was constantly in motion, leaping, diving, and sidestepping to stay out of their way. But inevitably some of their attacks got past his shields, and steadily dented and chipped away at his armor.

Pits gouged into the ceiling and floor showed where one or the other had tried to shoot with their weapons. January did not know if those were the results of more ricochets, or if they had been intentional shots, like the one Lighthammer had used to trap her the previous night when he had made his escape.

January saw Subramanian raise the discarded shotgun of the first mercenary she had defeated. He had a clear shot at Lighthammer's back. She had seen that his force fields could deflect the slugs. But she had no idea if his armor could alone. Given that not every inch of the vigilante's body was armored, it would not help at all if Subramanian got a lucky hit.

"Lighthammer, duck!" January shouted.

The vigilante instantly dropped, and Subramanian fired. One of the other two bodyguards had been standing directly opposite him, and staggered when the armor-piercer hit his own force field of elemental darkness. But the field held, as it had against January's own blows against his partners.

Still crouched down low, Lighthammer spun and flung out one palm to Subramanian. Solid light blossomed forth, and took him full in the chest. His shotgun went spinning away through the air, shattered into numerous pieces. Subramanian likewise went flying, to land on his back several feet away.

At the same time Lighthammer raised his other forearm to block a punch from one of the mercenaries. However, the final bodyguard took advantage of Lighthammer's divided focus. He side-stepped around to get directly behind the vigilante. Then he raised his shotgun and aimed at Lighthammer's head.

But January was upon him with a single leap. She grabbed hold of the twin barrels of the sawed-off shotgun and flung them skyward. Both boomed an instant later, and gouged holes in the ceiling. The mercenary tried to wrestle the gun away from her, and January could feel real strength in the man's exoskeleton-enhanced limbs. Lightning cracked loudly, and January felt the steel of the barrels warp and twist under her fingers.

He let go of the ruined weapon, and sent an uppercut into January's stomach. She winced under the blow, and flung the useless shotgun aside. The mercenary came back with a cross, pivoting with his torso and hips to put all of his mass behind the blow. January swept it aside with her left forearm, and countered with an immediate jab to the head with her right. It had no effect, and her new opponent sent a front kick directly at her face. She barely slipped aside in time to avoid having her teeth knocked out.

As before, January could see that that striking directly at the dark force field would be useless. She had to get behind it, and disable its projector. Remembering her previous knock out, she reached out and grabbed the edges of the mercenary's force field. He stamped down hard on her instep, then kneed her in the groin. Against most people, that would have been check and mate. January just shrugged both off. Tilting backward, she pulled the bodyguard into the air above her. Squatting down for a moment, she leapt straight up with all of her might.

Out there in the main hallway the ceiling was twice as high overhead as it was in the bookstore. Still, they crashed into it as if they had been shot from a cannon. The mercenary's unprotected back hit first, and bounced off metal and drywall. She felt his body crumple behind his force field.

Then they were falling. January held on, knowing that if she let go and he fell without coordination, he might easily break his neck or crack his skull on landing. Half way down she felt hands grab under her armpits. She looked up to see Lighthammer's armored chest and head. He tried to hold her aloft. But her weight - and that of the mercenary - were plainly too much. They continued their fall, but now much slower. They struck the floor with only a light thump.

That left only one bodyguard. He leveled his shotgun at the trio and cut loose with both barrels. January barely saw it coming, and had no time to dodge. Thankfully Lighthammer was quicker, and raised a forearm. His force field caught the shot at an angle, and deflected the armor-piercing rounds into the ceiling.

January scrambled to her feet and faced the mercenary. At the same time Lighthammer fired at his face, which the bodyguard did not even bother to dodge. He just took the blast of light on his dark energy shield. But that kept the mercenary distracted long enough for the vigilante to duck and roll forward. Lighthammer came up behind the bodyguard's force field. Solid light flashed, and the mercenary fell an instant later.

January hoped Lighthammer would not shoot her in the back, and knelt down beside the unconscious bodyguard that she had driven into the ceiling. Twisting his body aside, she got behind his force field and grabbed for the emitter strapped to his chest. After several fumbling attempts, she found a pair of switches that she had to press simultaneously, and the black energy vanished.

She rose to her feet in time to see Lighthammer doing the same with the opponent he had just dispatched. A quick leap took January back to the bookstore, where she likewise disabled the energy projector of the first mercenary, whom she had knocked unconscious with the carotid slap.

She looked up to see Lighthammer standing over Subramanian. The Indian was still laying on the ground moaning. His suit jacket had been thrown open, and his pockets turned inside out.

The armored vigilante turned to face January. She saw that he held Subramanian's diamond bag in one hand. As she walked over to him, he raised a diamond in his fingers and held it up to the light to inspect it. He stuffed it back inside the bag as January came nearer, and pulled its neck tightly closed.

"So are we gonna fight now?" he asked, "or should I just say thank you?"

"I am not your enemy," January explained. "I didn't know what he was before. Now I do."

People started to emerge from hiding now. January hoped no more of them had been hurt while she was occupied by the battle. She noticed that one was the state trooper. Her injured arm was wrapped in an ersatz bandage of her torn shirt and someone else's windbreaker. Her badge was now slung from a cord around her neck. She held her gun with her good hand, pointed to the floor at a low angle.

"I'll take that as an apology then," Lighthammer smiled.

Thunder howled loudly outside, followed by a brilliant crack of lightning.

"I'm not sorry for anything," January contended. "I saw you attack a man, and I defended him. If you had gone about this differently, he'd have been in jail already."

"His kind doesn't go to prison," Lighthammer glanced back at Subramanian and spat. "He's got the law bought and paid for."

"We'll see about that," January said. "I've got his financial records all over the web already. I'll bet he's got the original still on him. All the evidence left is in your hand."

She nodded to the bag of diamonds, and extended her open hand toward him.

"What, so the cops can pocket half of them," he scoffed, "and he can use the rest to buy his way out of prison?"

"Look around Lightguy," January waved hand for effect. "We are on a dozen security cameras, and who knows how many phones. We are probably being streamed live all over the country right now. This is ratings. Every cop who touches these diamonds is going to have a microscope up their unmentionables. No one is going to skim any."

"You really expect me to just give these up, after all I've done for them?" Lighthammer stared at her. The only part of his face that was visible was his lower jaw, and that was set in a tight, hard line. But January held firm. She was not about to be intimidated by a helmet.

"Yes I do," January said. "I did my research on you. You're a gray hat. You only take from thieves, drug-dealers, and other criminals. You've never hurt an innocent. I've seen you hold back to avoid that. If you take those diamonds, you are no better than Subramanian. You'll just be one more link in the chain of horror and murder that they created."

"I don't think you really even need them," she continued. "You aren't going to sell them are you? You want them for your armor right? But that armor doesn't look powered. It's just protection, like mine isn't it? Your power comes from you. What do the diamonds do, help you focus it? intensify it?"

"You don't need that. It's really a crutch. In the end it'll hold you back, because you won't be making the most of your own gifts. True power only comes from within. If you want more, practice, work harder, create it within yourself."

"That's high and mighty talk for someone who wears a wingsuit." he shot back.

"I wear the wingsuit because I cannot fly," January admitted. "But who knows, with hard work and practice, maybe someday I will. I learned a long time ago that our will creates our reality. I'll practice with you any day."

"I did my research on you too, Weather Witch of Warren," Lighthammer said. Lightning flashed again, as if to underscore the title. "Okay Qui-Gon, we'll play it your way this time."

He handed her the bag of diamonds. She felt its weight in her hand. Felt the stones grind against one another. For a fleeting moment she thought of all the things she could buy with them. Sex reassignment surgery, a degree from a real university instead of just community college, a house, a car, everything she had always wanted, and more. It could all be hers.

All she had to do was betray everything she believed in.

She looked up from the diamonds, and saw Lighthammer staring intently back at her. She knew that he was measuring her, seeing what she would do now that she actually had the diamonds in her hand. This was a test, of who she really was deep down.

She walked to the state trooper, and felt a distinct wave of relief wash over her as she put the diamonds in the other woman's hand.

"These are conflict diamonds," January said firmly, "smuggled out of the Central African Republic."

"I guess you really are a white hat," Lighthammer said behind her. "See you around Crowgirl."

He waved one hand at her in a half salute. His boots flared bright with light, and he shot off into the air. He rocketed down the corridor back the way January had come from, and vanished from sight.

"See you around Lightguy," January said after him.

"You're awful chummy with the vigilante chica," the state trooper said. January noticed that she spoke with teeth clenched. But otherwise she showed no signs of distress. January found herself admiring her. She had what Adin - her Krav Maga instructor - called grit.

With one hand January surreptitiously reached into one of the pockets of her utility belt. She found the phone-cloner that Gadget had made, and turned it on. This might be a cop worth knowing.

"He's not one of the bad guys," January insisted. "At least not today."

"Besides, I guess I'm a vigilante too," she continued. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"Not today." The older woman smiled and holstered her gun.

January could not restrain a chuckle. Then she saw Subramanian rising to his feet. She stepped over to him and clamped a vise around his arm.

"I am innocent!" he protested as she pulled him to the state trooper. "I am the victim in all this!"

"Yeah, tell that to the people you shot," January glanced down at her cape, which had blocked the bullets he would have put into her and the two rednecks.

"Search him, and I bet you'll find his ledger." January said to the state trooper. "If you can't crack the encryption, check social media. You should have all you need to burn him for what he's done."

The trooper took him with her good hand. January saw more cops coming from down the far hallway now, and decided that she had overstayed her welcome. She stepped away, so the trooper and Subramanian would be clear of her wings. The raucous cries of crows filled her ears, and January saw the birds take flight all around her. It was like they appeared out of thin air, almost like magic. She leaped into the air and popped out her wings. Following the crows, she soared out just as the thunderstorm stopped, and the sun peeked from the rapidly vanishing clouds.


https://youtu.be/3wYCh5nxyCI?t=279

https://youtu.be/smpe0m4RD0M

Posted by: Acadian Jul 6 2019, 06:38 PM

Another intense fight! It was very neat how Stormcrow grabbed that guy’s shield and drove them both hard up into the ceiling so her foe’s unprotected back took the blow. The unspoken cooperation between White and Gray hats during the fight was very effective in showing us a lot about both of them.

I loved the conversation after the fight between Lightguy and Crowgirl. Stormcrow certainly found the right words.

Her momentary hesitation once she had the diamond fortune in her hand reinforced that she is human, but we never doubted her choice to pass the bag to the state trooper. Despite the interwebz precautions mentioned by Stormcrow to preclude any dishonest shenanigans by the police, her decision to turn over the diamonds displayed some necessary growth. Stormcrow is realizing she has to work with, support and trust the police if she’s going to continue as a White Hat superheroine. That is a notable step given her history of unhelpful encounters with authorities.

Posted by: treydog Jul 8 2019, 04:36 PM

A most enthralling fight! Then there is the deeper struggle- the contest between Lighthammer's "do what is right for me" versus January's belief that there is a larger "right and wrong." And yet, LH is admirable even in his cynicism- he acts because others refuse to do so- or are purely acting from self-interest.

Most excellent, Sensei SubRosa.

Posted by: Grits Jul 12 2019, 12:28 PM

Catching up with January and Avery has been quite exciting! Thank you for sharing the google map. I’ve enjoyed checking out the locations. Everything I know about Detroit I’ve learned reading Stormcrow! tongue.gif

Ah, there’s the other side of the Lighthammer fight. I liked seeing January’s concern over collateral damage and reminders to herself to stay under emotional control.

Ha, I know someone who wears a Cthulhu 2020 shirt and cargo pants! You picked an excellent nerd uniform. biggrin.gif I love how January’s education and interests come through in her thoughts, like “dry as Tatooine” and bat’leth.

I love how the bathroom scene turned into a selfie-with-meta. The bathroom has been such a battleground for January.

If she gets her plain white furniture from IKEA, January’s bedroom looks a lot like my (same age) daughter’s. The scene with her family did exactly what it was supposed to do for providing background information, perfectly smooth. Also it made real that January is indeed her age and subject to family life. A lot of fictional teenagers moan about their parents but never seem to have any restrictions in the story. Having to smuggle her meta-suit into her room while the internet blew up with videos of her was awesome!

I love the flying parts. January’s skills seem to be reasonable for her abilities, and she’s noticeably growing into them. The same for her Wicca stuff. We see her meditating and thinking about what she should do, so when something like the quick-change or the murder of crows happens it makes sense.

Links: I prefer them at the top or bottom. If they’re in the text I go ahead and click them all first anyway so that I don’t interrupt the flow when I’m reading. I love the links! The only one that hasn’t worked for me is the Cthulhu for President shirt, and I sat across from one on Wednesday so I can guess what that looks like. biggrin.gif

My favorite part of the airport sequence is the exchange between Crowgirl and Lightguy at the end. What an exit with the crows as the sun emerges! Whoop!!

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 13 2019, 05:08 PM

Acadian: This two part fight forced me to think creatively when it came to how the bad guys were going to be defeated. January was not going to be able to win on sheer force of hands and feet and elbows. She was going to have to find ways to work around their invulnerable defenses (from the front). I was very satisfied with how it turned out, because again, it meant she won because she outsmarted them, not outfought them.

I was inspired by https://youtu.be/p2pDaE6ye7A?t=237 when it came to scripting out Crowgirl and Lightguy's teamwork at the end of the fight. I wanted that back and forth guarding one another's backs.

We live in a capitalist society, so in the end everything revolves around money. Naturally the lure of all those diamonds was going to be strong on anyone who picked them up. It was what turned Subramanian into a Black Hat after all. So January had to be tempted, because so many of her struggles in life come down to money, and not having it.

Keep your eyes peeled, because in this epilogue to the chapter January will begin working toward cultivating a relationship with the police. She can see the difference between how the police and 'authorities' treat White Hats vs Gray Hats. She realizes how much having a good relationship with them can help her, and how having a bad one can hinder her. So creating an alliance with the police is definitely high on her list of things to do.


treydog: You just hit upon what I think is the most murky and yet most realistic facet of superheroing. What are the ethics of profiting from being a super? The easy way around it is to make your protagonist filthy rich like Batman or Iron Man. But the people like Spiderman who have to actually earn a living tend to be the ones people most identify with. Because they have pay the rent just like us.

That gets us down to money in the world of capes. Is it wrong for a super to take the loot from criminals and use it to finance their operations, to buy dinner with? If they do, aren't they ultimately profiting from their evildoing? Selling drugs, kidnapping, murders, etc... But on the flip side, is it really right to expect superheros to need a day job just so they can get through life? Shouldn't they be spending all their time out fighting crime, or training to be better supers? We don't expect firefighters or police or emts to do their jobs for free. So why should we expect supers to?

There is no real easy answer to this. April Daniel's duology https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30279514-dreadnought and https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32565582-sovereign (I had to plug them, they were not only outstanding, but a major inspiration for me to write this) introduces the idea that supers who have official recognition also receive a stipend. This comes from the level of civil government that sanctions them - citys, states, and federal. So Des Moines might have their own official cape on the city payroll, whose job it is to protect just the city. But they have no authority in say St. Louis. While the Sentinels in Chicago are authorized all across the Midwestern states, but not on the federal level.

I really like this idea, as it makes sense in a world that supers have been a part of for some time. I am also keeping the need for secret identities, partly because it is just the shtick of being a superhero. But also because of reality. When the Columbian government went after Pablo Escobar, he murdered the families of every detective who investigated him. So pretty soon no one wanted to pursue him. When it comes to people who can bend steel bars and shoot fireballs, attacking them in their weakest area - their loved ones - is just pure pragmatism.

I have hinted at this with a former super named Hailstorm whom I have name-dropped a few times. His identity was publicized by a newspaper. All of his loved ones were promptly murdered. He spent his final days in an insane asylum, never even finding out who did it. The reporter who wrote the story committed suicide. That created an unspoken pact between the press and supers, in that they would not publicize personal info on capes, even when they discovered it by accident. State and Federal laws were also enacted afterward protecting the identities of supers who had official recognition.

I will be getting more into this as January's ultimate goal is to gain official sanction herself. Because of that she knows that she needs to be a White Hat, and keep her public perception positive.


Grits: Grits is back!

I picked Detroit because I know this place better than anywhere else. I know all the neighborhoods, in a way that just looking at a map won't tell you. (That is an issue I am now grappling with in using Colonial Boston as a setting sad.gif ). I realize that no one else reading this will have that knowledge. But hopefully some of it will shine through in my writing. I definitely want to make use of the city as a character, which is why I am putting in specific street names and city names. I will also be using local festivals and events to add more to that city personality. I have a whole list of things I can work in (if I can manage it).

Jan is definitely a White Hat, though sometimes her anger and frustrations tempt her not to be. She knows deep down that she has no right to do this super thing, if she is only doing it for her own ego.

I have a https://i.imgur.com/3SWkPPy.jpg So January's nerd outfit was very easy to put together.

I think January got her plain white furniture from Meijier, which is the same as the IKEA stuff, only cheaper. I spent a lot of time working on what her living space would look like. I even googled teenage girl bedrooms to get ideas. All of which I ignored because of the pink overload. In the end I based it off her https://i.imgur.com/q0HOo4T.jpg - pale white overall, but with a few splashes of red color.

Her living arrangements and family life will play a central role in future chapters. Down to her biggest arch enemy being one of her ancestors, and her super mentor and teacher being another ancestor. I was strongly motivated by the new Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan), who is so superbly done. Her family is a huge part of her life and stories. I want to tap into that grounding element as well, both for good and ill.

January will continue to grow into her abilities as the story goes on. I have a whole set of things mapped out that she will be developing, including wings. Meeting her mentor will be a big part of that of course, as it will really open up her mind to the possibilities of what she can do.

I never thought of putting links at that top! That sounds perfect, I will start doing that. Sadly, I don't think I have any for this episode.



I do have a link! https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=TERF



Book 1.13 - Stormcrow Rising

"Hello world, Gilda Gadfly coming to you with all the latest super news. We are back in Detroit for a second day in a row, thanks the exploits of our hottest new heroine - Stormcrow. The Motor City Crow took down alleged conflict diamond smuggler Bhavin Subramanian at the airport in Flint, Michigan. She teamed up with Michigan State Police trooper Emilia Mercado, who made the actual arrest. Officer Mercado was injured by a gunshot fired by one of Subramanian's bodyguards during the altercation. But don't worry, she is reported to be stable condition in the McLaren Flint hospital."

"Of course our friends on social media all saw it happen live, as dozens of bystanders streamed the event as it unfolded. Here we can see Stormcrow as she shields two men from gunfire. Watch it here in slow-mo, and you can clearly see the bullets hitting her in the back at least twice. Yet after that she still jumped into the fray that had erupted between the notorious vigilante Lighthammer and Subramanian's bodyguards."

"And jumped is the word all right, in this video shared with us by one of our viewers, Stormcrow defeats one of the bodyguard's energy shield by literally leaping into the ceiling with him, driving his unprotected back into the quite immovable object. I hope the Sentinels are watching in Chicago, because it looks like they now have some competition for the title of the Midwest's premier superheroes. Blood Raven too, better take note. She's going to be sharing the Detroit skies with this new sensation."

"Subramanian's bodyguards were briefly held as well, but were later released. Both claim to have no knowledge of their patron's smuggling operation. Whitewater Security - which employs the men, made a public statement to the same effect. Really, like, they were going to say anything else?"


January's smile turned to a frown as she listened to the coda to the story coming over Worldwide Network News. She was not surprised that the mercenaries would find a way to weasel out of their guilt. Whitewater Security was worth billions. They could afford the best attorneys money could buy. January was sure they had grown quite richer from Subramanian's conflict diamonds. Now they were going to get away with it.

The bespectacled reporter went on to relate a similar repudiation of Subramanian from the diamond syndicate that had employed him up until a few hours ago. January wondered if they truly had no knowledge of the smuggling as well. Or had they been in on it too? How many documents were being shredded right now? How many tracks were being erased?

Still, it at least looked like Subramanian himself would go down for the crime. That was something. That would fix what she had messed up. She hoped.

There was still one more loose end. One not so easily repaired. January held her breath and walked into the hospital room where Emilia Mercado lay.

The arm that she had been shot in was now bound up in a cast. Already it was covered with writing in numerous colors and handwriting styles. Her wavy black hair spilled down across her shoulders, and her previously olive-toned skin now looked pale. January hoped that was just from the lights.

She looked tired. But her eyes were open, and watched the news on the television hanging from the ceiling. They moved to January as she entered the room, and widened slightly.

"Visiting hours are over chica," she said coolly. Again, January admired her grit.

"I know," January responded, "I was waiting for your family and friends to leave."

"I suppose I should thank you," Emilia said. "You pulled me out of the line of fire. You pulled that slug out of my arm too. You saved people's lives today."

"You don't have to thank me." January bit her lip as she walked nearer. "To be honest, I was just trying to fix the mistakes I made last night. I'm sorry you had to get hurt in the process."

January stared at the arm in the cast.

"I came to see how you are doing. I'm sorry I couldn't stop that shotgun from hitting you."

"How could you have?" Emilia scrunched her brows in confusion. "It was a ricochet. The gun wasn't even pointed at me to begin with."

"I know, but I need to do better than that," January said.

"Don't we all," the state trooper sighed.

"I was afraid…" January faltered, staring at the cast on her arm. "I was afraid you might… lose your arm."

"I almost did," she replied. "If it had been full force I would have. But they say the slug lost most of its velocity on Lighthammer's force field. So it only broke my arm. I was lucky, getting shot can be a lot worse."

"Does it hurt?" January wondered.

"Not with the drugs they are giving me," the state trooper laughed.

"Have you been shot before?" January asked. She already knew the answer of course. Gadget had gone through her background with a fine-toothed search bot. But she was trying to build a relationship. That did not start by telling someone you were snooping into their history. Granted, it probably did not start by doing the snooping in the first place either…

"No, never," Emilia answered. "It's funny, I never got a scratch in Iraq. But I go to the airport, the safest place you think you could be, and I get shot. By another vet of all people."

"The world's a mysterious place," January said. "Well, at least they will give you a few days off work."

"I was already on vacation!" Emilia exclaimed. "I was picking up my folks. They flew out from New York to see me. And this happens. What about you though? I saw you get shot on the TV."

"Just a few bumps and bruises," January said dismissively. "I've gotten worse in Krav Maga class."

"That's some class."

"My instructor is a bear," January smiled.

"So are you going to keep doing this?" Emilia became serious once more. "This super thing?"

"I honestly don't know," January said. "I made mistakes, I know that. I almost killed myself just flying into the terminal. But I think I did something good. Something good for people. If I can learn, if I can keep doing better, shouldn't I? Don't I have an obligation to?"

"You really are young aren't you?" Emilia narrowed her eyes as she studied January more closely. "I didn't realize it earlier. Are you still in your teens?"

"Are you going to get all ageist on me now?" January prickled. If there was anything that got on her nerves, besides the whole transphobia thing, it was being automatically discounted and ignored because she was only a teen.

"I'm not reading you," the olive-skinned woman explained. "That is the hip thing to say these days right? Or is it throwing shade? I was only twenty when I joined the Army. But there was a lot I didn't know then. About the world, and about myself. Sometimes it takes time just living to learn who you really are, and what you need to do with your life."

"I've lived a lot since I came out and transitioned." January took a chance, and threw that out there. She had to find out sooner or later, and better sooner in this case. "Being trans made me take a long, hard look at who I was. It made me stop lying to myself just to fit in and be how I was 'supposed' to be."

"You're transgender?" the state trooper looked honestly surprised. "I never imagined. I mean your voice is a little lower, but other than that…"

The state trooper's voice trailed off. Her eyes went up and down over January's armored frame, as if she was seeing her for the first time.

January resisted the urge to bite her lip again. She braced herself for the TERF tirade that she was sure would come. Because after all, why wouldn't it? That was just how the world worked.

"Well good on you chica," Emilia finally said. "I'll bet coming out was harder than taking those bullets. It was for me, when I told my family I was a lesbian."

January was not surprised by the revelation. Emilia's discharge papers said "homosexual activity" right at the top. But she knew from personal experience that hearing someone say it directly to you meant something.

"How did that go?" January stared at the crucifix that laid upon the tray table beside her bed. That was never a good sign. Gadget's digging had found that she was a Puerto Rican born in the Bronx. That sounded incredibly Catholic to her. Did that also mean incredibly phobic as well?

"Coming out was not nearly as a bad as I thought it would be," Emilia smiled again. "Sometimes we don't give the people we love enough credit. Of course with as many brothers and sisters and cousins as I have, we have everything in my family. There's an atheist, a vegetarian, a vegan, a communist, and a witch. One of my younger sisters, well siblings, is now non-binary in fact. Another one's even a Republican, if you can imagine that. Thanksgiving dinner is always exciting."

January feigned shock, and could not help but to laugh. Maybe she was creating a relationship after all?

Posted by: Renee Jul 13 2019, 06:34 PM

Lighthammer has force fields! That's cheating!

QUOTE
Please be bullet-proof, she found herself thinking, please be bullet-proof.


Hee hee awesome.

Oh yikes. She had to do some spontaneous surgery. Yikes.

QUOTE
January realized this would be the perfect time for a witty one-liner. Something like catching up on a good book, or not judging one by its cover. Or course nothing came to mind that did not sound trite.


Hmm... ."I'll be back?" Naah.

............ "Make my day, punk?" Lol no way.


........... "Cats come when they feel like it, not when they're told." Hee hee that's close I guess.



I love the conversation between Lighthammer and January. "I did research on you...." "I did research on you too!" spoken through gritted teeth in my imagination.

Hey I didn't see that coming, that resolution between superheroes. Twists and turns, m'lady, twists and turns.

Okay, what about this: "Am I a bird? Am I a plane? Oh hell no, I'm the Stormcrow!" Hmm... wink.gif

Posted by: Acadian Jul 13 2019, 07:46 PM

It just struck when you referred to January as Jan in your comments what a perfect nickname for her. I see now another advantage of her name change. After all, Auggie would be a terrible nickname for Metro Detroit's new sensation. wink.gif

I love the plays on naming WNN and Whitewater Security. Oh, and ‘fine toothed bot’ was pretty clever as well.

Though her experiences have on balance not been positive with others about being trans, I chuckled over the irony of January silently prejudging cops and Catholics by assessing the odds of a Catholic cop prejudging her. That said, she has been kicked around and prejudged plenty of times so her angst and self-preservation instincts are very understandable. Life is so complicated, isn’t it? tongue.gif

January is indeed reaching out and it is brave of her to do so. I do hope the two women can become friends. Our superheroine is rapidly growing in many ways and it is a joy to follow her journey.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 13 2019, 11:56 PM

As an editorial note, given that I have decided to move away from the Case of Charles Dexter Ward background for January's family history, I have changed the name of the author of the Wicca book January was reading in the first episode.

Posted by: treydog Jul 15 2019, 12:19 AM

A nice bit of calm after the Stormcrow (sorry). But seeing Jan building bridges and making amends is an excellent insight into who she wants to be. Speaking of- had to quote this-

QUOTE
But she was trying to build a relationship. That did not start by telling someone you were snooping into their history. Granted, it probably did not start by doing the snooping in the first place either…


That gave me a smile.

Side note- still looking at early Boston. Did find a history of Beacon Hill that pointed out it actually did have a "beacon fire" on one of the original three peaks (which were later flattened to build upscale houses).

http://www.beacon-hill-boston.com/History

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 15 2019, 02:50 AM

QUOTE(treydog @ Jul 14 2019, 07:19 PM) *

Side note- still looking at early Boston. Did find a history of Beacon Hill that pointed out it actually did have a "beacon fire" on one of the original three peaks (which were later flattened to build upscale houses).

http://www.beacon-hill-boston.com/History

Thanks for the link. I did dig up that there was a beacon up there on the eponymous hill. But not that there were three hills. Nor that they were cut down later! I had noted that it was right beside the common. I have been wondering how long the Common was used for horse and cattle grazing. The Revolutionary War era maps I see still show a big empty spot where the Common is. So I guess it was still grazing land then?

I also noted in an old map from 1732 or so that a lot of the area north and west of Beacon hill was used for rope-making, with lots of these long streets that were specifically for stretching out long ropes along. So they were not for people living there. But when I look at maps from the 1770s there are new streets there, which makes me think the rope layers no longer used those spots. Or maybe they did?

I think if I really want more info I am going to have to just buckle down and make a trip to the library and go hunt through the stacks. The internet has so spoiled me that I just don't think of doing that anymore.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 17 2019, 02:03 AM

I bought https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XRN8HMR/ today. Thankfully it has much of what I was looking for in its first few pages. I still have to actually read it. Hopefully there will be more good info.

Posted by: Grits Jul 17 2019, 03:28 AM

Excellent shirt! I’m a fan, even if Freya does not look impressed. biggrin.gif

“fine-toothed search bot” laugh.gif

Detroit does come alive in Jan’s story, it’s definitely more than a backdrop. I wonder if there is a historically accurate TV show or movie set during colonial times that could give you some inspiration for Boston. Maybe something about John Adams. You could build a framework of facts from research and then flavor it with what you know about the times. Oh! I bet there is criticism online that points out the flaws in TV shows and movies, which could be a backwards source of accurate information. Just an idea.

I loved the careful getting-to-know-you between Emilia and Jan. It felt very natural. The hospital setting and Emilia’s injuries underscored that January really is different and the risk of hurting people during super-antics is high. To me that makes the big fights more real. I’m not very familiar with superhero stories, so it’s good for me to see how things work in the story world.

Posted by: Renee Jul 17 2019, 03:40 PM

QUOTE(Grits @ Jul 16 2019, 10:28 PM) *

“fine-toothed search bot” laugh.gif


Ha ha I liked that one too.

QUOTE
"No, never," Emilia answered. "It's funny, I never got a scratch in Iraq. But I go to the airport, the safest place you think you could be, and I get shot. By another vet of all people."


Yes, very true. So many soldiers barely get a scratch during active duty, then they come back here and have to deal with some real battles, right on their home streets.

Is there a lot of homophobia in Michigan? I suppose in central Maryland we're at a minimum these days. I simply never hear of anything negative in this regard. I had a friend who came out a couple years ago, and although most of his family was shocked, a lot of his friends who were not in-the-know simply shrugged it off. "Yeah, I could tell," one girlfriend of mine said. "Can you pass the sugar?" .. like the matter was immediately dropped as a curiosity, not much more.

And thanks for explaining about Michigan accents. smile.gif Yes, we say soda down here too, but my old boss was from Michigan and he'd say "pop."

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 20 2019, 05:06 PM

Renee: Lighthammer's not a cheater! laugh.gif He's an energy projector. An energy sheath/shield for defense is pretty standard fare for those types. Since he uses Solid Light in particular, a force field was perfect for him. Right now his force fields are small, as he is new to this. But they will improve over time. (This is what happens when you play Marvel Superheroes and Champions, you look at all supers in terms of how their powers fit together).

I liked writing the talk between Lightguy and Stormgirl very much too. There is some definite conflict there, which January is not shy about backing down from. But the fact they are both willing to talk also shows us something about their characters. If you recall, Lighthammer didn't fire on January first during their initial confrontation. He told her to get lost, and then she took them both out the window. Even then, he tried to grab her in mid air to keep her from falling to her death. Really, January was the aggressor (with good reason to be of course). This willingness to cooperate with others leaves a door open between him and January, which I intend to use in the future.

I think I get more bigotry on the internet than I get here in flesh and blood Michigan. That is not to say that it is not rife in Michigan. Until the Supreme Court overturned it, Michigan had an amendment to the state constitution not only banning same-sex marriage, but also any form of civil union or shared benefits between same-sex partners. That was of course voted for and passed by the people of Michigan by an overwhelming majority. It is also the reason I don't do tabletop RPGs anymore. There is always one person in every group who forces everyone to choose between them and me.

Really though, it is more of a generational thing. Younger people don't bat an eye. Then the older you go, the more likelihood there is for hostility. My mother cried when I came out (and not cried in a good way). My brother didn't care less ("Yeah, I know") is all he said. My father said he though I was brave. It's a whole gamut.

Of course it is called Pop! Soda is what you bake with silly! laugh.gif


Acadian: When I was looking over the name she would pick for herself, the fact that January shortens to Jan was definitely something I considered (along with January being the first month of the year, being similar to the Two-Headed god Janus, and the same name as January Jones). Jan works as a good nickname. I don't use it except in dialogue, as I want to keep a certain level of formality to my writing. And I think she thinks of herself more as January than as Jan. But she knows people are going to call her Jan, and it's a nickname she does not mind.

Worldwide Network News was inspired by the http://www.hplhs.org/. In their Dark Adventure radio theater shows, they have a fictional radio news station called Worldwide Wireless News. I just took it forward in time from the 20s and updated the name. But I still imagine it is the same company.

Sadly, January's reaction to the crucifix was taken straight from my life. I have had to learn to always be on my guard whenever I see one, because I don't know how the wearer is going to treat me. Sometimes it is the same as anyone else, other times, not. I always have to be ready for the latter. That is just the unfortunate reality that people like January and I live in.


treydog: Now that she has committed to this super life, January has a clear idea of who she needs to be. She has not worked out all the kinks yet, or put the Buffy Doctrine down on paper. But she has a clear goal in her head of the person she wants to be. Reaching out to Emilia is part of that. She knows she needs the police on her side if she is going to be successful as a cape. That means forging relationships. Emilia was the obvious first.


Grits: Freya is way to busy being impressed by "Outside!" to pay attention to a nerd like her mother. laugh.gif

I will be working in more Detroit personality in today's episode in fact. Later in this chapter we will have a couple cases where we can fly along with January and see more of the city as well.

I did try watching John Adams again, since I get it free on Prime. I tried once before, but could not get into it. Sadly, I could not keep interested for too long this time either. It's the inaccuracies! Unfortunately for me, all the nits I see about the show are about actual events (like who was where at what time), or about things like officers having the wrong buttons on their uniforms, or enlisted men holding their rifles the wrong way on their shoulder. No one really had anything to say about the portrayal of life in general. But the good thing is I am almost finished reading the book I bought a few days ago, and it has been very helpful.

If you want to get more familiar with superheros I highly recommend the new run of Ms. Marvel with Kamala Khan as the protagonist. It is a great entry point, as it has a very well written main character. It is not just about her punching things, but navigating her life. Likewise with the (now) older Batgirl of Burnside era comics (Batgirl New 52 #35 and up) and her Rebirth era issues. The artwork is not that great. I guess they don't spend money making the girl comics. But the writing is excellent.

Of course I also recommend the two books by April Daniels that I keep flogging. They are what made me think I could actually write a superhero story in prose (as opposed to how we normally see them in comic or movie form).



This Episode's Links:

http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/oshun.php

http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/erzulie.php

https://www.madeindetroit.com/collections/womens/products/womens-long-sleeve-tri-blend-performance-baseball-tee-black-shadow-grey


https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://i.imgur.com/bbG1VV4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/tXtEpIz.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/cEjrwA5.jpg


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Packard_Automotive_Plant

https://i.imgur.com/9r610HK.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/rvYfHvO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lUVU9Ob.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/N98BBYg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/yKMigmf.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/n06fIw3.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/7rCCWrB.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/U8vO7ep.jpg


https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/detroit-packard-plant-abandoned-factory-al-hill-palazuelo-1.3460551


https://www.thaitechnics.com/fly/principle.html

https://tht.fangraphs.com/old-english-d-a-look-back-at-tigers-uniforms/






Book 2.1 - Stormcrow Recycled

Mid May 2019


"Hey girl, that's a really cute jacket you got on."

January looked up from the book she was reading on her phone. Standing in the aisle of the bus was an African Goddess. Perhaps she was Oshun? However, Erzulie was a strong possibility as well. She was tall and slender, with a curly mane that spilled from her shoulders like an indigo waterfall. She was dressed in a tight leather jacket, and even tighter skinny jeans that glittered with rhinestones. Her silky skin was mellow brown, and her eyes gleamed in the morning sun.

"Umm, thanks," January glanced down at the soft pink fitted jacket that she wore over a "Made In Detroit" tee.

"That's like, a Lululemon right?" Oshun asked.

"I wish," January smiled wryly. "I can't afford one of those. It's a Clululemon, same as my leggings. Not even half the price."

"Now that's what I was thinking," the Goddess said as she sat down beside January, who was obliged to scoot over to make more room for the other girl. "I was thinking 'there is a girl who doesn't waste good money'."

"Um, I guess," January murmured. She did not understand why the Goddess was even talking to her. She must have been incredibly bored. Or maybe it felt like a safer bet than sitting anywhere near the four gang-banger wannabes in the back, or the old lady knitting socks the next seat over, or the woman with two sneezing kids in front.

"Oh you got some nice legs on you too, don't you girl?" To emphasize her words, the African Goddess put one hand on January's leg, and gently slid it along the soft fabric of her black leggings. January had to admit, it felt good. Better than good. Her touch was practically electric. "I bet you work out, don't you?"

"Yeah," January fumbled for words. "I do gymnastics."

January stared down at her boots. What on earth was this African Goddess doing talking to her? Was this some kind of butter-up before she tried selling her something? Was all this some kind of punked video? Was the other woman trying to pick her pocket? If so, she was going to be very disappointed. There had to be some reason for the attention, but January could not imagine what it could be.

The Goddess continued talking, and fawning over her. It made January more and more nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was relieved when the bus finally reached the Poletown stop. She lifted her backpack, and squeezed past the Goddess to get into the aisle and off the bus. Afterward, she immediately felt for her phone and her wallet. But nothing was missing from her purse, pack, or her pockets.

January could still remember how warm her hand had been, when it had gently slid across her leg. She could still feel it there, softly caressing her. That was not something she would soon forget…

January fought the urge to blush. She pulled her pack across her shoulders, and walked down the street. To her right a row of trees partially screened the looming colossus of the Hamtramck Assembly plant. Across Mount Elliott Street to her left were smaller steel plants, and a towering white building with no signs at all, or even windows.

January imagined that if she could get up on that roof, she could get a lot of air under her wings. She would have to change first. But that would be easy enough, given that her armor was in the pack across her shoulders. But a public street was not the place for changing clothes, not even as fast she could do it.

She made her way down the sidewalk, with only a few cars occasionally whipping past. One honked its horn at her, but she had no idea why. It was not like she was walking in the street or anything. She crossed a dilapidated bridge over I-94, and found herself standing in front of a gas station. The tall smokestack of the city incinerator rose up in the distance to her right. But she turned left instead, putting her back to it. She followed the service drive along the side of the freeway, past a big warehouse with semi-trucks parked outside.

She came upon a dilapidated railroad track, and turned right to follow it south. To her left was a parking lot fenced off with razor wire, with some sort of industrial building beyond. The sharp edges of the wire glinted in the sunlight, and the links of the fence were still shiny. That, and the handful of trucks and cars in the lot, told her that this was a place still in business. Though she could not guess what that business might be.

She ignored it, and headed down the railroad line. A thin bank of trees began on the far side of the tracks. She crossed over and ventured into the greenery. It was a nice, quiet spot, screened from any prying eyes that might be following her.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her Fire meditation.

Fire give me passion and energy. Transform me in the night sky.

An instant later she was clad from head to toe in her Stormcrow armor, and her regular clothes were tucked safely away in her backpack. She leapt up onto the bough of a stout oak, and looped one of the pack's shoulder straps through its branches. That would keep anyone from finding it, let alone stealing it.

She knew that she could have just taken the pack with her. But she did not want anyone seeing her wearing it with the armor. They might take pictures, then they might see her in her ordinary life wearing the same backpack, and put two and two together. It was paranoia, to be sure. But that did not mean there were not people truly out to get her. Everyone knew what had happened to Hailstorm after all. She was not going to end up like him.

She dropped to the earth below, and stepped out of the greenery and into a street that paralleled the trees and train tracks. Beyond rose the sprawling ruins of the old Packard Automotive Plant. One massive building after another rose like a line of rotted teeth in a blighted jaw. They reminded January of a row of megalithic dominos. Push on one, and all them would probably collapse one after the other.

Not one building retained a single door or window. Broken cinderblocks, cracked bricks, and other detritus were piled up everywhere. Yet nowhere was there anything of value. No iron or steel. No wiring. Certainly no copper pipes. The only remaining life was in the graffiti that splashed the decrepit walls, and the trees and brush that rose from some of the rooftops.

It made January think of pictures she had seen of cities bombed to ruins in World War II. Except no bombs had ever fallen here. No wars had marred this spot. It had been neglect, abandonment, and decay that had writ the doom of the Packard plant, just as it had done to most of Detroit's once-mighty industries.

She found the man she was looking for soon enough, standing on the roof of one of the taller buildings and gazing out over the edge. His blue, white, and silver armor glowed softly. He stood arms akimbo, in one of those classic superhero poses. Then he rose slowly into the air, a plume of white light erupting from each of his boots. January wondered if he practiced that in front of a mirror.

She leapt up to the roof of the nearest building. From there she jumped again to the top of a taller ruin across the alley. By the time she made it there he had jetted over, and hovered in mid-air beyond the edge of the roof.

"You're late," Lighthammer groused.

"Blame the bus," January shrugged her shoulders. "I got here as soon as I could."

"The bus…" Lighthammer shook his head. "Really Crowgirl? You're taking the bus?"

"This ain't Chicago or New York Lightguy," January countered. "It's not like we have a subway, or an elevated, or any real mass transit here."

"You know, I'm working a mission. Probably sometime next week," he said. "An extra hand wouldn't hurt. Your end would probably be 50k, if things go well."

"And how many people would I have to kill?" Now it was January's turn to rest her hands on her hips.

"Don't think of them as people," Lighthammer shook his head and waved one hand from side to side for emphasis. "It makes things easier."

"I can't do that," January shook her head. "I can't live my life the way you do."

"You too good for me White Hat?" There was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.

"I didn't say that," January insisted. "Everything I do is always being watched, measured, studied, by people yearning to vilify me. Not only me, but everyone else like me. I don't have the luxury of ever doing anything wrong. I have to be perfect, all the time, now more than ever."

"Sounds like an impossible way to live," the armored man said softly.

"That's what my therapist said, back when I used to see her," January shrugged. "But I'm not here to stretch out on your couch Doctor Hammer."

"A'ight," Lighthammer nodded. "I used the extra time to get ready. Step into my classroom."

He waved for her to follow, and flew back to the building he had originally been standing upon. But he did not return to the roof. Instead he nimbly zipped down through a wide aperture in the floor beneath it.

January leapt after him. She hit the triggers built into her gauntlets, and her cape snapped out into a pair of wings. She followed his path, just barely gliding through the gaping maw that had once been a window. Once inside she hit her triggers again, and her wings collapsed back into a cape. She hit the ground with speed, tucked into a forward roll, and bounced back to her feet.

She found that Lighthammer had indeed been busy. On one otherwise bare wall he had spray painted several diagrams. One was of an airplane with arrows pointed out from it in all directions. Another was the side view of a wing, with dotted lines to denote what looked like the flow of air across it. He also had several bullet points spelled out, which he began going over.

"Okay, flight is governed by a set of four principles," he said. "Lift, Weight (or gravity), Thrust, and Drag."

He pointed to the graphic of the airplane, and January noted that each of those principles was spelled out beside an arrow showing which direction it moved the plane. Lift for the up arrow, Thrust for the forward arrow, and so on. She listened with rapt attention as he went over each, and explained how they affected flying. For example Lift was created by lower pressure created on the upper surface of a wing, compared to the higher pressure on the underside of the same wing. As the name said, that caused it to be lifted upward.

After spending some time on such book learning, Lighthammer led her out the window and back into the sky. Here they put his lessons to practical use as January glided along, with him beside her to coach her on angling her wings, and her body, to make the most of each.

January could not stop herself from smiling. It was not that she did not take it seriously. She certainly did. It was just such undeniable fun that there was no containing it. There were no morals or ethics to consider. No uncertain future to angst over. No one to insult her. There was nothing to worry about at all, except falling to her death on the broken concrete a hundred feet below.

"We got company Crowgirl," Lighthammer's voice erased the smile from her lips. "Four o'clock."

January had to spend a moment working out what direction that was. Finally she craned her head back and to the right to see a skinny old man with white-hair and a beard standing on one of the abandoned rooftops. He wore a blue sweater that said: "God in the 313". He raised one hand to shade his eyes as he stared at them. A pair of dogs circled him, wagging their tails joyfully.

"Don't worry about him," January replied. "He just lives here. He won't bother us."

"He lives here?" the armored vigilante said. "Is he mental or something?"

"This is Detroit," January explained. "We are all mental here. All the sane people left decades ago."

"If he calls the police, it'll be more than a bother," Lighthammer warned.

"He won't," January replied confidently. "Like I said, this is Detroit. No one here calls the police. They know there's no point."

"Such cynicism in one so young," Lighthammer clucked. "I respect that."

January laughed. It would be funnier if it had not been so true.

"So what's the 313 he's got on his shirt?" Lighthammer wondered. "Is that some kind of gang you got around here?"

"It's the area code for Detroit," January explained. "Go past 8 Mile and into the 'burbs and it turns to 586 and 248."

"Uh huh," Lighthammer nodded.

"So if you're in the 313, you're in the D." January went on.

"The D?" Lighthammer asked. "Oh, you mean Detroit."

"The D is something we say here," January explained. "It's from the Old English D the Tigers have on their hats."

"The Tigers I know," Lighthammer nodded. "I saw them play the Indians down at Progressive Field with…"

The vigilante's words trailed off, and January guessed that he was about to say someone's name. She did not press him for more. Now she remembered that they were not just two ordinary people hanging out and talking. They were capes, and they had secret identities to protect, even from one another. Especially from one another.

It was a sobering thought. Did this barrier exist between all metas? She knew that they might be allies at the moment, when they each had something the other needed. But that could change in the future. Would she always have to think so strategically with everyone she met from now on?

They returned to their original rooftop. Now it was January's turn to become the teacher. She began with the most basic moves of Krav Maga. First she demonstrated them. Then she worked Lighthammer through each, repositioning his hands, arms, and body, until he could perform the attacks and counters flawlessly.

Still, her thoughts kept drifting back to the African Goddess' hand on her leg…

Posted by: treydog Jul 20 2019, 07:15 PM

The thing (okay ONE thing) I like about this story is the excellent incorporation of "mundane" into "meta". The pictures most definitely help with that! But this is the part that so many shows (or even movies) and books miss out on- the characters are "human" first, with "super" as an aspect of their humanity. So they have lives and emotions and problems and everything else that goes with the "Homo" part- all of which can be complicated (rather than "fixed") by the "Superiorous". Being able to "leap tall buildings" does not relieve one of the need for sleep or to do laundry, for that matter.

And the location-specific parts add so much to the story, especially the industrial and urban decay. Since the first car I remember riding in was a Studebaker, I admit to having a particular nostalgia for Packards....

Flight lessons in exchange for fight lessons- and January continuing to define and refine her code... excellent.

And the ever-present adolescent (and post-adolescent) struggle over- does this person like ME- for ME? Or is it some kind of joke or game? All of which is even worse for our protagonist because of her dysmorphia.

Wonderfully written and a true treat to read.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 20 2019, 09:35 PM

The bus ride and encounter did a couple of things very smoothly. It reinforced the existence of mundane aspects in the lives of superheroes – especially new, young ones. In the face of attention from another woman, January somewhat awkwardly clung to her streetwise suspicions rather than seriously considering that another woman could be attracted to her. A rather endearing vulnerability actually. Hopefully, this African Goddess gave January a self-confidence boost in that area.

Happily for our superheroine, this vulnerability does not seem to extend to other areas, for she is certainly quick of word, wit and confidence when it comes to dealing with Lightguy. I love the idea of exchanging flight lessons for fight lessons. She is wise to build such an alliance, as Lighthammer does seem to have some redeeming qualities and clearly respects her as well.

Lastly, the entire episode was nicely furnished with bits of history and local flavor of Detroit.

Posted by: Renee Jul 21 2019, 02:12 AM

I think I want an African Goddess next to me, if I ever ride the bus again.

I like that they don't know each others' identities. And it's so obvious Lighthammer comes from some where else. In fact he seems quite out of touch with everyday humans.

QUOTE
Then he rose slowly into the air, a plume of white light erupting from each of his boots. January wondered if he practiced that in front of a mirror.


(bolded text) laugh.gif


Posted by: Grits Jul 23 2019, 01:10 AM

Not Cthululemon? tongue.gif Good idea to stash the backpack. I like that January’s natural suspicion over the gorgeous bus girl gets another layer of concern over protecting her identity. She has a lot to consider when someone gets friendly, unfortunately.

The Packard plant description was awesome, I love the comparison to bombed-out buildings. There’s a lot to infer about growing up in an area with that kind of industrial decay that doesn’t have to be spelled out.

QUOTE
"Don't think of them as people," Lighthammer shook his head and waved one hand from side to side for emphasis. "It makes things easier."

"I can't do that," January shook her head. "I can't live my life the way you do."

And here is a great divide between the two capes. (Not sure if they’re both supposed to be shaking their heads?)

Lighthammer’s flight moves are impressive. Flight school sounds as fun as January reports it was!


Posted by: SubRosa Jul 27 2019, 04:35 PM

treydog: Inserting the human element into these stories is my primary goal. Writing about capes is boring. Writing about people is interesting. I was inspired by April Daniel's novels, and the more recent comics of Batgirl, Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan), and the new series Unstoppable Wasp. All of them put the people first, the supering second. It made me realize that this was a genre that could be about more than just problem-solving and fist fights. Just as Fantasy can be about more than just barbarians with mighty thews weaving a glittering web of steel about their half-naked, pantherish frames.

Tbh, the urban decay is not so bad anymore in Detroit. The Packard Plant is right about to be re-developed. The same is happening to long abandoned places all around the city, like Eloise, the Northville Psychiatric Hospital, the Pontiac Silverdome, the Book-Cadillac Hotel, and so on. Detroit really has been turning around in the 2010's. But I kind of like to hold onto that old urban decay, as it injects a certain harsh character into the story. It reminds us that just as things rise, they all eventually fall as well. Sort of like the slave standing behind the successful Roman general during his triumph (the parade that is), whispering in his ear "Remember you are mortal."

One reason I like putting January together with Lighthammer is that it forces both of them to take a hard look at their actions, and what they want to be. They are so alike in many ways, it is easy to forget their differences sometimes. Then their very different philosophies butt heads, and each has to look at the other's and acknowledge that it exists, and either reject it, defend it, or perhaps even think about it.


Acadian: I understand that when Spider-Man first came out back in the 60s, the reason he became so insanely popular was that people could identify with him. He was picked on in school. He barely eked out a living. His everyday, mundane struggles in life were exactly the same as those of all the readers. The Sam Raimi films certainly underscored all this, which is why I like them. I definitely want to show that with January. She's taking the bus the same as thousands of other people.

The African-Goddess was a great way for me to show that combined dumbfoundedness, uncertainty, and awkwardness that I think we all go through, when we do not realize that another person likes us. In my own life, I tend to figure those things out about 12 hours later... Though once it took over a year.


Renee: I want an African Goddess next to me too! laugh.gif We can all dream.

Struggling with secret identities is standard comic book fare. But it also makes sense in the world they live in. I like how it creates this artificial barrier between people who might be risking their lives on one another's behalf. Yet at the same time they cannot just go to a baseball game together or sit in a bar and have a couple of pints.

I would not say that Lighthammer is out of touch with people. Just with Detroit. He was an excellent foil for me to use to reveal some Detroit-centric info, without it coming across as an infodump.


Grits: Cthululemon: The Stars are Right for you to look good in our new summer fashions!

Sadly January has a lot of extra baggage when it comes to romance. Being a lesbian already adds one difficulty, then trans, and now she is a super with an identity to protect. When it rains it pours!

One thing about the urban decay and economic hard times Detroit has struggled through over the past 40 years is that it has driven out a lot of people. Those who remain, are either foolish to have done so, or too stubborn and stuck in their ways to move, too loyal to their roots, or just plain crazy. Probably a mix of all. It does create a unique character to this city though.

January does love to fly. Something I am sure Acadian can relate to. She is coming to discover that she never feels so free as when her feet are off the ground. There will be more of that later this chapter, when she gets some serous flight on.





https://ghostintheshell.fandom.com/wiki/Laughing_Man

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/420-meaning-the-true-stor_n_543854

https://www.revzilla.com/common-tread/2016-victory-empulse-tt-review

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://patch.com/michigan/detroit/richest-zip-code-michigan



Book 2.2 - Stormcrow Recycled

"What a piece of junk!" January stared at the heap of twisted machinery that had once been a motorcycle. "I can't buy this!"

Her heart plummeted like a balloon with no air. That was how she felt, as if all the air had been sucked out of her. She had been so certain that this was going to be her new car, well bike, or motor vehicle at least. It was going to be her freedom from constantly begging rides from Avery, or borrowing her mom's Mini Cooper, or taking the bus. This was going to be a whole new chapter in life. A chapter where she could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was all going to start now.

Or not.

She and Avery stood in a garage larger than her family's house. All around her were cars and trucks that she could not even name. But the bright colors, spoilers, and racing stripes said a lot about them, and the man who owned them. It all reminded January of her brother, whose narcissism was only equaled by his obnoxiousness. She instantly disliked the man.

"It just needs a little work." The bike's owner clucked as he hobbled a few steps toward the motorcycle's remains. One of his legs was bound up in a synthetic cast, and he had to use a crutch to walk.

"A little work!" Avery exclaimed. "The engine is wrecked, and where's the battery?"

"Hazmat had to haul it away," the owner murmured. "It was leaking all over the place after the accident."

"It looks like an elephant stepped on it," January frowned. One side of the engine was crumpled into a shapeless mass. Whatever had hit it, or ran it over, had been substantial. The rest of the motorcycle seemed to be in one piece however. The tires still had air, the handlebars were still straight, and so forth.

"Just a little fender bender," the owner contended. "Nothing you can't fix. If you're as good as the Laughing Man said you were."

"Oh I'm better than that Ricky," Avery insisted. "But look at this. The whole engine is shot. I'll have to rip it out and start from scratch, plus buy a brand new battery. What did you do to this thing anyway?"

"I may allegedly have over-celebrated slightly on Four Twenty," Ricky said. "I had to put it down. It may have hit a fire hydrant…"

"May have?" January fumed. "This is a giant paperweight. Come on let's go."

"Now just wait a minute, you said you wanted a bike," Ricky insisted. "I have a bike."

"The work I would have to do…" Avery rubbed the back of his head in thought. "We'll give you five hundred for it."

"Five hundred!" Ricky exclaimed. "This is a Victory Empulse TT! Sure it's a few years old, but I paid 20k for this thing!"

"It might have been worth that three years ago," Avery said coolly, "but not today. It's a pair of wheels and front forks. Five hundred, and I'll take it off your hands. Otherwise call the junkyard. That's all its good for."

"That's not even one hour of my lawyer's time!" Ricky fumed. He ran a thin and shaking hand through his straggly mane. "Fine, take it, it's yours. Let me get the title."

The thin man hobbled over a full size tool cabinet that was far too clean and gleaming to have ever been used. He fumbled with the lock, giving January time to turn to Avery.

"Are you crazy?" she was careful to keep her voice down, so Ricky could not overhear. "Do you know how long it took me to save that money?"

"Don't worry," Avery smiled. "All the stuff that's broken, I was going to replace anyway. I've been working on it for the last week. Now you'll have money left over for a helmet."

"I'm bidding on two on Ebuy right now." January bit her lip. "Are you sure about this?"

"Have I ever let you down?" Avery said confidently. "This bike is perfect. And this Gucci biker wannabe is right, it is worth twenty grand."

"If you say so," January was torn. On one hand, she really wanted something to drive. She needed something. She had no doubt that Avery could work miracles with tech. But every time she looked at the mangled wreck of a motorcycle her enthusiasm vanished into a lightless void of Lovecraftian doom. Still, she did trust Avery. So she reached into her purse, pulled out her envelope of money, and counted out five $100 bills. She imagined that this would be the last time she would see Ben Franklin's face for a long while.

Ricky fished out the title and brought it over. January looked over his signature to make sure it matched the name. She did not expect someone living in Bloomfield Hills to con her. But you never knew. There was no lien. This guy had probably paid the entire twenty thousand in cash when he bought it. She wondered if she should really check the odometer and compare the VIN. But she decided that was overdoing it. It was not like the Secretary of State was going to do that when they went there next.

She handed over the money with a feeling of finality. It reminded her of how it had felt when she handed Emilia Mercado that bag filled with diamonds. This was far less valuable. But she had worked long and hard for this money. She had earned it. She hated the idea that she might be wasting it.

"Good thing you brought a van." Ricky nodded to the beat up Ford that Avery had borrowed from his uncle Jerome. "I think I have some ramps over here somewhere..."

He shambled off, and while his back was turned January handed her purse to Avery. Then she picked up the motorcycle with one hand and tucked it under her armpit. She stepped lightly to the Ford, opened the back doors with her free hand, and hopped inside. She gently laid the bike down to avoid scratching the bare metal floor. She climbed back out just in time to see Ricky shamble back into view with a metal ramp clutched in his free hand.

"All set," Avery smiled, "pleasure doing business with ya."

Ricky was still gaping, dumbfounded, as they drove off.

A visit to the insurance company followed, and then the Secretary of State. The latter went quickly, as Avery had reserved an appointment. Whether that had been legit, or if he had just hacked their system, January neither knew nor asked. By the time they returned to his house January felt exhausted. She had never spent so much money in her life. It was very... deflating.

Posted by: Renee Jul 27 2019, 04:51 PM

QUOTE
And this Gucci biker wannabe is right,


laugh.gif

Yes, how apt a description, the handing over money part. There's this feeling like "damn... there goes the past X months!" And in her case, she can't really see the final result yet, like I'm sure Avery can.


Posted by: Acadian Jul 27 2019, 11:00 PM

A superbike for a superhero - hopefully. Unfortunately, a wrecked one is the only way she could ever afford such a potentially amazing motorcycle. You really delivered on showing us how hard this was for January to turn over all her hard-earned cash for what seemed a very poor prospect. What it shows me is the depth of her trust in Avery’s judgment and abilities. Something tells me that her trust is well placed, and we’ll hope Gadget is able to transform the remains of this machine not just into a runnning crowbike but into a magnificent Stormcycle!

Your portrayal of Ricky was every bit as unsavory as I'm sure you intended. goodjob.gif

"This bike is perfect. And this Gucci biker wannabe is right, it is worth twenty grand."
-What Renee said. laugh.gif

Posted by: treydog Jul 28 2019, 03:06 PM

Quotes first and then observations.

QUOTE
It all reminded January of her brother, whose narcissism was only equaled by his obnoxiousness.


Have known a few (thankfully only a few) of those.

QUOTE
She did not expect someone living in Bloomfield Hills to con her.


Naivete, thy name is “January”.

Wheels! Crowgirl is gonna have wheels! I still remember my 1966 Mustang fondly. She was not in great condition (some holes in the floor pan), nor was she a monster (in-line 6 with a 3-speed instead of the 289 V-8), and she had her quirks (the transmission would kick itself out of third if you slowed below what she considered "reasonable"). But she was my first vehicle, paid for with my own money and she did have that pony car handling... So I am right there with you, Jan. Or where you will be when Avery works his magic.

A good contrast between the "Gucci biker's" casual abuse of his fortune (and his toys) and Jan's awareness of the ACTUAL cost of things, because she has had to WORK for them.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 3 2019, 04:35 PM

Renee: I had no idea the 'Gucci Biker' line would play so well! I was casting about for a way to describe him, and that just popped into my head. The poorer you are, the harder it is to part with that cold, hard cash. I have been there many times buying cars, with my envelope filled with all the money I have in the world.


Acadian: As you noted, the only way January can afford a bike this cool (and it is a really awesome motorcycle IRL, I would love one) is to buy one that is wrecked. I was there when I was her age. Thankfully not anymore. But I can still remember having to do math everytime I looked at a menu in a restaurant, or a cd on a shelf, and figure out if I can really buy this.


treydog: I still remember my first cars too. The very first one never left the driveway, except on its way to the junkyard. So I don't count that one. The second was a 1972 Impala. I big old four door boat. The roof would leak, and sometimes the power steering went out when I was turning, which always made things exciting. I loved that car. It was my first taste of freedom. I paid $100 for it, which was a lot of money for someone making $3.30 an hour. It died after 3 months. I paid $200 for my second car, a 74 Plymouth Fury. It lasted 6 months. You can see where this is going... I did eventually get my pony car too. It was a 74 Javelin, with a 360 4bbl. It was so fast! My mother took it to the 7-11 on the corner and peeled out going around the corner in front of our house! That car was fast!

Crowgirl is going to finally get her wheels, and I am tapping into those feelings of both that first Impala, and that monster Javelin.







https://www.azocleantech.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=419

https://io9.gizmodo.com/scientists-create-fuel-more-dense-than-the-core-of-the-5252952

https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/themis/auroras/sun_earth_connect.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesseract

https://i.imgur.com/hHuCERx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TPkwZaa.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/fL0Pm6f.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TY2HRZ4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/C0hJ8JV.jpg



Book 2.3 - Stormcrow Recycled

After Avery gave her the all-clear, January picked up the motorcycle again and carried it through the back door and down into his Gadget Cave. There he went into full Gadget mode, and began to strip out the engine with a socket wrench.

"So how's your mutual training going with Lighthammer?" he asked. He strained at a particularly recalcitrant bolt. Then he slid back out of the way and pointed it out to January. She broke it loose with her fingers with no difficulty. Then she stood back to let him continue his work.

"It's going really well." January allowed a certain amount of satisfaction to creep into her voice. "He's taught me so much about the principles of flight already. He must be a pilot when he's not Lighthammering. He's picking up Krav Maga pretty well too."

"Just be careful around that guy," Avery warned. "You never know with Gray Hats."

"Is someone getting jealous?" January teased. "Don't you worry mi amigo, I'll always need you to fix my stuff."

"And here I thought you loved me for my body!" Avery grinned.

"Well your body is not that bad," January mused. "Except for all the... man parts that is."

"My man parts are my best parts!" With a grunt of effort Avery pulled the wrecked engine from the motorcycle's frame, and dragged it onto the cracked tile of the basement floor. January lifted it up with one hand and set it aside.

"I have some parts here that you'll like." Avery rose and went over to his worktable, where January saw a large lump concealed under a tarp. Avery yanked the covering off with the flourish of a magician performing his show closer.

Revealed beneath was a gleaming beast of an engine. It was all shining metal and bottled speed. While January stared at the wonder of machinery in amazement, Avery walked over to the downstairs fridge and pulled out a large metal sphere dotted with glowing led panels. It practically screamed "mad science". Gadget - the mad scientist himself - was completely unfazed by all this of course. He calmly opened up a compartment in one side of the engine, snapped the miniature Death Star inside, and then sealed it all up tight again.

"What in Freyja's name is that?" January looked at her friend in disbelief.

"You've heard of heavy water right?" Avery asked. "Well I made some back when I was working on the cold fusion reactor for my Geo. I never used it though, since Evian worked much better."

"You put a nuclear reactor in my motorcycle!" January stared at the engine in horror. "I thought you were going to make a fuel cell?"

"I was intending to go that route originally," Avery nodded. "But then I read that Zero Point and Stinger from the Sentinels are building a LIFE reactor for Chicago. It's laser inertial fusion energy. I reached out to them, and they gave me some tips. I use lasers to induce fusion in heavy water. There's no special cooling needed, and it can be turned on and off at any time."

"Isn't that dangerous?" January stared at the engine with the same caution she reserved for white supremacists and anti-vaxxers.

"Not at all," Avery insisted. "The only byproducts are hydrogen and helium. No gamma rays, no nuclear waste."

"You're sure?" January looked from the engine to its inventor. Mundane scientists had been promising nuclear fusion for all of her life, as well as cold fusion, and a host of other inventions. Yet they were all still promises. It was not that Avery was one to lie. Neither were those scientists. Anyone could be over-optimistic.

Granted, Avery had built a cold-fusion reactor for his Geo years ago. She had been there countless nights to listen to him swearing and pounding on it with a wrench while he tried to get it to work. But this was quite a leap beyond the innocuous spring water and coffee filter-driven power plant of his car.

"Oh yes, I've been testing this for the last few days. No issues," Avery crowed. "I have been reading about people doing this with ultra dense deuterium. So I might try that next. The energy output would be spectacular. I would just have to mitigate the extra weight."

"Extra weight?" January wondered.

"That stuff is more dense than the core of the Sun," Avery explained. "A four inch cube would weigh 140 tons."

"That's denser than most voters," January nodded. "You are actually thinking about that?"

"I just have to find a way to compensate for the weight," Avery reasoned. "Stinger gave me an idea about that too. She shunts her excess mass off to higher spatial dimensions when she goes down to the atomic level or lower. If I could do something like that, I could store most of the mass outside of the normal three-dimensional universe. Well, above it. Or in a different direction to it at least."

"You mean build a tesseract?" January tried to keep her voice neutral. When Avery got to brainstorming, his ideas could get pretty wild. But he did have a habit of making his dreams come true, even if it sometimes took a lot of swearing and wrench-wielding to get there.

"Ever since Panzer created the first suit of powered armor back in the 30's, people have been trying to generate more energy in a smaller package." Avery said. "Of course Zero Point uses zero point energy, Annihilator uses anti-matter, and who knows what Doctor Heisen is up to these days? No one has heard much from him since he came back from Jupiter. If I know the Technocrat, he's working on something big, maybe harnessing dark energy, or something even wilder."

January looked from Avery to the gleaming beast of an engine, and its fusion reactor. Was Avery planning on building a suit of powered armor? In that case her motorcycle engine was just the prototype for something much grander. She fought the smile that wanted to play across her lips. He wasn't talking about it yet, but clearly, that was in the back of the meta-inventor's mind.

She said nothing. She would play it cool, and pretend to be surprised and amazed when he finally did unveil it. But her inner fangirl squeed as loud as ever at the thought of him suiting up beside her one day.

"Anyway, even without the ultra-dense deuterium you could probably ride this bike to Pluto and back and not run out gas. Well... fuel."

"So this isn't going to go up like the Hindenburg is it?" January silenced her inner fangirl and paid attention. She stared at the engine, and her friend, with even more respect.

"Well, you don't want to crack the reaction chamber," Avery rubbed the back of his neck. "That might be bad."

"How bad?" January pressed him. He was rubbing his neck. That meant he was really uncomfortable.

"It's fine with it turned off, when no reaction is taking place," he insisted.

"What about when it's turned on?"

"Well that would be bad," Avery rubbed the back of his neck once more. "If the magnetic containment is disrupted… Well that's fully ionized plasma everywhere."

"Note to self, being splashed by the Sun is bad," January breathed. "But as long as it doesn't break, it's safe, right?" January hoped.

"Of course!" Avery insisted. "Like I said, no radiation, no toxic chemicals. It's completely eco-friendly in fact."

Following Avery's direction, January lifted the engine and carried it over to the motorcycle. She held it in place while he bolted it to the frame. Then she stood back while he hooked up the drive chain and made the final connections. In a few minutes it was ready, and he led the way while January carried it back up the stairs.

He stopped abruptly at the landing, and waved January back with one hand.

"Hey Nana, I thought you'd be sleeping." Avery spoke in his nice voice, the one he reserved for dogs and his grandmother.

"I was thirsty," a feminine voice as creaky as an attic floor floated out from around the corner.

"Here, let me get you some Ensure," Avery said diffidently. "I bought some strawberry this morning."

"You are such a sweet young man," his grandmother said. Then her voice lowered to a whisper that January could barely hear. "Do you have that white girl downstairs? I thought I saw her come in."

"Uhh, yeah, January's downstairs doing her homework," Avery said. January could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck.

"She's such a nice girl," his grandmother replied. "You should tap that thing. I bet she's a wild one in the sack. The quiet ones always are."

"Nana!" Avery cried in horror. January could not suppress a grin.

"She's such a nice girl," his grandmother said again. "You should marry her. She'd be good for you."

"Well, I'll take that under advisement Nana," Avery said. "Why don't you go lay down on the couch, and I'll bring out your drink."

"Avery!" his grandmother's voice rang out loudly a moment later, sounding surprised. "When did you get home?

"Um, I just walked in," Avery said. "I thought you might be thirsty, so I got you a drink."

January's smile faded to dust. Her heart went out to her friend. His grandmother Vanessa had her good days, and her bad ones. This was somewhere in between. She could not imagine how he coped with it.

Avery poked his head around the corner a moment later. "Go ahead and try it out," he nodded to the back door of the house, off the basement landing. "I'll try to catch up later. Oh, there's an old helmet in the basement."

January went back down to look for it, trying not to think about how her friend must feel. Most of the time he was so cool and self-assured. He seemed to know everything. His future seemed so certain. Then she was reminded that his life was not so perfect after all.

She found the motorcycle helmet half-buried under a pile of ancient issues of Popular Mechanics. Avery had not been kidding when he said it was old. It looked like a relic from the 50s. It had an open face, with a snap on visor to shade the eyes, and the word "Bell" written over the forehead. January blew the dust off of it, and immediately regretted the gray cloud of detritus that engulfed her. She fought down a cough and tried to wave it away, which of course just spread the dust around even more.

Since it seemed like things could not get much worse, she pulled the old Bell down around her ears. Her hair was not going to get any dirtier after all. She picked up the motorcycle with one hand and carried it back up the stairs. She paused at the landing to peek around the corner into the kitchen. When she saw that the coast was clear, she tip-toed out the back door and set the motorcycle down on the concrete walkway behind the house.

Why did this feel like a Scooby Doo episode?

She stared down at the bike with a rapidly drying mouth. Would it actually work? Or had she just wasted all of her money and half the afternoon? Would Gadget's new power source turn into a hydrogen bomb when she turned it on? She was afraid to find out on all counts.

Simply backing out was not an option. She needed wheels. Other cities had mass transit systems. But Detroit was the Motor City, so that had never been an option. The people here built cars, so the people here drove cars. No one could live here without one. It was time for her to live.

She swung one leg over the Victory Empulse's frame, and settled down on the seat. It was a little small for a motorcycle. But that suited January just fine. At five foot, seven inches, she was not the largest person after all. She ran her hands over the grips, and saw that just above the center of the bars was a dial covered in words and symbols. "Ignition" caught her eye. She turned the knob over and held her breath.

After a long moment the large round speed gauge lit up. So did the smaller led display to its right, with the Victory logo displayed on it. It worked! January stared at it for long moments, expecting something more to happen. But the bike just sat there. Then she noticed that the LED display said "Hold Start For 1S".

Feeling stupid, she looked over the instrument panel for a Start button. The center dial was already set to Ignition, and the other symbols on it did not look like a Start option. A bright red switch on the right handlebar caught her eye. She flipped it up, but nothing happened. Then she noticed another, gray switch underneath it. She held it down for a long moment, and a feeling of relief passed over her when she heard a loud click from deep within the bike. The speed gauge turned green, the word "On" flashed yellow, and the speed dial flipped up and back down again. A faint hum rose from under her legs, but otherwise the bike made no sound.

January had to continue studying and fiddling with the controls to figure out how to get the bike into gear. An unintentional goose of the throttle sent it careening across the back yard toward the driveway, and Avery's parked Geo. Only quick thinking got her fingers around the brake lever. Clamping down on it locked the front brakes, but not the back ones. She felt the entire back end of the bike lift up off the ground as the front tire came to an abrupt halt. She shifted her weight back and up out of reflex, and for a moment she stood in mid-air. The hood of Avery's car was just inches away. A moment later the back of the motorcycle fell down to earth. Only then did she find the rear brake under one foot.

January wondered if she should try downloading the user manual? She quashed that momentary ascent of reason. Who used manuals anyway? Hoping that she was not going to turn herself, or someone else, into a pancake, she took the bike into the street and learned what it could do.

It was glorious.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 3 2019, 07:47 PM

A nuclear powered Stormcycle emerges from the Gadget Cave – Holy crow feathers, Batman!

You did a wonderful job bringing some science fiction grounded in real stuff to life. It all came across as both fascinating and completely believable. I expect that is a result of some impressive research and, of course, your always impressive writing.

Nice job with Vanessa as well. Not only did the white girl get the Nana endorsement but the woman’s age-related challenges remind us that even though Avery is part of this superhero dynamic duo, his life is also shadowed by the mundane and sometimes heartbreaking challenges and uncertainty of real life as well. Growing old ain’t for sissies.

Posted by: Renee Aug 4 2019, 12:30 AM

QUOTE
"You put a nuclear reactor in my motorcycle!"


He put a nuclear reactor in her motorcycle? ohmy.gif

QUOTE
"Isn't that dangerous?"


Fission is dangerous, I think. Fusion is supposed to be safer. Still though..... goodness! Avery should be the next Nobel Prize winner! laugh.gif Or whatever prize is given out for scientific stuff. Because my gosh!

Nice touch with grandma there. wink.gif I'm thinking: she'd be too old to know "you should tap that" phrase, but then.... I could technically be a grandmother myself if I'd started way earlier. indifferent.gif

Wow, is that really true about Detroit having poor mass transit?

Lol moment: I love how Avery puts it all together, then he has to be somewhere else. laugh.gif He just created a literal marvel in terms of technology, yet leaves Jan to figure out hot to start it! rollinglaugh.gif "Oh, I think I got an old helmet in the basement. " rollinglaugh.gif laugh.gif


Posted by: treydog Aug 4 2019, 01:05 AM

QUOTE
"I have some parts here that you'll like."
laugh.gif

Loved all the dialogue- this is the way true friends can tease each other.

QUOTE
He calmly opened up a compartment in one side of the engine, snapped the miniature Death Star inside, and then sealed it all up tight again.


It is only like a miniature Sun- nothing to worry about. You will be sitting on top of it- but... good luck! goodjob.gif

Evian water for cold fusion... sure, why not?

And you always have to just be happy when a mad scientist repeats, “That would be bad.”

And his Nana just had me laughing so hard it brought tears to my eyes. And then her dementia caused tears for another reason. And that was some world-class writing too.

QUOTE
Who used manuals anyway?


Of course- instructions are for wimps!

Most excellent again, Sage Rosa.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Aug 6 2019, 02:30 AM

Chapter 1 - Stormcrow Rising


What a great way to begin the story! January meditiating was a great way to tell us more about her character, we know she's spiritual in a sense, and very attuned to nature. A confirmation of this was the Introduction to Wicca book.

"The nice, neat suburban teens and adults that occasionally walked past were far from hard core. Nor were even the fuzzy, scruffy ones. They might be killers in Sword Science Online or World of Guncraft, but hardly in the real world."

tongue.gif The Legendary keyboard warriors! This had me chuckling quite a bit!

Jan had quite an audience as she meditated! Seeing the crows gather around her was pretty neat, and definitely shows that there's something special about our heroine.

"For not the first time, she wished for a better tablet, with a larger screen. Or even for an actual laptop. But the Fire 7 was all she could afford. Once it had been on sale for nearly half off that is. As with everything else in her life, she just had to make do with what she could scrounge up."
This stood out to me. I'm assuming Jan is young and living in modest means. I can tell she's adaptable and improvises as she goes along.

I'm already starting to like Avery! Reminds me of a good friend of mine.

"Visit? If one of those birds sat down on my shoulder, I'd be worried. That's like, a bad omen or something."
Indeed, bad omens and uh, bird presents wink.gif

"I know they were bandits," January said, "but raiders sounds better. It's more... menacing. Besides these raiders are cannibals."

"Now we're talkin'!"

"And their leader is the champion of a dark, alien goddess. I even have a name for her already - Manaha. She's based on the Native American Wendigo lore. Somewhere in here I've got to use the word 'tenebrous'.
"

This was a refreshing passage, and did bring me back to your previous works/version on the Magnificent Seven. Ah, Tenebrous. I love using that word, don't you? tongue.gif laugh.gif

Despite being able to influence the weather, she has no control over the outcome. This was a great way to show her abilities, as well as her past history with bullies. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" doesn't really ring true, not entirely, especially not in her case. I think we may see some more of this further along? Perhaps the bullies had an effect on her that influenced who she is now? I'm curious to see where this will go!

Can't wait to see more of Jan/Stormcrow and Avery/Gadget! I'll return to catch up on the rest!

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 10 2019, 04:13 PM

Acadian: I did a lot of work on developing power sources that would be in use in the Stormcrow-Verse. The first thing I did was I looked at comics and films to see what sort of energy sources they used. I was very disappointed to find that almost none actually come out and say so. For example, we know from the Marvel Cinematic Universe that Iron Man has an Arc Reactor that powers his suit. So what is an Arc Reactor? They never say. It is literal vaporware. It is the same everywhere else. No one will actually say "This is what powers our technology".

So I turned to predictions on future science, and almost every source there talks about power sources for entire cities and nations. Things like Geothermal, Wind, Solar, etc... Of course these things are not really going to be a whole lot of use in a vehicle or suit of powered armor. They are either stationary, or require too much size to be of any use. Imagine trying to put a solar farm on the back of a motorcycle. The bike would have to be the size of Delaware.

That left very little to look at. But I did come up with a few things. A handful of games point to Dark Energy as a power source (the Mass Effect games for one). This is kind of vague, since we don't really know what Dark Energy even is. But something exists that seems to be pushing the Universe apart, and we call it Dark Energy, so ok. I decided to just use it vaguely as well. Zero Point energy is another example of a science fiction energy. It might work someday, but would probably take more energy to run that it would yield up. I can wave my hand at that and say meta-inventors can turn that around. Of course matter-antimatter reactions have been around since at least Star Trek. And IRL we can make anti-matter in the lab. So that was instantly in.

I spent a lot of time poring over hydrogen fuel cells. They have the same problem as zero point, in that they are currently very inefficient. But again, I can say a super inventor like Gadget can overcome that to make it very potent. So that went in. It was originally going to be in the Stormcycle in fact. But then I came across ultra-dense deuterium in a fusion reactor. That seemed ideal. So I went with a 'standard' fusion reactor using only normal deuterium for the motorcycle. With Avery thinking about how to implement an ultra-dense version in the future.

I spent a huge amount of time on that.


Renee: Fusion is generally considered more safer than Fission. Of course in fusion you do have plasma that you are working with, and if that stuff got out of the reaction chamber... It is like January said: being splashed by the Sun is bad. OTOH, fusion does not require highly toxic materials like uranium or plutonium to work. Plain old hydrogen or deuterium works fine (Deuterium is not radioactive). Deuterium and Tritium is another common fuel source, and Tritium is radioactive. It is used in glow sights on guns to make them glow. That stuff is simply encased in glass, and supposedly that is all that is required to make you safe from radiation from it. That is bupkus compared to the horrifically toxic waste that comes out of a Fission Reactor. So Fusion is definitely what everyone hopes for. It is vastly cleaner, and can actually be turned off a simple as by throwing a light switch. You cannot do that with Fission either. You can just stick more control rods into the reactor to slow down the reaction.

Detroit has no mass transit. Unless you count buses, and cabs. There is no subway, no elevated. There is a People Mover downtown, but that just goes in a small ring around the city core. They just put in a Q line that runs 3 miles down Woodward (3 whole miles, wow!). The only way to get anywhere, like to work, is with a car. To have a job here, you have to own a car. To afford a car, you need a job. It is a vicious circle.

Avery's Nana might have learned about tapping asses from TV, or friends. It's where I heard about it first! laugh.gif


treydog: The Evian was my way of throwing a lampshade on something as proven false as cold fusion. It was also a way to show that meta-inventors like Gadget are not really scientists. The things they do cannot be replicated by someone else in a different lab, or copied on an assembly line. It is their superpowers that make their inventions work, not the laws of nature. So every one has to be built by them by hand. I will have more on that later this chapter, when January meets another meta inventor.

The Nana part was also wonderful to write. For one it showed us another side to Avery's life. It also showed us that life is not all great. It is something that everyone faces sooner or later. As Acadian said, growing old is not for wimps.

I never read the instructions! At least not until I tried everything I could think of and failed first.


Darkness Eternal: I like to start out in media res, to have some action to immediately grab the reader. I could not find a way to do that well in this story. So I was hoping the crows could do it for me, and create some mysterious implications that would make things interesting.

I deliberately used brand names with January's possessions, so that people could look at them and realize that this stuff is the cheapest of the cheap. Like you said, it is a subtle way of Showing that she is poor, rather than just coming out and blatantly Telling it.

Bird presents! ohmy.gif laugh.gif

I love the word 'tenebrous' It is so dark, brooding, and mysterious. I love those rare occasions when I can put it to use. It's got legs!

I still remember the words and the teasing from high school bullies. But I don't remember the bruises from the few fights. I always found that 'stick and stones' things to be completely backward.






https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42324

http://www.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:1016264/FULLTEXT01.pdf

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karate_gi

https://i.imgur.com/R2GEJEI.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/g3ACJrj.jpg

https://callsam.com/

http://fitz.k12.mi.us/fitzgerald-high-school/

https://www.berenstainbears.com/


Book 2.4 - Stormcrow Recycled

Home was empty when she returned. Her parents were still at work, and her brother thankfully in Ann Arbor, as he always was on weekdays. That allowed her to move her Stormcrow armor down from its hiding place under her bed and store it in the fake gas tank bump on the Victory. That still left her the two panniers under the seat for more storage.

She made herself a quick dinner and was off again with her school backpack. Then she headed out to Macomb Community College. She was breathless the entire trip. She had her own car! Well bike, and what a bike! She still could not believe how quiet it was. The engine hum grew a little louder as she accelerated, and the sound of the chain was an aria. But it was nothing compared the earsplitting racket that gasoline-powered motorcycles made. It was mechanical perfection, a crow made wheels.

She had trouble concentrating in class. She could not wait to get back out onto the bike. Besides, the book they were going over was depressing. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus brought on far too many parallels to her own life for comfort.

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel." The professor read from the book. He was young, with a thick mane of raven hair swept back from a bespectacled face. Many of the young female students had a habit of waiting to chat him up after class. January could not see why. He reminded her too much of her father, only twenty years younger. "What do you think Mary Shelley meant when she wrote that?"

"Miss Ward," Mr. Easton said after a long silence in which no one volunteered to speak. His voice had a soft, upper-class English lilt to it. "Perhaps you might enlighten us with your thoughts?"

January blinked, and sat up straight. Had she been daydreaming about her motorcycle?

"Well..." she began, feeling the eyes of everyone in the class boring into her. Lighthammer's lasers had felt less threatening. "When she wrote the book, I think she intended the monster to be some sort of spiritual menace, or at least an allegory for the price of hubris. Victor had tried to take God's place as creator of life. In the very least he strove to a greatness beyond that which nature would allow. As a result he was punished by the horror of - and for - his own creation."

"But that is not what I felt when I read the story," January went on, and tried not to squirm. "I didn't relate to Frankenstein, and feel that he was tempting fate, or attempting to replace God. I identified with the creature: hated and feared by everyone in the world simply because I was born, constantly told I was a monster, rejected by my own maker, trapped in a world which I did not make, and could never change."

"I can imagine that anyone who was not born perfect might feel the same," January continued. "Anyone not born the right color, or the right gender, or the right sexual orientation, or the right anything. Anyone who is different, who isn't 'cool' enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or even happy enough might feel that way."

The class was utterly silent afterward. January could swear that she could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Then her teacher began to applaud.

"Outstanding Miss Ward," he exclaimed. "I'm tempted to give you an 'A' just for that. As you said, it is not a warning against Man defying God, or even playing God. By all accounts Mary Shelley was a very irreligious person in fact."

"She was nineteen when she began to write this. She was your age. In it she captures the essence of alienation, isolation, and loneliness. Not just in the monster, but also within Victor Frankenstein himself as well. Remember that both of them are cut off from the world around them. Victor willingly isolates himself with his obsessive work. The monster is alienated because of his appearance. Like you said, he isn't pretty enough. Even his own creator rejects him. People scream when they see him. They attack him. He never knows anything but hatred and fear, in spite of his very real need for love and companionship."

"Everyone has felt rejection and isolation at some time in their lives. This is why we still study this book, two centuries later," her professor went on. "It isn't just to bore students who thought it would be a lot cooler after seeing one of the films! This novel strikes deeply into our emotional cores. She was tapping into the feelings of loneliness and alienation that we can all relate to. That is the real monster in the story, and it is something that we all must face sooner or later. It is just as relevant today as it was in the summer of 1816."

January forgot all about her motorcycle. Could she really do this? Could she write stories about characters that people could relate to on an emotional level? If Mary Shelley could write a story about a man stitched together from the parts of corpses, and she could relate to him, could she do the same?

She was still thinking about that on the ride from the college campus to Adin's House of Pain, a.k.a. the Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts. She got there early, and used the time to change out of her school clothes and into the black karategi she wore for teaching class. Still with plenty of time, she found a relatively quiet spot and went through a yoga routine to loosen up, and clear her mind. Time slipped away, and she lost herself in simply breathing and moving.

"You know this isn't a yoga studio," a male voice eventually floated into her ears from somewhere behind her. January smiled, but did not reply. Instead she moved into a crow pose, placing all of her weight on her arms, while her legs floated in the air behind her. She continued through the pose into a handstand. Still upside down, she turned to face the speaker.

"Now you are just showing off Bear," the man said. "Your class is ready to start in a few minutes."

January turned the handstand into an elbow stand, then craned her legs back over her head into a scorpion. Finally she pulled forward, and rolled onto her feet.

"You aren't going to have your dad Sam sue me, are you Mr. Bernstein?" she laughed.

"I wish I was one of those Bernsteins," he smiled. He stood only a few inches taller than her, with curly black hair what was cut short, a hawkish nose, and olive skin. "I wouldn't be here being shown up by a teenager, that's for sure."

"I would never show you up Adin," January said seriously. "You taught me Krav Maga and Muay Thai. Whatever I do, only makes you look better."

"That's what I keep telling myself," he said. "Go on, your future victims await."

January greeted her first class of the evening, which was entirely of children. Looking out over their fresh, young faces, she was reminded of the first time she met Adin. She had just started tenth grade at Fitzgerald High School.

"Now ladies, I'd like you all to say hello to Mr. Bernstein. He's going to be here for a week teaching our self-defense unit."

"One of the Berenstain Bears?" January murmured as the curly haired man stepped out in front of her gym class, to stand beside the coach.

"Yes I am," he smiled, and looked directly at January. She closed her eyes. She would be hearing that for the rest of the year. As if things were not bad enough.

Worse, he remembered her when it came time for individual practice. With the entire class gathered around, he invited his "Bear" to step up and show how she would attack him. He was wearing pads, so January let him have it. She started with a tapper jab with her left hand, rapping his right glove with a light blow to give him a false sense of security. Then she followed with an uppercut loaded with everything her sixteen-year old body could muster.

She could sense his surprise as her fist drove deeply into the pads across his stomach. He held his fists out front to block another attack from that direction. So she continued with a roundhouse kick to his undefended side, then followed with another jab and a cross at his face. The entire time he steadily fell back. Finally she sent a particularly zesty power punch at his head. He effortlessly slipped to the side, caught her in an arm lock, and had her on the mat before she knew what was happening.

"That was outstanding," Bernstein said as he stepped back and helped her up. "Who taught you karate?"

"My mother," January murmured. She was still wondering which end was up as she clambered back to her feet.

"Remind me to stay on her good side," Bernstein said. "Have her bring you to my dojo after school. You have real talent. We can make you better."

After that, no one in high school looked at her quite the same again.

Posted by: Renee Aug 10 2019, 05:43 PM

QUOTE
Detroit has no mass transit. Unless you count buses, and cabs


Yes, I was thinking of buses. smile.gif Fusion-powered buses would be even better!

And uh .. yeah, I definitely think she'd be having troubles focusing on school, after all that she's done the past few days and hours! This is really awesome that she goes back to school at all.

It almost seems like January blurts out her own personal views because she's so distracted by all the excitement in her life, she momentarily has her guard down, does that make sense? Like maybe normally, she wouldn't say as much as she said in front of her classmates.

Aw, she's teaching kids. smile.gif What a day she's had today.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 10 2019, 07:53 PM

This episode drew me in immediately and was a joy to read from start to finish.

Despite your amazing sci-tech research, what I get from the Stormcycle is that you stuff in a dilithium crystal and – voila - instant freedom! The exhilaration January feels astride her mount reminds me of when Buffy also plopped down her life savings to buy Superian. And the magical feeling of freedom, speed and power her precious mare provided – and still does. But forgive me for wanderdigressing and just know that January on her Stormcycle makes me grin. Handy too, that her uniform fits in the bike’s magic pouch and she still has saddlebags for even more stuff that a girl’s gotta have.

Miss Ward’s analysis of Frankenstein was indeed applause-worthy. More so since we know how in some ways January can identify with the monster’s lack of acceptance for being created inside a body that does not match the spirit of its owner. Her insight was plenty, but I was further delighted when you parlayed the story and its authoress’ young age into inspiration for January to seriously consider writing herself.

Then off to her martial artistry class. Here was a case where your pictures (crow and scorpion poses) were priceless as they instantly provided crystal clarity.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Aug 10 2019, 09:41 PM

Chapter 1.2:

I get what you mean. The crows did it for sure!! There's also the fact that they're among the most intelligent birds out there.

Ah, Confusion reminds me of Comic-Con! Well, I mean aren't all Cons? I had no idea it was real! That's very cool. Seriously, this made lots of sense. What way for a Superhero to blend in? A place where people dress as heroes!

The fighting and flying you showed here was awesome! January has some courage to go headfirst into conflicts, but that's how a hero operates. She took the initiative for sure! And the idea of a person being harmed? That most certainly is her business as she's pointed.

[. . .]In an Indian accent so heavy you could spread curry on it.

This was a great and culturally accurate description of his voice! laugh.gif

Jan's a kickass fighter, too. What an absolute thrill! The flight to the air, along with that armored bastard, was intense. She did her best to try and control her flight, even as they crashed through the building!

And I'm sure that landing was a superhero landing! One only a talented gymnast as January could do!

Posted by: treydog Aug 10 2019, 10:43 PM

QUOTE
Adin's House of Pain, a.k.a. the Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts.
blink.gif

Jan is certainly in a position to understand that alienation is the key to reading Frankenstein – sharing, for different, but no less painful reasons, Mary's obvious direct, personal understanding of that feeling....

Jan's being distracted by the fact she has wheels also rang quite true. Although I now rather dread the long commute to work in Gruening, I can still recall when the idea of getting behind the wheel (or handlebars) was magical.

Thank the powers for understanding and outstanding teachers, whatever their discipline, whether it be literature or martial arts.

A fine, thoughtful interval, filled with character-building goodness.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 17 2019, 05:07 PM

Renee: This chapter is set about a week after the first chapter, so January has had a little time to get adjusted to the idea of being a cape. There is a date at the start of each chapter.

January might not say as much as she did under normal circumstances. But then again, what she said is exactly what I think every English teacher is hoping to hear, a deep and thoughtful analysis of an author's work.


Acadian: Frankenstein (as in Mary Shelley's novel) recently came up in a literary podcast I listen to, so it was very top of mind. I read it about 20 years ago, and loved it. Maybe loved is not the right word. It really touched me deeply, just as it did January. It was just a happy coincidence that Mary Shelley was 19 that Haunted Summer when she first started writing the novel, the same age as January. In some ways it really throws down the gauntlet at January's feet, and dares her to do the same.


Darkness Eternal: Putting the superhero into their costume is one of those evolutionary steps in all super stories. Sometimes it can be hard to make that happen, especially in the more realistic depictions. Cosplay just leaped out at me as a option that never existed back in the day, so it was a great way for me to not only get January into her super suit, but also make the story modern.

Likewise, January's history of being bullied and on the receiving end of bigotry is what gives her the springboard into acting, rather than running and hiding. Her motivations are very personal, and baked into everything she is.

The gymnastics is something I have worked hard on not only incorporating, but keeping important to what she does, in addition to her martial arts. I remember in the old Marvel Superheros rpg that it was simply a skill that gave you a small bonus to your Agility tests. I wanted it to be much more than that. Here it will be a very big part of what she does, and how she succeeds.


treydog: Gaining those wheels is such a big step in everyone's life I think. It is one of the first steps to real independence. Here in Detroit it is even bigger than that. It is a simple necessity for living, as there is no real public transportation. So that was a nice way of emphasizing her growth as a teen into adulthood, completely separate from being a cape.

Jan's English teacher is based on Duncan from the old show VR-5. Adin just sort of took shape because from Krav Maga itself, and from the Bernsteins, who are very prominent lawyers here in Detroit. I enjoyed making a play on their name. I have another teacher coming up next chapter who is straight up my High School English teacher. He was a very influential early mentor for my writing. So I was delighted to find an opportunity to put him into a story, even if just in a tiny role.



https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl


https://youtu.be/xH_Z8xb2gvs


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https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1952





Book 2.5 - Stormcrow Recycled

After her final class of the evening, January went to Adin's office to change. She could not fail to note the similarities to high school, where she had to change in the coach's office for gym class. Only these days she was the coach, or at least the assistant coach, and there were not nearly as many mean girls making snide remarks about her gender or giving her dirty looks.

Her phone blared to life with the soulful guitar riff from Gary Clark Jr's "If Trouble Was Money." She almost jumped out of the cargo pants she was halfway into. She fought to pull them up around her waist, and dove for the cheap Hamsung before it could go to voicemail.

"Hola! The bike is great Avery! It runs like a dream," she gushed. Then her voice took on a more somber tone. "How is your grandma?"

"Oh she's fine," he said. "She's been watching reruns of Jag and NCIS for the last few hours. I think she slept through the last one. But we did some crosswords earlier, and she played Luminosity for a while too."

"So you didn't crash the bike?"

"Of course not!" January exclaimed as she pulled on her top. Almost hitting his car a second after she started it up did not count after all. "I am a great driver, erm, rider, or biker, whatever. The shifting seemed kind of funny though."

"Yeah, I didn't have time to tell you that," Avery said. "I took the transmission out along with the old engine. There's really no need for one with an electric. It's a direct drive now. Zero does it with their bikes, I don't know why Victory bothered with a six speed in the first place. So the clutch and gear shift don't do anything."

"Great! I was kind of afraid I might have broke them," January murmured.

"So how fast is it?" Avery asked.

"I don't know," January replied honestly. "All the other cars kept getting in my way! I did get it up to about a ninety at one point. Then that bus came along..."

"I'm afraid to ask!" Avery laughed.

"I missed it!" January smiled, "even if I had to split lanes for a bit."

"You know that's dangerous right?"

"Yes mommy," January sighed, "and I won't talk to strangers, or drink the water, or have unprotected sex."

"Your mother told you that?" January could just imagine his eyes goggling as he spoke.

"No," January replied. "It's not like she would ever need to."

"Well, speaking of protection, I was wondering if you still had that cosplay outfit?"

"Yes, yes I do." January was instantly alert. Super-stuff was something they couldn't talk about on a regular phone. You never knew who might be listening. But her armor had its own scrambled earpiece. "Well, I gotta get out of here before Adin locks up. I'll call you back later."

She got her shoes on and was out the door as fast as she could make her goodbyes. She rode to a spot free of onlookers and cameras, and concentrated upon the element of Fire. A moment later she was clad from head to toe in her Stormcrow armor.

"You there Gadget?" she asked over her earpiece. Should she call it that? Should she call it the communicator? That made it sound like Star Trek. Why did so much of this tacticool jargon seem so pretentious?

"Got you Stormcrow," he replied. January started at the name. She had heard it said aloud plenty of times since she "came out" at the convention. But never spoken directly to her. It felt strange, but good. She really was that person people were talking about.

"I've been seeing a pattern of rare metal thefts lately." January wondered why Avery sounded like Charlie, from Charlie's Angels? "First it was zirconium, then iridium. I don't think it's random. I think someone is building something, and I think I know what might be next."

"What?"

"Titanium," Avery explained. "Iridium is highly resistant to corrosion and heat. It's used for the containment of plutonium in spacecraft, among other things. But it's brittle in its pure form. So guess what it's usually alloyed with?"

"Zirconium and titanium," Stormcrow murmured. "So what's our next move, stake out the local titanium shop?"

"You are catching on to this detective thing fast. I guess hanging with that state cop rubbed off on you. Trouble is there's a whole bunch of metal places that sell it. I've got drones or camera feeds out to watch them. But one looks likely, given that the other two were nearby."

"Which one?"

"Source One Metals," he said, "on Nineteen Mile and Mound. Stake it out tonight, and we might get lucky. I'll be watching the other ones."

"Got it," January replied. Her first stakeout! This was what being a real super was all about.

"Oh, I forgot the license plate switcher." Gadget said. "Come by tomorrow and I'll put it on. Until then keep off the bike while you're suited up. We don't want anyone putting two and two together."

"Of course not." January looked around for cameras once more. "I'm not stupid you know."

"You're on the bike right now, in the armor aren't you." Avery sighed.

"Umm, not anymore," January said honestly. She was so thankful for that fast changing ability. She did not need a superpower to see the facepalm Avery was undoubtedly making.

January took John R up to Nineteen Mile, then made a right and took it across to Mound Road. The latter was a divided highway, so she had to first go south and then through a turnaround to get on the northbound side. She found the metal shop just before the gas station at the corner of Nineteen Mile.

It was in a small industrial subdivision off of Mound. Really it was just two plain cinderblock buildings with a big parking lot between them. Each building went back from the road for hundreds of feet, and had been partitioned up into numerous individual businesses. The first one in the northern building was Source One Metals, according to the blue signs in the front windows.

Given the dark lights and lack of cars in the lot, all of the businesses were evidently closed. That made her stakeout easier. Still, she had to decide where to set up. Obviously she could not just sit in the lot on her motorcycle.

There were a few trees on the lawn between the road and the parking lot. But they looked rather sparse. There was an actual section of woods across Mound that looked promising. But she would like to be closer. Thinking of closer, she looked up and smiled. Yes, that would do nicely.

She rode off and found a dark spot without cameras to remove her license plate and change into her armor. Then she returned and drove into the lot. She took a driveway around to the alley behind the building with the metal shop. The entire building was lined with big metal rollup doors back there, along with some dumpsters and a bunch of empty parking spots.

Shutting off the bike, she cradled it in both arms. Then she leapt. She landed easily on the roof, which was surprisingly bare of equipment. She found what looked like an air vent in the corner by the back doors, and set her bike down behind it. Sitting down herself, she waited.

January learned very quickly that stakeouts were incredibly boring. She stared at the line of light industrial buildings to the north. Then at the gas station beside them on the corner of Mound and Nineteen Mile road, and the sandwich shop across Nineteen Mile from it. She stared at the 7-11 on the opposite corner across Mound, along with a veterinarian and a martial arts studio. She wondered what styles the latter taught. She stared at the woods directly across Mound from her. Then her eyes continued their counter-clockwise circuit to the doctor's office south of that, with its high, slanting roof. Mostly she just stared, and waited, and stared, and waited some more.

It did not take long for her to pull out her tablet and start on her schoolwork. The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was their next assignment. She started reading, and created a text file to write down some of her basic impressions as she went. Time dragged by, and she found herself licking her dry lips.

The lights of the gas station at the intersection called out to her. There was no point sitting here thirsty after all. She tucked the tablet away into the panniers of her motorcycle and leapt down to the pavement below. She walked across the back lot of one of the industrial shops to the north, and the small patch of grass beyond to the gas station at the intersection.

There was only one car at the pumps, and its driver stared at her with amazement as he filled his tank. She gave him a polite smile, and went inside. The store was empty except for her and the clerk. He was a pudgy, bearded man just a few years older than she was. He looked at her with amusement as she stalked across the aisles of snacks to the back of the shop, where the refrigerated case was. She found a bottle of Fae Cola Ultimate, and brought it up to the counter.

"That is a really cool costume," the clerk said as he rang her up. "That's Stormcrow right, the new hero? You make that yourself?"

"No," January said as she fished her wallet out of her utility belt and paid him. "A friend of mine did it for me."

"It's a really good job," the clerk said. "It looks just like the real thing. Say, I'm off at midnight if you want to..."

"Sorry, not into guys," January smiled. She could be dense. But even she could tell that he was trying to pick her up! It must have been the armor. It did outline her body in an agreeable way.

"Damn, hot lesbian cosplay..." she heard him murmur as she walked out.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 17 2019, 09:03 PM

The beginning of another Crowventure assigned to her by Charlie Gadget.

"It's used for the containment of plutonium in spacecraft, among other things." - - Yikes! Sounds serious. ohmy.gif

“You're on the bike right now, in the armor aren't you." Avery sighed.
"Umm, not anymore," January said honestly.
- - embarrased.gif tongue.gif

Hmm, I’d imagine that superbike is pretty unique – even unmistakable. I hope Gadget’s license plate switcher is able to more fully transform Jan’s wheels into the Stormcycle than just a simple license plate changeroo. Hmm, if only her magicks could craft a ‘summon Stormcycle’ spell. . . .

Heh, I have visions of every time she self-distracts (reading, getting a soda, etc) she’s gonna miss the action! You do a great job, however, of capturing how boring I’d imagine a stakeout is while emphasizing that Stormcrow is a newbie at stakeouts. smile.gif

Posted by: Renee Aug 18 2019, 03:05 PM

QUOTE
"I've been seeing a pattern of rare metal thefts lately." January wondered why Avery sounded like Charlie, from Charlie's Angels?


Yeah, totally. He's like that voice over the intercom at this moment.

Awesome. She's going to do a stakeout! ph34r.gif

Oops, yeah, I have heard they are mostly boring. 10 hours of boredom, 10 minutes of excitement, according to all the crime shows I've watched.

Hee hee she's doing schoolwork! WHOA she just walks into the convenience store in her gear. Lol what a dense cashier. laugh.gif Then again, I guess the way she moseys in is very nonchalant. Everyone expects a superhero to be doing superhero stuff. Nobody expects them to be buying a soda. So she flies under the radar just for that moment.

Posted by: treydog Aug 18 2019, 03:47 PM

QUOTE
"You know that's dangerous right?"

"Yes mommy," January sighed, "and I won't talk to strangers, or drink the water, or have unprotected sex."

"Your mother told you that?" January could just imagine his eyes goggling as he spoke.



"
QUOTE
Oh, I forgot the license plate switcher." Gadget said. "Come by tomorrow and I'll put it on. Until then keep off the bike while you're suited up. We don't want anyone putting two and two together."

"Of course not." January looked around for cameras once more. "I'm not stupid you know."

"You're on the bike right now, in the armor aren't you." Avery sighed.

"Umm, not anymore," January said honestly. She was so thankful for that fast changing ability. She did not need a super power to see the facepalm Avery was undoubtedly making.


The interactions between Gadget and Crow-Jan are brilliant as always. And for me- this humor (and reflection of true friendship) is what makes for great writing instead of "good" writing.

As always, loved the mundane as mingled with the meta. (Contented sigh).


Posted by: Darkness Eternal Aug 19 2019, 02:17 AM

Chapter 1.3:

I like how you mentioned how deep-rooted her passion is for justice, and having been a victim herself, she understands the importance of helping others. This indeed is what being a hero is about.

That hagfish-slime covered armor did the trick in preserving our brave heroine. It was fun to see the real metas mentioned, who I'm sure will be shown later on.

"Now water can flow, or it can crash. Be water my friend."
Wow! This had me cheering! Jan did good to take inspiration from one of the greatest Martial Artist in history.

'Some fled entirely, but most remained to watch, albeit from a distance. Many produced phones and began recording them. A few even had old-fashioned camcorders.'

The battle continued amidst the Con members! And this was so spot-on that if something like this were to happen in today's society, plenty would stay behind.

Lighthammer was a tough one but Jan kicked his rear pretty good. I have to say the battle here was a great read, and I felt thrilled just reading it. His lasers were no match for her fistfuls of justice and kicks! I'm sure we'll see more of him; his little ceiling trick won't happen again. Hopefully.

I love that super exit! cool.gif


Posted by: SubRosa Aug 24 2019, 04:32 PM

Acadian: I had not really thought of doing more beyond a license plate changer for January's motorcycle. I think because I am looking ahead at things you cannot see yet. Her motorcycle will not fit into the Crow life in a meaningful way. It will be part of her Jan life. She will be working on a travel power for getting around.

That is one of the side effects of having played some superhero RPGs. You start to lump powers into categories based on their purpose. Heroes often have a travel power, who purpose is to get them to where the story is taking place. Flight, teleportation, a quinjet, a skycycle, web-slinging, a Batwing, and so forth. The transporters in Star Trek is another example. I am sure it was originally thought up simply to move the characters to where the story is. The same with the Enterprise itself as well.

January is quickly realizing that even being just a city level hero means that she needs a way to get around town quickly and reliably. She has had a taste of that with her gliding, but it is not enough for long distances. But she has something to work on there.



Renee: I enjoyed writing January's boredom on the stakeout, and her quickness to jump at finding anything to do. I would never be able to do a stakeout. I get bored too quickly, and have too many options to find a way to take up my time, like reading books on my phone.


treydog: Its even more fun writing Jan and Avery than Aela and Loria. With J&A I can draw upon real world culture to make it all feel so much more accessible to the reader.


Darkness Eternal: Eventually we will be meeting some of those superheros who have been name dropped. Blood Raven will play a major role in future events, and January's life.

I have always loved that Bruce Lee quote about water. As odd as it sounds, I found it to be the key to understanding how to use horse archers in the Total War games. You cannot use them like other units, who either want to rush into melee, or always keep away from it. Horse Archers want to get close, but not too close. When the enemy retreats, they advance. When the enemy advances, they retreat. They flow, and they crash, just like water.

Social media is filled with all sorts of fights and disasters on film. Because pics or it didn't happen after all. I am not the only one to note that whoever that is recording it on their phone is also just standing there not doing anything to help. Which is pretty parasitic really. These days everyone is so obsessed with getting their 15 minutes of internet fame, they don't think about the danger other people are in, or themselves.





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Book 2.6 - Stormcrow Recycled

She returned to her stakeout post and went back to her English assignment. Only now she had a cool drink to wet her dry throat. She did not know how much time passed while she waited. She had become engrossed in the story of isolation and creeping madness when the sound of an engine below pulled her back to reality.

She put down her pop and tucked the tablet away into her motorcycle's panniers. Then she looked over the edge of the roof, and saw a garbage truck pulling into the front lot. The cab was green and yellow, and seemed proportionally larger than the trailer section of the vehicle. It was not a normal green and yellow paint scheme either. Rather it seemed that part of a green cab and part of a yellow cab were simply thrown together. The rest of the truck was the same. January even noticed thick weld marks running down one side of the rear bay, as if the pieces of two vehicles had been melded together into one.

Floating in the air above was a large drone of some kind. It reminded her of an eyebot from the Fallout games. It had a smooth front end, that almost looked like a face, especially given the two large glowing circles that looked like eyes mounted within it. The bottom was separated from the rest of the face in what looked like a mouth. What seemed almost like a cap or visor of metal was attached over the top, further adding to the human look it bore.

Its body stretched out behind it, and angled up from the bottom, to give it a triangular shape, with the point trailing away behind it. What almost appeared to be two stubby arms or legs also stretched out directly behind it from two round shoulder sockets. Or maybe they were exhaust pipes, or rocket nozzles? The upper side of the body was a relatively smooth combination of plates scalloped over top of one another. But the bottom - the hypotenuse of the triangular frame - was all spiky knobs, antenna, and protruding cylinders.

January could not see how it flew. There were no rotors like a mundane drone required. Nor were there any obvious metatech options like jets. It just floated through the air like a jellyfish in water.

January was struck by the incongruity of the two machines. The truck was a Frankensteinish collection of old vehicles welded together into a single whole. But otherwise it still looked like an ordinary garbage truck. The drone was a Rembrandt of mechanical artistry, though obviously constructed from diverse parts as well.

That is when she noticed that no one was driving the garbage truck. The cab was entirely empty.

"I think our friend has arrived," January said into her suit's comm system. "Or at least his robo-minions have." Well that was it, she was officially calling it the comm now. She guessed that made her Captain Pretentious Tacticool.

She turned on the video system built into her cowl so Gadget could get a better look. She heard him whistle a moment later.

"That flying drone is a real work of art," his disembodied voice floated in her ears. "I can see its kitbashed, like most of my own stuff, but someone put a lot of TLC into that. The truck, less so. It looks like someone just took spare parts from four or five junks and made one good truck out them. There's no style to it at all. Maybe it was just a rush job."

"So how do we know they're really the bad guys, and not just some mecha-hipsters out for a drive late one Tuesday night?"

The garbage truck rolled around to the back of the building. It turned and backed up to the rollup doors. Then its whole tail end garbage smashing assembly swung up, revealing the empty box of the truck's body behind it. Well, it was almost empty. A trio of metal men leaped out. January could see they were made from car axles, leaf springs, shock absorbers, shopping carts, office chairs, plumbing, and a multitude of other junk parts.

One of these anthropomorphic robots pointed a hand toward the building. A cherry red laser sprang out from its wrist, and sliced through one of the rollup doors like it was warm butter. It took only a moment for a huge piece of the door to be sliced out, and clang loudly as it crashed to the cement.

"They're bad guys," Gadget said dryly.

January sized up the ground bots and prepared to leap down upon them. That is when she realized that the Face-Bot was missing. She heard a slight hum in the air behind her, and wheeled around to see it staring at her from just a few feet away. Now that she was closer to it, she noted an odd distortion in the air beneath it. It reminded her of a heat haze on a road, or how water warped light.

"Well hello there." January did not really know what to say. She practiced things like flying, gymnastics, and fighting. But she never had looked into raising her Speech skill. Just what did you say to a supervillain when you first met?

The Face-Bot took over the burden of conversation. Its eyes filled with an ominous blue glow. An instant later a bolt of lightning exploded out of each. The twin arcs of electricity slammed into January like a truck. Her eyes danced with bright spots, and she was vaguely aware of tumbling through the air.

She tried to right herself, but really had no idea how to orient herself. All she could do was pull her arms and legs in and hope for the best. She hit something hard a moment later. She shook her head in an effort to clear the lights that danced before her eyes, and realized that she was on the ground now, in the alley behind the metal shop. She sat on the blacktop, with her back against one of the dumpsters. No, not simply against it, but into it. For her body had dimpled a Stormcrow-shaped silhouette into the steel.

Thunder rolled overhead, and the stars vanished behind a sheet of gray cloud.

"Yow." January shook her head. It took a few moments for the world to stop spinning. Then she peeled herself out of the depression her body had bent into the dumpster. The harsh smell of ozone stung her nose. When she turned her head, she noticed tiny wisps of smoke curling up from her helmet. She glanced down at herself, but did not see anything on fire. She reached back to grab her hair with one hand, and it seemed fine too.

"Looks like I got a little cooked, but I'm okay," she said into her comm. "Gadget, did you see that?"

There was nothing but silence in reply.

"Gadget, Gadget, you there?" She tapped at the earpiece in her helmet. But there was nothing from the comm. January imagined that either being launched into the dumpster had broken it, or the twin lightning bolts had shorted it out.

The Face-Bot loomed over the edge of the roof and looked down at January. In the meantime, the three humanoid robots on the ground had clanked into the building, and were just now emerging with sheets and bars of silvery metal. January had never seen titanium before. At least not that she was aware of. But it did not take a genius to figure out what that pilfered metal was.

She leapt at the nearest man-bot, covering the thirty or so feet between them in a single bound. At the same time the eyes of the Face-Bot glowed blue once more. Twin bolts of electricity sprang from them. They lanced through the spot where January had been standing an instant before, and blasted a short trench through the asphalt underfoot.

But by now January was upon the ground-bots. They were clearly not living people, not even ones in armor. So she saw no need to hold back.

She gave the first a power-punch. Standing at an oblique angle to the robot, she started with her left hand forward and her right back at her chest. She brought her right fist forward with blinding speed. She used her body as a fulcrum by twisting her hips and shoulders, putting all of her mass behind the blow.

Her fingers sank into steel flesh. The face exploded under her fist, and the rest of the head snapped clean off the body. It went sailing into the depths of the metal shop. The robot's headless body continued on however. That obliged January to follow up with a side kick to its midsection, folding it over in two as its metallic spine cracked in half. With that it finally collapsed to the cement in a resounding clatter.

The Face-Bot circled around, and took another shot at January. This time its eyes glowed crimson, and bright fingers of laser light stabbed out for her. She ducked, and the ruby red energy sliced effortlessly through the second ground-bot. That cut it neatly in half. The legs still walked toward the garbage truck. But the torso fell to the pavement, spilling stolen titanium from its arms onto the concrete.

The metal men did not seem to be very impressive at fighting. In fact, January noted that they had not tried to dodge once. Their only show of offensive inclination had been to burn down the shop's door. That led January to conclude that they were basically just worker bees, while the Face-Bot was the warrior. Normally she would have simply ignored the workers. But this was a robbery, and they were clearly the means for said robbing. Unless the Face-Bot had some sort hidden arms or force fields that could lift the titanium and load it onto the garbage truck.

So she sprang at the final man-bot, and did something she knew that she never should. She executed a flying kick. Sure, it looked great in the movies. But in reality your opponent could see it coming from a mile away, and only had to step aside to avoid it. Worse, once you were in the air you were committed. There was nothing you could do until you landed, leaving you wide open to a devastating counter.

But she gambled that the ground-bots were not savvy enough to either dodge or counter-attack. She was right. She crashed foot-first into the final robot. Steel exploded beneath her, and the entire torso of the mechanical man disintegrated as she flew through it. She landed inside the metal shop, tucked into a roll, and bounced back to her feet.

January heard the air brakes of the garbage truck hiss, and its engine rumble to life. She reacted without thought, and leaped after it. A single jump put her on the tail section, which was still raised up over the back of the truck. She grabbed hold of its edge, and effortlessly swung herself back up and over, so that she was standing on her hands above the truck.

For a moment she was back in gym class, and doing what she loved best, flying through the uneven bars. January could not help but show off, and performed a back flip through the air. She landed with both feet on the roof of the truck's body, and raced to the cab.

The Face-Bot swung around after her however. January saw it out of the corner of her eye. It glowed red with energy in preparation for another shot. She knew that she would not be able to reach the cab without taking a hit. So instead she leapt up and out of the way. Brilliant twin lances of crimson flashed through the air behind her. They sliced through the cab of the garbage truck, turning half of it into slag.

January performed a back flip with a twist in mid-air, and came down on the pavement facing the Face-Bot. She even stuck the landing. It was just like being back in gym class. Except for the lasers of course.

January wished for some way to strike back. She really needed some kind of ranged weapon. Now she wished she had taken one at character creation. She would have to talk to Avery about making some kind of crowarangs, or maybe just buy a few baseballs. As it was the drone could shoot at her all night, and all she could use against it in return was harsh language.

She saw the eyes on the Face-Bot light up red again, and knew another laser attack was coming. The twin red beams reached out for her, but she was ready, and easily slipped to one side. The lasers gouged up a line of turf in the small field between the industrial subdivision and the gas station.

With that the Face-Bot spun about and whizzed out of sight around the corner of the building. January leaped up after it. She caught sight of it when she was on the high arc of her leap. But she could do nothing until she came down upon the rooftop. Once she landed, she sped after the robot along the edge of the roof. She quickly ran out of real estate, and leaped out once more when the roof ended. Her fingers stretched out for the drone, but it jinked to one side, and she could not correct her flight to follow it.

Thinking of flight gave her another idea. She flung out her arms to either side, and straightened out her torso and legs, as if she were performing a Maltese Cross on the rings. She pushed both buttons in her gauntlets, and her cape instantly cracked out into a pair of wings. Thankfully they had not been shorted out with her comms.

She remembered Lighthammer's instructions about gravity, lift, drag, thrust, negative pressure, and so on. She also remembered her Elemental Mantra.

Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly.

She felt the wind lifting her wings, and soared through the night sky. Cars sped by underneath her as she winged out over Mound road. Given the blaring horns, they must have seen her. But January was more interested in the Face-Bot. She banked, and circled back to where she had last seen it. Something moved in the trees below, between the parking lot and the road. She went into a dive, and her eyes searched the darkened foliage.

The Face-Bot darted from the trees, headed away from January. It spun around, all the while continuing its forward motion. January saw those large eyes turn red, and knew what was coming. She hit the triggers for her wings, and instantly dropped like a rock. Twin lasers lit up the sky above her, but clawed ineffectually at the clouds overhead.

She tucked into a forward roll in mid-air, so that she could come down feet-first. She barely even flexed her knees on the landing, in spite of the twenty foot drop. She must be getting better at this super business. But she was still not good enough. For she could do nothing but watch the Face-Bot vanish into the darkness.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 24 2019, 06:44 PM

Thanks for your peek/insight into the future of the JanBike - that makes sense.


Stormcrow’s boring stakeout turns into a robo-robbery with more than enough excitement! I loved your concepts and descriptions of the motley robo-crew.

Once that face-bot picked up on having an unwanted observer, Stormcrow was on the defensive as she painfully learned the little fellow’s impressive offensive capabilities. By the time she took out the three metalmen (cleverly using the face-bot to help), she had turned the tables somewhat and put the deadly little face-bot on the defensive. As Stormcrow shifted from prey to predator, the little thing still managed do elude her. Nevertheless, she did stop the robbery and acquitted herself as the superheroine she has become.

’January wished for some way to strike back. She really needed some kind of ranged weapon. Now she wished she had taken one at character creation. She would have to talk to Avery about making some kind of crowarangs, or maybe just buy a few baseballs. As it was the drone could shoot at her all night, and all she could do was shake a fist at it.’
- - Love this whole paragraph! tongue.gif I’ve also no doubt that Gadget is up to the challenge.

Posted by: treydog Aug 25 2019, 10:11 PM

More excellent Crow-Girl action! The fight was believable and showed the limitations of her (current) abilities AND her experience. But the only way to get experience is to... go through things.

QUOTE
So she sprang at the final man-bot, and did something she knew that she never should. She executed a flying kick. Sure, it looked great in the movies. But in reality your opponent could see it coming from a mile away, and only had to step aside to avoid it. Worse, once you were in the air you were committed. There was nothing you could do until you landed, leaving you wide open to a devastating counter.


Reminds me of a friend who was taking a self-defense class and tried a snap-kick on the instructor. Unfortunately, it was not "snappy" enough and he caught her foot and led her, hopping, around the mat, explaining why a kick that fails to land is a really BAD idea.

Posted by: Renee Aug 27 2019, 08:16 PM

Nice. She plays Fallout (or at least knows of this game). smile.gif

Oh crap. It is flying, that face bot thingie is flying. [censored]. She's been hit. Good thing her suit probably protects her.

Okay, Face Bot is gone. So now I wonder if that face bot can has cameras in it, and somebody watching her.


Posted by: SubRosa Aug 31 2019, 04:23 PM

Acadian: I enjoyed writing the fight between January and the Robo-Villains. It shows how much she has grown as a super, and how far she still has to go. It was a great sophomore effort.

Gadget is up for the challenge. January's lack of a ranged component, and what she might do to fix that deficit, is something I have spent hours turning over in my head. Guns are right out. They are just not in Jan's character. I thought about various thrown weapons, like shuriken. But I keep shooting them all down. A piercing weapon is not like her. I guess she is just a blunt instrument... I thought about bean bag rounds from shotgun, only used as a thrown weapon. But even those are sometimes fatal, and she can throw hard enough to put one through someone's chest. Baseballs have the same problem. A boomerang (or Crowarang) is too exotic. When is she going to have time to learn how to use that effectively?

You will see my solutions in Chapter 4, which I am in the middle of writing right now. Both Gadget and January step up. One with gizmos, and one with magic.


treydog: January is definitely earned some experience points in that fight, and in the aftermath we will see today.

I recall Dee Foxy's Of Blades, Assassins (and something else?) thread on the old Beth forums. One of the things he pointed out is that kicks are always a gamble, because they make your foundation unstable. The higher the kick, the greater the danger is to your balance, and the more vulnerable you are to a counter. The safest ones are down low, at the other person's ankles or knees.

That is always on my mind when I am writing kicking in my fiction. Back in Seven Reimagined Perspehone faced an opponent who tried a front kick at her face, and she broke his leg. January is an expert in Karate (among other things), so kicks are part of her arsenal. She usually goes for the high ones only as part of a combination, where she tries to distract the opponent with punch to one part of the body, then follows with a kick somewhere else.


Renee: Jan has definitely been exposed to Fallout. Though it is probably Avery who was always playing it. He is the computer nerd after all... wink.gif We will see him playing one of the Portal games in Chapter 3 in fact.

Of course the bot is flying! biggrin.gif In many was the Face-Bot is the antithesis of January. It has no arms, and so cannot fight in melee at all. It flies effortlessly, which January still struggles with. Finally it is all about ranged combat, which Jan is completely lacking in. He is an opponent who forces Jan out of her comfort zone, and forces her to adapt.




http://www.ncsl.org/research/environment-and-natural-resources/state-beverage-container-laws.aspx


Book 2.7 - Stormcrow Recycled


"Gadget, can you hear me yet?"

He still did not reply. She did not like that. It was not the broken equipment that bothered her. It was not hearing his voice in her ear. She had only been in real action three times now, not counting the recon at the hotel. He had only been there to talk to her once. But it had given her so much more confidence, knowing he was out there watching, thinking, turning things over in his head. She had not been alone, like she was now.

A small fire was burning in the garbage truck now, adding a flickering orange glow to the pale white fluorescents hanging over the street and parking lot. Several cars had pulled over, and people had run out of the gas station on the corner of Nineteen and Mound to watch. January knew the police would be coming soon. She debated whether to leave, or stick around to explain.

She did not have legal empowerment. Not like the Sentinels in Chicago did. That meant that technically she was a vigilante. But everyone knew that the reality of super beings had long since taught the law to play things fast and loose where metas were concerned. White Hats were generally given a lot of leeway by the police. So long as they did not kill people, or destroy too much property. Like Emilia Mercado at the airport the week before, most of them knew who their friends were. Or they at least knew when not to poke the wrong bear. But still, you never knew who you were going to meet.

The orange-red light grew brighter, as the paint on the garbage truck's body caught flame. January bit her lip. If the wind picked up, the fire from the truck would spread. That could set the nearby building on fire. She could not allow that.

The cab was now blazing merrily. January wondered where the gas tank was. If it was even gas that powered the truck, and not something more exotic. Then again, it was probably diesel. What had Avery said about diesel vs. gasoline? Gas explodes, diesel burns? No, that was gasoline burns, fumes explode. But she did recall something about diesel being less likely to explode than gas. If only she could reach him on the comm…

She looked around for something to put it out. Her eyes lit on the gaping maw cut into the rollup door. She dashed inside the metal shop. Her hands went to turn on the night vision in her helmet. But nothing happened. Apparently that had been knocked out too, along with her comms.

She squinted in the dark until she found a light switch and flipped it on. Racks and bins lined the walls, and were stacked row after row deeper into the building. They were filled with metals in many shapes: sheets, ingots, big pellets, rods, and so forth. Some shone with lustrous silver, like the titanium that littered the ground. Some were burnished bright reddish-orange, and others were dark, almost black.

But metal was not what she was interested in. The fire extinguisher hanging from one wall was. She leaped over to it and lifted it from its cradle. It was light as a feather in her hands. She jumped out through the doorway, and back into the alley. She fumbled with the handle of the extinguisher while she puzzled over how it worked. She had it sorted out after a few moments, and began spraying the burning truck with foam.

This would be a great time for some rain, she mused. But the slate gray sky had not a single drop of water to shed. January guessed she was just not sad enough for it to rain, or stressed enough, or whatever it was that made her affect the elements.

She had just finished putting the fire out when the bright red and blue lights of a police car illuminated the alley. January looked up in time to see a patrolman step out of the car, one hand on the pistol at his hip. Now she noted that at least half a dozen onlookers were clustered around the edge of the alley as well, watching and recording with their phones.

"Holy shit!" a familiar voice exclaimed. "It's the real Stormcrow. I sold Stormcrow a pop!"

January recognized the clerk from the nearby gas station, looking positively ecstatic. She started to wave at him, but stopped when she noticed the policeman draw his gun and point it at her. That made her realize that the motion of her hand might have been misconstrued. In a world where some people could shoot bolts of energy from their fingers, a simple wave could be a lethal attack after all.

She stopped, and gave her full attention to the cop. The bright red and blue lights flashing from atop his car made it hard for her to see him clearly. She imagined that was the idea behind them. He looked young. But who was she kidding? He was still older than she was. He had that square set to his face, and that tight, hard way of standing that always made her think of the Army

"It's ok officer," she said. "I'm Stormcrow. I was just putting out the fire."

"Did you do this?" he asked. He did lower his gun to a forty five degree angle. But he did not put it away either.

"I busted the robots," January nodded to the wreckage of the three ground bots. "But not the truck. The last robot did that before it got away."

"Where's the driver?" the cop stepped nearer, looking from her to the burned out cab of the garbage truck.

"There wasn't one," January shook her head. "It's fully robotic. They were all robots. They were trying to steal titanium. I think it's related to two other thefts of rare metals."

"She stopped them!" one of the onlookers shouted. "It was awesome! I've got the end on video!"

"Yeah, Stormcrow kicked ass!" another person cried.

"And I sold her a FaeCo..." the clerk added.

More police cars rolled up, along with a fire truck. January found herself explaining what had happened again, and again. The original cop holstered his gun. January wondered if the reinforcements made him feel safer around her, or if he just finally trusted her. In any case, the police gave her a cool reception, but they were not hostile either. She imagined that they did not know what to do with her, just as she did not know what to do with them.

On the other hand, the firefighters barely gave her a second glance. Instead they immediately started going over the truck. They made sure the fire was truly out, and spent a few moments searching the surrounding area for any injured people. One of the firemen pointed out the dumpster, and wondered what had caused the deep, Stormcrow-shaped impression within its steel frame.

"That dent is me," January admitted sheepishly. "Their warrior-bot sort of got the drop on me. It packs a real punch."

Now the bystanders began to crowd closer. Some were asking for selfies with her. One asked if she was single. The clerk told the questioner that she was a lesbian. Obviously they did not know she was trans. Given the experience she had in avoiding bulges in the wrong places, that was no surprise however.

The police moved to block them, which January imagined was probably the prudent thing to do. She must still be a big unknown to most people. For all they knew she might snap at any moment and start punching people. Not to mention it was still a crime scene after all.

One of the cops gave her an imploring look. "You had better fly Stormcrow," he said. "Things are all under control here."

He did not say "they might not stay that way if you stick around," but January could imagine the words easily enough. She had never thought that fame, whatever tiny amount of it she now possessed, could make things more difficult for her as a superhero. She had just hoped that it might make people more willing to cooperate with her. But it seemed the whole super world was more complicated than she had thought.

"Stormcrow likes FaeCo," she heard the clerk declare to someone else in the crowd. "Come back for more!" he cried to her.

January shook her head. That did remind her of the pop. She must have dropped it when the fight had started. She leaped back onto the roof, and found it rolling along, now empty of its contents. She picked it up and put it away in the panniers of her motorcycle, beside her license plate. There was no sense leaving any DNA evidence laying around. She was not going to end up like Hailstorm…

Besides, there was a ten cent deposit on that bottle.

Posted by: Renee Aug 31 2019, 07:01 PM

Yes there is some reason why our armed forces often uses diesel in the field. I read that in a Jack Reacher book a couple years ago. Can't remember what that reason is now! Oh well.

Michigan is still ten cents? There was a Seinfeld episode which featured Michigan I think, because their bottle law pays more.

Hopefully that warehouse won't catch fire, her bike is still on its roof!

I like how she keeps getting recorded by onlookers with their phones. It makes her more accountable when she explains to the cop what just happened.

Neat, so she's worried about her DNA possibly because then people might try to figure out who she is. Not that she's in the system now, but some day she could be.

That clerk is all proud. He sold her a Pepsi Ultimate!


Posted by: Acadian Sep 1 2019, 07:29 PM

Another wonderful episode!

I liked how her broken comm made her uncomfortable – really shows that Stormcrow is a duo and that she relies on Gadget.

Speaking of Gadget, he is wise indeed and it was perfect how January struggled to recall that diesel is less flammable than gasoline and therefore much safer to work around and with. I also liked that she didn’t automatically know how to use a fire extinguisher – a great touch to highlight her youth and level of experience in some areas.

Similarly, you tantalize us with more hints that her unusual relationship with stormclouds may at some point transition to some level of control. It would certainly be handy if she could indeed make it rain sometimes. . . or cause a lightning bolt to hit a foe.

The cop’s tactful invitation for Stormcrow to leave was perfect – and wise. Fortunately, she is astute enough to know and understand that he was simply trying to regain control of his crime scene from the Stormcrow groupies.

Her closing dual but incongruous concerns about the pop bottle were absolutely perfect – not to leave any DNA and recover her darn ten cent deposit! tongue.gif

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Sep 2 2019, 03:06 AM

Chapter 1.4: There was plenty in this chapter that I enjoyed! What an exciting adventure so far! Gadget's/Avery's gizmo cavern seems like a futuristic bat-cave! He makes a great companion to Jan! Her recollection of battle and his data-gathering ways was both fun and informative.

'"Funny how a company doesn't get investigated when it has billion dollar contracts with the government.'
Gadget made a fine point here. Seems very convenient, doesn't it?

January, though young, is wise enough to understand that old popular saying: with great power comes great responsibility. Having powers is great, but the true test of a person is what they use those powers for, and how they use them. I can imagine one may be tempted in using their power in scenarios where, perhaps, it would have been better to exercise restraint. Its good that she's focused on the positive aspects of meditation and purging all the negativity, which no doubt can cause turmoil to spill out. Especially with a weather-wielding hero like her. Yoga was very beneficial.

Avery is, too, and he's the friend she really needs right now, especially after the battle she just had. Not only was he there to help analyze the situation but he also gave her some inspiration words of support.

Jan does seem to struggle with some thoughts many heroes do, too. I really am liking this story! Can't wait to find more about Lighthammer, as well. Great chapter!


Chapter 1.5: Wow. So Lighthammer's reason to steal the diamonds was not for something as simple as money. Its used to empower him! Somehow that makes him even more deadlier!

'January could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Fighting was not just throwing punches. It was moves and countermoves. It was playing to your strengths, concealing your weaknesses, exposing your enemy's, and exploiting them. It was like chess, just with sweat and bruises. That had been check and mate. He had completely outplayed her.' Very good observation here! I suspect the next time they meet again(assuming they do) she'll remember this well, and might turn the tables on him. Using strength and speed can only take one so far, sometimes you have to use your noggin, too.

We learn that the diamonds, despite being beautiful, are often the cause of so much misfortune and evil! Seems even the baser baddies have need of them. Seems that our Indian friend wasn't entirely a victim; he had his hands involved one way or another.

Things are picking up for sure! The story unfolds!

Chapter 1.6:

I just had to laugh. This entire chapter was very fun throughout.

"I bet Blood Raven doesn't have to make excuses to her mom when she goes out fighting evil."
laugh.gif laugh.gif Or when she's playing Call of Cthulhu

I have to echo Acadian. If the last few chapters wasn't enough, this one truly showed us that these two are nigh inseparable and fit nicely like peas in a pod. He's really helping her out, and she's making progress and getting things done!

The two employees talking about the fight was absolutely hilarious. I would have reacted just the same as she did if I heard something like that. Men will be men, right?

'Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and her mouth was suddenly as dry as Tatooine.'
LOVED this bit here!

Though the portly cop may have given her a brief delay, it hasn't stopped her from going forth with her plan to gain access to that room.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 7 2019, 04:15 PM

Renee: Gasoline is much quicker to burn and explode than diesel, or jet fuel for that matter. In WWII our Sherman tanks had gasoline engines, not diesel. One hit from a shell and the entire tank would go up in a ball of fire. They called them Zippos. In contrast every other tank made by every other country had a diesel engine.

Michigan is still ten cents. I amazes me that so few states have returnable laws. What do you people do with your empty bottles? Just throw them out? ohmy.gif
People even try to smuggle their empty bottles into Michigan to get the returns. The State govt. made some pretty stiff laws against that, because it costs businesses the return money.

Everybody records everything on their phones these days. It is like life did not exist before video to prove it happened.

The acknowledgement of her DNA being on her saliva on that bottle is a nod to the utter stupidity of so many TV and movie writers, whose characters do things like walk into homes and rob them. Not wearing gloves, or a mask. Their fingerprints would be on everything, and their faces on the homeowner's Nest cameras. You could not make it easier for police. The fact is there are cameras everywhere today, and the police can get your DNA off just a single hair that fell from your lion-like mane. If the police actually make an effort to find you, they will, unless you take extreme measures to protect your identity. That is a reality supers like January have to deal with (and we will see some ways they circumvent detection in the future).


Acadian: January is definitely not a lone wolf hero. We will often see her reaching out to others, and creating alliances, if not friendships. Lighthammer was just the beginning there. I even have some vague, really long term ideas of her creating a team from the diverse supers she unites.

We have fire extinguishers at work. They are so heavy I can barely lift one. I use them for door stops. The fire marshals love that, btw. wink.gif

January definitely has a powerful influence on the elements. Keep watching the skies!

January is still learning this super business. Her interactions with the Sterling Heights pd there was one example of that. She is getting better though, and making an effort to create those alliances.

10 cents is 10 cents! That is such a Michigan thing...


Darkness Eternal: Crow and Gadget are most definitely a partnership. They each complement the other. The Gadget Cave was fun to write about. It is a tech geek's paradise!

That will not be the last time that January will be outplayed by an opponent. It happens again in Chapter 4. She is still learning after all, and has a long way to go. I know you were concerned that Raven might seem really overpowered and Mary Sueish. By definition, superheros are overpowered! So this is one way I am trying to mitigate that, and show that January is still fallible. The same as everyone.

I loved the idea of a superhero having to deal with their mother! It is another one of those things that brings them right back down to earth, and gives us a way to relate with them.

One thing I really love about writing January is that with her stories set in the modern (albeit super) world, I can finally draw on all those nerdy pop culture references my real life is filled with.




https://youtu.be/mVf2EeTMNJo

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

https://i.imgur.com/9BhluM4.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hzxetqb.jpg

https://msu.edu/

https://umich.edu/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lower_Peninsula_of_Michigan



Book 2.8 - Stormcrow Recycled

It was late when January turned onto her street. So late she could not stop from yawning. But she had things to do before she could go to bed. She rode past her house, and saw that the lights were still on. That meant her parents were up, which was not a good sign. Were they waiting up for her? It was not like she was fifteen any more. Not that she had ever sneaked out and went to parties or anything else teenager-like. Being trans had a wonderful way of insuring that no one ever invited you to those kinds of things. Unless you counted gaming night with Avery and the Dungeons and Dragons guys.

She glanced up at her darkened bedroom window. Somewhere in there was a soft bed with an even softer pillow. But that would have to wait. She had promises to keep, and while not miles, still a few more feet to go before she could sleep. With all deference to Robert Frost of course.

So she rode down two more houses to Avery's home. All the lights were off except those from the basement. She saw his mother's car in the driveway. So she was finally home from the hospital. She worked so many double-shifts as a nurse that January was not used to seeing it there.

"You're ok!" Avery exclaimed when January walked down into the Gadget Cave, carrying her motorcycle under one arm.

"Of course I am," January said. She opened up the storage space under the fake gas tank, and pulled out her armor. "But I think I lost the comm in the suit. The night vision too. I got hit by some serious electricity."

"That flying drone? It was the last thing I saw before the link went dead." Gadget took the cowl and began studying it. He walked back to one of his workbenches, and put it under an illuminated magnifying glass. "It took a few minutes for me to get into some security cameras to see the rest of it."

January explained what he had missed, and Gadget used a set of tweezers to pull out the burned circuitry in her cowl. She tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. Gadget told her to go home, and she took his advice. She left the motorcycle and armor with him. She walked home, and leaped up onto the roof. She did not feel like dealing with her parents right now.

She was about to pry out the screen of her window when a light washed across the street behind her. She glanced to the side, and saw that a car was coming. The last thing she needed was someone calling the police on her for breaking and entering. So she was obliged to scramble over the roof and duck behind its peak until the car passed. Having a front-facing window was definitely not ideal for superheroing.

Once it was safe, she returned to her window and jimmied it open. She tossed her pack in her closet, and laid back on her bed without even taking off her clothes. A glance at the glowing numbers on her clock revealed that it was barely past one o'clock. That was not so terribly late. But it had been a big day, and she was exhausted.

She closed her eyes and just relaxed. But strident voices immediately set her heart racing. She could not place them at first, so she rose and walked to her door. Then she realized that it was her parents arguing, though she could still not make out the words. She opened the door, and cautiously stepped into the hallway. Now their voices became clear as crystal, rising up from the ground floor.

"I can't believe you hid this from me!" her mother's voice rang out. "Really, how do you go from history professor to slinging porn online?"

"Do you know how many people bought my book about Greco-Roman Architecture? Or the Crisis of the Third Century? Or the Greek Tyrants?" Her father cried. "I made more money on my last erotica e-book than I did on all my history books combined."

"And that's how you've paid for Julian's way through Michigan? There were no student loans." Her mother's voice dripped with incredulity. "At the same time you and I have been telling January that we can't afford to send her to anything other than community college. She could be going to MSU right now, or U of M herself!"

"You know what student loans are like," her father contended. "Julian would be paying off the interest alone for years. It would take him at least a decade to get out from under it. So I wrote some smut to pay his way. It's not my real name on it. And it's not like you've never read anything like that before."

"That's not the point!'" her mother cried. "You have been lying to our daughter for years. You have been holding her back this entire time. And worse of all, you made me a party to it by lying to me!"

"Because I knew you'd react like this!" her father argued. "Julian deserves it. He's going to make something of his life. It isn't fair to him how August is holding him back."

"What on earth are you talking about?" her mother's voice rose with incredulity. "January isn't going to make something of her life? She is holding Julian back? How can you even talk like that about your children?"

"Because it's true." January barely heard her father's voice over the pounding of blood in her ears. "You know it is. August has always been a troubled boy. This pretending to be a girl is just a sad cry for attention. Just like that suicide attempt. He has to make everything about him. He's been an albatross around our necks since he was born. It's pathetic really. It's why I never made full professor. It's why I have to write all these insipid books in first place."

"An albatross? Oh, you are not going there!" her mother's voice was so loud the windows practically rattled. "Do not put your own career failings on her. On her damn it! You know full well that almost no one teaching college ever goes beyond being an adjunct. Your job is your own damn responsibility. And Julian? Most kids wish they had it as good as him. I never had the opportunities he does, neither did you, nor either of our parents!"

"Julian's last three girlfriends left him because of August." There it was again, that male name that cut so deeply to January's core. Her father just could not bear calling her by her real name, as if that would give her some sort of power over him. Simply acknowledging her gender seemed to frighten him more than facing a supervillain with an antimatter cannon. "His grade point average slipped the last two years because of him too."

"Are you crazy, is that your problem?" her mother's voice became lower, but with a sharper, harder edge. "What next, she is responsible for global warming? The fall of Rome? How about we blame Jesus dying on the cross on her too? Hell, let's just go back further and rename it January's Box instead of Pandora's, since apparently our daughter loosed every misfortune that exists in the world."

"Man up and grow a pair of damn balls," her mother growled. "Stop trying to blame someone else for your failures, or for Julian's. It's cowardly, and beneath you."

"No, everything in the world is all my fault, isn't it!" her father's voice became more strident. "I am sick and damned tired of having to bear every burden in this family. My life was pretty good until I met you. I didn't have to marry you. It's not my fault you wouldn't get the damn abortion. I could have been someone! But instead I-"

The piercing crack of skin against skin rang out.

January did not hear anything more. The pounding of her heart blotted everything else out. She ran back into her room, and slammed the door behind her. She could not think. She only knew that she had to escape. She went straight for the window, and leapt into the deluge that now poured from the sky by the bucketful.

* * *

"Where were you?" Avery's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The next thing January knew, the taller man had her wrapped up in his arms. "We were so worried about you?"

"We?" January blinked. She stared around the empty Gadget Cave. The early morning sun slanted in through the windows placed along the driveway above. The rest of the house was silent and still. Even his mother's car was gone, as usual. It was just the two of them, like always.

"Your mother was calling and texting me all night, looking for you." Avery finally let go of her. "Did you really jump out your bedroom window?"

January nodded sheepishly, and stared down at her shoes. Like the rest of her clothing, they were completely soaked. She absentmindedly noted that it would make most people miserable. But being the Weather Witch of Warren, she was used to being rained on. It was just a normal part of life.

She allowed Avery to guide her to the couch, where she plopped down in a very unladylike pose.

"What happened?" he asked as he sat down beside her. "Have you been out all night in the rain?"

"I don't want to talk about it," January murmured. "Not now."

"Okay," Avery's voice had the caution of a person navigating through a minefield. "That bad eh?"

"I have to get out of that house," January blurted out. "I'm going to get an apartment, or rent a house. Will you come with me? Split the bills?"

"Whoa, that's sudden," Avery stared with shock. "What happened to saving money for surgery?"

"I just can't live there anymore," January reiterated.

"I... I wish I could," Avery frowned. "I'd love to have my own place. Our own place. But I can't leave my Nana. My mom's gone almost all the time at work. I have to be around to take care of her."

January nodded, but could not restrain a frown of her own. "I knew you would say that."

"Hey, why don't you dry off and change, and I'll make some breakfast," Avery offered. "Things might look a little different once you're dry and have something in your stomach. Oh, excuse me, you girls have 'tummies' don't you?"

Avery's smile was as forced as it was beautiful. January put her arms around him once more. Then she remembered that she was soaked, and was now getting him wet as well. She pulled away, and a growl squirmed from her stomach.

She went to the basement bathroom to dry off and change into some of the spare clothes she kept in the Gadget Cave for emergencies. Then she went upstairs to binge on waffles and sausage links with Avery. The news droned out of the small TV he kept on the kitchen counter. The weather came on, and the meteorologist informed everyone that while the rest of the Lower Peninsula would be enjoying a sunny spring day, the people of Warren would have to endure steady rain. At least until the Weather Witch decided to give them a break.

January had started to feel better. Now she was the reason why no cat could lay in the sun today.

"You texted my mother when I was changing didn't you," she finally said.

"Of course I did." Avery rubbed the back of his neck. "She needs to know you're ok."

January sighed. She did not want to deal with that right now. She did not want to think about last night. She needed to focus on the future. The words of her old therapist rose up in her mind.

"What are you going to do about it?"

She nearly ran into her mother when she walked out the back door. She had her motorcycle tucked under one arm, as easily as one might carry a pillow. The sight of that seemed to take all the words from her mother's mouth.

"Mom, I'm sorry," January choked out. She dropped the bike to the driveway with a weighty thump. It splashed rainwater over her feet, while her new clothes began to slowly soak through under the steady drizzle from overhead. "But I can't do this right now."

"How much did you hear?" her voice was low with equal measures of dread and sorrow.

"Enough." January pulled the ancient Bell motorcycle helmet over her head and fastened it tight. The next thing she knew her mother was holding her tight.

"Mom, I'm trying to storm off all cool and melodramatic like," January heard herself say. "It doesn't work with you hugging me."

"Ok honey," she stepped back, forcing a smile. "When you're done storming, just remember that I'll always love you, no matter what."

"I know," January said.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 7 2019, 07:17 PM

Gosh, I'm learning a lot about Michigan and Detroit from this story! tongue.gif

Predictable that Jan would, after her mission, head straight for the Gadget Cave to update Avery.
"It took a few minutes for me to get into some security cameras to see the rest of it."
- - Here you ‘show’ us how brilliantly creative Gadget is. Quick thinking on his part, upon losing comm, to tap into the building security cameras.

Well, that was an argument at home she didn’t need to hear. . . . sad.gif Some powerfully effective writing there, my friend. Her father’s a real butthead. If there is a silver lining though, her mother quite shined here in Jan’s defense.

Magnificent how Jan literally ‘stormed’ off into that downpour of her own creating.

Posted by: Renee Sep 9 2019, 12:16 AM

We recycle. At least I do. Where I live it seems like every one does, it seems like all the houses in my neighborhood have their blue bins out on recycle day. Ha, so that is real, when people try to bring bottles into Michigan!

Thanks for explaining about diesel and gasoline. I used to work at a gas station and it's funny how little I knew about it... I was merely a cashier / office lady. I remember we did not sell diesel. mad.gif At least once a week I'd have explain this to some grouchy customer, and tell him or her to drive halfway across town to one of our competitors at the time. rolleyes.gif

----------------

Uh oh. They're fighting!

"Jan isn't going to make something of her life?" Oh yes she is. biggrin.gif

I got really uncomfortable reading their argument, but that's what happens to me in real-life too, when I hear people argue. So in other words, good job portraying their fight.

Phew. Poor January.

Posted by: treydog Sep 9 2019, 01:13 AM

QUOTE
But it had given her so much more confidence, knowing he was out there watching, thinking, turning things over in his head. She had not been alone, like she was now.


A lesson my A and A team are learning (slowly). Counting on someone else is not dependency or weakness; it is a way for both to be stronger.

QUOTE
She had never thought that fame, whatever tiny amount of it she now possessed, could make things more difficult for her as a superhero. She had just hoped that it might make people more willing to cooperate with her. But it seemed the whole super world was more complicated than she had thought.


The downside to fame that many famous people have learned to their cost- a small, but dangerous segment of their “fandom” thinks they “own” the celebrity they venerate, and worse yet, that the famous person reciprocates their feelings.

QUOTE
There was no sense leaving any DNA evidence laying around. She was not going to end up like Hailstorm…

Besides, there was a ten cent deposit on that bottle.


A perfect wry ending to a great after-action moment.

The fight was... terrible- and as Renee said, perfectly written. Begin to see where Julian gets his attitudes and irresponsibility....

QUOTE
January had started to feel better. Now she was the reason why no cat could lay in the sun today.


You manage once more to relieve the tension from before with a perfectly placed dry observation.

QUOTE
"Mom, I'm trying to storm off all cool and melodramatic like," January heard herself say. "It doesn't work with you hugging me."


Moms- they always know how to ruin a perfect dramatic exit...

Most excellent once again. Mrs. Treydog the Painter and I often say that good art makes you "feel." It may not always make you feel "good," but it doesn't just leave you without any particular impression, either. Your writing is most definitely good art.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Sep 14 2019, 01:55 AM


Chapter 1.7: Heh. Good question honestly. What is it? Uniform? Outfit?

"Note to self, Fire is cool," she murmured.

Fire is definetely cool! And so are her powers.

Again I have to say just how great it is to have Gadget on her side. He's a handy man for sure! It was neat having him check the database to find out if Sub was arrested. Gave her more than enough time to find that elusive little black book.

"No wait. If he comes back and it's gone, he'll get suspicious."

This was perfect. Though its common sense, this was a good way to avoid her getting into trouble and both of them potentially being discovered later on.

Hehe, a selfie with a Trekkie is far better than an unpleasant outcome! I was happy this happened. Sure brought a smile to my face.

Great chapter!


Chapter 1.8: How great it was to see January at her house. I always find it interesting to see a character's lifestyle back home when they aren't on dangerous missions and adventures. You gave us such a great description of her house(well, her parent's house), that it was as if we were actually there with her.

That was a total Peter Parker-esque moment, sneaking in through the window to get into her room!

'In the past she had always put that down to her being more focused. She didn't waste time going to parties, or binge-watching TV, or surfing YouTube, or spending hours talking and texting friends, or shopping for clothes, and all the other things that seemed to preoccupy teenagers so much.'

Which makes her stand out. This worked well in her favor.

'January had to admit, she did not look her fifty years of age. Or was it fifty thousand? It was so hard to tell the difference with parents.'

tongue.gif laugh.gif
How tough it must be for January to be called something she isn't. That, and coupled with the fact of her being the 'oddball' of the family certainly can create tense situations. We get a true in-depth view on the day-to-day habits of Jan as she settles in her room and searches herself online.

"Stormcrow does not simply walk into Mordor. She leaps!"

This. Is. Pure. Gold! biggrin.gif biggrin.gif

Seems to me that Julian does gravitate toward his father Romulus a bit, doesn't he? You captured this quite well with him echoing the other. January had some very good points regarding the difference between heroes and law enforcement and their efficiency.

"She might not even be from here. She could have been any one of those people staying in that hotel. For all we know she might be in San Francisco right now, or New York."

Or, you know, right in front of you. I love moments like these!

"I may as well work at Burger Baron, for all the money I would make doing that. I am sure that's where you will end up, but not me."

What a douche!


Chapter 1.9:
Her brother's less-than-inspirational words hung like a storm in our hero's mind. How terrible it must be to have a brother who doesn't have your back, and worst, discourages her with words.

'She knew from bitter experience that the last thing normal people wanted to was to be reminded that someone like her existed. But even given that, January knew that she would never compromise her ideals. She would rather be homeless.'

This was some great insight! Despite the weight of the world's views upon one's shoulders, they should never shed away their resolve, and remain strong despite the negative and judgmental views of others.

Jan has some major problems! Dealing with parents who have yet to see you for who you are, financial challenges, as well as personal doubts creeping in to potential sibling favoritism, all seems to be against her. The best thing she could do, though it may be hard, is remember:

'Never ever give up, no matter what.'

Oh! Something is about to go down! When Gadget calls, its urgent!

I will be back for the rest! Great story!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 14 2019, 05:30 PM

Acadian: I know you were joking, but the reason I set this in Detroit is that I know this city and state so well. Right down to the Bernsteins and bottle deposits. I can bring that out in the stories in a way I could never do with a fictional setting.

Tapping into nearby security cameras is going to become a staple of Gagetology. I get a lot of that from Shadowrun, where cameras are an even larger part of life than today. The Decker (hacker) character would commonly hijack the local security cameras to wipe their shadowrunner team from them, and use them to tell the runners where the bad guys were.

The last episode was one of those really blatant displays of how January's emotions shape the local elements. As difficult it was to write the argument, being able to show Jan's feelings through the pouring rain was wonderful.

I decided to go this route with Jan's family because so many Queer people face these very same (and often much worse) issues with their own families. It is just one of those Truth in Television moments that I felt I could not ignore and still be true to reality. From a purely nuts and bolts storytelling point of view it also introduces an extra sort of conflict. Conflict is what drives all stories. Without it, things are just boring.


Renee: Wow, except in a few neighborhoods we don't have recycle bins for every house in Michigan. Just garbage cans. You have to put your paper and other recyclables aside yourself and take them to the city recycle center.

I was uncomfortable writing the argument as well. I had to break it down into individual story beats, and cover them one at a time in an analytical fashion in order to get through it.


treydog: So you would say Blood on the Moon is a story about the A-Team then? wink.gif

The darkside of modern media culture is one of the things I specifically wanted to put on display in that scene with the crowd wanting to get every closer and closer to the new media sensation.

Like I said in the past, it's ok to dislike Julian. His attitudes definitely run from his father, and are in fact amplified by the preferential treatment he has received from Romulus.

I just cannot resist those little wry observations like the ten cent deposit or cats laying in the sun. That is one of those examples of the author being reflected in what they write.

A few months ago I read the Screwfly Solution, and I commented about it on the HP Lovecraft Literary Podcast's Patreon comments section. I said pretty much what you and Mrs. Dog did. Good fiction makes you feel, even if you don't particularly want to. That story was very much in mind when I wrote that fight between Jan's parents. I am sure it was not easy for Alice Sheldon to write it, because it is so emotionally brutal. She slogged through it to create an outstanding story. So I did too.


Darkness Eternal: I think selfies are now the new autograph. I don't think any fan wants anything signed anymore, do they? We all have cameras on us all the time, so we all want pics. Otherwise it did not happen after all.

Peter Parker/Spider-Man is an inspiration for these stories. Back in the 60s when the character first came out he was a big hit, precisely because he was not rich, or famous, or desired, or even cool. He was an ordinary schlub, facing ordinary problems. Someone everyone can relate to. January is a bit exotic in that she is trans and lesbian. But what I am hoping to really emphasize is just how ordinary she really is, but showcasing these ordinary issues and situations she faces in her everyday life.

Given today's Meme-centric internet culture, a Stormcrow Meme had to be in the offing. Who can resist the Sean Bean classic of walking into Mordor? I cannot watch the scene in Fellowship of the Ring without thinking of the memes.

I am digging way back to my own youth with Jan's feelings about older people. 30? Wow, what an ancient! 50! They must have rode dinosaurs to school!

Julian does indeed take a lot of his personality from his father, and from the preferential treatment he receives. Something we will see a lot more of in the future. He is indeed, a douche. Well, he's a lawyer after all. Or will be.

I used to keep a printed out copy of the Viking Code on my door when I was younger. I would always look at that whenever I left my home, especially the final part. "Never give up, no matter what."



https://www.simplypsychology.org/wundt.html

https://i.imgur.com/XaCXecg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/jjbr8Lu.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EXHwvUr.jpg

https://youtu.be/Bg9fVjhM8Ds

https://youtu.be/GqheY8Yz5to

https://i.imgur.com/ito9jK3.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/LJ8xuqq.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/03CpTDn.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/5CYGI5H.jpg




Book 2.9 - Stormcrow Recycled

January sat in class, trying to remember who Wilhelm Wundt was, and why he was important to the history of psychology. Try as she might, all she could think about was Willy Wonka. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Oompa Loompas and chocolate were not going to be on the final exam.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She prayed to Freyja, the Morrigan, and any other deity who would listen that it wasn't her mother, again. She sneaked a peek at it when the professor was not looking. It turned out to be a text from Avery.

Another Robbery.

Global Titanium Inc. North of Seven Mile, between Van Dyke and Mound.

Right Now!


January bit her lip. What was she supposed to do? Blow off her Intro To Psychology class? But how could she sit there when another robot-army was on the loose? How did Blood Raven handle this kind of thing?

There never really was any question after all. She slid her phone into her pocket, and her book and notes into her backpack. She stood and walked briskly for the door. The professor turned his balding head toward her and gave her a quizzical look.

"Sorry, family emergency," she said. Then she was out the door, and looking for a secluded place to change into her armor. It turned out to be no farther away than the croaking of a crow. The black bird was perched in a cluster of trees beside the nearby library, and stared at her intently as it called out.

Thankfully the rain had stopped, but the grass was still wet when January raced across it to get under the cover of the trees. It turned out to be an ideal spot. January's elemental mantra was second nature to her now. She simply thought about it, and willed the change to happen. An instant later she was in her armor, and the tee, jeans, and fitted jacket she had been wearing were tucked safely away in her backpack.

The trees also gave her convenient cover for a leap to the roof with no one noticing. She tucked her pack away behind a row of upraised bricks in one corner. Given that it was the tallest building on the campus, no one would ever notice it. Or at least she hoped so.

She did not bother with the motorcycle. It had been too much trouble the last time. Besides, there would be traffic at this time of day. Instead she leapt high into the sky, and snapped out her wings. She remembered everything that Lighthammer had told her about the principles of flight.

"I keep forgetting that so much of this is not like flying a jet," the armored vigilante had told her. "Even a glider doesn't compare. You fly like a bird. Well, like a crow. But they flap their wings to generate thrust. I don't know how you do it. It's not even gliding. Not really. Your glide ratio is way better than any glider or wingsuit. You've got some mojo for this. You need to keep working on developing that."

She flew south across the campus, willing herself to remain in the air. She concentrated on reshaping reality, on creating a world where she could soar like any bird. Her focus, her energy, went into that. Muscle memory gained under Lighthammer's tutelage also taught her to angle her wings. She would create the most negative pressure on the upper surface, and the most positive on the lower. That would generate lift the old-fashioned way. The same as a bird did.

Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly.

She soared all the way across the campus before she began to lose appreciable altitude. Finally she was obliged to come down on the roof of the high school nearby. She disengaged her wings and hit it running. At the edge of the roof she leapt back up into the sky, and redeployed her wings. Then she was sailing through the sky again.

"Broadsword calling Danny Boy," she said into the brand new comm Avery had installed in her helmet the previous night.

"Got you Broadsword," Gadget's voice came back loud and clear in her ear, sounding decidedly amused. "Are Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood driving you? I see traffic backed up on Groesbeck."

"Take a look," January carefully reached up to her head, and clicked on the video unit. A moment later she crossed over I-696 and came down on the roof of a massive factory. It was so large that she could do more than run across it. She was able to take numerous horizontal leaps, covering over thirty feet in each bound. She built up speed all the while, so that when she finally launched skyward she gained more altitude than she ever had before. She cracked out her wings, and rejoiced in the view.

"Hot damn girl," Gadget's voice was soft amazement. "That is lit!"

"Okay, that's Groesbeck down to your left," he declared confidently. "Keep following it to Outer Drive, then go right. It's just before Seven Mile."

January continued her routine of leaping and gliding, and ate the miles up in the bright blue sky. She noticed a single crow ahead of her, seeming to fly in the same direction that she was. She followed it out of reflex. Soon there was another crow, and another, and she found herself part of a large murder of the birds.

January laughed out loud. The clouds were gone, both in the sky overhead, and within her heart. In spite of all the disturbing revelations of the previous night, in spite of whatever was waiting for her at the next titanium shop, this was a perfect moment. She knew that, and did her best to live in it forever. Or at least whatever passed for forever these days.

She even imagined that she heard "Four Days" by the Counting Crows playing in her ear. Then she realized it was not in her mind. She really was hearing it.

"A little something by Counting Crows to go with your crow pals," Gadget's voice came in over the alternative rock.

The crows led her right to Global Titanium Incorporated. It was a compound of large buildings on the far side of a set of railroad tracks that ran from north to south. The complex was laid out in a rectangle, the perimeter being marked out by large, windowless buildings. A pair of structures bisected the layout about one third of the way from the south. That made it more of a figure eight, with a larger open square on the north side, and a smaller one to the south. Most of the buildings seemed to be two story sheds or warehouses, massive in size. Large doorways - big enough for multiple trucks to drive through at the same time - yawned open in them.

The center of the big open square to the north was taken up by a collection of large, open-aired storage bays. They were constructed from massive concrete blocks that looked for all the world like giant Legos. Each bay was blocked off on three sides by high walls of the white blocks, leaving one end open. Four of these bays were lined up with their open ends facing south. Another four butted up opposite them, sharing a single, center wall. Their openings faced north. That created eight enclosures in all. All were filled with metals in numerous forms. There were loose chips piled up in mounds, heaps of what looked like powder, and neatly stacked crates of packaged materials. Even more of these storage bays were spread around the edges of the courtyard, and against the sides of the massive sheds and warehouses. Everywhere January looked, there was metal. It was a Mountain Dwarf's paradise.

It was here that January saw another Frankensteinian garbage truck. Like the one from the previous night, it was made up of parts thrown together from several other trucks. The varying colors made that plain. Half the cab was green, the other half yellow, and the storage bay behind was brown and blue.

January could see several more of the humanoid robots walking from one of the large metal storage bays to the truck. They carried ingots of shining metal in their iron hands, which they loaded into the open back of the garbage truck. Smoke rose from the wreck of a semi-truck nearby, but there were no signs of any people. Whoever had been working down there must have either ran off, or be hiding.

"Whoa, what happened?" Gadget's concerned voice came over the comm. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," January puzzled out. "No one's even shot at me yet."

"I just lost the video," Gadget explained. "I've got nothing but haze coming through."

"Everything looks fine," January assured him. "Maybe it's just still on the fritz from the other night. I'm going on according to plan."

"That can't be," Gadget insisted. "I completely replaced all the wiring with shielded circuitry. It's immune to electrical damage, or even an EMP."

January looked for the Face-Bot, but did not see it as she approached. She took advantage of its apparent absence, and plunged down toward the garbage truck. It grew larger and larger by the second, and she had to give it her fullest concentration. Moments from hitting it, she triggered off her wings. She went into a forward roll as she fell, and hit the blacktop still moving.

She rolled under the truck. As the chassis passed by overhead, she clipped one of Gadget's contraptions to its underside. Without slowing an instant, she rolled out the other side of the truck, and sprang to her feet.

"GPS attached," she said quietly.

"Got it pinging," he said. "Just make it look good now."

One of the metal men stepped out from around the back of the garbage truck. Its hands were empty, so January imagined that it had just dropped off its load of titanium. It raised one hand toward her. Remembering how one had cut open a metal door during the previous attack, January ducked. Crimson laser light splashed through the air above her, and lanced through a storage bay across the court.

Apparently they were no longer just worker drones. Now they could fight. Someone had been doing upgrades overnight.

January dove into a forward roll, and bounced to her feet in front of the android. Her Krav Maga training came to her naturally, and she sprang up directly into the metal man's face. Her armored helmet smashed into its head, sending photoreceptors and other bits and bobs of electronics out in a shower of metal. She followed with a knee to its groin. While it lacked the usual soft spots there, the blow did send it off balance. She grabbed its shoulders with both hands and pulled them down toward her, even while she lifted her knee up into its head. That cleanly decapitated it.

January lifted the still moving body of the robot in her arms and whipped it around. She flung it at a second android that had lumbered around the back of the truck. The headless bot took it clean in the chest, and both were sent tumbling to the blacktop.

January was about to leap onto a third when the raucous cry of a crow snapped her head around. Rising over the outer wall of the compound was the Face-Bot, its twin eyes glowing with malevolence. January leaped after all, but not to attack a robot. Instead she bounded over the large collection of storage bays, and put her back to the concrete blocks that made up their walls. Twin lasers scored the air behind her. Then a moment later they gouged into the blocks that she hid behind.

"I found the Boss," January said into her comm. "He's got me pinned down."

"Good, just keep your head down," Gadget replied. "I'm trying to find a security camera to see with, but I'm having the same problem as with your suit cam. I think something's jamming all the cameras in the area."

"How can that be?" January wondered aloud.

The Face-Bot came sliding around the side of her hiding place. Thinking quickly, January leaned over into the storage bay and picked up an ingot of steel. She flung it at the Face-Bot, and hit it dead between the eyes with a loud clank! She could swear that she heard it squeal in pain, and it danced away. Before it shot out of sight, January noted with satisfaction that her missile had left a large dent in its casing.

She peeked around the corner, and ducked back as a bright red laser scored a line across the concrete wall. That had come from one of the man-bots. Their creator had definitely improved their AI. They had not been nearly so combative the other night.

"I don't know how they are doing the jamming, but they are," Gadget said. "It apparently only effects the visible light spectrum. Though it might go up into infrared and ultraviolet as well. We are talking, so it doesn't affect radio waves. This is something I'm going to have to work on. We could use this in your suit."

"Well, I don't think the man-bots are doing it," January noted. "Maybe it's in the truck, or that Face-Bot."

She picked up another steel bar, and darted around the other side of the storage bay. The coast was clear over here, so she leaped down to the end of the row of enclosures, and came around the truck from the other side. The Face-Bot was waiting for her however. She flung her steel, and it fired its lasers at the same time. The metal erupted in mid-air with a shower of molten steel. But not all of it was liquefied. Some of the solid bits continued on, and pelted the flying robot.

Once again, it squealed, and dodged back and to one side. It fired at January again, forcing her back behind the cover of the storage bays. She heard the garbage truck's engine roar to life. A moment later she heard its tires grinding over the blacktop. She peeked around the corner, and saw that the truck was rolling out the main entrance of the compound, and onto the street outside. The Face-Bot sent one last blast at her, then darted off after the vehicle.

January ran out from cover, searching for more of the metal men. Aside from the one she had decapitated, and the other one she had struck with its body, there were no sign of them. Those two were still twitching, but a vigorous application of her boot soles fixed that. She imagined that the rest had loaded themselves on board the truck along with the metal they had stolen and escaped.

"Is anyone hurt?" January called out. She turned in a circle, searching for people. "I chased them off. It's safe to come out now."

Heads began to poke out from behind open doorways and around corners. January made a quick circuit, looking into storage bays and into the warehouses. But of all the people she saw, no one had suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises. She imagined those were more from flight than actual attack. She had seen what the robots could do. Their weapons could melt steel. Humans would have been vaporized under their lasers. Thankfully, she did not see any piles of goo on the ground to suggest that had occurred.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 14 2019, 08:31 PM

With a name like Wilhelm Wundt, it is indeed hard to not conjure images of Willy Wonka and the shrink factory. tongue.gif

Wonderful how you brought up the dilemma of stay in class or cut class for a superhero mission. On the other hand, she’s getting more and more of this superheroine stuff down as she wills her armor onto herself and continues to improve her thrust generation mojo. ‘Willing’ the air to decrease pressure on the upper surface of her wings is a perfect way for Stormcrow to use her elemental superpowers to influence aerodynamics. Nicely done!

Cool! Stormcrow and Gadget now have official callsigns! And flipping her camera on earns access to her very own talking gps/nav system - with crow redundancy from her winged pals. And music even!

‘The clouds were gone, both in the sky overhead, and within her heart.’
’…this was a perfect moment. She knew that, and did her best to live in it forever.’
- - There are indeed – when things are going well - moments of pure joy when flying high performance aircraft. Helps make up for the hours of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror.

Quite a landing as she hits the ground, rolls under the Frankentruck and slaps a gps tracker to its chassis. Then into quite the fight as both sides have upgraded since the last encounter. The Metaldudes with lasers and Stormcrow with her high tech steel ingots for throwing. laugh.gif

Turns out that getting a tracking device onto Frankentruck is likely to prove very helpful. And no collateral piles of goo on the ground is always a good thing.

Posted by: treydog Sep 15 2019, 09:15 PM

Way back when we were reading Gawain and the Green Knight (in Middle English- which was still almost in use when I went to school), the word “wlonk” was used. Which one of my fellow grad students immediately decided was a version of “Willie Wlonka.”

Excellent insight by Light-Guy about Jan's flight dynamics.

QUOTE
in spite of whatever was waiting for her at the next titanium shop, this was a perfect moment. She knew that, and did her best to live in it forever. Or at least whatever passed for forever these days.


Words to keep close by- and hard to remember sometimes.

I like the fact that the "intelligence" behind the thefts demonstrates actual "intelligence"- evolving its minions and their tactics based on the previous encounter.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 21 2019, 03:33 PM

Acadian: I still remember my Into to Psychology class, and Wilhelm Wundt was one of the people we covered. My instructor himself raised the similarity to Willy Wonka! El Gordo was a cool teacher.

Thankfully it was only her attending class. If it was her teaching a class at the dojo it would be even more difficult to just duck out of it. That is the problem of having a day job and trying to be a superhero. Eventually they will be at odds with one another.

Those aren't really official callsigns. I just read a short story named "Broadsword Calling Danny Boy" that was loosely inspired by Where Eagles Dare, so that, and the movie, were forefront in my mind. Plus it is a pop culture reference that I cannot use in most of my writing.

January is slowly but surely improving her flight. I am sure it will come as no surprise when she no longer simply glides, but flies outright. That is one of many improvements I want to show her working toward.

I did say that January and Avery were going to upgrade her long range arsenal!


treydog: Where would our culture be without Willie Wonka and his amazing rhyming name?

I have often told myself to hold on to those rare, wonderful moments for as long as I can. January is now learning that life is just a string of moments all lined up in row. Many forgettable. Some to be cherished.

The intelligence behind this all is indeed, pretty intelligent. We will be meeting him in a few episodes.


https://i.imgur.com/tLFIB8I.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/txudJl7.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/Hu0uAD1.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/WxBcoRx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/wAUkVIj.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/PKX80Y8.jpg



Book 2.10 - Stormcrow Recycled

"I've got them on the tracker heading south on Mount Elliott," Gadget said over the comm. "Just for shits and giggles I'm trying traffic cams. But they all go dark before the truck comes along. This is some really good electronic camouflage."

"But at least the GPS is still working," January said.

She leapt up to the roof of the tallest building in Global Titanium's complex. Then from there a second leap took her into the sky. She snapped out her wings, and began to glide along a pair of train tracks. They went in the same direction that Gadget had indicated, parallel to the street the garbage truck had turned on after it left the metal shop. This time she did not try to go too fast. She did not want to catch them after all, just follow their trail, hopefully out of sight.

"GPS uses microwaves," Gadget explained. "Some would say they are a subset of radio waves. Others put them in their own category. In any case, a different wavelength in the electromagnetic spectrum."

"You just love to nerd out like that," January laughed. She was flying again. No one had been hurt, and their plan was going, well, according to plan. Things were good.

"You know it babe!" Gadget exclaimed.

"Careful, I might start quoting Carl Sagan on you," January said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep baby," Gadget deepened his voice into his sexy-man tone.

"We are star-stuff, which has taken its destiny into its own hands," January declared in her sultriest tone.

"You are such a tease," Gadget laughed. "If any aliens are listening to this, they are mighty confused."

After that January went silent, putting her full attention back to her routine of leaping and flying. Thankfully the railroad tracks were lined by factories and warehouses. They provided her with plenty of rooftop space to land on, build up some steam by running, and then leap back into the sky again.

Her eyes scanned for signs of the truck and flying robot. But she was too far away from the road, and there were too many buildings blocking it from her view. That was just as well, because if she could see them, they could see her. Instead she relied on Gadget to give her updates on the GPS signal's progress.

"Ok, its veering south-west now," Gadget said.

Soon January soared over what looked like a junkyard for broken semi-trucks. Beside it the railroad tracks fanned out into half a dozen different lines, many filled with rusted train cars. The tracks veered south-west, and forced the parallel street to do the same. January followed, eyes open for danger.

"I've got the video back," Gadget said. "You must be out of range of the jamming. Turning mostly west now. It looks like they're cutting through a neighborhood."

January kept on her south-west course, and followed the wide swath of train tracks. She hoped the robo-thieves were still planning on going back south eventually. She could cut across their path, and gain ground. Well, gain sky at least. Soon the landscape became very familiar. She was back in Hamtramck again. The massive complex of the Cadillac plant rose up to her left, and beyond it the towering smokestack of the Detroit City Incinerator.

"Turning south again, on Conant," Gadget said. "I just lost video again, so you must be close."

January dropped down onto the roof of an abandoned factory to her left, just beyond the railroad tracks. She stepped behind a large water tower, and stared out toward the west. Not too far away the street crossed under a railway bridge, and continued south toward Downtown Detroit.

"I see it!" January exclaimed as the garbage truck briefly came into view, only to vanish beneath the bridge again. The rest of her view was blocked by a warehouse, so she could not see it emerge. She gambled that it would not stop and turn back around to shake any pursuit, and launched herself into the air southward once more.

She found herself out of industrial parks, and over a residential area. The meant smaller rooftops and power lines. It slowed her progress, as she had to always watch for trouble. It also brought fingers pointed toward the sky, and cars that stopped to watch her pass. That made her wish for the run down factories and warehouse again. The last thing she needed was to be blamed for someone rear-ending someone else.

She found a three-story school with a wide roof to land on. She got a good long run out of it, and was back into the sky once more. The giant Hamtramck Plant lay just past a few more blocks to the west, and she was obliged to bank more to the left, to leave room between her and Conant: the main street headed south.

"It's passing over 94, still heading south," Gadget kept the steady updates coming.

She recognized her bus stop from her training sessions with Lighthammer right up ahead. Beyond it was I-94, and the sprawling decay of the Packard Plant. She headed toward the latter, knowing that it was filled with both rooftops and convenient places to stay out of sight. She had just passed over the highway when Gadget came back on the comm.

"It just turned west again on Medbury," he said.

January had to turn once more, and followed Gadget's report back over another large residential area south of the freeway. The homes here were not all crowded together like in a normal subdivision however. Most of the lots were empty. Some entire blocks only had four or five homes in all. January imagined that all the other houses had either burned down, or been abandoned and torn down. She had to admit that the added greenery from the grass-covered lots and extra trees did look nice. Even though the maples and oaks made gliding more tricky.

"Back in Poletown again," January noted. "It looks like we're headed for the incinerator."

"Those trucks were thrown together from scrap," Gadget thought out loud. "Maybe the Robo-Boss has his lair in the city dump? Oh, turning south again on St. Aubin."

January alit on top of a tall church, with ornate minarets that capped two of its corners, and a third spire in the center of its roof. All were made of bronze turned green with verdigris. She landed atop one, and eased down into a crouch. For a moment it struck her that it looked just like a classic comic book pose, of the Dark Avenger protagonist perched upon an appropriately Gothic steeple. All she needed were some crows to swirl around her for dramatic effect.

She almost jumped out of her skin and fell off the building when one of said crows croaked loudly in her ear. She was thankful that she was already hanging on to one of the minarets for support. Turning her head, she saw the bird leap into the sky, and followed its black figure across the cityscape.

That brought her eyes directly upon the garbage truck again. She swung back around behind the minaret to stay out of sight. The truck was headed down the street just a block ahead of her. Beyond was a sprawling lot belonging to another metal company. But where the previous businesses had been nice, relatively neat places to stockpile new metals, this was where the scrap went to die. It was a junkyard of rusted iron and twisted steel piled high into heaps. Farther still lay the city dump, whose single, tall smokestack rose high into the sky.

She kept her eyes glued to the truck and waited. She was too near to go back into the sky now. It drove down to the next intersection and turned toward the incinerator. But before it could reach the city dump, it turned into the driveway of a building set adjacent to the scrapyard instead.

Posted by: Renee Sep 21 2019, 04:34 PM

Yeah, I don't think she'd be able to concentrate in Psych 101 after that sort of text!

Crap. Thar Face Bot thingie is back. I was gonna say. indifferent.gif

I love reading about her smashing up those worker bots. laugh.gif

Have you ever had dreams in which you can fly? I am lucky enough that I've had at least two in which I was also lucid. Therefore I could will myself to fly. And the sensation was scary to me since I am afraid of heights irl. But I remember thinking I had to do this! Because it was only a dream (and I knew this) so it couldn't possibly hurt the physical me.

I really get this 'edgy' feeling as Avery communicates over the comm. Every time they speak back and forth I tense up. indifferent.gif Crap. I wonder if they're allowing her to follow the truck. Some sort of trap.

Okay, phew. Cliffhanger.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 22 2019, 12:09 AM

Another fun episode as you ever so smoothly show us the gradual but continuing evolution of Stormcrow’s flying ability.

I can imagine the reassurance and comfort she gets from having Gadget in her ear as a potent force multiplier.

Thinking about a crow and one shows up. . . coincidence? I think not and now believe she is somehow connected to the birds, just as she is somehow connected to the weather in some fascinatingly mysterious way.

This piece of the mission – to track RoboTruck to its lair – seems a success.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Sep 24 2019, 02:51 AM


Chapter 1.10: Great thing you provided us with the Google Maps!

'Someone was out mowing their grass, kids rode past on bikes, and ordinary life went on as if a supervillain emergency was not about to unfold. It felt somewhat surreal to January, knowing that something was going to happen, and that she was going to be part of it. Yet the rest of the world was utterly oblivious.'

I often wonder how things go on behind the scenes. Jan is very well a part of this other side of things that ordinary people usually aren't a part of. Its both fascinating and frightening the prospect of being "blissfully" ignorant in a world where superheroes exist.

So our Indian buddy is trying to catch a flight out, eh?

"A vagina cipher?"
laugh.gif laugh.gif

'Rising into the sky, she put her arms out and hit the twin triggers in her gauntlets. Her cape snapped out into a pair of wings a moment later, catching the wind underneath them.'
This was a superb part! Badass visual!

Chapter 1.11: Wow. Pure chaos! Unsurprisingly Lighthammer was the cause of all the ruckus. I was wondering when he'd return. Those mercs put up quite a fight, but in the end they were matched by LH's weaponry. There was plenty of things happening, and one of the things I noticed was the very real dangers of bullets ricocheting back. In a crowded area, these are extremely lethal to anyone within range. Jan was wise enough to get them out of there.

'But this wasn't dinner. It was a person, all hot, wet, and torn apart.'
I'm sure every time she's participating in a Thanksgiving event she'll see a bullet for every Turkey leg wacko.gif

The revelation that the victim was an officer was great! I, too, was wondering what was she doing packing heat in the airport.

Krav Maga is one of my favorite martial arts out there, and how great that she put it to good use against Sub's Thugs. She's resilient, that's a given! Took her some time but she finally got to him, and gave him a lasting impression tongue.gif

Great chapter!

Chapter 1.12: There is power in teamwork; strength in numbers. Seeing Lighthammer struggle against the Mercs in their tactical combat was telling, and Jan able to save him just in time was very refreshing to see, as well as watching Sub getting his due.

That was an intense fight! Wow.

The dialogue between Jan and Lighthammer was great! Light is more or less an antihero, I suppose, seeing as he only harms criminals and the scum of the world and is out for himself.

"Okay Qui-Gon, we'll play it your way this time."
And she did a great 'mind-trick' on him by having him hand the diamonds. 'Credits will do fine!' laugh.gif

Crowgirl and Lightguy! Yes, these are a team now!(I hope)


Chapter 1.13: Jan must have been proud of her accomplishments as they retell the details of the battle. Until of course Blackwater/Merryweather Whitewater Security bought their way out of any involvement or incrimination. Bastards. Great exchange between her and Emilia.

"It's funny, I never got a scratch in Iraq. But I go to the airport, the safest place you think you could be, and I get shot. By another vet of all people."
The world is full of these funny little ironies.

Emilia and Jan had some good chemistry before, and I'm sure that they'll have even more now with Emilia revealing about her sexuality and upbringing. Glad to see that she's making friends, even when she has such a weight on her shoulders that she must burden, including members of her own family.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 28 2019, 04:58 PM

Renee: You are right, even if she tried to ignore Avery's call to arms, how could you go back to Wilhelm Wundt?

We will be seeing much more of the Face-Bot in the future, and even learning its name.

Many, many moons ago I used to sometimes have dreams of riding my bicycle. Then I realized I was not riding in my dreams, but flying along the ground. I am afraid of heights too. Scratch that. I am fine with heights. I am afraid of falling to my death from heights... But I still loved those dreams. I have not had one in a very long time though.

https://youtu.be/yxV5uFjMRiI


Acadian: One of these days, January might even be able to fly outright...

An interesting thing is that if you look at old superhero tv shows, films, and even comics, the lone hero was always truly on their own, with no lifeline out there to know where they were, what they were doing, and able to call in backup or even just offer advice. But these days that is completely different. Now what appears to be the lone hero commonly has a least one person like a hacker or scientist backing them up across the internet, through a suit camera, etc... The Arrow-verse tv shows are big on this. Sometimes for every single person out in a suit, there are half-a-dozen people at the other end of their suit camera working things out in their heads, making strategy, offering advice, providing information, and so on. I think that is partly because of the proliferation of technology. We truly do live in an information age now. But as a writer, it also gives you an opportunity to bring in more characters for your lone hero to interact with. So they are not truly alone after all.

I do keep going back to those crows, don't I? I do not have anything specific in mind for them, at least so far. But just like with Teresa of the Faint Smile, they are January's spirit guide. So they will always turn up when something important is happening.


Darkness Eternal: I am hoping the Google Map can make things more clear when I go off on my landscape porn binges. I am hoping that in the end the city itself will come alive as a real place to people reading. Rather than being as vague as Metropolis or Central City.

I have faced many vagina ciphers. Sadly, I am no crytographer. sad.gif

The big airport fight was a lot of fun to write. I originally only had two mercs for Crowgirl and Ligthguy to deal with. Then a week before I posted the first episode of the fight I realized that did not give as much of a challenge as I would have liked. So I doubled it to four mercs.

I picked Krav Maga because unlike January's other martial arts - Karate and Muay Thai - it is does not have a specific focus on one or two different styles of striking. Instead Krav Maga is a collection of so-called 'dirty tricks' that work in all kinds of situations. It gives her a lot of diversity in her fighting ability, rather than just punches, kicks, and elbows.

I had a lot of fun writing Crowgirl and Lightguy. Look for more interactions between them in the future. They have very different philosophies when it comes to supering. That creates an opportunity to each to challenge the others ideals, and examine their own. Fertile ground for developing character in both. They also do have things in common, which makes it possible for them to disagree and still retain an alliance. Or at least a relationship of some form.

Emilia is another character to watch for. We will be seeing her appear more in the future, as January begins reaching out to forge alliances with the 'authorities'. She knows she does not want to be a rogue outlaw type like Lightguy. That means building trust with people like Emilia.



https://www.nailhed.com/2014/11/endurance-test.html

https://i.imgur.com/ERjRm6a.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/uR3Yr0E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/vACB27E.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/jJfnVCO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lbx9ZtV.jpg


http://archimedespalimpsest.org/about/history/archimedes.php



Book 2.11 - Stormcrow Recycled

It was a massive, white building. January guessed it was at least nine stories tall. A square block of concrete, its lower two stories were pierced by the wide bays of a loading dock that ran the entire length of one wall. The yawning black abysses of smashed out windows loomed for three stories above. The remainder of the building over that was an uninterrupted wall of solid white, like the face of a snow-bound cliff. She noted a rusted out water tower on the roof, along with four structures the size of small buildings themselves. January imagined there might be air conditioners, or heaters, of other machinery within them.

A lower, two story annex branched off from the nine-story cube of the building. This abutment also had smaller structures rising from its roof, along with actual trees that had somehow taken root there. One of these structures was particularly large, and rose up a good six stories. This portion of the building was entirely windowless. The only way in or out seemed to be a metal roll up door in its back wall. January saw this clank open to allow the robo-truck to drive within.

"I have them," January said. "It's a big abandoned building beside the Incinerator. I can see some old writing that says 'Division of Beatrice…', the rest is too faded to read."

"Ok, I've got it on Googol Earth," Gadget replied. "But I just lost the GPS."

"You think they found it?" January bit her lip. Her sneak attack might have just turned into a trap.

"Or maybe they just have better jamming around the building," Gadget speculated. "How do you want to play this?"

"You mean should we just sit back and call the cops?" January asked. "You know my answer to that."

"Yeah, well, the lasers those bots have are pretty dangerous," Gadget warned, "and they're probably not going to hit you with electricity again. As far as they know, that didn't hurt you the last time."

"All the more reason for me to be the one who goes in," January insisted. "These things will turn a SWAT team into a puddle of goo."

"Ok, so maybe you can try to sneak in?" Gadget offered.

"You mean rather than just bust down the door and shout 'Stormcrow Smash!'" January chuckled. "I'll consider it…"

Most of the ground around the building was wide open. But January's eyes gravitated to the scrapyard directly north of the building. The graveyard of iron was lined with trees, which led directly to the white building. That would make for her best approach.

January leapt back into the sky and skimmed over the treetops. She sailed across St. Aubin road, and after it the fence that rimmed the eastern border of the junkyard. There she disengaged her wings, and dropped to the earth amid the piles of metal. The sounds of heavy machinery filled her ears, along with the pungent stench of diesel fumes. The giant orange claws of excavators rose up over the piles of scrap, digging through them like children scooping up sand at a beach.

January trotted through the mountains of tortured iron and hoped that no one would notice her. There were a few trees, and she leaped to them for cover. They thickened as she continued south, where she eventually came across another fence. The tall, white, Beatrice building loomed beyond. The fence was lined with trees, so January followed the cover they provided around to the side of the building.

That brought her within just a few feet of her target. A single leap took her up through a gaping window in one of the lower floors. She found that the interior was just an empty, open space. She wondered if it might have once been an office in the past, or a warehouse? It was now so bare that there was no way to tell. She took her time and tried her best to remain silent as she moved through the building, one barren floor after another. She looked for cameras and alarms that might betray her presence, but found nothing.

"The main building is empty," she said softly. "I'm going to check out that smaller area off the back."

"Copy that Stormcrow, no sign of activity from the outside either." Gadget's voice came in her ear. "I did some digging, and found that this was the Grand Trunk Warehouse and Cold Storage of Beatrice Foods. They were a huge company once, but went under back in the 80s and their pieces got bought up by other companies. The building's been abandoned since then."

"A perfect place for a lair," January murmured.

Eventually she came upon a steel door that looked very new, and very solid. This did have a camera perched over it, and a keypad beside it. Obviously the bad guys were on the other side. Given its position, it had to lead into the smaller annex that branched off from the main building. Rather than try to break it down, or make a futile attempt at guessing the code, January turned around and went back up.

She leaped over to the roof of the annex. Using the trees that sprouted there for cover, she snooped around the small structures up there. All were empty. But she did find a promising air shaft leading down. It was no trouble at all to pull out the wire mesh that covered it. Then she slid down the narrow metal passage, and soon found herself dropping into a gigantic open room.

It was a mad inventor's lair. The edges of the space were lined with a mesh of copper wire. Walls, ceiling, everything. She even saw that the copper vanished into the cement floor, and imagined that it must stretch beneath it as well. She wondered how many abandoned buildings must have had their copper stripped out to outfit the room with so much of the metal?

A great iron scaffolding rose up five stories tall. It was made of a mish-mash of metal parts all welded and bolted together. Hanging from chains within it was the skeleton of a giant robot, or perhaps a mecha. It was humanoid in shape, and built from gleaming steel. Metal conduit was welded to the bones, and sprouted bared wires at the joints where the limbs separated. Rubber hoses ran up and down the metal frame as well, disappearing into what may have been pumps or generators of some kind. A lattice of steel rose up from around the bared bones, outlining what might have been the eventual skin of the colossus. January wondered if that stolen titanium might be destined to clamp onto this framework, and create an armored hide?

The other side of the room contained a design lab. The walls were covered in diagrams, and even more blueprints and schematics hung from portable chalk boards. There was a giant drafting table, and several bins filled with PVC tubes, which January imagined might contain more rolled up diagrams.

A box-like office rose up from the floor along one wall, with a wooden stair leading up to it. A single window was cut into its side to look down over the floor. Beneath it was a small kitchenette and dining space, with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and microwave behind a long table and plastic lawn chairs.

However, most of the space was piled high with what January could only describe as junk. Partly disassembled car engines, household appliances, an old lawnmower, a rusty bicycle, pipes, conduit, wires, hoses, levers, knobs, chairs, windshields. It was a phantasmagoria of cast-off machinery. Some of it was bursting from metal and plastic bins. Some was loaded into buckets and barrels. But most of it was just piled about like a dragon's treasure hoard. Some of those piles were even taller than January was herself.

Avery would have swooned from envy.

The garbage truck was parked near the scaffolding and the unfinished mecha, and several of the man-bots were clanking around unloading the stolen titanium. The Face-Bot floated around from behind the truck, its twin eyes glowing red. Alongside it was an old man.

His brown skin was lined and cracked, like a dried up river-bottom baked in the sun. His short hair had gone dull gray, and a pair of small bifocals hovered above the tip of his nose. He was dressed in plain blue coveralls, and he carried a wrench in one hand. His eyes looked as worn and tired as his skin. It was like they had seen far too many miles, and now just wanted to sit down and rest beneath the shade of a sheltering willow tree.

The Face-Bot immediately opened fire. January tried to dodge, but this time its cherry-red lasers caught her in the side. It was hot. Really hot. Touching a frying pan hot. Enough for her to cry out in spite of herself. She concentrated on Earth, and its strength and resilience. Just as it persevered, so too would she.

She bounded forward, and was on top of the Face-Bot in an instant. This time it was not quick enough to escape. She grabbed hold of both of its backward-flaring shoulders and sent a devastating head butt directly into its faceplate. One of its eyes cracked and went dark. The other set off a shower of sparks.

The Face-Bot tried to fly out of her grasp, but she held on. Its final eye glowed red once more, and January pulled her head down out of its line of fire. She continued the motion and swung her entire body around the robot, until she was literally doing a handstand atop it. Then she doubled over and brought her legs down. Her feet crashed into the top of the flying machine. More sparks erupted, and its cowling was clearly dented inward.

"Enough!" The old man cried out. "Stop it! Leave Archie alone."

"Archie?" January leaped off the robot, and could not resist adding in a forward flip and sticking the landing on the concrete floor. "You named your killer robot Archie?"

"He is not a killer robot!" the old man snapped, "and Archie is short for Archimedes."

Then he turned to the Face-Bot, and ran a soothing hand along its dented cowling. "It's ok Archie, the mean girl won't hurt you anymore."

"Mean girl?" January bristled. "I'm not the one who started shooting!"

She glanced down at her side, where the robot's lasers had struck her. Smoke curled up from her armor, but otherwise it still appeared to be intact. Gadget had said that the hagfish fibers were fireproof. She hoped that her flesh had fared as well underneath. She probed with uncertain fingers. It was hot, but everything still felt solid underneath.

"You scared him," the old man insisted.

"I scared him?" January stared incredulously. Then she realized that he was not holding a drone controller, or even a phone. "Wait a minute, you're not flying it. That's an actual AI, isn't it?"

"Well of course Archimedes is an AI. He's a person." The old man gestured at the man-bots who were still unloading the stolen titanium, oblivious to all that was unfolding. "He's not a brainless drone like those other things."

Posted by: Acadian Sep 28 2019, 07:45 PM

Looks like the stealth approach was a good call as January quietly made her way all the way into the heart of this crazy junk lab.

Once Archie opened fire though, it was time for some Stormcrow Smash and I’m sure January was happy to finally get her hands on the elusive little face bot.

Wow, this really raises plenty of questions. Who is Old Man? He sure doesn’t seem like the arch villain I imagined might be behind this. The concept of a giant mech warrior roaming Detroit does seem disturbing though.

Posted by: Renee Sep 29 2019, 03:27 AM

See, where is Lighthammer during all of this? It makes me wonder if he's .... somehow not as forthcoming as he seemed when he and the crow met amicably.

Whaaat??? Wow, what an odd conversation she just had with that man. blink.gif I wonder where that is all going. Like, maybe he's just really smooth with his offhand conversation (at such an intense moment), and he's about to try shooting her, or something.

And where is the African Goddess too? wub.gif Maybe she was just in that one scene. I keep thinking she's eventually going to come back to rock Stormcrow's world.

(ignore me I'm just rambling...) But yeah, that is really offhand at the end.

Posted by: treydog Sep 30 2019, 11:30 AM

Caught up again- yay! And also phooey, because now I have to wait again. Most excellent writing once more.

QUOTE
...if she could see them, they could see her.


Indeed. “If the enemy is in range, so are you!”

QUOTE
“Beatrice”


I also remember those rather creepy “We're Beatrice” television spots. There was always something alarmingly Borg-like about that declaration....

QUOTE
She found that the interior was just an empty, open space. She wondered if it might have once been an office in the past, or a warehouse?


Or perhaps the alien parasites all found human hosts?

And somehow, the partially constructed bot or mech is even more frightening than seeing it in its completed state. Numidium in Detroit?

QUOTE
She grabbed hold of both of its backward-flaring shoulders and sent a devastating head butt directly into its faceplate
.

To paraphrase the Nac Mac Feegle- “Have a face full a' dandruff, ye wee robut beastie!”

Archie is... a person? And will we be seeing Reggie and Jughead? Or Betty and Veronica?

A quite excellent start to the reveal of the brains behind the activities the Crow and Gadget team have been investigating.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 2 2019, 10:02 PM

A minor note. Thanks to tredyog correctly identifying Beatrice as a food company, I was able to find exactly what the building was used for. I even found https://www.nailhed.com/2014/11/endurance-test.html describing his exploration of the ruin, with lots of pictures. I went back and added in a paragraph about the building, and added the above link.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Oct 4 2019, 03:33 AM

Chapter 2.1:Ah, Jan has been meeting some ladies as of late, eh? First the officer, and now the Exotic Goddess that's quite blatantly flirting with her. It was a random encounter, at least for her, so I can relate to her doubt whether she was being pranked or pick-pocketed. I have a feeling this woman is going to show up later, perhaps I'm wrong.

You beautifully painted the not-so-pretty picture of modern-day Detroit. I know little of the place, but what I do know I have through the story(with those awesome references), and of pictures I have seen. The comparison to WWII battlefield was very appropriate.

Great seeing Lighthammer again! She makes a fine point. Unlike him, she's tethered to her morals and responsibility as a super. Engaging in conflict in a certain way, well, could very much tarnish her image. 50K is good money, though!

"This is Detroit. We are all mental here. All the sane people left decades ago."
laugh.gif laugh.gif

I like the training in the end, and though she's busting out some Krav Maga moves, her mind was on that Ebony Goddess. I know mine would've been!

Chapter 2.2: Heh the Wannabee Gucci Biker tried to pull a fast one. Made sense why she would be reminded him of her brother, heh, what a turd. He oozes narcissism.

Jan trusts Avery very much, and so far he's been very sound in his decisions. He's great!

I like how the chapter literately ended with her feeling like a deflated balloon.

Chapter 2.3: Avery is that one friend we all need when our stuff breaks down, or we need something working far better than it does.

"My man parts are my best parts!", "I have some parts here that you'll like."

His humor and wit are always amusing! I love this guy smile.gif

Avery is a good friend, and like all good friend he shows the proper concern to her regarding her new partnership with Lighthammer. As a Grey Hat, I'm sure he can be quite unpredictable.

Though they are usually prepared and ready for anything, they weren't ready for good ol' grandma making a surprise.

"Do you have that white girl downstairs? I thought I saw her come in."
Hahaha!

"You should tap that thing. I bet she's a wild one in the sack. The quiet ones always are."
LMAO. Well, damn, Vanessa!

This was a very humorous part that went very sad with her condition. Its never easy to have a loved one of that age suffer through something like that. On a positive note, Jan is always there for him as I am sure he will always be there for her. The two are always there to support each other, even in the worst of times.

Wow! The bike is indeed good as new!





Posted by: SubRosa Oct 5 2019, 04:27 PM

Acadian: The old man certainly does not seem like an arch nemesis does he? We will learn more about him this episode, and January will unconsciously begin defining her Stormcrow Doctrine.


Renee: January and Lighthammer are not part of an official team or anything. They are just training with each other, each for their own agenda. In fact, LH did try to recruit January for a mission, and she turned him down.

We will see a lot more of the old man this episode, and find out if he is smooth, or just does not give a damn anymore.

I really do not have any plans for using the African Goddess again. But hey, you never know.


treydog: Wow, thank you for that info on Beatrice. When I was writing the chapter I did a search and could not find anything about the building. There are just too many Beatrices in the world. But once I realized it was a food company, then it came right up on Google. I even found an urban explorer's blog post about the building.

I see you caught all the things I had floating in my mind when I was writing. Numidium, Archie and Jughead, etc... laugh.gif


Darkness Eternal: Like I said to Renee, I did not really have any plans on using the African Goddess again after that one scene. But given that she is so popular, who knows?

I am glad the battered but enduring spirit of Detroit is showing through in the story. This city has character, a lot of it not good, but character nonetheless.

Avery has all the cool that January lacks. He is a lot of fun to write. He is that friend you wish you had IRL. But as the scene with his Nana shows, his life is not all that great either.






https://interestingengineering.com/how-does-a-faraday-cage-work

https://www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/great-pacific-garbage-patch/

https://i.imgur.com/ck7CnqT.jpg




Book 2.12 - Stormcrow Recycled

"Are you getting all of this Gadget?" January said under her breath. Her friend had been strangely silent ever since she had entered the lair. Her eyes travelled back to the copper lattice that surrounded the room, and suddenly she understood why.

"Yes, it's a Faraday Cage," the old man crowed. "No signals go in or out, except those I want to."

"That's pretty clever old timer," January said. She kept one eye on the Face-Bot - Archimedes. He floated in the air behind the old man now, still throwing out sparks from his face and the top of his head. The deadly robot looked like nothing so much as a scared puppy now. January was not sure if that should make her feel proud, or ashamed?

"What are you, the Fred Sanford of supervillains?" January looked at the mountain of junk around the old man.

"I am no joke!" The old man exploded. He hurled the wrench he was holding down to the concrete for emphasis. Then he kicked at a pile of junk, and his face screwed up in pain. He reached down to massage his toes, and plopped down on a long bench car seat that was draped with wiring.

That brought a pang of sympathy to January's heart. Even when he tried to make an impassioned declaration, it just turned out to make him look the fool. She could relate.

"Oh who am I kidding," he sighed. "My whole life is nothing but a joke. The wife left me and moved to Connecticut. My kids grew up and they left too, for California. Everyone just can't wait to get as far away from me as possible. Everything I've ever done, all I have ever been, it's all garbage. All I've ever done is take old junk and turn it into new junk."

"For once in my life I just wanted to make something that wasn't junk," he lamented. "Something that people would respect. Something that was real."

"I'm sorry to hear that old timer."

He hardly looked like a master criminal at all. Now that she was up close and personal, he was just a man. Just a frail, old, ordinary man whom life had apparently taken a giant dump all over. January realized that she might be allowing her own past to cloud her judgment. But she could not sense any menace or subterfuge in the old man. He just looked sad and alone, something she could relate with all too well.

January sat down beside him on the long car seat. Maybe she could resolve this without any more punching? She hoped so. Once again, she wished she had invested more experience points in her Speech skill.

"I know what it's like to feel that you are nothing but garbage," she related. All she could do was be honest, and hope for the best. "That your entire life is just a bad joke."

"You don't look like no one to complain, cute little white girl like you." The old man's eyebrows drew together like twin beetles perched above his tired eyes.

"I wish." January reached into one of the pouches on her utility belt and pulled out her Hamsung J1. "I can't even afford a real phone. See this? $50, and that was years ago. My tablet was half that, and I had to wait for it to go on sale. My book reader is freeware. I couldn't even afford to buy the books I have to do reports on. I have to download them from open-source sites."

January turned on her phone and swiped it open. She opened her book reader app, and showed him her copy of Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus.

"Mary Shelley died two hundred years ago, so it's completely legal," January explained.

Now it was time for some real honesty. January pretended she was twelve, and back in the psychiatrist's office.

"Sometimes I feel like she was writing this book about me. She just didn't know it."

"Is that how you feel?" he said softly. "Like Frankenstein?"

"Like his monster." January said. "Frankenstein was the doctor who created him. Everyone mixes that up. But yeah, that's who I relate to. Not the protagonist, but the villain. That's what everyone says I am."

"Are you kidding?" the old man scoffed. "Even in here I've heard of the Stormcrow. You stopped that blood diamond guy. I heard he went up for twenty years. Plus all those other guys he was bribing."

"That's not what I mean." January shook her head. "This armor, it's not the real me. Underneath, I don't know what I am. I just know I wasn't born right. This body of mine, it feels like garbage. Someone else's cast off. It feels like some thief sneaked in one night and stole my real body, and left me this crap instead. It's not who I'm supposed to be. I don't know if I'll ever be the real me."

"Sounds like you got some serious issues missy, for someone so young," the old man said.

"You have no idea old man... A life does not have to be long to be filled with horror and loathing," January mourned. "But look at you. Why are you so down? I can't believe the things you can do with this stuff."

"With this junk!" he slapped a hand down on the car seat, and pile of screws and pipes clattered to the floor. "My whole life has been garbage."

"I think it looks great," January admitted. "Sure, people threw this stuff out. But what you've done with it, this is magic. You know that you're a meta, don't you? These things you've done, they're beyond everyday science and engineering. You built what, two new trucks out of scrap. You remote controlled them across town. Or did they drive themselves? You built that flying Archimedes thing. No, you birthed it, because it's alive. It thinks, it feels. He thinks, and feels."

"I think you're great," January said, still being honest. "And I think taking old junk, and turning it into something new again, something useful, that works, is nothing to sneeze at. Not to get preachy and all, but have you heard of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch? It's bigger than Texas now. We - as in we as a people - need to do something about all this garbage we create. You are already there!"

"Shit, I ain't doing nothing," the old man said. "I've seen your type. You're just another naive little idealist. Wait 'till you get a breath of the real world."

January pulled down the sleeve of her armor, and revealed the upraised scars that crossed her wrist. Then she switched hands, and did the same with the other arm.

"This real enough for you," January frowned. "My dad had a Roman dagger. This big, thick beast called pugio. He used to be a reenactor. I did that on my twelfth birthday, because I could not live with the world I was trapped in. Idealism isn't something I suffer from. It's realism. I am trapped by the horror of reality. I see it every day when I look in the mirror."

"What's so bad it made you do that?" the old man stared at the scars.

"Life," January replied. "I see a lot of doctors claim that women who attempt suicide are just crying out for help. I want to smash their teeth in. People attempt suicide because the pain of living has become too much to bear."

"So how did you go from that, to this?" the old man gestured to the cape and cowl that she wore.

"You mean besides all the head doctors?" January said. "I had to do physical therapy afterward, because I had cut some of the tendons in my left wrist. That was the side I started cutting into first, so those were the deepest wounds. I could barely hold the knife after I switched hands, so I didn't cut as deep into my right wrist. But for the left, I spent months learning to move some of my fingers again. It taught me that no matter how painful it was, I could change my life after all. I could face the pain, and the ugliness. That's what I've been doing ever since."

"That's why I think you can do something with this gift you have. You could go into business. You can take this junk and build things. I mean real, working things. Cars, trucks, tractors, you name it. You could sell it. It's meta-tech, so you can't churn it on an assembly line, and no one else can replicate it. You have to do it all by hand, yourself, like an artist. Because you are an artist really. It works because you make it work. But you can do it. You don't need to steal stuff. You can change your life."

"Is this the part where you are trying to convince me to use my powers for good?" the old man sneered.

"Well, yeah. In spite of the obvious age, and gender, and racial differences between us, I thought we were having a moment here," January said. "If that's not enough, look at it this way. If I tracked you here, it is only a matter of time before the police do too. It takes a while, but they do eventually get off their fundamental support structures and do their jobs. You stole a ton of titanium back there. That must cost... I dunno, a lot. That company's insurance is going to be looking for it, which means the police are going to be looking for it. That much money, they will find you. What is your master plan, build a giant mecha and stomp on the cops when they finally do show up?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," the old man crossed his arms.

"Then what?" January said. "I mean, pretend I am not here at all to stop you. What's your endgame? Take on Blood Raven next? The Sentinels? In no world does this turn out a win for Fred Sanford in the end."

"I just want some respect!" he leaped to his feet and paced across the room. "For once in my life, I want to be somebody, even if just for a few minutes."

"Going out in a blaze of glory is not going to earn anyone's respect," January contended. She showed him her scars again. "Learn from my mistakes. A suicide run is not the answer. It is never the answer."

"What you are doing here already, this is the answer," January waved to Archimedes and the man-bots for emphasis. "Not Mechagodzilla, but what you did to create it. You have been so focused on your endgame, that you don't see what it took to get you there. That's the real accomplishment, and that is worthy of anyone's respect."

"I've a got a friend who I know is just dying to meet you. He's got a basement that's not even half, not even a tenth, of what you've got here. Look at this, you've turned junk into awesome. You know what, you give me hope. If you can do this with a few old pipes and wires, maybe I can turn the junk of my life into something good too."

"My name is Isaac," he grumbled.

"Well ok then Isaac," January said. "A different friend of mine tells me that I remind him of a Tarot card: the Five of Cups. It's a picture of a man looking at three knocked over cups. But standing behind him are two more cups, still upright, and filled to the brim. It's someone that can only see the bad things in life, what he has lost. But he does not see the good things, because he's turned his back on them."

"I think you're the same way Isaac," January rose to her feet. She gestured to Archimedes once more, who still bobbed nervously in the air near the old inventor. "I think you have done plenty of good in your life. You have created amazing things. It's time you turned and looked at it all. Not as a means to an end, but as the end itself. You don't need to go on a giant robot rampage to make your mark on the world, or have a life worth living. You've made it already."

"Hmmm," the old man seemed to chew on his lip, like a cow chewing its cud. "Maybe I did."

"Our lives are all subjective," January said. "We see them though a glass that distorts everything, according to our own unconscious hopes and fears and desires and agonies. That's why some people see only the empty cups, and some see the full ones instead."

"We all learn different lessons from the same events," January went on. "Where rehabbing my hand taught me that I could persevere though anything, someone else might just have easily saw that as proof that they could never change anything in life. That they were helpless under the inexorable tide of fate. I was stupid for letting myself wallow in my misery for so long that it took something like that to finally wake me up and get my rear into gear. I should have been taking action and turning my life around a lot sooner. My friend Gadget says that sometimes I can be as stubborn as a Mountain Dwarf."

"Now I'm trying to imagine you with a beard and an axe, like Gimli." Isaac smiled wanly. "What? Don't look at me that way. The Lord of the Rings is the same age I am. I read it when I was little."

January tried to imagine the old man as a child. She suspected that it must have been difficult growing up, with all the dinosaurs roaming the earth in that antediluvian epoch.

"Anyway," she said. "What I am trying to say is that we control our own emotions. They come from us. No one can make us happy or sad, or angry or afraid. We conjure these things up in ourselves."

"Try reading any comments section on the internet," Isaac breathed. "That'll make you angry and sad real quick."

"Only if you let it," January contended. "There will always be trolls. We don't have to fall to their level. Remember Frankenstein. Well, the creature. See, now I'm doing it too. He started out pure, compassionate, loving. But he allowed the evils of the world to bring him down to their level. By the end of the book, he really was the monster people treated him as. He even says to Victor: 'I ought to be thy Adam, I am rather the fallen angel'. Don't let that happen to you. Rise above everyone else."

"Besides, the best revenge is living well," January added with a smile. "If you want to get back at your ex, go out and bang someone who is hotter, and put it all over social media."

"Ha!" Isaac chuckled. It was a real, honest sound that rose up from deep in the belly, and shook loose from his throat like a cat leaping free of the hapless owner who tried to pick it up. "My banging days are long over missy."

"You never know until you try," January said. "If nothing else, you can whip up some self-driving cars, or start a robot lawn-care service, or sell some of those video jammers. My friend Gadget can point you in the right direction. There's a whole community of people online who build meta-tech and sell it. I bet in a year or two's time, you'll be living in a palace. Snap out some pics of you sitting on your golden toilet and see who's jealous then."

"Golden toilet?" Isaac rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You might be on to something girlie. Tell me about this friend of yours."

"Open up your Faraday firewall and you can talk to him yourself." January nodded to the garbage truck. "But first how about we take that titanium - and the other metals - back before the cops get off their doughnut break?"

Posted by: Acadian Oct 5 2019, 08:17 PM

’…she wished she had invested more experience points in her Speech skill.’
- - Based on Janurary’s performance in talking Fred Sanford of Supervillains – I mean Isaac – down from his garbotech-fueled plans of mayhem, I’d say her speechcraft is just fine! All without a single additional punch. tongue.gif

Nice job of bringing out the fears, feelings and concerns of both Isaac and January here.

I can certainly imagine some long conversations between Isaac and Gadget. Holy recycled tin can, Batman Stormcrow!

Oh, and I am only, with this episode, cluing in on the significance of the chapter's title.

Posted by: Renee Oct 7 2019, 07:06 PM

Oh, I don't want to influence your story, hon. African Goddess has her own life.

smile.gif Hey, Jan's Galaxy 11 blows away my Nokia flip-phone. laugh.gif I won't give it up though. 8 years old, damn thing still works.

Jan explaining how she feels to Fred Sanford brought a tear to my eye, for real. Because if people just sat down and talked more often... you know?

I wonder if he's related to Avery at all?

Yes, Five of Cups. Been awhile since I've read cards, but I know that one well. The typical version, at least. Somebody who's given up, basically, and doesn't want to continue because of disappointment, even if there could be good things still to seek.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Oct 8 2019, 12:06 AM

Chapter 2.4:Honestly if I had a super-silent Gadget-modified bike, I'd be stoked to get out of class just to ride it, too. And probably get pop-quizzed by the teacher along the way like Jan was. And boy, she delivers. I'd give her an A++ just for that. Shelley's work was enough to give us an understanding of both monster and creator, with Jan relating more to Frakenstein's creation. In a nasty world where people are judged by their many differences, Jan fits among among those disliked and otherwise judged by society. I was glad she shared this with her class.

I LOVE flashbacks. Jan's memories were of her martial arts class were great. This was one of my favorite chapters so far! goodjob.gif

Chapter 2.5: I got a kick out of Jan trying to get her phone while changing. laugh.gif

"So you didn't crash the bike?"
Ha, the way he assumed she somehow wrecked it tongue.gif

The exchange between Avery/Gadget and Jan/Stormcrow is superb, as always. Ah, some detective work. Missing rare metals are always a cause for concern, and it looks like titanium might be next on that list.

Stakeouts aren't as fun as the movies make it seem. I'm sure there's time skips all the time, heh, otherwise we'd be bored out of our minds like Jan.

"That is a really cool costume," the clerk said as he rang her up. "That's Stormcrow right, the new hero? You make that yourself?"
This part had me laughing. I totally thought about Spiderman 2 when Peter/Spidey is in the elevator, and tells the man next to him that it rides up on the crotch a little bit laugh.gif laugh.gif


2.6: Ah, so after a lengthy wait we finally see who's behind this mess: some new mechanical menace? These robo-minions do not play, do they? They made it plainly obvious they're the baddies here.

"Well hello there."
Ewan McGregor would approve!

A tense fight between Jan and the Robandits. By their fighting style alone, Jan was able to discern what caste these guys were. No doubt Face-Bot was the prize.

He's a capable and dangerous fighter, and his laser beams can do some damage. Her gymnastics and of course Lighthammer's instructions served her well here as she took to flight in hot pursuit.

While he may have made a run for it, she still saved the day and foiled the robbery. Jan's kicking some real ass lately cool.gif

This was intense!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 12 2019, 05:03 PM

Acadian: I really liked that last episode for a lot of reasons. As you pointed out, it was an opportunity to get deep into what drives both Fred Sanford Isaac and January, in a way that is showing, not telling.

Isaac and Gadget will be collaborating in the very near future. I also see Isaac and Archie turning up in true garbotech style when January faces down the Big Bad in the overall story arc I have envisioned. Along with other supers whom January co-opts to her cause. She is not just talking down villains. She is making valuable allies.

We are finally really seeing the Recycling are we not? Though January's Crowbike is another example of the theme of turning junk into awesome as well.


Renee: A flip phone! ohmy.gif Now you having me thinking of those Nokia phones that Mulder and Scully use in the X-Files. But I think those were before flip-phones even existed.

I liked this chapter because it ends with January solving the problem of a supervillain on the loose without a big fight. Instead she talks him down and helps him see that he has things to live for, rather than going on a suicidal mecha rampage. We don't see enough of that in any form of fiction.

Isaac is no relation to Avery. I have not gotten into Avery's father yet. But I eventually will when I find the right place for it. But then again, I suppose Isaac is old enough to be his grandfather. But I don't think so on that score either.


Darkness Eternal: I wish I had a Gadget-infused superbike! The silence is actually a RL effect of an electric engine. I watched some vids of electric bikes like the Victory and was blown away at how quiet they are. The only sound is that of the chain turning and the road under the tires. Much nicer than the gasoline versions!

I watched all the Toby McGuire Spider movies recently, so I remember that elevator scene. It is always funny when a writer takes a superhero out of their natural element (punching things), and puts them in ordinary life. I was just reading a Batgirl yesterday where she had to take the Subway, and while she was sitting there waiting for the train people thought she was homeless and gave her money.

I am glad someone caught the Star Wars reference! I seeded a few easter eggs like that in the story.

I liked writing that first battle between the Crow and the Face-Bot. I live a mile away from the metal shop and gas station it takes place at. I pass it all the time coming and going to work.






https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/plus_%C3%A7a_change,_plus_c%27est_la_m%C3%AAme_chose


Book 2.13 - Stormcrow Recycled


"This is Trooper Mercado."

"Um, hi trooper," January found herself fumbling for words. She had rehearsed this call in her head for nearly an hour. So naturally her mind went completely blank as soon as she heard the Puerto Rican woman's voice on the phone. "Um, Mercado, Emilia. It's Stormcrow."

"I guess that explains why my caller ID is suddenly not working," the State Trooper said. January could not tell if her voice sounded amused, or angry, or just resigned. "If you're asking me out, I'm afraid I'm a little old for you."

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that!" January exclaimed. A thirty year old? Yeeech! That would be like dating a mummy! Then she realized what she had said. "I mean, because it would be very unprofessional, and I am a very professional person."

"Yes, a very professional lesbian superhero." Now the other woman's voice did sound amused. "I read it all over Twitt and Instantgram. Did you really tell that gas station attendant you were gay?"

"Well it might have slipped out," January closed her eyes. Why was her sexual orientation bigger news than Middle Eastern countries at war? Reddot had practically melted over it. "He was hitting on me, and it got him to leave me alone. Never mind the fact that it's true."

"Well, a lot of people admire you for that," the state trooper said.

"And a lot of people hate me for that too," January replied. "Plus ça change…"

"…The more they stay the same," Emilia finished the saying, "don't I know it. So if you are not calling me for a hook-up, and not for PR advice..."

"Oh, I have a present for you," January said. "Well, not exactly a present. I recovered some stolen goods that I thought an officer of the law might be interested in taking charge of."

"Stolen goods?"

"Oh, some iridium, some zirconium, and about a ton of titanium," January said. "It's in an abandoned lot by the Packard Plant. Bring a truck."

* * *

January knocked twice on Avery's back door, then opened it and let herself in. His mother was gone, as usual. That left only him and his grandmother at home. Still, January was surprised to find her in the kitchen drinking a strawberry Ensure and doing a crossword puzzle. Usually she was in the living room watching TV, or sleeping in her bedroom.

"Nana Green!" she cried, "it's good to see you." January held her motorcycle helmet in one hand, and smoothed her hair down with the other.

"Gatsby's neighbor," the old woman's voice creaked out, "eight letters."

"Carraway," January answered easily, "Nick Carraway, he's the point of view character in the book."

The old woman harumphed, and wrote that down in her puzzle. January smiled, and made her way down the basement stairs. She found Avery rising from his computer palace. The taller black man grinned as she approached, and gave her an actual high-five in celebration.

"You did good today January," he breathed, "real good. I think you saved Isaac's life. And who knows how many other people's, if he had really gone through with his rampage plan."

"So is everything taken care of?" January allowed herself a moment to smile. Then her brain was all cape again. "The cops won't be a problem?"

"It seems what little evidence they had gathered vanished from their network," Avery crowed. "Looks like corrupted data from a few bad disk sectors, terrible shame. But that happens."

"They just don't make hard drives like they used to." January made a show of shaking her head. "Tell me we are doing the right thing, covering for Isaac? This won't come back to bite us in the future?"

"Well, no one can see the future," Avery shrugged. "Well, except Tick Tock. But even he can only see a few seconds ahead. But after talking to Isaac, I believe him. I don't think he was ever a bad guy. I think he was just in a bad patch, and there was no one there to help him when he needed it."

January looked down at the scars that crisscrossed her wrists. She knew all about bad patches, and bad decisions. She looked back up, to the practically angelic face of Avery. Thank Freyja he had been there when she needed it.

"But just in case, I did set up a couple of drones to keep an eye on his place," Avery said. "I have some bots set up to scan for tech robberies committed by robots as well. I'm not Stupid Good after all."

"Hopefully we won't need either," January said.

"Hopefully," Avery said. "In the meantime I'm going over there tomorrow. Isaac had an idea about building some cars, and I'm going to show him how I did that cold fusion reactor for the Geo."

Posted by: Renee Oct 12 2019, 09:51 PM

Yes, People look at me funny sometimes irl. I'm not into smartphones. All I need are talk & text. I can actually type messages to people without looking at the keys!

QUOTE
I liked this chapter because it ends with January solving the problem of a supervillain on the loose without a big fight.


She used her Speechcraft skill. wink.gif It also helped that Isaac told his FaceBot to stand down too.

Nice. I hope Stormcrow can pull this off without (1) getting Isaac in trouble, and (2) keeping herself out of trouble. Because I assume, well.... I assume Isaac won't be around pretty soon, nor will all his bots? Guess we'll find out, next week, on The Stormcrow!!!

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Oct 15 2019, 01:19 AM

2.7: Great episode!

Oh, wow. I had no idea about the bottle bills. Interesting.

Jan discomfort continues as she struggled to get into contact with Gadget. I liked her thoughts and concerns about law enforcement showing up. Typically they turn a blind eye to Supers beating up the baddies, but as far as property and, well, homicide, that's a no-no. Makes sense why the officer was a bit on edge talking to her.

Nit:
"hard way of standing that always made her think of the Army(.)
There's a period missing in this part smile.gif

"And I sold her a Pepsi..." the clerk added.

Heh. No doubt she was exhausted after repeating herself a million times to those officers.

January wondered if the reinforcements made him feel safer around her, or if he just finally trusted her.
I LOVED this small detail here. Great observation by her.

One asked if she was single. The clerk told the questioner that she was a lesbian. Obviously they did not know she was trans.
laugh.gif laugh.gif laugh.gif laugh.gif

This was a great and fun chapter as she and the cops and fire-fighters clean up the mess from the battle.


2.8: There's plenty to be said about this chapter, from Avery being glad Jan is alright, to her good sneak skills. But the family issues here hit home. We discover her father's terrible secret and way of making such an income. I truly felt sorry for Jan as she had to hear her father's toxic words about her, and blatant favoritism toward her brother. Using her former name must set her over the edge. I would be livid in her shoes.

That last part of the argument was so terrible.

I'm happy Avery was there for her, and I sympathize in her desire to move out of her house. The atmosphere being so uncomfortable that she was willing to set back her plans for her surgery.

2.9:
I'd be getting the names confused too. They're eerily similar. Far easier to remember Willy Wonka, too.

I'm eager to meet BloodRaven. Can't wait to officially see her. Here stands the test of every student hero that goes beyond pen and paper: fighting off crime, or staying in class? Jan aced this one pretty quick.

Broadsword and Danny Boy! These new call-signs are great, just as seeing her fly with the crows.

The assault on Global Titanium was action-packed. Looks like the Robo-Robbers have went through some updates. Unsurprisingly. At least this time when Avery was jammed, his communication was still okay. That's essential. We wouldn't want Jan to be uncomfortable.

Glad those folks she saved were okay. Once again, she proves to be the hero everyone needs!

Great work! cool.gif smile.gif


Posted by: Acadian Oct 17 2019, 08:23 PM

What a hoot of a phone call! You pretty much had me laughing from beginning to end here. Of course Gadget would have bypassed any caller id ability for her. Dating a thirty year old?!? Yeeech! rollinglaugh.gif Twitt, Intantgram and Reddot indeed!

At any rate, looks like Stormcrow talked Isaac into divesting his stolen metals.

Edit: Thanks for the additional goodness you added!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 17 2019, 11:11 PM

All: I can see that my original chapter ending left too much up in the air about Isaac. So I went back and added a little addendum to the previous episode. That should make it more clear where things stand with him and Archie. So on Saturday we can start a new chapter without any nagging uncertainties.

Posted by: Renee Oct 18 2019, 03:54 PM

Sometimes when I was younger I could be Chaotic Stupid at times. indifferent.gif

That'll be fun for the guys, talking shop over nuclear-powered econoboxes. smile.gif Sadly, I feel they'll never earn that Nobel prize.


Posted by: treydog Oct 18 2019, 07:00 PM

QUOTE
“What are you, the Fred Sanford of supervillains?"


That provoked a snortle.

QUOTE
Once again, she wished she had invested more experience points in her Speech skill.


And that one was a more rueful laugh, as it is a thought I have had more than twice.

If I tried to quote the “good parts” of Jan's conversation with Isaac, I would just copy and paste the whole thing. Wow.

And yeah- I held onto my LG Wine flip phone until earlier this year. The battery finally stopped holding a charge... And now I have a J3 with which I am trying to reach an amicable truce. sad.gif

Had to love her sudden nervousness when talking to Emilia.

More excellent story-telling and character-creation here. Just wonderful.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 19 2019, 05:03 PM

Renee: I am glad for your comment, because it showed me that I left too many loose ends with my original ending. I remember writing it, and feeling that it ended on a high point, and that anything else I wrote would just drag it out and lose that feeling. But now I can see that it also conveys some feelings of uncertainties, which I don't want. So I was able to go back and fill things out to put those things to bed. We will have some mentions of Isaac and Archie in future chapters, including his new car company, but they won't appear proper for some time.

I originally used Lawful Stupid. But that seems to usually be used for people who ignore the good in favor of the law part of the title. So they kill starving people who steal bread. I needed something opposite, so I went with Stupid Good, which apparently is a thing too, just not used as often (sadly it is often regular slang for something that is really good, like a stupid good burger).


Darkness Eternal: It shocks me that all states do not have bottle refunds. It is just so ingrained in Michigan life. It is like divided roads and the Big Tire on I-94

Thanks for catching my Army period. I go over these episodes more than a dozen times before I post them. But I still manage to miss things here and there.

The whole bag of snakes with January's father (and brother) was not something I originally intended. I decided to go that way because I wanted there to be more conflict in her life outside of being a superhero. Also because it is https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TruthInTelevision, making it something that some readers will be able to personally identify with.

We are starting Chapter 3 today, and Blood Raven will feature highly in its second half. I am guessing she will start showing up in December's posts. After that, she will be a very regular character. Once I started writing her, she actually turned out a lot more awesome than originally intended.

Broadsword and Danny Boy are not really official call signs. They have their super names after all. That is what happens when the writer reads a Cthulhu Mythos story that is loosely based upon Where Eagles Dare, then watches the movie afterward. laugh.gif


Acadian: That phone call was meant to be a hoot! January may be a big, tough, superhero, but she is still as socially awkward as any teenager. The 30 year old bit was something that just screamed out at me about how youngins think. If you are 20, a 30 year old is ancient. If you are 30 the goal posts move, and now a 50 year old is ancient, and so on. I am glad I can still remember that, given my own antediluvian age.


treydog: I loved me some Sanford and Son with I was a little 'un. Isaac was actually inspired by a villain from the Kamala Khan Ms. Marvel comics. He/it had a lair in a junkyard and was building killer robots off the spare parts. I went a much different way with Isaac's motivations and plans however.

I had to go back and rewrite some large parts of the Jan/Isaac conversation, as the original version just was not powerful enough. The parts about the tarot card were all later additions, and how Isaac had already made his mark in pursuit of his goal, and the repeated Frankenstein reference, all came in afterward when I realized the original just did not carry enough weight.

In the end I really loved it, because it really is a moment where January defines who and what she is. It is kind of the start of her formulating her own January Doctrine.






https://i.imgur.com/1uIs7MH.jpg

https://www.pixlee.com/definitions/definition-instagram-influencer

https://i.imgur.com/xiaNFJb.jpg

https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE

https://i.imgur.com/VMkoxEu.jpg



Book 3.1 - Stormcrow Burning

May 25th - May 26th, 2019

January placed her final exam on her instructor's desk. A substantial pile had already accumulated there. But she did not feel bad for taking her time, and being one of the last students to finish. Creative Writing had been her favorite class of the semester. She wanted to end it on a high note. So she had put as much time and imagination as she could muster into the story for her Final Exam. It had been about the school itself gaining self-awareness, and the trials and tribulations it encountered while trying to live in a human world.

Her teacher smiled and gave her a nod as she walked past. Mr. Wirth had been one of her favorite instructors as well. A man as kindly as he was corpulent, he had a tendency to drone on about the old days, when there had been a sharp division between farm kids and city kids going to the local schools. Other students obviously found it boring, given how their eyes rolled once he got going. January supposed it was not nearly as interesting as what dress or lipstick the latest trendy Instantgram influencer was wearing. Instead she looked at it as a view through a time machine, a rare glimpse of a lost world, seen through his eyes when he was a child. She had no doubt that he would make his way into one of her stories someday.

A cluster of people waited just outside the door. January could not miss the stares and the curled lips. A few months ago someone had figured out that she was trans. The gossip had spread like lies during election season, as gossip was wont to do. She had noticed the very clear shift in behavior. The stares, first of bug-eyed astonishment, that soon turned to flinty contempt. The hushed conversations that turned dead silent whenever she came near. The muffled laughter when she walked away.

Some things, it seemed, would never change.

January stared back at them with even greater intensity. Her mind raced with all the possible moves and counters she might use against them in hand to hand. What she would do if one produced a gun. The full-faced motorcycle helmet the she carried loosely in one hand gave her even more options on that front, both in terms of attack and defense. It was not just childish fantasies. She was really plotting tactics in her head. It was something she had learned from Krav Maga. To always be aware of her surroundings, and be ready for danger.

The threat turned out to be non-existent, as it usually was in broad daylight and surrounded by other people. But she never knew when that might change. Especially these days, since she had become Stormcrow. More than ever before in her life, she had to be ready, for anything.

Still, she allowed herself to relax after moving through the pack. In a moment she was out of the building and in the cloister outside. It was tucked away within the quadrangle that formed the core of the college's classrooms. She lost herself in the stream of other students and teachers that flowed back and forth through the area. She made her way out of the quad and came out into the open. The library rose up ahead of her, with the parking lot down the slight hill beyond. In no time at all she walked down to a long line of motorcycles in the center of the lot. Hers was easy to find. It was the one with a crow sitting on the handlebars.

"And Gadget calls it a Stormcycle," January smiled. "I always knew it was the Crowbike."

January straddled the Victory Empulse. When it did not lean to the side to take her weight she remembered that it was still bonded to the asphalt below. Taking hold of the fob that dangled from the key, she clicked the button in it once. That disengaged the molecular adhesion emitter that Gadget had installed in the motorcycle. Now the bike leaned sideways as she toed up the kickstand and balanced it beneath her. January slid the key into the ignition and turned it on with a click. The crow on the bars looked back and cawed loudly at her. But he did not leave his perch.

January spared a glance up to the bright blue sky above. Sadly, there was no opportunity for flying now. Not with so many people around. Still, her armor was snugly tucked away under the fake gas tank bump. Just in case…

She took a few moments to tie her long, blonde hair into a simple braid. Then she pulled her Sedici Strada Carino helmet down over her head, and snugged up the chin strap. Its soft pink and black floral paint was scratched from hard use. The owner had insisted it had not been in a crash. But it certainly looked like it had scraped some pavement. That had worked in January's favor on Ebuy, as it had scared other bidders away and kept the price down. She of course could care less if it fell to pieces if she crashed. If it came down to a contest between her skull and concrete, the concrete would lose.

The crow remained ensconced upon her handlebars when she pulled away from the curb. The bike was nearly silent. Only a slight hum of power rose from its engine, while its slowly moving drive chain murmured a soft, metallic hymn. Other students stared as she drifted by them on the corvid-guided bike. It was not until she reached the street and really opened up the bike's fusion-powered engine that her crow friend finally took to the skies. He warbled a throaty goodbye, and January waved as the black bird departed.

The bike felt like an impatient beast between her legs, slavering for the opportunity to chew up the blacktop. She had to admit, she could not wait to turn it loose. She never would have guessed that she would become a lead foot. But one day on the back of the Victory had awakened a love of wind and speed within her. One only matched by the glory of flying.

She darted down Twelve Mile road, and had to restrain herself from weaving through the afternoon traffic. She had only just started driving, well riding anyway. The last thing she needed was a speeding ticket. She could only imagine what her insurance would look like then. As if being a nineteen year old was not bad enough on that account…

Still, traffic moved pretty well on Twelve Mile, as it usually did on a Saturday. It did not even slow down as she passed the General Motors Technical Center. Usually that place was like Gadget's adhesive emitter. Everything ground to a snail's pace around it. But it was the weekend, so GM's engineers had the day off, and the roads were open.

By the time January turned left onto Dequindre she was smiling, and humming along to a Two Steps From Hell song. She was going to have to figure out how to listen to music while riding. Maybe she could use wireless earbuds and her phone? Given how quickly its battery died, that might not work so well however.

In no time at all she had turned onto her road, and slowed to make her way down the residential street. She frowned as she pulled up into the driveway of her house. She used to look forward to going home. But that was before she heard what her father really thought of her. She noted that his Equinox was parked in the driveway, as was her mother's Mini Cooper. Worse of all was the fifteen-year-old Mazda MX-5 parked out front, red as the blood of a fresh victim. That meant her brother was home from U of M. Wonderful.

The sky had darkened from soft blue to slate gray by the time she threaded her bike through the cars and rolled up to the back patio. They didn't have a garage, and with only the front half of the driveway paved with concrete, the patio was the only place she could glue down her bike to something solid. She shut off the Victory and locked it down there with Gadget's adhesive wave emitter.

Hefting her school backpack over her shoulder, she walked in the back door. She found her mother in the kitchen. A pot of water was simmering on the stove, and a box of spaghetti stood on the counter beside it, along with mushrooms, hamburger, and a can of sauce. January did not have to be a detective to guess what was for dinner.

"Honey, I'm glad your back," her mother said in the sad, resigned voice that had become her normal for this past week. "We need to talk."

January fought down the frown that wanted to drag down the corners of her mouth. She followed her mother's gesture and sat down beside her at the kitchen table.

"There's no easy way to put this," she began. "I filed for a divorce from your father. I am going to be moving back in with your grandma Sarah in Livonia. It's just temporary, until I find a house or apartment in Warren. I have to live here for my job at the library. I'd like you to come with me."

"I'm looking for a place of my own right now." January's stomach flopped like a dying fish trapped on shore. She did not know why it affected her so. She had certainly seen it coming ever since she had overheard the argument. She had even been planning to move out since then, and had looked at some apartments already.

But this was final. It felt like the stone lid of a sarcophagus grinding shut over her past life. What would her future be? Who would be in it?

"If I don't find something by the time you move, I'll go with you," January continued. She could not stay in this house anymore. Here, it felt like she was sealed away in that sarcophagus already.

"Good," her mother smiled weakly, and laid a warm hand over one of January's.

"I hope you understand that I did not want any of this. To be honest, I don't think your father did either." A sour look crossed the red-haired woman's features at the mention of him. Then it cleared as she continued. "But this cannot go on. This environment is toxic, to all of us, and there is no fixing it. And I realize I am as much at fault as anyone else."

"I think we all need a fresh start," the older woman went on. "All of us. You need to think about your future. I know this only makes things more difficult. But I promise you, I will do everything I can for you. For school, and for surgery. But I also need to think about myself, what I am doing with my life, and where I should go next. I've lost sight of that over the years. I need to get it back."

January gaped, again, feeling like a fish flopping around on dry land, just inches away from water, and safety. She rose and put her arms around her mother, and held her tight.

"I love you mom," she finally croaked. "I always will."

"So are you staying for dinner?" her mother asked after finally pulling away.

"No, we're going to eat at Hart Plaza," January shook her head. "Everyone is probably waiting for me. I just need to put my books away and change before I head back out again."

"Oh, how was your last day of the semester?" her mother asked. "Did your Finals go well?"

"I hope so," January crossed her fingers. "I'm not sure about my Psych class, but I know Creative Writing and English were a snap."

"One day I'll be putting your books up on the stacks," her mother smiled, and turned back to the spaghetti in the making.

January smiled back at that. She certainly hoped so.

She rounded through the empty living room, and noticed that the door to her father's office was shut, but light gleamed through from underneath the threshold. She frowned, and continued on to the stairs up to the second floor. She took them two at time. There was no time to waste.

Once above, she spared only a glance down the hall toward her brother's open door, across the upper floor from her own. She saw his back, hunched over his desk, one hand cupped against the side of his head. Then she turned away. He was the last person she wanted to deal with today. Well, the second to last.

Bustling through her room, she nudged the door shut with her toe. She tossed her school backpack into one corner. Then she quickly pulled off her school clothes and threw them on the bed.

Last year people had been wearing bikinis and daisy dukes at the festival. She was not going to be left out looking frumpy in cargo pants and a tee again. She changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps, and a peach mini skirt. She passed over her shoes with heels, and settled on a pair of strappy flats. She was going to be on her feet all night after all. Looking good did not mean forgoing comfort.

She was about to turn back around when she remembered that it sometimes got cold by the river. So she went back to her closet and fished out a long-sleeved top and tied the arms around her waist. One of the perks to being a girl was that one could always rely upon a knight in shining armor to lend you his jacket. But she didn't want to be that girl, who was always dependent upon someone else.

She glanced over at the bangles and bracelets stacked up on her dresser. She usually wore long sleeves. But the tank top would leave her arms bare. She glanced down at her wrists, and the raised white scars that marred each. She turned her back on the bracelets and other cheap jewelry. She was tired of camouflaging her past mistakes. Let everyone see her for who she really was, scars and all.

She slung her purse over one shoulder and headed back out, only to find her brother waiting for her in the hall. He towered over her, standing over six feet, blond hair a golden wreath around his head.

"Are you happy?" Julian sneered. His voice dripped with poison. It reminded January of the serpent hovering over Loki's bound form during his punishment by the gods. "Mom and dad are getting divorced because of you."

"No, they're getting divorced because your father is a liar who would rather hide behind transphobia than take responsibility for his own life." January seethed in reply. "In your case, it's obvious that the road apple didn't fall far from the horse's ass."

"Ad hominem attacks," her brother scoffed. "It shows you lost the argument at the very start."

"Stating the facts is not a personal attack," January insisted. "It's just acknowledging reality. Something creatures like you are too afraid to ever do. You hide behind your bigotries like a security blanket. Anything to keep from manning up and taking ownership of your lives."

"Me? I haven't done anything." Julian snickered.

"This is all about you, and your vanity," January contended. "Everything has to always be all about you, doesn't it? But you got sloppy. You left those checks for your tuition and books out for me to see on purpose, didn't you? You just couldn't resist rubbing my face in it, could you? To show how you were daddy's favorite? How you were so special? How you were so worthy of all that money, and I wasn't?"

"Our parents are getting divorced because my mother finally found out what frakwits you and your father really are."

"My father has morals is all," Julian sneered. "Something a perverted sissy like you would never understand. You're just as bad as that fairy friend of yours, the porch mon-"

The moment the invective turned to Avery, something inside January snapped. Julian must have seen it in her eyes, because he immediately backed away. No, he fled. He slammed his bedroom door in her face just before her fist could take his head off. She heard the lock clack shut, and turned her gaze down to look at it. Taking the door knob in one hand, she twisted it, and pushed it in. She heard metal grind, as the pins and cylinders of the locking mechanism inside the knob twisted, deformed, and crushed into and through one another.

January smiled in spite of herself. If he wanted to hide in his room, he could stay there forever. That handle would never open again. He would have to take the door off the hinges, a feat January doubted he possessed the mechanical skill to accomplish. Or he would have to climb out the window and go out on the roof. She smiled even more broadly, and locked the window in the hall. Then she went back into her own room and immediately locked the window there as well. He would not be getting back inside either way.

Posted by: Renee Oct 20 2019, 02:51 AM

Nice, she's back in school! smile.gif I love that despite everything she's doing, she's also staying in school.

Yes I agree. I'd want to hear the teacher's tales about the way things were, too.

Oh crap. Dang, I knew this was coming eventually, that they'd have a problem with who she is. Let me come back to this story later. I just couldn't resist a peek, for now.

QUOTE
Her mind raced with all the possible moves and counters she might use against them in hand to hand.


Sucks that she has to think this way. I get it though. A lot of ppl have issues with sexual identity, yet when someone actually goes ahead and does something about their own body, all the sudden these people look to him or her and start to judge. Like it's any of their business. mad.gif Hopefully in the future there won't be all these judgements & worries. I feel like if Jan lived down near where I do, she wouldn't be getting judged by general society. Overall.

I mean, for instance, among my daughter's school for instance, I feel like a lot of students (all her friends definitely) will grow up with more open-minds than my generation did. Sure, there'll be that group of jocks or whatever who will deride that lone trans person who'll be in their college or whatever, but it'll get to the point that they won't be able to make these derisive comments openly, anymore. Things are changing. Maybe not fast enough for January's everyday life, but they are changing overall.

QUOTE
That disengaged the molecular adhesion emitter that Gadget had installed in the motorcycle.


laugh.gif

Oh good, her mom is divorcing. I mean, that's not really "good", it's sad. But it's necessary.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 20 2019, 06:22 PM

Some epic music to begin this new and third chapter. Hard to beat Two Steps from Hell.

Nice to see Jan actively pursuing her writing still.

Bless Gadget for his neat security addition to the Crowcycle.

Jan’s feeling of freedom and longing for speed that the motorcycle provides appeals to me and my flying days, as well as my elf with the fast mare. smile.gif

’The sky had darkened from soft blue to slate gray by the time she threaded her bike through the cars and rolled up to the back patio.‘
- - I’m getting much more sensitized to the fact that this is a direct result of January’s mood. And we soon learn how appropriate the somber sky is. The divorce is a shame but, as January knows, not unexpected. . . and probably a wise choice by her mother.

The confrontation with Julian was exactly what January did not need at this point. What a self-absorbed fetcher! At least there was the satisfaction that big brother only barely escaped getting his butt kicked by one pissed off superhero. Sissy indeed!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 26 2019, 04:42 PM

Renee: Yes, she is still in school, but only just barely. That was her last Final exam for the Spring Term, so she is now officially out for the summer. Her brother, OTOH, is taking classes over the summer so he can graduate in August.

That teacher - Mr. Wirth - was my English teacher in high school. He was the first person to really encourage my writing, and even got me into an independent study period in lieu of a regular class, just so I could work on my writing.

Things have changed a lot since I was in school. If I had tried to transition then I would have been murdered, if not by the other students, then by the teachers. Now trans kids actually do transition in schools. That is not to say they don't face a lot of bigotry however, like having the right to use the bathroom. January's experiences are based upon what I have read about modern day trans-kids in school (I am so old now I have to read about it), and the issues they face. Nicole Maines - who now plays Dreamer on the Supergirl tv show - was in the center of a big example.

I got the idea for Gadget's molecular adhesion wave back in the first chapter, when I wanted a rappelling line that did not need a claw to hook on to things. It could just stick to whatever it was placed against. It was only natural for it to transition into being a lock for her motorcycle.




Acadian: I had to slip in a reference to January's theme music.

January's writing is going to be front and center in the facets of these story that deal with her personal life. Especially her working life. She has to pay the bills after all.

Keep watching those skies. We will see some very dramatic examples of how her mood affects the elements in this chapter and the next.

Her brother is another example of the toxic family life January is going through, and sadly something a great many people face IRL. Even without bigotry.




https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Blackjack

http://www.saintandrewsdetroit.com/

https://www.wehoville.com/2013/09/05/wehos-riot-house-4-reasons-really/

https://youtu.be/Fqr8r7L8LN0

http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/f.aspx

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portal_(series)

https://www.sarna.net/wiki/Kell_Hounds

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Hite

https://www.wired.com/2011/11/in-depth-rpg-review-trail-of-cthulhu/

https://i.imgur.com/yRrvIFG.jpg



Book 3.2 - Stormcrow Burning

"Hey Morning Star, good to see you."

January smiled in spite of herself. Only one of the Knights of Nerddom would refer to her as the first month in the Elder Scrolls video game universe.

"Jacktimus Prime!" she exclaimed with a wave back to the rotund young man with a mess of brown hair and a equally scruffy beard. Jacob had been Jack until their circle of friends has seen their first Transformers TV show. Since then he had been Blackjack, that cunning Decepticon micromaster. But he clearly enjoyed the honor of being promoted to Prime status. He lay sprawled across the couch that rose up amidst the electronic and mechanical treasure horde of the Gadget Cave. "How's the band going?"

"We got a gig at the Shelter next Friday!" his eyes lit up. "We're opening up for Mist Stalker and For The Win. You should come out, you'd love it!"

"I have classes Friday nights," January shook her head. Thank goodness she did. Blackjack's band - Epic Fail - was funny, with their satirical take on 80s and 90s rock. But they were not especially good. She always thought he'd be better as a stand up comic - or an actor - than as a musician. But how could you tell someone that? How would she feel if someone told her that about her writing?

"I thought school was out?" Rus piped up. The slender blond man sidled around the side of the Blob - the worn and taped up punching bag that hung from the ceiling by a rusty iron chain. His wavy blond hair was a waterfall that bathed his heart-shaped features with gold. She always expected him to shout out "I am a Golden God!" in a moment of Robert Plantian inspiration. But that had yet occur.

"College is out Rus," January nodded. Ever since they had seen the King Arthur movie that portrayed the Knights of the Round Table as Sarmatians, he had been Rus, rather than plain old Rusty. "But I still teach at the House of Pain."

"Got to make that filthy lucre!" Kell turned from where he had been leaning over Gadget's Computer Palace - the water-cooled monstrosity of his personal computer. His blond hair was several shades darker than Rus', much shorter, and complemented by a short, but full beard. Like Rus, no one called him Kelly. He was Kell, after his favorite Battletech company: the Kell Hounds.

"Can we go now?" Ryo was direct and to the point as ever, like the katana he trained with practically day and night. He rose from where he squatted in the farthest corner of the room, a shadow that detached itself from the darkness that pooled there. January was still not sure how Ryo did that. He had a way of just disappearing when he wanted to. She envied him that. Given that he was even more socially awkward than she was, she could see how it was a survival trait for him.

His dark hair was cropped short, and his high-cheekboned features bore a perpetual stubble around his upper lip and chin. Ryo did not have a special nerd story behind his name. He was one of the few members of their real life adventuring party to use the name given to him at birth. It was quite simply cooler than any nickname they could give him.

"Just let me finish this level." Avery's voice rose from beyond his floating chair. She could not see the OG - Original Geek - himself. But from what she could make out of the computer screens behind the trio, he was playing Portal 5. As she watched, she saw him create a glowing portal in one gray, concrete wall. Then he leapt through, fell past a plethora of jutting walkways and floating cubes. He fired off another portal beneath him, fell through, and found himself in a small room. He went through its only door, and the screen went black as a new level loaded.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the guys near the computer, and January saw Avery's chocolate brown hands rise up into the air above his chair in triumph.

"Hey January, you should come back to gaming tomorrow," Rus said. "I'm running Trail of Cthulhu, I think you'd like it. We can work in a new character for you, no problem."

"Isn't that Ken Hite's new game?" January's eyes lit up. She loved his podcast, and his appearances on others. He was fun to listen to, and he definitely knew his Cthulhu, given his book, Tour de Lovecraft.

"It is. It's more about narrative and less about rolling dice for every little thing." Rus said.

"It'd be great to have you back," Blackjack piped in. "It's been a while since you gamed."

"I wish I could," January bit her lip. Dungeons and Dragons - and other role-playing games - had been one of the things that had gotten her through her transition. Avery and the other Knights of Nerddom had all been supportive of her being trans. They had been weirded out at first, but still supportive. Well, all but Martin. Like most people at school, he had been anything but. He had forced everyone else to choose between him and her. Even today, January was still shocked that they had chosen her. No one had talked to Martin in years.

But there was just no time for gaming anymore. Not with writing, schoolwork, martial arts, yoga, and gymnastics. Being Stormcrow had only made it so much worse. Something had to give.

"There's just too much crap going on in my life right now," she lamented. "My parents are getting divorced, and I've got to move out."

"So it's a done deal then?" Avery rose from his chair. The room became noticeably quieter as his computer shut down behind him. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping things would work out between you and your dad."

"There's no working this out," January stared down at her shoes. "I don't think I even want to try."

"So aside from that, how was your night at the theater Mrs. Lincoln?" Blackjack said completely deadpan.

January did crack a smile at the joke. Blackjack was always good at finding the funny side of how life sucked.

"Come my fellow Knights of Nerddom," Rus declared with a flourish of his upraised hand. "The Festival awaits!"

"It is Yuletide, and we have come at last to the ancient sea town where our people dwelt and kept Festival in the elder time, when Festival was forbidden!" Kell boomed melodramatically.

"Now where did I leave my copy of the Necronomicon…" Blackjack pantomimed checking his pockets for that dread tome of Lovecraftian lore.

Rus led the way up the basement stairs. Avery stalled joining the others, and motioned for January to wait behind as well. He went to an old dresser that was filled with junk, and pulled out a silver necklace. Its links shined in the late afternoon light that slanted down through the narrow, high-set windows set along the driveway above. From the chain hung a silver and black pendant, rimmed with a simple knotwork design. Set within was the symbol of the Raven Banner. The titular bird was formed from gracefully curved lines of silver. With wings outstretched, it seemed to be taking flight.

"This is for you," Avery said. January stared in amazement as he lifted the chain and draped it around her neck. "Think of it as an early birthday present."

"It's beautiful," January gasped. She let her fingers slide over the upraised lines of the raven. Then she noticed something odd about the back of the pendant. There was a catch there. She pressed it without thinking. The rear face popped open, and revealed a small button surrounded by circuitry.

"Only our fingerprints will open it," Avery crowed. "Go ahead and turn it on."

She pressed the button, and a single LED lit up within the circuitry. But nothing else seemed to happen.

Avery continued to grin however. He reached back into the dresser and pulled out a twenty-year old camcorder. He turned it on, and spun around the side-mounted viewer so that both it, and the camera lens, faced January. The basement filled up the rectangular viewing screen. There was the Blob, still swaying gently from where Rus had leaned against it. There was the ancient couch, stuffing rising like miniature mountains from its ragged cloth. Junk and gizmos were piled everywhere.

But even though she was standing directly in front of the camera lens, January was not there in the picture. Other than a slight shimmering in the air, like the heat haze on a highway, there was no sign of her at all!

"I had a little help from our new friend Isaac in adapting his anti-video technology." Avery explained. "But I went a different way, in that it only scrubs you from the image."

"I'm invisible!" January breathed. Ever since she had transitioned, she had wished for the ability to disappear. It would have made life so much easier, not to mention safer.

"Only to video surveillance," Avery cautioned. "I can still see you just fine. But this will let you change into your armor without you having to worry about being recorded. You can do stealth missions now too, and not leave any traces on security cameras. In case there's ever a time you don't want to end up all over social media."

"Aww Avery, this is great!" She leaned in to hug him, only to hear the others shouting for them to hurry up. January grinned, her family issues momentarily forgotten, and rushed up the stairs after them. Avery followed at her heels. It was time to hold Festival!

Posted by: Acadian Oct 26 2019, 09:54 PM

A wonderful interlude with just the right amount of lightheartedness. We learn more about Jan and Avery’s nerdgamer pals. Always the same – so many games, so little time. tongue.gif

A very handy anti-surveillance device. As seems to be the case, Avery’s style and timing is very good when it comes to knowing what his Raven pal needs. In this case, the sentiment behind the beautiful amulet is perhaps more valuable than even its enchantment. happy.gif

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Oct 27 2019, 07:06 PM

Can't believe I caught up! Been trying to juggle some things out before I came back to crack my knuckles and put on my reading glasses biggrin.gif laugh.gif

Stormcrow is becoming a pro at the flying thing. Its great seeing her get better and better as time goes on, and she continues to show that in everything that she does, she always has the concern of other's in her best interest. Like transitioning into a residential area automatically has her being extra cautious about those nearby.

A few things stood out to me that I thought they were worth mentioning:

'For a moment it struck her that it looked just like a classic comic book pose, of the Dark Avenger protagonist perched upon an appropriately Gothic steeple. All she needed were some crows to swirl around her for dramatic effect.'

Hehe, this was perfect. She is the hero Detroit needs, but not the hero it deserves. What made it hilarious was the crow singing in her ear soon after. This sort of comedic aspect more or less tied to her youth made this part golden. laugh.gif

Jan/Stormcrow's fascinating(and relation) with Frankenstein's monster is not lost on me. There's a certain sympathy there she shares with the unloved and the shunned and, if I may, mistreated. There are plenty of things we can take away from Shelley's story, and subsequently Jan's tale.

'This armor, it's not the real me. Underneath, I don't know what I am. I just know I wasn't born right. This body of mine, it feels like garbage. Someone else's cast off. It feels like some thief sneaked in one night and stole my real body, and left me this crap instead. It's not who I'm supposed to be. I don't know if I'll ever be the real me.'
An all too prevailing occurrence. We can all to some degree relate with Jan, and I hope that she can overcome this. Thankfully she has Avery/Gadget, and though its saddening that her parents are getting divorced, this may just give her the time she needs to think clearly without the weight of negativity and judgment hanging over her shoulders.



Posted by: Renee Oct 28 2019, 12:32 AM

QUOTE(SubRosa @ Oct 26 2019, 11:42 AM) *

That teacher - Mr. Wirth - was my English teacher in high school. He was the first person to really encourage my writing, and even got me into an independent study period in lieu of a regular class, just so I could work on my writing.


Oh neat. Yes, some teachers make a heck of a difference, that's for sure.

For me this was Sister Mary Louise. I went to a Catholic middle school because public schools weren't working for me, and my parents switched me over in 4th grade. Anyway, SML had a weekly Creative Writing class. Once a week, we could write about anything we wanted, our Halloween costumes, our trips to grandma's house, whatever. Later on at some point in 2013 I realized this is the reason for my weekly writing habit.

QUOTE

Things have changed a lot since I was in school. If I had tried to transition then I would have been murdered, if not by the other students, then by the teachers. Now trans kids actually do transition in schools. That is not to say they don't face a lot of bigotry however,


Yikes. You had to keep a lot to yourself, I bet. How old were you when you transitioned?

Yes, that's what I was trying to get at earlier (about nowadays things are changing). Nobody's changing over in my daughter's school (she's in high school) but I think if somebody were, they'd mostly be supported. Oh, surely there'd be some naysayers here and there, but they'd be in a vast minority, I think.

-------------------------------

LOl @ Jack's band Epic Fail. laugh.gif I want to see Epic Fail! rollinglaugh.gif

Yes, "I am a Golden God!" is what Plant said. I read that somewhere.

Cripes, this chapter's bringing back all kinds of memories from my 20s. I was a lot more social back then. We'd all go to shows. Some of us were gamers, just like these kids in the story.

WhOA nice, she's going to be like the Stealth Bomber! Invisible to cameras, just like that plane is supposed to be invisible to radar! What a nice gift. And also nice to see Avery and Isaac Sanford met up.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 2 2019, 06:05 PM

Acadian: It was fun writing that scene, though there is a lot of Telling rather than Showing because I had to introduce a lot of characters at once, and I wanted for each to have something that made an impression. Otherwise they would have all just blurred together. It is a nice counter-balance to the grimness in the previous scene.

I still read comics (well I got back into them again last year after a few decades hiatus), and I see so many things that would blow a hero's secret identity. Like literally flying into and out of the window of their house, or riding around on motorcycles. As if no one is going to notice someone flying into their neighbor's window, or take down the license plate number on Batgirl's motorcycle. Anti-video surveillance is one way to counter the pervasiveness of cameras today, and how easily they would destroy anyone's secret ID.

I spent a lot of time working out just what form it would take. It had to be something that Jan could wear in everyday life, and not look out of place (for her at least). I went over a lot of rings and necklaces. In the end I went with the Raven Banner. It is a classic, so it never goes out of style.


Darkness Eternal: You caught up!

January's slowly acquired flight ability is one thing I had noted right off the bat as something she could work on throughout the early chapters. We will see it sprout into extraordinary fruition around chapter 5 or so. But even that won't be the end of the things she learns to do with it.

You are right. Detroit does not deserve Jan. Detroit deserves Blood Raven, the harsher, deadlier version.

I always want to keep that fun aspect to January, and not take her too seriously. She is inspired by a run of Batgirl where Barbara Gordon was certainly taken seriously, but also injected with joy and good friendships. She is definitely not Batman, with his dour, humorless nature. I do not want it to be a surprise when January smiles, or sometimes looks and feels a bit foolish. In spite of her wings, she is a very down to earth person.

I only read Frankenstein for the first time about 16 years ago. I was blown away by how different it was from James Whale's film. The themes of alienation and loneliness really leapt out off the pages at me. In some respect or another, everyone can relate to that at some point in their lives. That is one reason that book is still around after 200 years. It can give us the feels on a real level.


Renee: I was in my early thirties when I came out, about 16 years ago. When I was old enough and established enough in life to survive without needing anyone else's help. Jan really is a lot braver than I am. Because she did it at 12, when she was completely dependent upon her parents. Granted, she was lucky to live in a different time. But even her parents did not take her seriously at first. She had to try to kill herself for them to believe her.

I had fun working on the gaming pals aka the Knights of Nerddom. I picture them as having known one another since early childhood, and all living in the same neighborhood. For example, Avery is just two houses down from Jan. I was glad to finally work them into the story, as they were the last piece of January's life that I had not shown. I hope to do things with some of them in the future as well.

As you said, I drew some of the Knights off of people I really knew and gamed with back in the day, namely Rus and Kell. Though I added some things. Jack is a straight up copy of Jack Black, hence the comical band. Ryo is drawn from an online pal I had back in the day, with some extra layers added on that I took from film and TV shows. We will be seeing more of Ryo and Rus especially in the future.





https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_A._Hart_Plaza

https://i.imgur.com/k8WIwmE.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EuhvKM6.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/paqnkBD.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/GiZxGzh.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/izQn8En.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/osnIVIp.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hPB0pLN.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/2E6VTXs.jpg

https://www.movement.us/pages/experience

https://i.imgur.com/fmaUDQA.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/6BGN1iW.jpg

https://youtu.be/K-UIf_StpdU


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Louis_Arena


https://i.imgur.com/T2hMNZB.jpg


Book 3.3 - Stormcrow Burning

Festival was of course the Movement Electronic Music Festival. Every Memorial Day weekend it took place in Hart Plaza, along the Detroit river. They drove down in two cars, and parked on the Cobo Hall rooftop lot. As usual, Avery had reserved spots in advance. From there it was only a short walk to the plaza, which was packed with people.

Trees encircled the stone-flagged square. At its center rose the Dodge Memorial Fountain, the most iconic structure in the plaza. It was a giant stainless steel ring, held up horizontally in the air by two thick diagonal posts. The huge fountain underneath jetted water up into the open space within the ring, and currently glowed blue from the lights set within.

The main stage scalloped down into the earth nearby. Smaller stages rose up in other corners of the plaza, hidden behind copses of trees. A miniature stepped pyramid stood beside one. A statue of Antoine Cadillac - the founder of Detroit - lay between it and the great central fountain. While right next to the lapping waves of the Detroit River rose the monument to the Underground Railroad.

Looking toward Jefferson Avenue, January noted the Pylon, a tall, twisty obelisk near one corner of the plaza. Transcending rose up in the opposite corner. It was a statue made from a pair of tall, slender sickles that faced one another to create a circle, with only a small gap between the two curved arms at the top. It looked like a stargate to January. She kept expecting to see a line of invading Goa'uld to come marching through it, jackal-headed helmets in all.

Beyond Jefferson Avenue rose the tall skyscrapers of Downtown. There was the postmodern Comerica Building, with its sharp Neo-Gothic rooftop facades. Though apparently now it was Ally Detroit Center according to the sign that had been added to the roof. The slick modern glass and chrome One Woodward Avenue building stood to one side of it. While hunkered down in front was City Hall, a.k.a. the Coleman Young Municipal Center, in all of its 70s blandness. Deeper still within the urban forest towered stately art deco masterpieces like the Buhl and Penobscot buildings.

Looming up before those worthies, right at the edge of Jefferson Avenue, was the rounded concrete and glass face of 150 West Jefferson. Beside it rose the angular, plate glass Crowne Plaza building. Finally off to the left squatted Cobo Hall. Jefferson Avenue vanished beneath its glass-fronted bulk. A small building rose between it and the plaza, and far beyond January saw the Ambassador bridge, spanning the blue-green waters of the Detroit River about two miles south.

Jefferson itself was a split avenue, like so many Michigan streets. Right in the center of its two throughways hung the great bronze arm and clenched fist of Joe Louis. January had always appreciated that. It said a lot about a city when it honored a fist. Just a few blocks away, in front of City Hall, stood the Spirit of Detroit statue as well. It had long since turned green with age. But the gilded globe bursting with rays that it held with one hand still shined bright gold, as did the winged figure in his other palm.

A glance opposite Cobo revealed the mighty Renaissance Center. A single giant spire rose up in its center, over 70 stories high. It was flanked by four lesser towers, just shy of 40 stories each. All were stylish black glass and chrome cylinders, with a simple GM sign in blue and white atop the central tower. On the far side rose the tiny twins, two much smaller skyscrapers, just over 20 stories each. These mighty spires dominated the entire Detroit skyline, practically threatening the heavens themselves. January could not look at the central spire without dreaming of leaping off the rooftop. She imagined that from there she could glide all the way across the river to the shores of Canada.

Then there were the people. People everywhere, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder. Most were young, but January noted some who had to be at least her parent's age. Some of the women were dressed in string bikinis, others in skin-tight shorts, a few even sported animal costumes. Most of the men were just in shorts, jeans, or cargo pants, and tees. Hoodies were represented in large numbers, along with some cases of flannel. A few daring males flaunted their bare chests, but only it seemed, when there was a six pack of abs to show off.

It was a little cool for the end of May, and January felt her skin prickle when the chill air blew in off the river that bordered the southern side of the plaza. She wondered if the miniskirt and halter top she had chosen to wear had been such a good idea after all. But the temperature did rise noticeably when they moved into the crowd, and threaded their way toward one of the food kiosks. January's stomach growled as dozens of competing smells teased her nostrils with the promise of yummy delights.

She settled on a falafel sandwich, while Avery gorged on chicken on a stick. At least they thought it was chicken. The other guys of course joked that it was probably iguana on the stick. He retorted that it meant it was free from radiation (if the Fallout games could be trusted for culinary as well as scientific accuracy). Kell munched on vinegar fries. Blackjack devoured a bowl of Skyline Chili. Ryo scarfed down some Slows Barbecue, and Rus dove into a bowl of something which January was afraid to even try to identify.

After eating, they drifted around the stages. January was disappointed to find that the Yoga Lab was not until Sunday and Monday, meaning that she would miss it completely. But she did not really mind either. She could do yoga any time at home after all. It just would have been nice to do it with other people for a change. It was not like she could afford to go to a yoga studio these days.

The afternoon rolled into evening, and January lost herself dancing to the music of one artist after another. She was brought back to earth when Blackjack started asking about Ryo, and January noticed that their friend had vanished.

"He's just gone ninja again," Kell ruminated.

"Yeah, he lasted longer than I expected," Avery rubbed the back of his head. "Last year he only made it three hours."

Blackjack pulled out his phone and furiously tapped away at its screen with his thumbs. It chimed back at him a minute later. He studied its face for a moment, then looked relieved.

"He's over at the Joe," Blackjack relayed, "says he'll be back in a while."

The estrogen in January wanted to walk down the river to check up on him, and make sure he did not feel alone and left out. But her forebrain knew better. Ryo had left because he wanted to be alone. No, needed to. Ryo had a lot of issues, being around people and especially crowds was one of them. The abandoned Joe Louis Arena was an ideal place for him to disappear to decompress. Her going down there would only make matters worse for him, not better.

It was hardly anything new. Ryo had always been that way after all. Actually, he had been much worse. January still did not know how he had survived school. Probably by disappearing at lunchtime. She still remembered the first time she had noticed him. They had been in the 3rd grade, and another student had touched him. That started him screaming. The school nurse had to come to take him away.

That was of course the kiss of death socially. Which only made him a perfect Knight of Nerddom. Blackjack started hanging out with him the next day, and brought him into the rest of their merry band of nerds and outsiders. It turned out Ryo was as brilliant at writing code and swinging a sword as he was handicapped at dealing with people. The rest was nerd history.

So January pushed him out of her mind, and let herself slip back into the music. After a few hours she noticed that their ninja was back. He did not say a word, and neither did anyone else. They all just hung out together and enjoyed the night.

The lowering sun splashed bloody fire across the sky as Amelie Lens was kicking out her beats. That is when January was pulled from her musical rapture by a sudden feeling of heat. It felt like something warm, wet, and thick had poured across her body. She smelled copper, and tasted salt in her mouth. She stopped dancing, and dabbed one finger to her lips. She took care not to smear her lipstick, and feared that she had cut herself. But there was no sign of blood. Yet she could definitely taste it now, and smell it, and feel it, all around her.

Thousands of hands pointed skyward. January's gaze followed them across the street, high up to the roof of 150 West Jefferson. There loomed a figure in black and red, cape spilled out alongside her in the wind. They mysterious woman scanned the crowd for long moments. Then she lifted her head to the sky, and turned it this way and that, like a bloodhound sniffing the air.

"Let's give it up for Blood Raven!" Amelie Len's voice rose up over her music, and the crowd roared behind her. Even Avery pointed and grinned, and slapped January on the back.

But January could not feel the excitement of the crowd. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. The hairs rose up on the back of her neck, and her stomach began to flip and flop around. The smell of blood was overpowering. She turned her head this way and that, trying to discern where it was coming from. Finally she turned her gaze to the east, toward the massive glass spires of the Renaissance Center.

The crowd roared again, and January looked back to see that Blood Raven had taken to the air. She soared effortlessly across the twilight sky, her cape stretched out behind her. To January's eyes, she seemed less like a person, and more like a bloody gash cut across the firmament. She slashed her way over the plaza, and continued on to the east. Finally she threaded her way through the black towers of the Renaissance Center, and vanished behind them.

"What's wrong?" Avery's voice was low in her ear. January turned to him, and saw him standing just inches away. He had his serious face on. His work face. "Do you need to…"

He didn't have to finish that sentence. She was already thinking about her Stormcrow Armor, stashed away in the trunk of Avery's Geo. Was it time to suit up? What was going on?

"I don't know," January said honestly. "I just… feel something. I don't know what, I don't even know where."

"But she does." Avery stared in the direction that Blood Raven had vanished.

"She does," January nodded. "She can smell it somehow, feel it. Let's face it, she's a lot better at this than I am."

Avery took out his phone, and began to flip through page after page of info. But in the end he just shook his head.

"I've got bots set up to let me know what's going on," he explained. "On the police scanners, firefighters, news, social media. But there's nothing. No robberies, no shootouts, no disasters. It's all quiet."

"We'll just have to leave it to her," January practically moped. She wanted to leap into action, even more than her motorcycle wanted to scream down the highway at a hundred miles an hour. But she had no idea where to even go, or what to look for. It would be an exercise in futility.

"Whatever it is, the old lady can take care of it," Avery reassured her. "She's been looking out for this city since before we were born."

Posted by: Acadian Nov 2 2019, 08:14 PM

’Festival was of course the Movement Electronic Music Festival.’
- - You are right; ‘Festival’ works ever so much better as a nickname than ‘MEMF’. tongue.gif

A detailed tour of downtown followed by a day of fun, friends and feasting at the Festival. happy.gif

Blood Raven’s entrance was very cool, and fed ominously into what sounds like danger for the Stormcrow ahead. ohmy.gif

Posted by: Renee Nov 3 2019, 04:57 PM

Okay, so Jack = Jack Black, pretty much. And Ryo .... he reminds me of someone I knew long ago (was not friends with though). Ryo's got some issues.

QUOTE
She had to try to kill herself for them to believe her.


Merde. sad.gif


Cobo Hall, I know that name from somewhere. Probably Grateful Dead played there. Some of my friends traded Dead tapes (and other bands) back in the '80s / '90s.

Hart Plaza really comes alive at night, goodness. smile.gif Those links to various pictures help me see the place. I like that she's dancing amongst all these people who don't know who she is.

QUOTE
It said a lot about a city when it honored a fist.


LOl.

I am wondering if she can sense and smell whatever it is because of her witch powers. Love the mysterious drama at the end of this one. emot-ninja1.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 9 2019, 06:23 PM

Acadian: It is usually called the Electronic Music Festival, or just the Techno Fest. The Knights of Nerddom call it Festival, because, nerds... laugh.gif Detroit is often cited as the birthplace of Techno music. The festival is a big thing here. It draws people in from around the country.

It was nice to show off some of the finer things in my hometown. That is something that does not often happen. So I went into some detail with the descriptions of Hart Plaza and Downtown, rather than just saying "there were lots of tall buildings'. smile.gif

I have been itching to get Blood Raven into the story, especially since I wrote this chapter and chapter 4, which was about a month ago. As I have said before, BR will play a major role in January's life in the future. She is also quite awesome, to a level even I never expected. She is on par with Wonder Woman and Superman.


Renee: Like I said, Ryo is based on someone I knew online. He does have a lot of issues. None of those are random. They are all common traits for someone like him. Can anyone guess what underlies those issues?

Cobo Hall was a major concert venue back in the 70s, until the Palace of Auburn Hills was built and took all the concerts (the Palace was designed for it, the sound is good no matter where you sit). Bob Seger's Live Bullet album was recorded at Cobo. I even saw Kiss there once, long ago.

Hart Plaza is a big part of Detroit life as well. Pretty much every weekend during the summer there is some sort of festival taking place there. The Downtown Hoedown used to always be there (it moved a few years ago), and lots of ethnic festivals. The Jazz Fest is there. I think it would be cool to live in one of the buildings off of Woodward like 150 West Jefferson or the Crowne Plaza Building, and have all that going on across the street.

January is indeed tapping into her magical senses, for the first time, thanks to both the presence of Blood Raven and whatever it is she is hunting. Blood Raven is a magician, as is her nemesis. As is January. There will be a lot more on that in Chapter 4.




https://youtu.be/Y5yXXzbrsqM

https://www.radiotimes.com/news/2016-04-06/why-are-daredevils-superpowers-so-confusing-in-his-netflix-series

https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Shoggoth

https://aliens.fandom.com/wiki/Xenomorph

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl&ll=42.63139965756012%2C-83.35527530000002&z=10

https://i.imgur.com/75ClFZP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/p4M4LQh.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/sphOrIc.jpg

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https://i.imgur.com/9AtcL7v.jpg




Book 3.4 - Stormcrow Burning

Twilight turned to full darkness, and Orbital replaced Amelie Lens on the stage. January wanted to get back into the swing of the festival. But no matter how much she tried to let the music wash over her, or lose her body into the dancing, she could not get her mind off Blood Raven. What had that strange feeling been? At first January thought it was the famous vigilante herself who had created that sensation. But Blood Raven had reacted to it as well. Not just reacted, she had been tracking it, hunting it. But what was it?

January knew that she had only begun to discover the depth of her abilities. But she was sure they did not lend themselves toward Daredevilian super senses. She could not track someone by their scent. She could not hear heartbeats, let alone conversations, from miles away. She could not feel electrons by touch. She could not taste the sweat off a person from across the room.

Whatever she had sensed, it was not natural. Not even natural in a meta-human sense. Her mind began to twist down Lovecraftian corridors, and conjure mystic presages of doom. Her imagination painted livid images of shoggoths or xenomorphs ravaging through the city streets.

She clamped down on such wild ravings. It was silly after all. She needed to relax. This was supposed to be a day to celebrate the end of the school term. The last thing she needed was to invent more angst in her life. She had plenty of that waiting at home already.

She remembered the books she had read on Wicca and Witchcraft, especially those by Branwen Renner. She concentrated on her breathing, and began doing energy exercises to help her unwind. But it was hard. The music hammered into her ears, and pulsed through her bones, so loud that it was a tangible, physical thing. People bumped into her. Their sweat and cheap perfume cloyed at her nostrils. They shouted to one another over the beats. Every time she thought she was finally going to slip into a higher state of consciousness, something would jerk her back to mundane reality.

"Hey, look at that bird!"

The voice was right in her ear, and someone pointed a finger practically into January's nose. She turned to look in either direction. That is when she felt a weight settle on her shoulder, and heard a deep croak in one ear. Talons gripped her skin. The logical, rational part of her brain told her that they should have been sharp. They should have dug into her like knives. But as usual, that never happened. It took a lot more than that to cut her.

She swiveled her head, and looked at the crow that had just landed on her. His black, beady eyes stared into her own, as if he was trying to tell her something. She had the sense that something really important was taking place. But what it might have been, she had no idea.

January tried to control her breathing again, and feel the magical energy that flowed through her. But she just could not get hold of it. There were too many things pulling her in too many directions. The magic slipped through her fingers like water.

The crow, perhaps disgusted at her failure to comprehend its message, took to the air once more. Her eyes followed him west across the black sky, in the same direction as Cobo Center. The same place where they had parked. The same place where her armor was stored in Avery's trunk.

January's feet instantly set into motion. She reached for her phone with one hand, and swiped the screen for Avery. He answered a few moments later, his voice distracted.

"It's a fire," Avery said. "North of here, looks like just past the new hockey arena. The first firetruck is rolling right now."

"I'll get back in touch when I've suited up." January stuffed her phone back in her purse. She reached for her necklace next, and opened the hidden panel behind the raven. One tap on the button inside hid her from electronic eyes. After that she laid on the speed. Where crowds blocked her, she leaped over them, shielding her face with one hand. People pointed up at her, some shouted. But no one would get a picture of her.

January briefly wondered if this fire was connected to whatever Blood Raven had been closing in on. But the older heroine had flown northeast, along the river. The new hockey arena was in an entirely different direction. Besides, it had been over an hour since they had seen Blood Raven. Surely she had sorted out whatever it had been by now. No, this must be something entirely separate. It was not like fires needed supervillains for their creation after all.

She bounded to the roof of Cobo Center. Racing between cars, she found Avery's yellow Geo. A crow sat upon the roof. He gave her a reproachful look, as if he had been waiting hours for her to arrive. It had only been minutes. January knew, because it was the same bird that had landed on her shoulder.

She was in the trunk a moment later. This time when she concentrated on her Fire meditation, nothing distracted her.

Fire give me passion and energy. Transform me in the night sky.

She was in her armor, and her street clothes were tucked away in Avery's trunk. An instant later she followed the crow into the sky.

Be like Air. Be light, and quick, and fly.

The wide, flat parking lot that sprawled across the roof of Cobo Center vanished under January's feet as she leaped into the air. Her cape, now transformed into wings thanks to Gadget's techno-wizardry, caught the wind and lifted her up high.

To her right, the dense cluster of skyscrapers of the Downtown core rose up like cliffs of concrete, steel, and glass. Before her stood their lesser cousins. These buildings were a humble ten to twelve stories tall in most cases. But a few rose to double those heights. Some of them were grand dames of the art deco era. Others were squat brick simpletons from the 70s, and finally a few were black glass slicksters of the modern age.

January landed atop the roof of a dark, almost black-glassed building of moderate height. She triggered off her wings and tucked into a forward roll. She kept her momentum going and sprang into a run. She followed the crow as it winged its way overhead, and raced across the roof as if shot from a cannon. When the edge loomed up before her toes, she leapt skyward with all of the strength in her meta-enhanced legs. She triggered on her wings once more, and again felt them catch the sky.

To her right towered a gargantuan spire of white concrete with tall, narrow windows. If only she could get to the roof of that, she could get incredible air under her wings. But it was too high for even her to leap up to, and gaining altitude with her wings was still a tricky, and often fruitless, business for her.

Still her momentum combined with the leap to push her even higher into the air than before. Once past the tall, white building she banked somewhat around it, following the route of Washington street below. A much lower, square building slid by underneath her. January noted that its center was a hollowed out atrium. It reminded her of those old Roman and Greek buildings that her dad wrote books about.

She sailed past it, then over a lesser structure, and found the grand edifice of the Westin Book Cadillac hotel rising before her in all its stately grandeur. She had read that it had been newly restored and gone back into business, after decades of abandonment. Its tan stone and decorative columns gave it the air of an elder statesman. She followed the crow to the darker tiles of its sloping roof, and gave the lofty building a momentary pat of thanks as she landed there.

While standing on the roof of the hotel, she remembered that her video camo was still on. She reached inside her tunic to shut it off. She did not want to waste the battery after all. Then she sprang up into the air once more, clawing for even higher altitude. The crow cawed loudly in her ears, and darted ahead of her once more.

Thanks to having used the buildings like stepping stones, January realized that she was higher than she had ever been before. Far more so than she ever could get in the old Packard Plant. The wind caressed her face, while the streets crawled along far below. The world seemed wide and open, beckoning for her to come and explore. She loved every moment of it.

The black and gold art deco masterpiece of the Detroit Furnace Building flew past her right shoulder. To her left came the equally magnificent Book Tower, a needle-like spire of an elder age, capped by a great bronze roof turned green with verdigris. The crow flew to the latter, and January followed without thought.

She dropped down atop its great peak of old green bronze, and reveled at the view for just an instant. Then she was back into the sky once more. Now the smaller buildings of Foxtown slid by under her belly - among them the Fox Theater and the Filmore of course. Off to her right she could see down within the great bowl of Comerica Park, the home of the Tigers. Beyond rose the white rectangular roof of Ford Field. The name of the car company - and family - that owned it and the Detroit Lions was emblazoned in blue across its otherwise plain surface.

Straight ahead was I-75, as always a river of twinkling lights as vehicles sped along it in either direction. In a moment she and the crow soared over the highway and then above Little Caesar's Arena. The brand new hockey stadium was faced with red brick, and crowned with a white roof. Painted atop it was the cartoonish Roman mascot of the pizza company. He held a pizza impaled on a stick, and was about to scarf down a slice.

January felt a little deflated as the arena vanished behind her. That was the end of Downtown's grand skyscrapers. Now spread out beneath her were the lesser denizens of Midtown. Far smaller buildings, and nearly all mundane in style and use. She had left the mystic realm of giants, and was once again relegated to the common world of ordinary Earth.

But that common world was lit up. Not just by rivers of streetlights and cars, but by a great orange glow. It would have been warm and comforting if that glow had originated high up in the sky at noon. But this miniature Sun bloomed down at street level, nearly turning the night into day with its ravenous stare.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 9 2019, 08:34 PM

Great job displaying January’s frustration with the head thumping cacophony of distractions that kept her from reaching that meditative and mysterious place of inner insight she sought.

When in doubt though, ‘Follow that crow!’ works pretty well. tongue.gif

A wonderful air tour of downtown Detroit.

And there she be - Fire. Can’t wait to see what this is all about.

Edit: Cool new pix below!

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 9 2019, 11:16 PM

I updated a few of the pictures of Downtown to add in the names of the buildings, as Google Earth does not do the best job of that.


https://i.imgur.com/paqnkBD.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/75ClFZP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/9AtcL7v.jpg

Posted by: Renee Nov 10 2019, 11:05 PM

That's so awesome when she flies. She's still new at it, too. Hope she can summon the power of water, to prepare getting near to that blaze. indifferent.gif

QUOTE
Can anyone guess what underlies those issues?


Hmm. I cannot. I don't know his character well enough yet.

I know what you mean about wondering what it'd be to live like where there's always stuff going on. For me this would be downtown Ellicott City, which is historic http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=downtown+ellicott+city&FORM=HDRSC2. If I didn't have a job and was okay with getting interrupted from sleep more often, that is my choice.

Hee, her friends Jack and Ryo must be wondering where she went.


Posted by: Darkness Eternal Nov 12 2019, 12:28 AM

I had to admit. I have a nice soft spot for Blood-Raven! She's growing on me already. I enjoyed the description of the downtown area. Jefferson Ave and beyond is very impressive and austere in own imposing way.

'January could not look at the central spire without dreaming of leaping off the rooftop. She imagined that from there she could glide all the way across the river to the shores of Canada.'
laugh.gif I'm certain most heroes that can fly have this same feeling when looking up to a tall skyscraper or tower.

'A few daring males flaunted their bare chests, but only it seemed, when there was a six pack of abs to show off.'
This is so accurate and true! In all the parties I've been to, its usually the six-packed dudes that were shirtless. laugh.gif

Jan having those instincts and Blood-Raven soaring through the air to what could be a major conflict was very powerful. She seemed so attuned, and Blood-Raven herself still this mysterious woman. This was great.

3.4.
There was plenty of mystery to be had here. Jan wonders about the depths of her abilities and just how attuned she is, and I wondered this just the same. Her imaginings of grim occurrence seemed to deeply bother her, I'm glad she maintained a positive vibe as she buried these notions in favor of enjoying the party.

You never fail to impress with Jan's flying. Makes me want to be up there, soaring through the night sky. Must truly be liberating.

I'm very curious to see what this fire is about.

Great pictures by the way! ohmy.gif



Posted by: SubRosa Nov 16 2019, 04:30 PM

Acadian: Jan definitely has a long way to go when it comes to mastering her magical nature. At least consciously so. Thankfully there are crows...

Once again I gave a detailed travelogue of Detroit. I hope this helps make the city come alive. I also hope it shows some steady development with her flying ability.


Renee: When I was first conceptualizing January the whole flight aspect was just a side thing. It was a travel power mainly to get her to where the action was. I always pictured her martial arts and physical abilities front and center. But as I write her, I find that flight is where she truly comes alive. So I have decided to put a lot more development into her wings in the future.

Elicott City looks pretty cool.

We will be seeing excuses made for Jan's disappearance this episode.


Darkness Eternal: That Downtown core is the most impressive part of Detroit. Well, except for a few other small spots like the Fisher Building and Wayne State University in Midtown. So I like using it as a setting. It really shows off the grandeur of the city.

We will be seeing a lot more of January's magical instincts later, especially concerning Blood Raven.

The fire in this chapter is based on the Real Life https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_Ship_warehouse_fire. It is not really connected to what Blood Raven was hunting earlier. That will come up next chapter. But it all does tie together.




https://i.imgur.com/PoRanUO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/43LmcWb.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/KjXVRwE.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/Sk6WKlN.jpg



Book 3.5 - Stormcrow Burning

"Hola Stormcrow, I got away from the others and I'm online." Gadget's voice suddenly blossomed in her ear. "The fire's on Cass, just three blocks north of the new hockey arena."

"I'm coming up on it right now," January breathed into the comm. With one hand, she effortlessly flipped on the video unit, so that Gadget could see everything that she did. "By the way, what are we going to tell the guys?"

"Already covered," Gadget explained. "You got sick, had to hurl. Must have been that falafel you had earlier. I'm driving you home right now."

"Guess I should have had that iguana on a stick like you did," January mused as she drew nearer. "Oh, it looks like the firefighters just got here."

January saw a single firetruck pull up in the street. Figures clad in helmets and heavy coats spilled out of it like armored ants. They immediately set to work rolling out hoses, and connecting them to hydrants.

Before them raged an inferno of elemental horror. January imagined that the building might have once been a warehouse. It was a rectangular structure that rose two stories, whose cinderblock walls were unadorned by windows. However, gangland graffiti competed with elaborate and fantastic artwork scrawled across the edifice. From simple names to rearing dragons and monstrous faces, the outer shell of the otherwise ordinary building had been transformed into a lush jungle of magnificent expression.

That artwork was being devoured by a sheet of brilliant flame that wreathed the front of the building. It seemed less an act of nature, and more like a living, sentient being, all terror and fire. It roiled and leapt, swallowing all it touched, and spread out its monstrous arms for more. January could feel its heat, sucking all the moisture out of the air around her. It also seemed to push the air up from beneath her, giving her more lift. That was the last thing she needed now.

The long side of the building that stretched back from the street was clear of flames for now. She could see that this wall was bordered by a large lot. The first half of the field was empty. But farther back from the street it was packed with a shantytown of campers, makeshift tents, and truly indescribable piles - or perhaps actual structures - of junk.

She saw a pair of firemen standing away from the rest, who were all racing to and fro with their equipment. One pointed at the blaze, and seemed to be giving instructions to the other. January imagined that they must be the people in charge, and dove toward them. The ground rushed up faster and faster, now that she was nose down toward it. She allowed it to rise up until it was practically in her face. Then she flattened out her wings parallel to the earth, and caught the air upon their lower surface with a great crack! At the same time she rolled her body back, putting her feet out first and craning her head skyward. A second later she disengaged the wings, and dropped to the concrete with only a slight flex of her knees to take the impact.

She landed just a few steps away from the two firefighters. Her crow companion winged past them, and vanished into the night. The two men gaped openly. She could see that one was middle-aged, with a great sweep of a now graying mustache. His lined face was bathed in the red-orange glow of the fire, and looked as craggy and weathered as any peak of the Rockies. His partner beside him was much younger, with smooth skin and bright blue eyes that fixed upon January.

"You're her," the younger man blurted out, "the Stormcrow!"

"What can I do to help?" January asked earnestly, looking from one man to the other. She did not want to just go rampaging through there on her own. She knew that if she was going to be successful at this super thing, she was going to have to learn to work with people like this.

"I don't know, what can you do to help?" the older man parroted in a gravelly, somewhat sarcastic tone.

A drop of rain splatted on January's forehead, followed by a second, and a third. She vaguely noted that the sky had gone black, the stars now hidden behind an ebony blanket of cloud.

"Well, I don't know much about putting out fires," January admitted. "But I can go in there and find people, and bring them out."

"Can you really make it rain?" the younger man asked earnestly?

"Not as well as you would like," January shook her head ruefully. As if to contradict her statement, a crack of lighting illuminated the sky in a dazzling burst of light. January felt her heart jump with it. A long peal of thunder rolled out behind it like an afterthought. The rain picked up after that, and began to come down steadily.

The flames seemed to mock the water pouring from the sky however. Undaunted by the storm, they in fact grew visibly stronger, and leaped farther back into the building. January saw people run from a door in the still untouched side of the building. The front was nothing but a solid sheet of fire and ash.

"That fire is spreading too fast to be natural," the older man observed as he watched the flames grow. Then he focused solely upon January. "Okay, go do your hero thing. But watch for accelerants. I'd bet my pension that someone doused that place with gas or kerosene. And remember that fire can travel through the spaces inside the walls, before popping out again. It'll get you where you least expect it."

January nodded, then she was off. A single bound ate up the distance between the curb and the long, side wall of the building that stretched back from the street. She ignored the shantytown farther back in the empty lot. The fire was nowhere near that yet. Instead she plunged directly for the only door in the side of the building.

She almost careened into a pair of people trying to make their way out. She pointed to the street with one hand, and gently shepherded them that way with the other. Once they were safely out in the rain, she strode inside.

She coughed as smoke instantly assailed her lungs and stung at her eyes. The interior was like no warehouse or shop she had ever seen. Instead it was a phantasmagoria of furniture and decorations. There were couches, beds, and dressers. She could see at least a dozen pianos scattered around, along with drum kits and stacks of guitars. Paintings hung from walls and columns, along with tribal masks, and brightly-colored lamps. A wall of speakers rose up to her right, along with crates, desks, dressers, and boxes.

All of it was wood. A wooden floor, from which rose wooden columns, holding up a wood ceiling. The entire space was packed to the gills with wooden musical instruments, and wooden furniture. Then there was the cloth: carpets, beds couches, and chairs. Everything January knew about firefighting came from movies and TV. But she did not need an expert to tell her that the entire place was an inferno waiting to happen.

"I guess this would be a bad time to mention that I haven't finished working on a breathing apparatus for the suit." January could almost hear Gadget nervously rubbing his neck with one hand.

"It'll be fine," January murmured. "I can manage a little smoke."

She found more people stumbling around, and ushered them outside. After returning she worked her way toward the front of the building. It was a maze of twists and turns, most of the interior walls were made of furniture, musical instruments, and paintings. The latter were not printed out pictures, but actual canvas painted with oils and mounted on wooden frames.

"This place is crazy," January coughed, holding one hand over her mouth. A little smoke was starting to seem less manageable after all.

"It's called the Flying Dutchman." Gadget replied over her headset. "It's an art collective: musicians, artists, poets, a whole beat colony."

"Oh snap," she heard him groan with dread. "They were holding a concert tonight. This place is going to be packed. I'm looking around with the street cameras, and there are cars parked all over out here."

January got as close as she could to the front of the building. A wooden stair rose up to her left, curling around in a spiral as it rose to the second floor overhead. For the moment it was still clear, but beyond that rose a nightmare of flame and smoke. It was like the inside of a dragon's belly. She could only vaguely make out walls and even more pianos. She thought she saw a refrigerator somewhere back in the inferno, and perhaps a stove. So she imagined that was the kitchen. If the front door was out there, she could not see it.

January saw a human form stumble through the flames. She clutched a small fire extinguisher in one hand, and doused the area around herself aimlessly. January could see that she was also covered in the foam, but that it had begun to slough off of her body. The fire was licking at her legs, and starting to catch in several parts of her pants.

January's heart leaped into her throat. Before she knew what she was doing, she sprang into action. She bounded forward, and wrapped her cloak around the person. She imagined they had a female form, given the bumps and curves she felt when she held the other person close. She noted that their hair was gone, and their head was covered in either dark burns or blood. She could not be sure which in all the smoke.

January held her breath, and raced back the way she had come. She could hear the woman coughing and retching against her. Somewhere along the line they lost the mini fire extinguisher. A piano got in January's way. She did not waste time. One kick turned it into fragments. January charged through the detritus.

Soon enough she found herself back outside, and gulped for fresh air. Her charge shook in her arms, and January raced to the street. She found the fire captain with the craggy features and graying mustache. He was directing a hose that was trained upon the front of the building. It seemed to be doing little good, as the fire continued to grow brighter and hotter by the second. Gently, she passed the injured woman into his arms.

January did not stick around. She raced back around the corner, and leaped down the side of the building. She was back inside in no time at all. Once more she headed forward, toward the flames. She ran for the front of the building, to the stairway that curled up to the second floor above.

January got as close as she could to the front of the building. A wooden stair rose up to her left, curling around in a spiral as it rose to the second floor overhead. For the moment it was still clear. But beyond that rose a nightmare of flame and smoke. It was like the inside of a dragon's belly. She could only vaguely make out walls and even more pianos. She thought she saw a refrigerator somewhere back in the inferno, and perhaps a stove. So she imagined that was the kitchen. If the front door was out there, she could not see it.

Just then a snake of snarling electricity leaped along the wall beside her. Flame erupted behind it, and engulfed her in red and yellow heat. She threw up one arm in front of her face out of reflex. She felt herself picked up and thrown back by a pressure wave. Her head hit something hard. It cracked. January was not sure if that was her skull, or whatever she had struck.

"Steady on girl," Gadget's voice was cool and collected in her ear. "That hagfish armor is made for fire. Nothing will burn it short of the Sun."

She fought her way to her feet. Her lungs were burning, and her eyes stung as if they were swimming in bee venom. She was afraid that if she tried to reply she would start coughing and never stop. Instead January silently staggered back. There was no one this far forward, not who was still alive at least. The building ahead was now a solid wall of flame, including the stairs leading up to the top floor.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 16 2019, 08:31 PM

’The ground rushed up faster and faster, now that she was nose down toward it. She allowed it to rise up until it was practically in her face. Then she flattened out her wings parallel to the earth, and caught the air upon their lower surface with a great crack! At the same time she rolled her body back, putting her feet out first and craning her head skyward. A second later she disengaged the wings, and dropped to the concrete with only a slight flex of her knees to take the impact.’
- - Stormcrow is really getting good at this as she continues to gradually improve at this flying stuff.

While ‘Let there be rain’ is not quite in her spell book, it is clear the Stormcrow wields influence in high, cloudy places. Nice display of her burgeoning abilities and how she does not fully understand them. Yet.

Yep, pretty dangerous inside - and most comforting, I’m sure, to have Gadget’s soothing and supportive voice in her ear. You do indeed make the fire seem to have a menacing life of its own.

Oh snap is right, a passel of music enthusiasts are still inside this towering inferno! The stakes just shot up. I hope her selfless nature does not overrule our young superheroine's sense of self-preservation. . . or at least she does not ignore Gadget if/when he points it out to her. ohmy.gif


Nit? "You got sick, had hurl.”
Not necessarily a nit since it is dialogue. I simply ask if Gadget meant to say 'had to hurl' instead of 'had hurl'?

Posted by: Renee Nov 17 2019, 03:33 PM

QUOTE(Acadian @ Nov 16 2019, 02:31 PM) *

Nit? "You got sick, had hurl.”
Not necessarily a nit since it is dialogue.


Yah, that's what I was thinking. Sometimes people say stuff wrongly.

QUOTE
But as I write her, I find that flight is where she truly comes alive.


Oh, and we're glad you're including these flight chapters. They are fun to read.

That's awesome when the two firemen are surprised The Stormcrow shows up. It's like, she's now an unofficial part of city services, yet she doesn't have to abide by the same rules. See, but I wonder if she's now getting herself into trouble because of this. indifferent.gif


Posted by: SubRosa Nov 23 2019, 04:28 PM

Acadian: She is getting quite good at the flying thing. In Chapter 5 we will see a major evolution of her flight.

Likewise, I can see her doing a lot more with elemental forces in the future. But that is a long way off.

Of course January's selfless nature is going to overrule her sense of self-preservation!

That was indeed supposed to be "had to hurl". I am glad you caught that.


Renee: I am glad the flying is coming across. Now I am trying to find more ways I can use her wings and flight, beyond just getting from here to there.

January won't be having any issues working with the fire department. Their goals match after all: saving lives. And there is a long history of volunteer firefighters, who still exist in many places in the US. It is with the police that January will have the most trouble with, because their goals definitely do not always match. The police want to arrest people like Isaac and put them in prison. January wants to help people, which sometimes means letting a supervillain go because she believes they are not really a danger to anyone. That is part of January's slowly coalescing Stormcrow Doctrine. BTW. an interesting factiod I came across recently was that the modern US puts more people in prison per capita than both Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia did.






https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surtr

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Dre



Book 3.6 - Stormcrow Burning

She made her way back the way she had come from, pausing to search behind the piles of junk. She was rewarded by discovering tiny nooks and niches where people had carved out private little bedrooms within the sea of furnishings, camouflaged by the raucous jungle of decorations.

These were empty however, which January was grateful for. She hoped she was not passing an unconscious person, perhaps laid out behind a couch or under a bed, without her ever seeing them. It would take hours to properly search the building. She clearly did not have that much time. Not given how thick these rooms farther back were choked with smoke and fumes.

"Two more fire engines just pulled up," Gadget reported. "But this thing is wicked. It's spreading faster and faster. I don't know if they can stop it."

January staggered back, past the open side doorway. She pushed farther into the back of the Flying Dutchman now. She blinked hard at the sight of two campers set up in the deluge of accoutrements. She was not seeing things, they really had a pair of recreational vehicles parked back there. She raced to the first and pulled the door open. Dashing through it, she found it empty. She ran out and into the second camper. There she found a dog hidden under a bed.

"Come here boy, everything is fine," January said in as soothing a voice as she could muster, given the smoke. The shepherd growled at her. Clearly he was no fan of crows. January did not have time to play nice. She lunged forward and pulled the big dog up into her arms. He turned his head and bit down hard on her forearm. Her armor held, and January simply ignored it. She raced out of the camper, and was at the doorway with a single leap.

Once out in the rain she released the dog. As if by mutual agreement, he whimpered and let go of her with his jaws. He scampered across the empty lot and toward the flashing lights of the fire engines in the street. January saw the older, mustached fireman still out there, directing the new trucks into action.

January turned back into the building. A glance to her right showed that the flames were closer than before. They would be up to the side door in minutes. She did not have much time.

She pushed back deeper into the building, beyond the RVs. It was even more of a twisting and turning maze back here however. It would have been hard enough keeping her directions on a normal night. But with the smoke clouding the air, it was nearly impossible.

January mentally recited her elemental mantra, to help keep her head on straight.

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.


As if summoned by magic, she found a trio of either artists or concert-goers. It was too hard to make out details in the murk. She waved them to her, and guided them out of the maze to the side door. The fire was so much closer now, nearly at the exit. She was running out of time…

She saw two paramedics out in the lot. They grabbed up the three escapees and took them to the street. Coming past them was a crew of firefighters with a hose. They came right up to the doorway, and January backed inside to let them through. They nodded to her, and immediately began spraying down the ceiling of the room she was in.

January left them, and sped her way back into the depths of the building. She was faster this time, having made the trip through the winding passages once already. She found half a dozen more people coming her way this time, coughing and nearly retching from the fumes. She led them back to the firefighters.

They were losing the battle with the flames. Even given the water they were now dousing the interior with, the fire was gaining ground, and fast. It devoured everything it came across, transforming it all into heat and smoke. It was as if Surtr and his fire giants walked the Earth, annihilating everything before them in a Ragnarokian frenzy.

"Hurry up Crow, you still have the entire second floor." Gadget's voice was not reassuring. "From the pics I am seeing online, it looks like that is where the concert floor is. Most people are probably going to be up there."

"Do you have anything current?" January coughed into her headset.

"Nada," she could imagine him shaking his head at the other end of the comm. "This is all old stuff they posted on social media. There's no camera's inside."

January made her way to the back wall this time, without finding anyone. She was about to turn back, when she discovered a small stairway clinging to the far wall, tucked away behind a row of speakers. She leaped to the top with a single bound, and found herself in a narrow hallway on the second floor.

A pair of small bathrooms hung off the corridor, each nothing more than a cubicle with a toilet and sink. Both were empty. Beyond she found what looked like a mixing room, with a long table filled with levels and gauges, and all that Dr. Dre electronic goodness. She could not tell what even a tenth of it was for, aside from producing music of course.

This room too, was empty. Whoever had been within must have gone down the back stairs. She had probably met them and guided them out already. She took a deep breath. At least the air in here was not too badly inundated. Yet her lungs still blazed in protest, and she had to fight to keep from coughing.

"I'm upstairs," she gasped into her headset. "Clear so far."

A door in the far end of the mixing room led her out onto a stage. Really it was just a platform raised up about a foot above the rest of the floor. A scaffolding held up some lights and speakers above and beside it. The floor beyond was mostly open space, mostly. But even here there were tables and chairs. It was a woodworker's dream come true. It was also a fire's dream come true. Even now January could see those flames licking up at the far end of the building, that faced the street.

There was a crowd of people milling about here in the clouds of smoke. Most were hunched down toward the floor, trying to find breathable air. As before, January could make out few details in the smoke, other than that most were probably her age, or not much older. Other than that one face tended to blend into the next in the soot-filled air.

January glanced back, and thought of the route she would have to lead them through. Into the mixing room, down the back stairway, and then through the maze on the ground floor to reach the only exit. Would she be able to get them all out that way, without any becoming lost in the tangled warren of makeshift corridors on the ground floor? Would they get there before the flames overtook the side door?

No, they would never make it.

"Gadget, can you get on the firefighter's radio for me?" She took her bearings, and deduced that the wall to her right was the one facing the empty lot. "Tell them to clear their people out from the south wall. The one next to the lot."

"Copy that Stormcrow," Gadget's voice came cool and calm. "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to make an emergency exit."

Air give me quickness in body and wit. Fill my lungs with life.

"People!" January called upon the crowd at the top of her lungs. Somehow she did not cough, or falter. It was as if her lungs had briefly forgotten the smoke and ash that threatened to smother them. "People! Everyone gather around. Bring everyone you see here. I'm going to make a way out."

She eyed the wall. It looked to be cinderblocks, reinforced with steel, and paneled over with wood on the inside. She breathed deeply in and out, and felt the world's magic moving through her, just like her Wiccan exercises told her it would. She focused her thoughts on the wall, and visualized it shattering.

"Valhalla Awaits," she murmured. She rocketed forward, and crashed into the wall like a slug fired from a railgun. The barrier exploded around her in a shower of concrete and steel. She felt rain on her face, and fresh air in her lungs. The world spun under her. She tucked into the roll, and out of habit stuck the landing as her feet hit the dirt of the lot.

She looked back to see a great hole now gaping in the side of the building, billowing smoke into the black sky above. She had been right. The firefighters had withdrawn from the side door. They had lost it to the insatiable flames. The entire ground floor was wreathed in fire now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw firemen and paramedics running toward her. But there was no time. Without a second thought, she leapt back up to the gap she had created, and stepped back inside.

"Come on, I'll take everyone out one at a time!" She waved the people over.

One man tried to push his way through the crowd, and knocked two people to their knees.

"Me first!" he demanded.

"Man up and grow a pair," January heard herself snarl. She reached out to the people he had shoved down and helped them to their feet, then led them back to the opening. Not wasting any more time, she wrapped her arms around one and leapt out into the rain. Her knees took the shock of impact with only a tiny bend, and she handed the man to the awaiting firemen.

Then she was back up into the building, leaping over the rising flames to get inside. Next was the other person who had been knocked down. January noted that she was a rotund woman, with a shock of brilliant orange and purple hair. January put her arms around the colorful woman, and was more than mildly surprised when her charge leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

"For luck," the other woman said.

Feeling more than a little like Luke Skywalker, January leaped to the ground outside, and released her into the care of the emergency crews. Then she was back into the thick of it.

She continued ferrying people out of the building. The smoke thickened, and became great billowing clouds that obscured more than half the room. People were choking, and holding hoodies, shirts, and torn cloth over their faces to try to filter out the soot. They endured. They had to.

Finally January reached the last one in sight, the man who had bowled over the others in his eagerness to escape. He looked sheepish, clearly regretting his panic. January did not say a word. She did not blame him for being afraid. If she had not been, the sky outside would have been clear and shining with stars. But she did blame him for allowing his fear to rule him. Freyja and her valkyrjur would not carry his soul into the afterlife.

But that would not be today. She took him in her arms, and jumped to the ground with him. In spite of her earlier success with breathing, the smoke was once more assaulting her lungs. Now every breath was an agony of fire, a paroxysm of coughing. But she continued on. Endurance was a Viking virtue after all. Never give up, no matter what.

With that in mind, she leapt back skyward. The entire outer shell of the Flying Dutchman was a sheet of flame now. It was as if the structure had transformed into a giant fire elemental, conjured forth by some truly astounding wizard. January felt as if she was venturing into the belly of the beast as she pushed into the smoke, looking for anyone left behind.

She made the mistake of breathing too deeply, and doubled over in a fit of coughing. It felt like she was going to spit her liver out. Her insides burned. Her eyes hurt, and ran with tears. She tried to wipe them away, and see through the haze of smoke and moisture. The world tilted. All around her fire hissed, and snapped, and groaned, like a living thing slavering for her life.

January pushed on, moving toward the worst of it. She found someone there, hunched down over the floor. As she came near, January realized that it was a woman dragging an unconscious man across the floor. The woman slipped and fell, and slammed her head down hard on the wooden boards underfoot. January saw blood splattering her forehead when she lifted her head, only to collapse once more.

January was there a second later. She realized that she could no longer do this one at a time. It had to be both at once. She lifted the bleeding woman and tucked her under one arm. She was reaching down from the man with her free hand when the floor vanished in a geyser of flame.

There was no time to think. January's free hand snapped out and grabbed hold of a water pipe that climbed the wall. The floor evaporated beneath her feet. Time dragged by on painfully slow feet. Moment by moment, she saw the unconscious man fall into the sea of fire below. She saw him vanish into the inferno.

She did the only thing she could. She threw the woman she still had hold of up out of the fiery pit and over onto the still solid floorboards farther back in the Dutchman. Then she turned back to the gaping maw of fire, and leapt within.

"January!" she barely heard Gadget's voice in her ear. He was saying something, but she ignored it. She could not split her attention, not for an instant. The heat scorched through her lungs, as if someone had thrust a red-hot poker down her throat. The world dissolved into bright red and orange flame, and thick black smoke. She burned. Burned like the heart of the Sun. She thought she heard screaming. She was not sure if it was her own voice, or someone else's.

But Vikings did not quit. They endured. She would too. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant.

Her questing hands found something hard, metal. She saw it was the handle of a gasoline can. It was not one of the little containers one might use to buy gas for the lawnmower. No, this was one of the big jerry cans like she saw strapped to trucks and tanks in pictures from World War II. The kind that held a zillion gallons of fuel. She crawled across another, and another, and shoved them out of her way.

Then her fingers touched something soft, malleable, and thrashing around wildly. That was him! She leapt upon the fallen man, and snapped loose the cape from around her shoulders. She threw it around the man, who was clearly no longer unconscious. He flailed and spasmed, but was no match for her strength.

She wrapped him like a mummy in the fireproof material of the cape. Not wasting a moment, she pulled him in close to her chest. Then she leapt forward with all of her might. She was vaguely aware of striking a wall. It could not withstand the force of her charge. Nothing could slow her. Nothing could stop her. The wall disintegrated in a shower of cinderblock and steel.

Then she was out in the open. Cool water showered down upon her, and sweet air teased her nostrils. She rolled off the injured man, who still screamed and thrashed under her. The world spun for a moment, and she felt strong hands holding her up, pulling her aside. Her eyes were on her charge however, and she saw a firefighter and a paramedic gently open the cape to reveal his body within.

He was a blackened and twisted mess. His hair was gone. His clothing was melted into his flesh, what little there was of it. His eyes were grey-white milky soup. He continued to thrash, and there was still screaming in her ears. She saw the paramedic pull out a hypodermic, and jab him with the needle. Then something blocked her view.

January squirmed. It felt like people were jumping on top of her, smothering her, covering her in darkness. A voice was shouting in her ear, and after a moment she realized it was Avery's.

"January stop, you're on fire!" his voice was hard as steel. "Stop, they are trying to put you out!"

January stopped struggling, and realized that the choking, smothering feeling was blankets, wrapping every inch of her body. She let the firemen clustered around her pat her out, and finally pull her to her feet. Now she realized that she was in the street in front of the Flying Dutchman. She had gone through the worst of the inferno, and punched a hole clear through the front wall of the building.

She tried to breathe deeply. To pull up the magic from the heart of the Earth, and wash its healing wave through her body. But her lungs betrayed her. Her entire body convulsed and rocked uncontrollably. The next thing she knew, she was doubled over and throwing up onto the sidewalk. Luckily she had not eaten since late afternoon, so it was only dry heaves. But it still wracked her frame.

She was stiff and sore, and bone-tired. Even though she could feel the rain pelting her face, her skin felt dry, dry and hot. She leaned her head back, to let the clean water wash down across her face, and carry away the tears and grime that she imagined must have smeared her features. At least what little of them that was not obscured by her cowl.

Even with her eyes closed, the image of the burned man still filled her mind.

She looked down at herself for the first time. Her armor was blackened and covered in ash, dust, and bits of charred wood. But it was still there, still solid. A pile of the soot ringed the ground around her, the remnants of the burning detritus that the firefighters had brushed off of her.

"That was the bravest thing I have ever seen." She heard one of the firemen breathe in her ear. She realized it was the older man with the mustache, the captain, or whatever they called the head firefighter. Then someone pushed an oxygen mask in her face, and she greedily drank in the crystal pure air.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 23 2019, 10:13 PM

Wow!

What a powerfully epic episode.

If there was any doubt that within the breast of this young woman beats the heart of a superhero, that doubt is tenfold dispelled. This episode really displayed that, when it comes to the perilous, dirty, terrifying business of being a superhero, Stormcrow is the gritty real deal.

I loved how she made her own fire exit for that crowd by calling upon the power of her mind, body and spirit to act as one and propel her through that reinforced wall.

It was clear that she grimly made the conscious choice to save everyone she could – or perish in the attempt. Bravest thing that fireman ever saw? I believe him.

Posted by: Renee Nov 25 2019, 02:25 PM

Yikes, she's making an emergency exit. ohmy.gif

"Til Valhall!" ... I can just see her saying this in a comic book with a jagged bubble around her words.

QUOTE
It is with the police that January will have the most trouble with,


... or some kind of bent lawyers, trying to get money any way they can.

I think I know what's coming in the next chapter. wink.gif Hee, how clever, Miss Rosa.


Posted by: Renee Nov 25 2019, 05:12 PM

QUOTE
Renee: Like I said, Ryo is based on someone I knew online. He does have a lot of issues. None of those are random. They are all common traits for someone like him. Can anyone guess what underlies those issues?


Did we ever get an answer to this? I still don't know what issues Ryo could have.


Posted by: SubRosa Nov 30 2019, 04:55 PM

Acadian: I enjoyed writing the fire a great deal, because January's heart really shines through in it. It is very much the January Doctrine put into action, even though she has yet to put words to such a thing.

When I was doing my initial high level plotting, I was looking at various ways I could gradually ease her into conflicts and steadily raise the stakes each time. You see that a lot with not only super hero fiction, but all sorts of action stories and video games. The protagonist starts with the mooks, works their way up to bosses, and ends with the big bad. So for the early stuff I went with things like the diamond smuggler and his bodyguards, the misguided inventor Isaac, and now a massive fire. So far no real, honest-to-goodness supervillains. That comes next chapter. Of the first 3 chapters, I enjoy this one the most, because the stakes are now so much higher. Also because there is not a single supervillain in this chapter. It is all ordinary, everyday danger and villainy. In many ways, January is graduating from Superhero Bootcamp this chapter, and becoming a real-deal hero.



Renee: The real fire this event was based on killed 36 people, because they were trapped inside the burning building. I put Stormcrow in there so she could make an exit the real people never had, and get everyone out. It is a great example of the good that supers could do if they were real. More of that this episode.

I dug around to find an example of a viking battlecry. The Til Valhall was pretty much all I could find, aside from people shouting "Odin!" or "Thor!", which did not feel right for January. She's not really that big into either of them.

I have not dished about Ryo yet. Sadly, he will not appear again for several chapters. So we won't be getting to the bottom of his issues any time soon. I can PM you if you like.







https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxlE7Z18qD8&feature=youtu.be

https://i.imgur.com/4G4kbLP.jpg


Book 3.7 - Stormcrow Burning

Then January waved off the mask. She was not finished. She looked back to the blazing monster that rose up in front of her. There was still that one last woman inside, the one she had thrown clear of the disintegrating floor. She had to go back. She could not allow the fiery beast to claim another victim.

"There are still people inside." January wheezed. "I have to go back."

"You can't go back in there," someone said. She pushed them aside as gently as she could. She needed to get a clear leap, focus her energy, to break through the wall of the upper floor.

"Stormcrow, take one of their masks," Gadget said clearly in her ear.

January blinked. He was right. He was always right. One of the firefighters quickly pulled off his mask and oxygen tank, and with the help of his comrades, strapped it around her frame. January steeled herself, and looked down for her cape. It was still laid out underneath the horribly burned man. She was not going to make them move him to get it back. She would just have to do without.

She focused. She thought of the elements. She was air, she was earth, she was water, she was spirit, and yes, she was fire too.

She was a comet blazing through the sky. She smashed through the concrete wall and landed on her feet on the second floor. She felt it buckle and rock beneath her, and feared that it too, would collapse. She prayed to Freyja to give her more time. Just a little more. To find whoever was left.

The smoke assaulted her once more. But this time, with the mask and oxygen, it did not burn down deep inside her. Instead it was merely a thick soup that she had to stagger though. It felt almost as if she was a deep sea diver, plodding through the benthic depths. She found the woman she had thrown, sprawled out motionless on the dance floor. January gathered her up in her arms as gently as she could. Then she made her way to the back of the building, to where she had broken open an escape hole earlier.

"Yes!" Gadget exulted in her ear. "Backup is here!"

January did not know what that meant. More fire trucks? As if that mattered now. They would never stop the fire, and it would be suicide for a mundane firefighter to try to enter this inferno.

A nightmare snarled and roared from above. January looked up, and saw that the entire ceiling was a sheet of flame. She saw the support beams high overhead buckle, snap, and give way. Out of reflex she hunched over the woman she was carrying, and threw her back and arms across her to shield her from as much of the deluge that was coming.

But it never came. After a few moments January dared to look back up again. Her mouth gaped at what she saw.

A glowing barrier of golden light stretched across the ceiling, from one end of the building to the other. The ruined ceiling burned above it, held away impotently by the barrier of force. January could see waves and eddies of light flowing through the force field, like currents in a river, or blood within a body. These currents all flowed downward, and met at the form of a woman.

She floated above the floor, arms stretched out high over her head, as if beseeching the gods for aid. She was dressed from head to toe in black armor. Most of it was something similar to January's, in that it was flexible and made of woven material. Other sections - such as along her forearms and shoulders - were hardened plates. A blood red raven was emblazoned across her chest. Likewise, her cape, utility belt, boots, and gauntlets were the same crimson shade. The bone white skin of her lower face was left bare by her mask, and her hair and lips were brilliant scarlet.

She was a like a bloody gash, cut into the air where she floated. January smelled it - blood - coppery and thick. She even tasted it in her throat.

Blood Raven.

Now January noted that the heroine's armor was sliced open in several places. Not in single cuts, but in groups of three, as if she had been clawed by some sort of animal. There was no sign of blood in or around the wounds however. There was not even any sign of scars. Just pristine skin, white as bone china.

"It gives me great delight to make your acquaintance Stormcrow," the newcomer said in archaic formality. "Yet I strongly urge alacrity of motion, for but little time remains for this domicile."

January nodded. What did you say when you met your idol, and they gave you such a gentle suggestion? She had no idea. But she knew what she had to do, and she did it. January hoisted the unconscious woman in her arms and raced for the opening she had previously battered through the wall. She cleared it in a moment, and landed in the field outside, now churned into a quagmire of mud by rain and pounding feet. Once she deposited the woman into the arms of a paramedic, she leaped skyward again, and alighted within the burning building.

"Turn your gaze in that direction if you please," Blood Raven pointed to the back of the building, toward the stage and mixing room. "I smell the blood of mortals within."

That is when January realized that the other hero was not wearing a breath mask, or any sort of rebreather at all. In fact, she was not breathing at all! Her eyes glowed with blood-red light, two smaller fires amidst the inferno. In that moment, nothing about her seemed human.

There was no time to wonder. January pushed her feet forward, one in front of the other, and scampered across the stage. She darted into the mixing room, and sure enough, she found two more people within, coughing and throwing up all over the sound board.

Without a word she took them both under her arms, and lifted them from the ground. They felt light as a feather. She sped back out across the stage, and leaped through the gaping hole in the wall. She splashed down hard in the mud outside, almost toppling over. But she made sure that she took all of the force of the landing with her feet and knees. Her charge's toes never touched the ground until she handed them over to the firemen outside.

January turned back to the inferno. It seemed like she had been doing this forever. She called up the strength in her legs for another leap. But the makeshift entryway was blocked by the red and black form of Blood Raven. The superheroine floated through the egress, and finally drew her hands down. With that the golden force field holding up the roof vanished. The fiery wreckage immediately collapsed in upon itself, and January was sure that she felt the ground shake as an eruption of smoke and ash shot skyward from the ruin.

Blood Raven was blotted from sight by the cloud of smoke and dust. A few moments later the red glow of her eyes burned from the roiling darkness. Then rest of her frame slowly emerged from the smoke. With a coolness that January wished she possessed, the other heroine descended gently to the earth, cape draped about her shoulders.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 30 2019, 07:31 PM

Stormcrow pairs well with the music of Two Steps from Hell. goodjob.gif

I noted to myself at the end of the last episode that the woman Stormcrow had tossed to safety before diving down into the inferno was unaccounted for. I confess I suspected an oversight on your part and toyed even with PM’ing you to mention it. Forgive my doubts, as this episode quickly clarified ‘twas no oversight at all.

"Stormcrow, take one of their masks," Gadget said clearly in her ear.
January blinked. He was right. He was always right.’

- - Buffy can attest that having a voice in your ear can be incredibly helpful – especially one who is always right. wink.gif

’She focused. She thought of the elements. She was air, she was earth, she was water, she was spirit, and yes, she was fire too.
She was a comet blazing through the sky. She smashed through the concrete wall and landed on her feet on the second floor.’

- - Wow, that is a serious superhero trick!

By Julianos’ little tea pot but if Blood Raven’s entrance didn’t top even Stormcrow’s feat! Stormcrow is impressive but clearly not in Blood Raven's league - yet. Somehow though, I suspect that Blood Raven has a few centuries of experience on young Stormcrow.

Posted by: Renee Dec 2 2019, 10:48 PM

My gosh, sorry to hear folks died in there, in real-life. sad.gif I can just imagine the fire must have spread so fast.

Yes, you can PM me about Ryo, I am too curious now.

Ah-ha, so that's what the coppery smell was at the concert. I did turn on Blood Raven's music just as she showed up, what an enigma this one is! viking.gif

And again, one of my favorite things about The Stormcrow is the fact that she lives amongst a large population of people who have no idea who she really is. I keep wanting to make guesses about who might suspect her true identity and so on, but then I don't want to influence this work-in-progress, right? smile.gif

As you write this, how many chapters "ahead" are you? Just curious. With Goblin Lady, most of those tales were written whatever week they were posted, which is why I think I began getting stressed-out. Sometimes I'd get lucky though, and I'd write too much for one week. Then I could let the extra text get posted for the next week.


Posted by: SubRosa Dec 7 2019, 05:20 PM

Acadian: I was recently thinking the same about the Stormcrow fic and Two Steps From Hell. I keep trying to look for other sources for music just for the sake of diversity. But I always seem to come back to Two Steps. I think they are the official soundtrack for the series. Although the Big Bad's theme music will still be Gustav Holst's Mars.

January would never forget someone. That is the downside to writing this all out first, and then breaking up into forum-sized pieces for posting. The last few weeks, and the weeks following this, are all meant to be read as one big scene.

I really like Jan having that invisible partner to offer insight and advice. This way she does not have to think of everything, like so many solo characters like Batman or Superman do. She does not have to be perfect.

I really liked putting that not so subtle nod that January's powers ultimately derive from focusing on the elements into her leap back into the warehouse.

Blood Raven is a lot of fun to write. Difficult, but fun. She really is January's litmus test for what a hero must be, but also a warning of what she does not want to become. Sort of like Luke in the cave on Dagobah.


Renee: That smell of blood is January magically sensing Blood Raven's presence. It is not something other people feel. Even January does not know how to interpret it, yet. But she is learning.

Well so far only Gadget knows that January is Stormcrow. But keep watching...

I did not start posting until I had the entire first chapter completed. I was working on Chapter 2 while I posted that. By the time I started posting that, I was already writing Chapters 3 and 4. Now I am starting on Chapter 5.

By chapter, I do not meant a single post here. I mean a full chapter, most of which are 20k words and change. Chapter 3 (the current one) should take us into January. I imagine Chapter 4 will go from then to March or April. Then Chapter 5, which I am starting now, will start getting posted. So I am about 5 months ahead now.

But a week before each post I still go back and go over it. Usually one time a day for four or five days. Mostly I am just looking for typos and making minor tweaks. Stuff that I missed in my original drafts. But lately I have been doing some major retooling in several of the posts, today's included. The healing in today's was completely redone, as I did not like the kind of power it was giving to Blood Raven. I wanted something more limited. In the past I did a lot of rework on the festival posts, to add more detail about Downtown Detroit. Hopefully I won't be doing so much rework very often. I would prefer to be working more ahead.







https://www.bl.uk/learning/langlit/changlang/activities/lang/anglosaxon/anglosax.html



Book 3.8 - Stormcrow Burning

"I hope there was no one else in there." The fire captain groaned.

"None whose hearts still beat," Blood Raven fixed him with her shining crimson eyes. "But there are those still counted among the living yet desirous of aid, are there not?"

"There-" January tried to speak, but her lungs betrayed her again. She found herself doubled over, as her chest was wracked with violent convulsions. Blood and spittle sprayed the interior of the firefighter's oxygen mask that she wore. She peeled it off and let it dangle loosely, until the coughing fit passed.

"It seems relief is required by one much nearer." Blood Raven's voice floated from above her head. January straightened up, and took a moment to just revel in the feeling of the cool rain that splashed her face. Then she shook her head, and tried to point to the terribly burned man she had pulled from the flames.

"I sense that his life shall not flee just yet." Blood Raven turned her gaze to follow the motion, then looked back to January. "However, it appears that your lungs are not as resilient as the rest of your armament. Clearly, attention is required."

A warm, red light filled the air around them, and she heard Blood Raven speaking in an odd language. Perhaps it was Gaelic? It sounded ancient, primal, and wild. It was the kind of thing that she imagined might have been shouted on Beltane or Samhain from stone circles that crowned shadowed hills.

It might have been the words that awakened something within her. Or maybe it was the intent beneath the words. In any case January felt power there: a deep, all-pervasive energy that sprang from the vigilante just as plainly as the rain that fell from the thunderclouds overhead.

Brilliant symbols sprang into crimson life at their feet, adding even more illumination to the scene. January recognized them as Celtic: triquetras, triskelions, awen, Brighid's crosses, and elaborate knotwork. They formed a circle around them. A magic circle - January quickly realized - which spun and slowly rose up into the air as Blood Raven chanted, as if summoned by her will.

She took January's wrist in one hand, and pulled back the sleeve of her armor. That bared the old suicide scars that crisscrossed her wrist to all. Blood Raven stared at that for a moment, as people always did. One of her fingers transformed into a long claw, which effortlessly slashed a deep runnel through January's arm. January felt her flesh tear under the other woman's talon. It reminded her of the feeling of cloth ripping apart. She gasped in spite of herself, and watched her blood run down her bared arm.

Blood Raven gazed at the wound, as if mesmerized by the red flow. She sniffed at it, drinking in the scent, as if she were interrogating the very blood streaming from January's arm.

Blood Raven used the still-human fingers of her hand to pull back a panel set into the palm of her gauntlet. Bone white flesh was exposed underneath. She curled her fingers inward, and that single razor claw pierced her flesh as easily as if it was butter. A torrent of wound-dew issued forth, filling January's nose with the coppery scent of blood.

Wound-dew? Since when did she think in Anglo-Saxon kennings? Something about all of this… this blood and magic, conjured up such ancient and primal thoughts within her. Race memories? If one gave stock in that. Or perhaps it was just too much reading history and heroic fiction.

Moving quickly, Blood Raven clasped her injured palm to January's slashed forearm. The young superheroine abstractly noted that all of the blood that had flowed from their wounds now rose back up to them. It literally levitated through the air, crawled up their arms, and sank back into their flesh.

"Crom!" she heard Gadget breathe in her earpiece. "That's cool!"

January had to agree. But she also found herself hoping that Blood Raven did not have HIV, or HPV, or any of a host of other blood-borne diseases.

January felt something being pulled from inside her, as if drawn out with her blood. Even with her writer's imagination, she could not put words to the feeling. It was as if some dark spirit was being exorcised from her being. Some malignity being cut away from her body. Whatever it was, she felt it being siphoned away by a strange form of energy. By that power she had earlier felt beneath Blood Raven's chant. That energy seemed to drag the darkness from her, out through the wound in her arm, and draw it up into Blood Raven.

Now she did gasp for breath. Her lungs worked again! She took in a deep gulp of air. She did not cough, or gag, again. The fire that had scorched deep within her chest was gone. Instead she breathed deeply, and everything felt normal once more. Just as it had before she had entered the burning building. She stared down at her arm, and saw no sign of blood on her skin. The cut that Blood Raven had made was no longer there. Not even a scar was left behind. There was no trace of it ever having existed.

Blood Raven had gone silent. January now realized that she had abandoned her chant for some time. Ever since she had felt that darkness being drawn out. The red light was gone too, and the glowing magic circle with it.

But now the scarlet-haired woman coughed. It was a deep, hacking convulsion, that doubled her over, and nearly drove her to her knees. Phlegm, soot, and even a little blood sprayed the mud beneath them.

Out of reflex January reached out a hand to steady the other woman. She felt her shudder beneath her fingers, as one paroxysm after another of coughing gripped her. Finally she went still, and straightened her back once more. She wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. January wondered how she managed to do that without smudging her lipstick. Maybe that was a superpower? If so, she would love to possess it.

January stood there in the rain, and realized that the vigilante had just healed her with magic. No, not healed her. Blood Raven had taken her injuries into herself. Absorbed them through her blood. She had endured the seared lungs in January's place, and somehow regenerated the wound herself.

"Jesus!" one firefighter murmured.

"Sweet Mother of God!" gasped another.

"They are fine inspirations." Blood Raven looked around to all of them, and briefly locked her eyes with every firefighter and paramedic in turn. "But I look in the here and now for my encouragement. To those such as yourselves, who sacrifice and endure every day. How can one do less, among such company?"

January noted that the firefighters all looked at Blood Raven with awe. But not with joy, or admiration. She was like a goddess who walked among mortals. Powerful, stunning, dangerous, inexplicable, and ever remote. She did not live in the same world they did, and made no attempt to hide that fact. Even at her most beneficent, like now, she still remained isolated, apart from the rest of the world.

January's heart fell. She had been an outsider all of her life. It did not make her feel any better to see another who was even more cut off from humanity than she was. Even if Blood Raven's isolation was self-imposed. She was reminded of how her Literature professor had so aptly pointed out that not only was Frankenstein's monster alienated, but so too was Victor himself.

But this was hardly the time for literary introspection. She had to focus on the here and now, as Blood Raven herself had just remarked upon.

"Thank you," January breathed. She breathed easy in fact, now that her lungs were healthy and normal again. "Thank you so much."

"It was my distinct pleasure." Blood Raven inclined her head slightly. "It delights me greatly to finally make the acquaintance of Detroit's newest champion." As people sometimes did, she pronounced "Detroit" in the old French manner, so that it sounded like "Day-Twa."

January could not restrain a blush. She was thankful for her helmet, which must have hidden most of it from view. She had no idea what to say in return. In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.

Posted by: Renee Dec 10 2019, 08:26 PM

When Blood Raven speaks I hear the haughty voice of that lady who runs Radiant Raiment in Solitude, for some reason. Not that BR is haughty, but I mean I hear her words in a low tone of WHOA....

Holy [censored] she cut into Jan's arm!!! blink.gif Okay. Alright. Phew I thought Blood Raven's really evil or something.

Yah I was wondering if anybody else witnessed Jan's transformation. OR whatever you'd call that. smile.gif Yes, Blood Raven does seem as though she's from some other time. Just the way she speaks (and I'm not even talking about the way she says Detroit) had me wondering if she's from the Enlightenment age or something.


Posted by: Acadian Dec 12 2019, 09:33 PM

Inspired by your example long ago, I won’t even announce a new story until it is in a solid completed draft. I love the long list advantages this provides but, you are right that carving the story into episodes approaching posting time can present its own challenges.

I’m very interested (for obvious reasons) in the insight you provided on how/why Jan has a voice traveling with her inside her head who can advise her. That it allows the primary character to manifest more imperfections and still survive is a wonderful way to think of it. Buffy and Acadian do that but I had not thought in those terms before – thank you.

I imagine Blood Raven is indeed fun (and challenging) to write. It is liberating sometimes to take the gloves off and present a mysterious character whose abilities hit the ‘Oh wow!’ mark on the power scale.

*

’Wound-dew? Since when did she think in Anglo-Saxon kennings? Something about all of this… this blood and magic, conjured up such ancient and primal thoughts within her. Race memories?’
- - I love this. Not just the evocative synonym for blood but also correctly (in my opinion) referring to ancient instincts as race memories. Some anthropologists believe that Neanderthals were the last humans to have highly developed race memories/instincts. This allowed quickly learning skills the race was well familiar at the price of a limited ability to grasp/learn new concepts. The concept that some form of race memories could still persist as recently as a few thousand years ago makes for intriguing possibilities regarding current mystics. Regardless, I heartily endorse the concept you introduce here along with its historical underpinnings.

Retractable talons! Woot!

Oh. My. Goodness. Laying on of hands and empathically absorbing a patient’s wounds and pain. Given your knowledge of my elf, it should come as no surprise that I am in awe of Blood Raven’s healing.

A poignant insight by January that life is lonely at the top of many professions – particularly that of being a super hero.

’January could not restrain a blush. She was thankful for her helmet, which must have hidden most of it from view. She had no idea what to say in return. In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.’
- - What a perfect ending, as you gently remind us that this is Stormcrow’s story, not Blood Raven’s. Whereas Blood Raven personifies awesomesauce, it is the imperfections that render January so endearing. And when it comes to a heroine, I’ll take endearing over awesome any day.

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 14 2019, 04:39 PM

Renee: I never really thought about what Blood Raven sounds like. Maybe https://youtu.be/peNNgRFA-FI, she has the kind of polish that BR does. Or maybe https://youtu.be/E-rYgoJF0v4. Probably Laura Bailey.

Good call on the Enlightenment. Stay tuned, eventually we will learn more of BR's history.


Avadian: Blood Raven was not originally meant to be so Cosmically Awesome. She just turned out that way when I started writing her. Like the constant sniping between Loria and Do'Sakhar. It just felt right, so I went with it.

My original portrayal of Blood Raven's healing was much different. Version 1.0 had her taking the blood (and thusly life force) from other people, and then using that to heal the injured person. But even with the obvious need for donors, it seemed too effective. I could not see how she would not spend her entire life in a hospital, or traveling the world, healing critically injured people. Because if she had that power, and did not use it, how selfish would that be. As it is, suffering the wounds herself puts some serious limitations on the healing ability. Even she is not a bottomless well of self-regeneration.

Blood Raven is definitely very isolated, mostly from her own doing. Partly from her long years, and the need to emotionally protect herself from creating relationships that will inevitably end in watching the people she loves dying. Partly because she can be extremely opinionated, as we will see in the future. She is not at all shy about alienating others and making enemies through her outspokenness. Call it stubbornness, or certainty, or arrogance, it is something that definitely runs in her bloodline.

Endearing is definitely what I am going for with January. In spite of all the lesbian-trans-superhero ness, my hope is that she can still come across as relatable and ordinary with her awkwardness and un-coolness. At her core, Jan is a nice person. Blood Raven makes for a really stark contrast with all those aspects of January. In many ways they are total opposites. Which is why I like writing them together.






https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxlE7Z18qD8

Blood Raven's Gaelic spell translates to:

Bones of Earth
Blood of Fire
Breath of Air
Cauldron of Water
Heal this Spirit, with your power




Book 3.9 - Stormcrow Burning

"If you can do something like that again, there is a man who needs your help, badly." January finally summoned the words to deflect the momentary attention from herself to the burned man. She could see that the paramedics were gingerly lifting him off of her cape and onto a gurney. She took a moment to shuck off her borrowed air tank, then led the way to his side.

"He fell into the worst of the fire. But it might be too much…"

"How did you effect a rescue?" Blood Raven asked.

"I went in after him of course." January replied without really thinking about it. Just as she had leapt into the flames.

"Of course." For some reason that seemed to please Blood Raven. She even did smile, if ever so fleetingly.

January and the firemen stepped up to the injured man, who was blessedly unconscious now. January wanted to tear her eyes away from the tortured ruin of life he had been reduced to. But she would not allow herself that luxury. Was this all because of her? Could she have been faster? Could she have saved both him and the woman? What gave her the right to choose who had lived, and who would suffer this terrible fate?

"This is why I serve," Blood Raven said quietly as she stared down at the burned man. The paramedics looked up in shock at the sight of the armored vigilante. She waved them aside, and they moved out of her way without a word. January suspected that was less from respect and admiration, and more from awe however.

Blood Raven knelt down beside him. She began to sing in Gaelic, and again that glowing red circle of Celtic symbols sprang up around them. Those monstrous claws sprang from her hands once more. With a slash across the burned man's torso, she joined his blood to hers.

Blood Raven increased the intensity of her chant, which January now realized was simply a repetition of a few sentences.

"Cnámha na Cruinne
Fuil Dóiteáin
Anáil Aeir
An Coire Uisce
Cneasaigh an Spiorad seo, le do chumhacht"


Again, January felt the power rise from Blood Raven. She was an ocean of energy, overflowing with power. She had heard that Blood Raven was some sort of magician. January had always taken that with a grain of salt. After all, what was the old saying: any advanced form of technology seemed like magic to a less-advanced culture? But this, this was the real deal. Blood Raven was an actual, old school Witch.

January felt that pull again. Now that she was not at the center of it, and could instead merely clinically observe, she could feel it much more clearly. There was a darkness within the burned man. A dis-ease. His terrible burns. His ruined flesh. That horror was being siphoned from him and poured into Blood Raven.

January shut her eyes, and she felt that power even more clearly. It seemed her meat eyes were distracting her from what was really happening. She let go of her physical senses, and simply felt - for lack of a better word - the magic growing and ripening within the man.

She could not truly understand, or trace, or track, even half of it. But she could read the changes well enough. Flesh that had literally been destroyed sprang back into being. Cauterized blood vessels rejoined. Organs leaped back to full, beating vigor and life again. All those terrible injuries were being systematically undone. It was like watching a time-lapse video in reverse.

When it finally ended, January opened her eyes and saw the stars twinkling down from above. The rain had stopped, and there was not a cloud in the sky. She looked down at the man she had rescued from the fire. The man Blood Raven had healed. He still lay on the gurney. But there was not a single mark on him. Not even a spot of soot. His hair was long and black, framing an equally long face, that was decorated by a short goatee. He was slender in frame, and wore a blue suit, with a narrow, striped purple tie. A gold class ring adorned one of his fingers, and a crucifix hung from his neck. January could not believe it was the same man she had pulled from the fire.

But Blood Raven, she was a much different story. The mane of hair that had sprouted from her helmet was a ragged, blackened stubble. January absentmindedly realized that it was not her real hair. It was a wig, attached to the outside of her helmet. She wondered if it was just for looks. Or perhaps it was so an enemy who thought they might gain an advantage by yanking at her hair, would come away surprised instead?

The rest of her armor was burned into tatters as well, even its metal pieces were singed and melted. The body underneath it seemed shrunken to half its former size, making the ruined gear seem like a half-collapsed tent. The bare skin January could see of the vigilante's lower face was a charred nightmare, shriveled and blackened meat stretched tight over bone.

As before, Blood Raven had stopped her chant at some point during the process. Now she ground her teeth tightly together, and clenched her hands into fists. Thankfully her claws had likewise vanished somewhere in the healing process. A low howl rose up from her throat, a sound not even vaguely human. Her eyes were now literal pools of red light. January felt power rising in her tortured frame once more, burning to a peak, and finally boiling over.

January could swear that she heard a hiss like that of water bubbling over from a pot, and vaporizing on the hot stove beneath it. Blood Raven's body transformed with the sound. Flesh grew back from nothingness, skin brightened from withered black to its previously shade of china white. Even the false hair crowning her helmet reappeared, and her armor knitted itself back together and shed its soot and burns.

Blood Raven rose to her feet, looking as healthy as ever. January felt that power wane within her, and fall to a low, steady hum. Even her gaze dimmed from that fiery scarlet glow to a normal, albeit still red, pair of human eyes. She only glanced briefly at January, before turning her full attention to the man whose injuries she had absorbed.

"Whoa!" His eyes flew open and he leaped to a sitting position.

January stepped away as the paramedics rushed back in, and calmed the man. All the while he stared at January and Blood Raven. That did not surprise January. Their armor did tend to the dramatic side of things. Mostly he stared at the black and red heroine, who remained at his side.

"How is it you are called my friend?"

"Ken," the man locked eyes with her, "Ken Reeve."

"It is a rare boon to gain a second chance at life Mister Reeve." Blood Raven laid a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "I pray you live yours well."

"There was a girl I met, she was with me, she…"

"We shall see to her next should she require it," Blood Raven said gently. She stepped away, and pulled January and the firefighters along with her like a magnet. Even as she followed, January marveled at that. Her presence just commanded attention. It was hard to take her eyes off her. How did she do that? Was it magic? Or did she just have a Charisma of 18?

It turned out that the woman Ken Reeve spoke of was named Alexandra Grant. She was the same one that January had found pulling Reeve across the floor of the Dutchman. Alexandra was little the worse for wear. She had a bump on her head the size of a goose egg. But she was already conscious once more, and required only a few stitches to close up the wound in her scalp. A wound whose blood miraculously flowed back into her body with just a wave of Blood Raven's hand.

Most of the others who had escaped the building had already been taken away by ambulances. Of those that remained, none bore injuries serious enough to require the extraordinary powers of Blood Raven.

January wondered what price those powers came at? It was clear that Blood Raven could not actually heal people. Rather she literally transferred their injuries to herself. Somehow she could regenerate, or heal herself afterward. But the agony she must have felt each time had looked quite real. How much of that could any person endure? How much of that literal torture could even a meta-human body withstand?

January found that she did not envy the other superheroine for this particular ability at all.

Posted by: Acadian Dec 14 2019, 08:31 PM

Very ‘January’ to second guess whether she could have done more to prevent such grievous injury to the burned man.

"Of course." For some reason that seemed to please Blood Raven. She even did smile, if ever so fleetingly.’ - - Blood Raven of the Fleeting Smile. wink.gif

I loved what you did with Blood Raven’s healing. Observing and feeling the actions of a real Witch seemed to really open Jan’s mind and instincts. Jan’s reaction leads me to believe that, even though she doesn’t fully recognize it yet, she carries her own brand of Witchcraft within herself. Blood Raven’s healing is empathic to the extreme and I agree with Jan that it surely exacts a toll and is not exactly something to be envious of. Finally, thanks for sharing the words of Blood Raven's spell. Well done!

Charisma of 18. Hee! I see Jan’s been playing Dungeons and Dragons games. tongue.gif


Nits:
"This is why I serve," Blood Raven said quietly as {she?} stared down at the burned man.’
’Her presence just command{ed?} attention.’

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Dec 15 2019, 12:35 AM

Chapter 3.5:

Wow. That was intense! The fire did some damage for sure, and there wasn't much left. The Stormcrow came right on time to lend aid to those firefighters. The flames growing in size just as the rain began to pour came off as suspicious, and the man's comment cemented it. Something was causing the fire to grow.

A breathing device would come in handy but Avery sort of forgot about that it seems ohmy.gif

Her abilities continue to grow and she's shown great skill, but I fear she may be in a bit of a pickle with the growing fumes!

Chapter 3.6:
Tense! Jan continues to show her heroic nature by leading those people out of the fire, and saving more lives. A great thing Gadget was there to give her the information she needed on the state of the building, and how many more people could've been potentially harmed by the flames had she not got there on time.

She was very clever in creating a new exit for those people; crashing through the wall worked rather well! This was awesome! Emotionally powerful as well! Stormcrow feeling the slight bit of panic and tense as the firefighters did their duty and helped put the flames out of her. Despite her powers and growing skill, she is vulnerable. Great thing there are the right people helping her at the right time, such as Avery/Gadget.

3.7: I'm in agreement here with Acadian. Two Steps From Hell and Stormcrow come together great. Blackheart is one of my favorites from TSFM.

I knew it! Introducing her a few chapters prior had me excited. I knew she was close to showing up and you build the intrigue quite well with Jan's/Storm's thoughts and passing mentions on Blood Raven, and since this is the figure she looks up to and is inspired by, you had me waiting with curiosity. Gave me goosebumps.

She was a like a bloody gash, cut into the air where she floated. January smelled it - blood - coppery and thick. She even tasted it in her throat.

You painted a great picture. Her presence is unmistakable, mysterious, and the way she speaks does give us the impression of her wisdom, which of course, surely came with age. I'll be back to read the next chapters!

Great stuff Subrosa! coolgrin.gif




Posted by: Renee Dec 16 2019, 07:42 PM

Whoa, no way. Gaelic. See, whenever https://i.imgur.com/LNF8bAf.png game starts (and my corresponding story with her) she's going to speak Gaelic too, when she does one of her incantations.

Yes, Kate Beckinsale's voice sounds like what I'm hearing in my head with Blood Raven, especially if Kate were to put more affect into her voice, making it sound sort of emotionless and cold.

QUOTE
"How is it you are called my friend?"


Nice. I love this way she speaks. Her Charisma is 18, her Speechcraft is up there, and perhaps her ability to Charm is off the charts.

Yes I was also gonna say: it doesn't seem like she's healing them so much as transferring their injuries / pain briefly to herself. All of this fits in with some beliefs I have about the reality of our existence, by the way. Just the fact that realities seem to be merging. And Blood Raven can access these other realities. Similar to the way our world of our dreams is an actual real place, sort of. Blood Raven can actively access this world, where injuries and pain can magically go away.

:

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Dec 21 2019, 06:42 AM

3.8: As I've mentioned before . . . Blood Raven has such an eloquent way of speaking. This is captured well with Jan's thoughts:

'Perhaps it was Gaelic? It sounded ancient, primal, and wild. It was the kind of thing that she imagined might have been shouted on Beltane or Samhain from stone circles that crowned shadowed hills.'
Her knowledge in Celtic magic is fascinating. Does this count as, well, Blood Magic? It was refreshing to see Blood Raven use her abilities to siphon and take away Stormcrow's pain. Its a more positive and selfless way of using one's powers that are sometimes(and mistakenly) associated with a shade.

'She also found herself hoping that Blood Raven did not have HIV, or HPV, or any of a host of other blood-borne diseases.'
Ha, that would, as the saying goes, totally suck.

'She was like a goddess who walked among mortals. Powerful, stunning, dangerous, inexplicable, and ever remote. She did not live in the same world they did, and made no attempt to hide that fact. Even at her most beneficent, like now, she still remained isolated, apart from the rest of the world.'

Perhaps this is for the best. Blood Raven's presence is noted and definitely revered by Stormcrow. You do a tremendous job maintaining this sort of mystery behind her while still showing her power. As a sort of amateur writer, I personally struggle with this embarrased.gif

Again, wow. Stormcrow's lungs are working in tip-top-shape and she's ready for action.

'In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.'
Was she fangirling? I think she was fangirling laugh.gif

P.S . . . love the nod to Conan the Barbarian cool.gif


3.9: I wonder if Stormcrow will learn a thing or two of the Gaelic tongue. Another great chapter!

While Stormcrow has much to learn, I'm sure with Blood Raven's restorative abilities and her recent heroism, she's well on her way to learning something new perhaps, about herself? More on the hero she looks up to? There's more to Stormcrow, isn't there? I'm getting way to ahead of myself here, lol.

Ah so Blood Raven sounds like Laura Bailey eh? I could listen to her all day . . . as a matter of fact I have. Serana is my number 1 companion in Skyrim laugh.gif Funny enough I tend to always imagine what my characters sound like. Raven(Decumus) has what we know as an English/British accent, also known as a Nibenese accent in lore laugh.gif

Stormcrow asks some good questions about BR's abilities. I wouldn't envy her either to be quite honest.

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 21 2019, 05:15 PM

Acadian: January is a nice person at the core. She cares about other people, because she can feel empathy for their pain. But she also takes her supering very seriously. She sees protecting people as her #1 priority. That is what her slowly coalescing Stormcrow Doctrine will be founded upon. So when someone is injured as badly as Ken Reeve was, she not only feels bad for their pain, she takes it as a personal failure. She has to do better than that.

Jan most definitely plays D&D, though it is not her favorite game. We will learn more about her D&D character later this chapter in fact.

Thanks for spotting those nits. Fixed and fixed.


Darkness Eternal: I intentionally decided for January not to have any kind of breathing device. Her hagfish armor already makes her immune to fire (short of the sun at least). She needed to have a vulnerability in order for there to be some real danger in her going into the fire. Smoke inhalation was perfect, as it tends to kill more people in fires than the actual fire itself. That allowed me to show her really struggling and hurting, while still going on.

Blood Raven is Irish, so her magic tends to run toward the Gaelic end of the spectrum. She is a second generation immigrant, so she does not have the Irish accent. Her posh and polished way of speaking does come from her upbringing. We will learn more about that in the future.

She definitely has a real talent for blood magic, as well as 'regular' magic. Its in her name after all! Later we will see just why she has such an ability for sensing and manipulating blood.

Laura Bailey has a wonderful, husky voice. It is like she is always sighing. I wish I could find something of her playing a 18th or 19th century lady, as that would be perfect. Serana is also my favorite npc in Skyrim, because of her voice. I loved her in Fallout New Vegas as well. Kate Beckinsale has that wonderful sense of polish to her voice, which makes her work for Blood Raven as well. She could read those lines and it would be spot on as well.

I like putting Stormcrow and Blood Raven together. As a superhero, January is all kinds of awesome. But when compared to Blood Raven, she clearly has a long way to go. That helps keep January down to earth and not feeling too uber. Blood Raven OTOH, is packed full of amazing. But she too, has a lot to learn from January, as we will see in the future. The two of them really complement one another.

Crom!

January might pick up some Gaelic words, but probably not much. She already knows English and Old Norse, and a little bit of Spanish.


Renee: I heard that Laprimma Donnagh's a real prima donna. But that might just be catty talk from jealous rivals... wink.gif January will probably be migrating to Skyrim once her current adventures in Oblivion-land are finished. So she might bump into Laprimma there. Unless she goes to Fallout instead.

Blood Raven's healing was inspired by the game Earthdawn. Its Cavalryman discipline (basically class) has a talent called Blood Share. It allows the character to transfer damage between themselves and their mount. Given Blood Raven's ability for using blood magic, it was a natural fit.

I really liked your idea of alternate realities, and bridging the gaps between universes. Magic is after all the ability to change reality.







https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Avalanche



Book 3.10 - Stormcrow Burning

By now the fire had nearly burned itself out. While they had not been able to stop it, the firefighters had prevented the blaze from spreading to other buildings. Now with nothing left to burn, the conflagration was sputtering out beneath their hoses. There was little left behind. Just the shell of the cinderblock walls, and the gutted piles of ash and soot within.

"Well, look who finally showed up."

A fireman's words brought January's head back around. She noted more vehicles pulling up, including the first police cars. The Detroit cops spread out, and began pushing back the crowd that had gathered to watch. January also noticed several news vans already on the scene, and numerous cameras and reporters buzzing around the outskirts of the event, like electrons orbiting a nucleus.

The first of the new arrivals to walk up was not a police officer or a reporter however. Rather he was a fire marshal. At least that is what it said on the side of the car he had gotten out of. The marshal was a short, dark-haired man who wore a frown like an old time detective did a fedora and trenchcoat. He was clad in a fireman's coat and boots, and carried one of their helmets in one hand.

"Give us another minute and the scene is yours Harold," the captain of the firefighters said to him.

"Take your time Mike," the new man - Harold - replied. He glanced at Blood Raven, then turned his eyes to January. "Did they change the uniforms for probies?"

"You could say that," the fire captain's younger sidekick - a lieutenant? - grinned. "What do you say boys, should the Blackbirds be honorary members of Engine 66?"

A cheer rose from the assembled firemen, many of whom were still drifting back from the gutted ruin of the building.

"You should'a seen this one Harry!" a fireman proclaimed as he pointed to January. "Jumpin' straight into the flames, and jumpin' back out again with people under her arms, snatched 'em from the jaws of death itself!"

"Hey is it true you'se a lesbo?" another yelled loudly.

"Fredo, what did I say about talk like that!" the fire captain snapped. He rolled his eyes at January. "Don't listen to him. He's not housebroken yet."

"Hey, I'm not a homophone or nothin'!" Fredo insisted.

"I got a sister, she's one of them lesbianese girls too. I can hook you up. You'se can go to the Pride Fest thing that's coming up. We always go. She's a got a pair of you know what's that's out of this world! Know what I'm sayin'?" The gesture Fredo made with his hands over his chest made it very clear what he was saying. "And her lasagna, mama mia it's the best you ever had! Even better than my grandma's, God rest her soul."

January actually heard Gadget laughing through her earpiece.

"I'm sure she's nice," January found herself saying. "But I don't really have time for dating."

She turned to the fire marshal - Harold. "When I was in there, I saw a bunch of gas cans. Big ones. I can show you where."

"With all due respect miss, we'll take it from here." It was not Harold that replied, but a policeman with captain's bars on his shoulders. Like the fire captain, his hair and mustache were going gray. Unlike the fireman, his eyes lacked kindness. Those eyes roved over January like a vulture on the hunt for rotting meat. They turned to Blood Raven, and bored into her like a pair of laser drills.

Blood Raven stared back at the new arrival and crossed her arms. Even though her face was covered by her cowl, there was no mistaking the air of contempt that she conveyed. It was clear to January that the two knew one another, and that there was no love lost between them.

"I'm sure you were most helpful." The police captain broke the stare down first, and turned back to face January. "But the proper authorities will take over from now on. The fire marshal will determine if there is a case for arson, and investigate further if he does."

"Captain Braddock, we were-" the fire captain began to say before being cut off by the newcomer.

"I believe your men are finished here Captain Henderson," the police captain interjected. "My men will take over the scene. We will see to it that protocol in enforced."

The fire captain gritted his teeth, as if chewing over what he was he might say in reply. He concealed it better than Blood Raven, but January could still see that he was no fan of this police captain either. Braddock, she made a note to remember that name. She had the feeling she might run afoul of him again someday.

"Seriously, come by the Engine and break bread," Fire Captain Henderson turned from the police man to January. He clapped a friendly hand to her back. "Fredo might lack social graces, but he makes the best fettuccini you've ever eaten. We'll take some selfies, post 'em on Instantbook, or whatever it's called, and I can show my grand-daughters that I met the real Stormcrow."

"You're on Cap," January could not help but smile. The simple goodwill of the firefighters, while rough, stood in stark contrast to the cold hostility of their police counterparts. She told herself that the behavior or these particular individuals did not speak for all within their respective organizations. But at the moment, it did not feel that way.

The firemen began to roll up their hoses and put their gear away. In the meantime January noted that Blood Raven, with a total disregard for the police, was already floating through the ruin of the Flying Dutchman. The fire marshal followed at her heels, silently observing everything around him.

January took a moment to look back to the police captain, who was visibly scowling at the older superheroine's back. She told herself that she should be building bridges, forging alliances. She had evidently done so with the firemen, without even trying. But a voice deep in her head reminded her that some people refused to be reached, no matter how many olive leafs were sent their way. In the end she knew that she did have an alliance to forge, and it was more important than one captain in the Detroit PD.

She followed Blood Raven into the ruin.

"Watch where you step," the fire marshal reminded her. His tone was not antagonistic, just a reminder. "All of this is evidence. Some of it might be used in court someday. Watch where I step, and follow along. You'll get the hang of it."

January nodded. This Harold character seemed like a decent sort, as the fire captain was. He was someone she could learn from. There was so much to all of this she still did not know.

"So are you police or fire department?" January asked him.

"Detroit Fire Department ma'am," Harold answered. "But I am a sworn law enforcement officer as well. I carry a firearm, and if I find 'em, I arrest 'em."

January chewed that over while she carefully moved through the wreckage.

"There's those gas cans." She pointed out the jerry cans she had found before. The paint had been scorched from their steel frames, and all of their caps were open.

A glance to the side revealed the hole she had smashed through the wall to escape with the burning man. Had that been just minutes ago? It seemed like forever. In fact, the burned out and water-logged wreckage of the Flying Dutchman felt like a different world from the one she had first stepped into, perhaps a half hour before.

Blood Raven picked one of the cans up, and closed her eyes. January could see her lips moving in a silent chant or song. Once again, a magic circle comprised of Celtic symbols leapt into brilliant life around her feet. This time they were of shining gold, like the warm rays of the sun slanting through an afternoon window.

They had been red before, when she had done her healing. Perhaps it was the blood in the magic then that had turned the color scarlet?

In any case, January once again felt the power, resonating through her bones. The magic - if that is what it was - seemed to call out to her. To awaken something slumbering deep inside her. Until tonight she had thought of the Wiccan/Neo-Paganism books she had been reading as just self-help. A new way in addition to yoga to help her visualize her goals and center herself. She had not really put much stock in the magical and religious aspects of it. Not outside the pure coolness factor of goddesses like Freyja and Hecate of course. Was there more to it than she had ever guessed? Was that what focused her meta-human abilities?

The flame-haired heroine took off one glove, and ran her bare hand across one of the cans. She sniffed at it, like a bloodhound getting a scent. Then she leaned her head back, as if to drink it all in.

"This was the working of a man," she said in a low, distant tone. "A young man. An angry man. A rejected man. 'he'll get her back', 'he'll take her back', 'he'll teach her a lesson'."

With that the glowing symbols faded away. Blood Raven put the jerry can back exactly where she had taken it from, and stared out the gutted entrance of the building.

"The fire shall have destroyed any physical evidence the arsonist left behind," she said. "But there are yet options possessed of us."

January's realized that they were at the very front of the building, in a little corner that might have been a bathroom. It was between the front door and the stairs leading up to the second floor. Next to it was what she had taken for a kitchen during her initial foray into the building. That area had already been consumed in flame when she had arrived. It was where she had found that woman who had doused herself with foam, the one whose head might have been bloody.

Clearly the fire had started there, or very close by. Could she have caught the arsonist in the act, and been struck over the head by him? Or had she simply been in the wrong place, and happened to be trapped in the same area?

"Stormcrow, I've got something." Gadget's serious voice spoke into her ear. "I'm in the camera system of the business across the street. I've got a partial picture of a truck leaving just before the fire started. A black and red Chevy Avalanche. Looks like early 2000s."

"Got it," January said crisply. She walked out toward the street, taking care of where she stepped. Blood Raven floated through the air behind her, and landed gently on the sidewalk beside her.

She walked out toward the street, taking care of where she stepped. Blood Raven floated through the air behind her, and landed gently on the sidewalk beside her.

"Will you see this through with me?" the scarlet and black-clad heroine asked. "Or are you content to let the 'proper authorities' investigate?"

"I am in it to the end," January insisted. Anger flared inside her, white hot anger. It looked like no one had died, so far. But that was more a matter of chance than due to anything she had done. This entire thing was clearly an attempt to murder dozens, if not a hundred people. She could not stand idly by while the creature who had perpetrated this act ran free.

"I have a clue," Blood Raven nodded. "A Chevrolet Avalanche. But no license plate number. We must needs interview the survivors. It may be that someone will recognize that conveyance."

January's ears pricked up at the identification of the truck. Did Blood Raven have her own computer specialist snooping around the local cameras, like Gadget? Well of course she did. How could anyone be a super these days without a hacker - silently and invisibly - watching their back online?

"They said they had been taken to the hospitals," January thought aloud. "We could ask the police to get in touch with them. But I don't think Captain Feldercarb here will be too cooperative."

"He will not," Blood Raven agreed, "And it is too soon to simply hack their reports. They have not been written and filed yet."

"I have an idea," January said. "Gadget, can you get me in touch with Emilia?"

"Got it," he said. "I'm putting her through now."

"Trooper Mercado," her voice came over January's earpiece a moment later.

"Hi trooper!" January said in her usual perky, phone voice. She was going to have to work on that, to sound more professional. "This is Stormcrow. I was wondering if you might be able to do me a teensy, weensy, little favor?"

"More stolen metal?" the Puerto Rican woman asked. "You know we had to get a semi-truck to carry off that stuff the last time."

"No, not metal, people," January insisted. "We need to talk to some people. I was hoping you could open some doors, get some communication going. You know, in a police to police sort of way."

"Oh no, what now?" January heard the sound of muffled voices rise up in the background, and realized that it was a news report. "Oh, the fire. I can see you on Channel 4."

January turned to look around, and saw the news team across the street. Their camera was pointed right at her. She could not resist the urge to wave.

"Can we meet up?" January asked. "We think the people we need to see are at the local hospitals, but I'm not sure which ones, or exactly who they are."

"Am I the only cop you know?" she sighed.

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"How can I say no to my friendly neighborhood Super Crow?" Trooper Mercado replied. "It's not like I'm doing anything anyway. I'll text you when I get close."

Posted by: Acadian Dec 21 2019, 08:18 PM

The banter about homophones and lesbianese girls was hilarious!

I was glad to see January steel herself herself to the necessity of building bridges and alliances – despite Police Captain Stick-in-the-mud. Sure enough, later in the episode when she called Trooper Mercado, we see the wisdom of her thinking.

Very cool how Blood Raven coaxed that gas can into telling her its story. It seems clear to me that Blood Raven also sees the magic and potential within her young ally.

’She mastered the roiling of her guts. But she could not deaden her heart. Who had they been? What were their final thoughts? What lives would they have had? Who was left behind, to mourn their loss, and wonder why?’
- - This is exactly the kind of internal dialogue you have shown us to expect from January and her nurturing heart.


Nit? ’She had evidently had done so with the firemen, without even trying.’ - - Looks like a redundant ‘had’ remained from an edit.

Posted by: Renee Dec 23 2019, 04:42 PM

Chevy Avalanche. Not a Geo Metro or Pontiac Aztec this time. biggrin.gif

Uh oh, here come the cops. indifferent.gif I am pro-cop IRL mostly, Maryland cops have helped me a couple times, but I can't help but think that with January...

Because you see, it's not that they're going to arrest her, but I imagine there's some professional turfing about to go on. Like, when the FBI takes over from county cops.

Blood Raven is floating. Interesting. I know how this feels. I had a dream last week in which I was floating amongst a bunch of college students, trying maybe to impress them. I was semi-lucid in this dream. It's an awesome feeling if you've ever encountered it, Florens. At the end of the dream I wound up high above some sort of gigantic underground "quad" area where all the students were gathered far below. I fell from a precipice I had been standing on, but managed to grab a golden chain. That was the only thing which prevented me from falling fifty feet of so. indifferent.gif Apparently I had lost my ability float. Anyway, I began thinking "I could just let go of this chain and fall to the ground.... I'll simply wake up then. No pain." But i chose not to do this. Instead, I mustered all my Strength, and climbed up the golden chain.

QUOTE
She was not going to throw up in front of the old time superhero


laugh.gif

Jan has a smile in her voice as she calls Mercado. smile.gif She can't help waving for the camera. smile.gif

Cool, so Raven and Crow are basically short-circuiting what would have been a longer, drawn-out investigation. Because normally for everyone to conclude this as a mass-homicide, what'd happen (as you know I'm sure) is it would take some time before everyone's on the same page, crime-wise.

We need these two superheros in Baltimore, as our murder rate has gone past 300 for the fifth year in a row.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Dec 26 2019, 02:57 AM

People saved and firefighters cheering! I'd say a job well done(aside from the unidentified victims). Thanks to Stormcrow and Blood Raven! I'm sure they'll catch the killer.

'Hey, I'm not a homophone or nothin'!'
laugh.gif laugh.gif

This was a very fun exchange between them! I loved it!

'Those eyes roved over January like a vulture on the hunt for rotting meat. They turned to Blood Raven, and bored into her like a pair of laser drills.'
Good description here. I can already tell Captain Braddock is not good news. Its amazing how well we can detect the assholes that come about. Braddock sure fits the bill here, so far.

Blood Raven's abilities continue to surprise as her runes turn a different shade upon inspection. She can detect the aura/nature of a person's residue it seems. That's a fascinating ability to have.

I was wondering our trooper friend from the mall attack would appear again! She's great! The investigation is on!

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 28 2019, 05:14 PM

Acadian: Fredo was a ton of fun to write. We will hear more about his sister and her... ahem, and chapter 5.

People often refer to "The Government" or "The Police" and so on, as if they were monolithic organizations in which every member was a essentially a zombie or robot, mindlessly following its programming, and most of all, them all acting in complete concert. The reality is that governments are formed of individuals, and every one has their own agendas, and they often do not work together, but actively against one another. That is what I am going for with the police and later state government in the Stormcrow fic. They are made up of individuals acting on their own imperatives. Some of them will naturally become January's allies, because their agendas mesh. Some will be opposed to her for the opposite reason.

Blood Raven sees a lot in January, not just potential. That will all come out at the end of this chapter, and run all through Chapter 4.

January always emphasizes with people, especially when tragedy strikes.

Thanks for finding my extra 'had', I have had enough of it!


Renee: One of these days I will have a modern car, I promise!

January does not personally have any history with the police at all. Of course she does have one with other authority figures, especially in school. Queer people in general however, have a long and really bad history of being victimized by the police. Stonewall is something we celebrate because it was the first time we stood up against police brutality. I remember once telling my therapist how I walked into a police station during a festival on city hall grounds, asked the desk sergeant where the bathroom was, and went and used it. Big deal right? For a transperson, that is like walking into a lion's den.

In chapter 5 I will have the opportunity to contrast how January, Lighthammer, and Blood Raven fly. Each is very different. Blood Raven is more like Magneto or Captain Marvel. She just ignores gravity completely, with no obvious means of propulsion. She floated into the ruins of the Flying Dutchman in particular so she would not accidentally step into evidence. It's just an example of how she is an old hat at this.

Sooner or later Jan's good nature always shines through. Like being on TV. smile.gif

You called it. Jan and Blood Raven are basically taking the fast track to solving this case, where it would normally take weeks of mundanely sorting through mountains of evidence by the fire marshal. That does get pointed out later in the chapter, a few posts after today's.

You folks in Baltimore are we Detroiter's perennial rivals for murder capital and most violent city in America. Along with St. Louis. All three of our cities need superheros. That is one of the reasons I set the Stormcrow fic here in the D.


Darkness Eternal: No homophones here!

I envision Captain Braddock and Blood Raven as having a long and dubious history of acrimony. Something Stormcrow herself is going to have to get used to in the future. Not everyone appreciates supers, especially particular ones.

Blood Raven has been doing this for a long time, most of it without any help from the police. So it stood to reason that she would have developed some purely investigatory abilities. I went to the old ESP standard of psychometry to give her a way to get clues - however vague - from a crime scene. We will see a similar ability for gathering information in today's episode.

I created Trooper Mercado with the idea of her being the Jim Gordon to January's Batman. She's the ally in the police whom Jan can turn to for help. So she will be a regular feature in the Crow Tales.







You can find Detroit Receiving Hospital on the https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Detroit_Receiving_Hospital

https://i.imgur.com/HDYnHRP.jpg




Book 3.11 - Stormcrow Burning

"You arrived most expeditiously to the scene of the fire," Blood Raven observed. "You must have been nearby."

They stood in the underground parking lot of Detroit Receiving Hospital. A mountain of concrete hovered above their heads, lay beneath their feet, and closed in from all sides. The air that moved gently through the subterranean space was cool, and smelled vaguely of gasoline fumes and old oil. All around them were cars and trucks, angled into row after row of parking spaces.

"I was at Hart Plaza," January said. "In fact, I saw you there. The whole city did."

"Yes, the electronic… music festival." Blood Raven replied. She did not seem to easily equate electronic with music. That seemed to be the case with a lot of people her age. That made January wonder just what her age might be. Blood Raven had literally been superheroing since before she had been born. She had imagined her to be older than her mother. But the skin that was not covered by her armor looked untouched by the tracks of time.

"So you were there? For the entire night?" Blood Raven continued to press.

"Yes," January said. She began to feel like she was being interrogated. "We got there in the afternoon, around five. I didn't leave until I heard about the fire. Long after you left. Why?"

"I am simply curious."

"Uh huh," January nodded along. "Does this have something to do with what you were chasing?"

"What should make you think I was chasing something?" Blood Raven asked.

"I saw you. I felt you, and it," January said honestly. "I don't know what that was. But you felt it too. You went after it. I would have too, but I had no idea what it even was, or how to find it."

"I suspected it might have been you," Blood Raven admitted. "But I left the scent of your blood behind me at the festival, and there was no trace of you when I brought the monster to bay."

"I felt it," January frowned. The Monster? That accounted for the claw marks in Blood Raven's armor. "It made my stomach want to turn inside out. What was it?"

"A story for another day," Blood Raven deflected.

January noted that she seemed to do that quite a bit.

A yellow Jeep pulled into the lot. January slid away from the concrete post that she had been leaning against, and stood attentively. She recognized it as Emilia's. January motioned for Blood Raven to follow, and walked over to meet the state trooper. She noted that the other woman's arm was still in a cast, but at least no longer held by a sling.

The state trooper stepped out of the Jeep. She took one look at Blood Raven and her face turned hard as the concrete that surrounded them.

"You didn't say she was part of this," Emilia said.

"She wasn't on the TV as well?" January furrowed her brows. Not just at the other woman's surprise, but also at her reaction. It was not as decidedly frozen as Captain Braddock's had been. But it was far from warm either.

"The local stations avoid showing me on the air," Blood Raven explained. "The Detroit Police Chief revokes the press credentials of any reporter who does."

"What, that's crazy?" January sputtered. "They can't… Why?"

"It might have something to do with all the people your new friend has killed," Emilia said. "It kind of sits bad with some folks."

"She-" January let her words die off. She remembered that conversation about Blood Raven around the breakfast table just a few weeks ago, the morning after her first outing as Stormcrow.

"How many people has she killed in just the last decade? A dozen?"

"Like that maniac who walked into the Ren Cen and just started shooting people? Or the ones who were kidnapping young girls and selling them overseas? The world's a better place without them in it."


"Is this going to be a problem?" January found her hands falling to her hips, arms akimbo. She did not mean to get antagonistic. But the fact was Blood Raven had been there when she needed her most, had even healed her seared lungs. Also, the truth was, deep down, she did not really feel bad that she had killed people like mass shooters or sex slavers either. Maybe she was supposed to care. But she didn't.

Emilia looked from Blood Raven to January, and back again. She seemed to be weighing her thoughts.

"I am asking you for help to catch a murderer," January said. "I am not asking you to like her, or agree with her. This isn't about you, or her, or me, it's about the two people who died tonight."

"We may effect a solution on our own," Blood Raven interjected. "I have been protecting this city for half a century, with little to no aid from the police."

"But that's not me." January whirled around to face the older woman. She respected her. But she did not have to agree with her. "We should all be lifting each other up, not tearing each other down."

"I once heard a man say that a house divided against itself cannot stand," Blood Raven nodded. "That is why I am still standing here with you."

"Okay," Emilia relented. "I'll help. But if I'm in, I am in all the way. We do this by the numbers. We gather evidence, we make a proper arrest, the perp goes to trial, no legal loopholes."

"Of course, that's one reason I called you," January agreed. "You can actually arrest him."

"Lead the way." Blood Raven smiled faintly, and held out a hand to the elevators.

They followed Emilia into the hospital. While she was not in uniform, the state trooper had her badge slug around her neck, to clearly identify her. With just a few quiet words with the nursing staff she learned where the survivors of the fire had been taken. Once there, a few more quiet words with the police in the hall gained them passage into the wards where they were being treated.

Everyone stared of course. Even if they had just been cosplayers, they would have immediately grabbed the attention of onlookers. But Blood Raven had been a feature of the city for decades. Had she just said half a century? January made a mental note to look into that. She was not just a superhero, she was a legend. Everyone knew her on sight, and while someone might imitate her armor, there was no mistaking her presence. When you stood in the same room with her, and breathed the same air, you felt her, like a ghost walking over your grave.

January had only been at this super thing for a little less than a month. But people clearly recognized her as well. The name Stormcrow leapt from their lips. They smiled. They took pictures and videos. A few children even waved. She could not stop herself from waving back.

She also noticed the stark difference between how people looked at her, and how they looked at Blood Raven. They had cheered when the flame-haired superheroine was far away. Like the crowd at the music festival. But when they were up close, near enough feel the weight of her stare, and the aura of power that cloaked her, then things changed. No one waved to Blood Raven.

The survivors of the fire were mostly young, in their twenties, though some were perhaps twice that age. Their clothing and skin was blacked with soot and grime. Some were breathing through oxygen masks. Scrapes and bumps and bruises, and minor burns were common. None of their injuries appeared to be truly critical however.

January started out by asking for the woman she had rescued from the front of the Dutchman, the one who had doused herself with foam. The hospital workers did not know who she meant at first. But when January added that she thought she had suffered a head wound, that jogged one nurse's memory.

"We have a Jane Doe who that might be," the nurse replied. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, and dark hair that was nearly buzzed down to his scalp. "She's suffering from a concussion however. She has yet to regain consciousness."

"Show me," Blood Raven's words were not a request, but a commandment. The dark-haired man nodded, and took them down a new set of hallways to the ICU. There they found a woman with her head swathed in bandages, and an oxygen mask strapped to her face. She lay motionless in bed, and a jungle of wires connected her to mountains of electronics that beeped and chirped to either side.

Blood Raven leaned over her, and placed a hand on her head. January felt a trickle of energy move between the two women. The elder heroine frowned. Jagged claws sprang from her hand, and she deftly slashed open one of the patient's arms. The nurse gasped in shock, and moved to intercept Blood Raven. But January caught him, and held him at bay while the other woman did her work.

January did not see it. But she felt it. The feeling of energy moving between the two was as unmistakable as the sound of the Gaelic chant that filled the air. It was the same magic that Blood Raven had used to heal both her and Ken Reeve. She turned to look once the singing had died down, and saw Blood Raven sway on her feet.

She was able to catch the other woman before she could plunge to the floor. Burns marred her face, and January smelled burned flesh from under her cowl. She hung there in her arms, until a hot, hissing and popping noise rose up from Blood Raven's skull. January tasted blood, and felt hot, sanguine energy bubble up through the elder heroine's flesh. The burns vanished, and that charred odor faded. The elder heroine opened her eyes once more, and they glowed with red fire.

"I shall be fine now," Blood Raven nodded to January. She stood back, and allowed the other woman to stand freely once more. "You were quite correct nurse, she had suffered from a concussion, caused by severe blunt trauma to the head."

"Who are you?"

They all turned to see the bandaged woman sitting up in the bed. She pulled the oxygen mask from her face, and touched her head gingerly.

"What am I doing here? OMG, you're... you're... her! You're them!"

"Yes we are," Blood Raven answered. "Do you remember your name?"

"Well of course, I'm Amanda, Amanda Paines." She looked around. "What am I doing here?"

"You were badly injured in a fire," the nurse explained. He rushed forward, and began going over the readouts from the various machines. He was plainly stunned at the radical transformation of his patient. "We were not sure when you might wake up."

"I feel fine," Amanda said. She tugged at the bandages that swathed her head, revealing a torrent of curly auburn hair beneath. "What's all this stuff?"

"You suffered a serious head wound," the nurse responded. "We were-"

"You are now fine," Blood Raven cut the nurse off. "You may remove the bandages. We believe the person who injured you may have set the fire tonight. Do you remember who that was?"

"Fire, what fire?" Amanda stared blankly back at them.

"Tell us the last thing you do remember," Blood Raven said.

January not only heard the words, she felt them. They reverberated deep down in her chest, and vibrated through her bones. It was like standing in front of an amp when the music was turned up too high. You could feel the sound waves physically pulse through your body. Yet Blood Raven's voice was low. It was not the acoustic vibrations that she felt, it was something else, something much more powerful, and clearly not part of the mundane world.

She felt a steady, thumping beat: bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump. It had a rhythm, that slowed down into a steady cadence. It was a heartbeat, and somehow January knew that it was Amanda's.

"I was at the Flying Dutchman," she said in a leaden, almost robotic voice. "I was there to meet my boyfriend Guy. Then my ex showed up. He made a big scene. He can't move on since I dumped him. Total incel. He thinks he owns me. He said he would get me back. That he would take me back. He said if I didn't go with him, he'd teach me a lesson. I was about to call the cops on him."

"Then what?" Blood Raven gently prodded.

"He left after Guy showed up," Amanda said. "We hung out a while downstairs and vibed. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Then... Then... I don't know, I can't remember. I can't remember anything after that."

January remembered the bathroom. That was where the fire had started. She had definitely been there at ground zero.

"What is your former paramour's name?" Blood Raven prodded.

"John, John Gray."

"Does he drive a Chevrolet Avalanche?" Blood Raven ventured.

"How did you know that?" Amanda responded.

That conjured looks between the three women. Emilia made a phone call, and asked for info on Gray. While the state trooper was busy with the dispatcher, Blood Raven continued.

"Tell me about John Gray."

Amanda went on to give details about the apartment in which her former boyfriend lived, as well as his job, his family, and his social media accounts. Blood Raven had to stop her when she began to list his favorite foods. She passed a hand before Amanda's eyes, and the young woman suddenly blinked.

"Did you say something about a fire?" Amanda looked from one superheroine from another, as if she had no knowledge of what she had just said.

"Yes, you were injured in a fire," Blood Raven explained gently. "You suffered a serious head injury, and have lost your memory of the event. This is not unusual with brain injuries. You may remember in time, or never at all."

"OMG! I have brain damage!" she grabbed for her head.

"Nay," Blood Raven waved a hand in the negative. "You are fine. As I said, you are fully recovered. You may go home now. The police may come to interview you later."

With that Blood Raven swept from the room, her cape billowing behind her. She paused at the door however, and turned back to the nurse.

"I offer you my sincerest apologies for my brusque behavior," she said quite sincerely. "Yours is a noble calling."

Then she did stride from the room. January found herself pulled along in her wake, along with Emilia.

"What was all that?" the state trooper gasped in a mixture of horror and amazement as she struggled to keep up.

"I have my own way of learning the truth of things," Blood Raven replied. "It can have a strong influence on those that lack mental fortitude."

"Thank you Obi-Wan," January breathed. Blood Raven just stared at her, as if she did not know what that meant. Who in the world had not seen Star Wars? Or even just an Obi-Wan is Jesus meme?

"I'm calling for a warrant right now," Emilia said, back to business. "Hopefully we'll have it by the time we get there."

Posted by: Acadian Dec 28 2019, 08:07 PM

I think it is great that you are showing big organizations as a composite of their individuals, not so Borg-like as oft depicted. Stormcrow realizes she just has to seek those individuals that she can work with (like Trooper Mercado).

Some interesting girl talk in the opening as the two supers continue to evaluate each other.

"Is this going to be a problem?" January found her hands falling to her hips, arms akimbo. She did not mean to get antagonistic. But the fact was Blood Raven had been there when she needed her most, had even healed her seared lungs. Also, the truth was, deep down, she did not really feel bad that she had killed people like mass shooters or sex slavers either. Maybe she was supposed to care. But she didn't.’
- - First I love the pose that, for some reason, seems so familiar. . . . tongue.gif Ahh, Blood Raven is of an era when righteous justice was delivered without layers of bureaucracy – she would do well in Tamriel. I love how you set this scene up with Emilia and Blood Raven at odds with each other, forcing Stormcrow into the role of peacekeeper. To her credit, Stormcrow stood up to both women and convinced all that her proposed course of cooperation was the wisest path ahead. She definitely displayed high speechcraft (or that elusive 18 in charisma) here.

And Blood Raven demonstrates another of her spells. Like her healing, this one is both effective and somehow troubling. It makes me wonder if Blood Raven is a master of the illusion school of magic.

I wanted to say how much I’m enjoying this story. The passion you feel for January comes through strongly – making her a very endearing character. And you are building a wonderful cast of characters (Gadget, Blood Raven, Emilia. . . ) for her to interact with.

Posted by: Renee Jan 3 2020, 05:06 PM

Oh no, that's upsetting to hear. I know that's a huge controversy, which public bathrooms to use. sad.gif In Baltimore (for a long time) the most obvious trans people were hookers and occasional pole dancers. I imagine they had all sorts of struggles even if they weren't transgendered.

"Electronic music festival"... see, I heard her say this in a haughty tone. smile.gif Like she can't process this, so she sounds as though she's looking down upon the concept. Maybe even inadvertently.

(If you can't tell so far, I am rather fascinated with Blood Raven)

Uh oh. What's up with Mercado?

QUOTE
she did not really feel bad that she had killed people like mass shooters or sex slavers either


I don't feel bad either. Like, some of our real-life press is making a huge fuss about that guy.... um... Jeffery Epstein, and how he died under police custody. Like THAT is supposed to make me get riled up, not the fact that this guy was guilty of multiple child r4pes.

I like that there's tension between Jan and BR.

QUOTE
A few children even waved. She could not stop herself from waving back.


Aw, she's a sweetie!

QUOTE
Who in the world had not seen Star Wars?


Blood Raven might ask "Who in the world had not seen a Lord Chamberlain's Men production?" laugh.gif

Love this.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 4 2020, 06:08 PM

Acadian: There will be more to that particular girl talk in chapter 4. A lot more.

That whole hands on hips is the default pose for ESO isn't it? laugh.gif

Blood Raven is definitely from an era of righteous justice, hand-delivered. She grew up in Boston of the 1770s. Mob violence and eventually armed rebellion were right in front of her eyes every day of her childhood. Trying to play nice for the cameras and spin opinion in the modern world are things she grapples with, sometimes quite badly. OTOH, she really knows how to chew the scenery, and create a spectacle to entrance others.

BR has some serious chops in illusion-style magic. It is kind of a necessity for her. But she does take it to a whole other level.

January has really become a way to channel my old love of comic books and superhero films, and turn them into something more modern and current. She and all her pals are a lot of fun to write about.


Renee: As we will later find out, Blood Raven is a musician herself. She learned to play the piano as a girl in Mrs. Gibson's Finishing School for Proper Young Girls. She picked up the violin later in life. A scandal, as it was something women just did not do at that time (the 1780s). In any case, she cannot wrap her brain around electronic and music.

I enjoyed the conflict between the three women in the last episode. They all definitely do not see eye to eye with one another. But they all still came together in common cause. Which I think says a lot about all three of them.

I don't think anyone is upset that Epstein died. What they are upset about is that he magically died before he could implicate the other rich and powerful men who were part of his cabal.

Lord Chamerlain's Men indeed! Now that was good entertainment!







https://msu.edu/~jungahre/transmedia/the-hollow-men.html



Book 3.12 - Stormcrow Burning

Before they could return to the parking garage, several people blocked their way. They wanted to thank Stormcrow for saving them, or their loved ones. January was dumfounded, and spent a moment smiling, shaking hands, and taking selfies with them. Then she quickly extricated herself and caught up with the other two women.

"If you are doing this for the adulation of the crowds, stop," Blood Raven declared. "It will only end badly, for you and for them."

"What was I supposed to do, bite their heads off? You know if you were a little nicer to people, they might trust you more, and maybe even help you sometime," January snapped back. Never meet your heroes, she thought. They will only disappoint you.

Blood Raven said nothing. She simply stared back at January.

"I am not doing this for fame," January sighed. "I am doing this because I know what it's like to feel helpless. I am doing this for all the people who cannot stand up for themselves alone."

"I sincerely hope that is so," Blood raven replied.

They crowded into Emilia's Jeep, and sped off into the night. Soon they pulled up to the apartment complex where he lived. His Avalanche was there in the lot. They spilled from their vehicle and made their way into his building with a crisp trot. There was still no reply to Emilia's request for a warrant. In moments they were at his door.

"Leave this to me," Blood Raven said. "I shall get the truth of matters from him."

"No!" both January and Emilia declared in unison. The state trooper continued on her own. "Arson cases are extremely difficult to prosecute. If you go barging in there you are just giving his defense attorney an opportunity to get him off."

"You speak truly. Arson cases are difficult to gain convictions for. If he is guilty, he is not likely to ever face justice for his crime." Blood Raven turned to January. "That is why I do what I do. No one else will stand for the people of this city."

"Not this time," January insisted. "I am not going to become a bloodthirsty vigilante right out of the gate. Do you see how people look at you? They might hate me because I am a lesbian, they might hate me because I am trans. But I won't have them fear me because of something I have actually done. I won't give them the satisfaction."

"They will hate you and fear you regardless," Blood Raven sighed. "But you will have to learn that for yourself, will you not? Very well, we shall wait."

They waited. January wanted to pace. But she was not going to be one of those minds that lacked discipline and resolve. She closed her eyes, and ran through her elemental exercises in her head. That slowed her heart, eased her breathing, and washed some of the tension from her body. When she finally opened her eyes, she found Blood Raven staring back at her.

Emilia's phone chimed. She swiped its screen, and her lips blossomed into a smile.

"We have the warrant," she declared. "Let me make the arrest."

She knocked on the door, and stepped to one side, so that she was not standing directly in front of it. January had seen enough movies to know that was so if Gray shot through the door, it would not hit her. January glanced back, to the apartment door across the hall from Gray's. A gunshot might miss Emilia, but it would go straight into that home.

January stepped directly in front of the door.

She felt a hum of energy. Somehow she knew it was nothing physical. It was in her head. She glanced down, and saw golden light dancing around the tips of Blood Raven's fingers. It was the same shade of light as the force field she had used to hold up the ceiling of the Flying Dutchman. Clearly, she was thinking of defense as well.

There was no answer. Emilia knocked again. This time she identified herself as the police, and announced that she had a warrant to search the premises. There was still no reply.

"There are none living within," Blood Raven declared.

Emilia prepared to force the door. January stopped her with a wave of her hand. Instead she pulled out the electric lockpick that Gadget had built for her. It worked like a charm, and she heard the clack of the bolt shooting open a moment later.

January went in first. She was not sure what to expect. She believed what Blood Raven had said about there being no one in the apartment, no one alive at least. But her recent encounters with Isaac and Archie reminded her that not everyone had a beating heart, or blood flowing through their veins.

The apartment was a mess. Socks lay discarded on the floor, along with an empty glass stained white with a coating of dried milk. Bottles of beer were stacked on the coffee table in front of the television, which showed coverage of the fire from one of the local channels. Discarded on the carpet beside it was a tire iron that was caked with dried blood and bits of curly auburn hair.

An odd shadow stretched across the floor. January followed it, to find the form of a man hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. The table had been pushed out of the way, and a chair lay on its side beneath him. His eyes and tongue bulged, and his face was a mass of red blotches. The smell of gasoline rolled off of him, stinging January's nostrils. He was completely still, like a rag doll suspended by its neck.

January closed her eyes. After everything that had happened, she had expected some sort of dramatic closure. There would be a chase, a fight, a defiant declaration, followed by a single punch to the jaw and a wrap up to the case. But it turned out real life was not like a detective movie. Her mind went back to what her English Lit professor had said about Frankenstein. The real enemy was alienation, loneliness, and despair.

January sighed. Blood Raven picked up his phone, and waved a hand over the screen. Once again, January felt hum of power from the other heroine's fingertips. The phone immediately unlocked, and in moments she brought up a spate of texts to Amanda Paines that were alternately threatening and pleading. She handed the phone to January to see, but said nothing.

January heard Emilia call the Detroit Police, and request detectives and the coroner. The state trooper's tone was nothing but professional, but January could see the deflated look in her eyes as well. She glanced at Blood Raven. But the other woman was impassive, made of stone. She stared at the dead man, and finally spoke softly.

"Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men"


January instantly recognized the T.S. Eliot poem. She had studied it in class of course. It certainly put words to how she felt: hollow, shapeless, colorless, a paralyzed force, a gesture without motion.

Blood Raven looked at January, but said nothing. After all, what was there to really say? She slid open the patio door and stepped outside. Then her body literally exploded into a conspiracy of ravens. Their wings were loud as thunder, and their rough voices a noisome racket on the wind. The cloud of jet-black corvids rose up into the sky like a black storm. Within moments they faded into the night, leaving no trace of Blood Raven in their wake.

"Damn," Emilia breathed. "How does she do that?"

"I don't know," January said. For a moment she forgot about all of the deaths, and just focused on the amazing transformation that she had witnessed. Now that was a mic drop! "But one day, I will."

Posted by: Acadian Jan 4 2020, 09:50 PM

"I am not doing this for fame," January sighed. "I am doing this because I know what it's like to feel helpless. I am doing this for all the people who cannot stand up for themselves."
- - Defend the defenseless. I wanted to cheer for January here – both for her principles and her optimism in how she responded to the more cynical Blood Raven. Yes, Blood Raven has encountered much disapproval during her long life. . . but so has January during her short life.

I liked how Blood Raven turned Emilia’s concern regarding following proper procedures lest they lose a conviction into the fact that Blood Raven’s objective was not a conviction – but justice.

You really shined here by showing each woman acting per their nature - yet toward a common goal.

What they discovered in the apartment of ‘Red Avalanche’ was anticlimactic but accomplished the objectives of all three women.

’Then her body literally exploded into a conspiracy of ravens. Their wings were loud as thunder,…’
- - What a spectacular exit! I found it very appropriate that January referred to it a mic drop – a phrase that would flow naturally from her, yet be unfamiliar to those several times her age. Like Blood Raven. Like me. wink.gif


Nit: ’January followed it, to find the form of {a?} man hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen.’

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jan 6 2020, 02:26 AM


Somehow I can't imagine Blood Raven listening to electronic music. I agree with Storm on this one.

Great exchange between Blood Raven and Stormcrow.

"A story for another day," In Subrosa, I trust. I'm Blood Raven will tell this story, and not pull a J.J Abrams.

'She remembered that conversation about Blood Raven around the breakfast table just a few weeks ago, the morning after her first outing as Stormcrow.'

I remember this conversation too. The one she had with her father over vigilantes taking laws into their own hands? Being from an era with less politics and more action, I'm sure Stormcrow understands Blood Raven's stance on crime, and the harsh hammer that must fall.

There is a nice contrast between the two heroes and you continue to show us as they spend more time together. Blood Raven's note of Storm's treatment of the fans was noted, just as we, once again, realize that Jan's doing this because she knows its the right thing to do. To support those that need it, and not for fame.

"They will hate you and fear you regardless. But you will have to learn that for yourself, will you not? Very well. We shall wait."
She has a point here. In a world full of hate, fear, distrust and intolerance, Jan will have to learn how to navigate through these crazy times. Being a superhero is not without a price, but one Stormcrow is indeed willing to pay for the betterment of others.

Posted by: Renee Jan 8 2020, 06:58 PM

After I posted last week, I remembered Jan is an English Major. So chances are if Blood Raven retorted with "You haven't heard of Lord Chamberlain's Men" Jan would be able to 1-up the Raven. biggrin.gif "Their company exited toward the early 1600s...." Oh, snap.

Yes, ladies were meant to play the harpsichord. The spinet. The lute (I think, maybe I'm wrong. Pretty sure I've seen some Renaissance pictures showing females playing lutes though).

Uh oh. Somebody's going to recognize January from all these selfies! Hmm maybe not. I forget if her headgear covers her face, or how much of her face it covers.

Blood Raven has Detect Life. bluewizardsmile.gif And there she goes, as a flock of fowl.

See, they've found a body, but IS IT the arsonist? *dun dun dunnnn*


Posted by: SubRosa Jan 11 2020, 06:04 PM

Acadian: Those last two episodes that put Jan, Emilia, and BR together were a joy to write. I was able to clearly define each character simply through their interactions, with each acting true to their natures. I was also pleased to show that you can disagree with someone, and still respect them, and work with them for a greater purpose. It just takes ethics and a commitment to something above your own ego.

I never thought of Red Avalanche as being a super name. It is a good one! Maybe I can use it for a Soviet hero from WWII. Red Storm is another good one. Red goes pretty well with anything. Except maybe urine. Red Pee would be a disturbing find.

Blood Raven's spectacular exit was of course lifted from the Prophecy movies, where Gabriel does the same thing. I guess it has always been lodged somewhere back in my brain.

Thank you for finding the nit. Even with all the extra drafts I am doing on the Crow, some still slip by.


Darkness Eternal: Blood Raven is a Classical and Jazz music fan, or the old fashion lounge singers from the 30s and 40s.

That story of what Blood Raven was chasing will take center place in chapter 4. It is just the tip of a very big iceberg that will be revealed then.

January's difficulties with navigating the modern world will be shown often, and her wrestling with the ethical conundrums that come with the age we all live in.


Renee: January would know about Lord Chamberlin's men, and of course Shakespheare. Though I don't think she likes his stuff much. The language alone is difficult to get through.

Blood Raven would have learned on the harpischord. I read that the first piano fortes were coming to America right around the time of her childhood, but she would not have had the opportunity to play one then. She prefers an actual piano these days, for the fuller, richer sound, and the way the notes reverberate for a longer time. We will later learn that in her past life (when she was actually alive), she and her husband owned a tavern. That is when she learned to play the violin, as it would have been much more to the tastes of her patrons, and a lot cheaper.

January's mask covers all of her face except her mouth and lower jaw. So she can eat or drink. So no worries about being recognized.

A lot of Blood Raven's powers are your standard vampire fare. I actually looked through my old Vampire the Masquerade books to get some ideas for things she could do with blood. We will see a spectacular one in chapter 4.

I was not really thinking that 'Red Avalanche' might be a fall guy. I wrote it a straightforward crazy ex-boyfriend turned violent piece. I could still go the way of some other mastermind behind it all. But I think I am going to stick with the original plan, because I have someone else in mind for a master villain orchestrating events from behind the scenes. He is back there already, we just do not know it yet. He won't be revealed until chapter 4. But given your idea, I did go back and try to add some more cursory evidence that Red Avalanche was the real killer.

This is one of the things I like about posting here. Feedback like this helps me immensely, because I cannot look at the story from every angle, so I miss opportunities sometimes. Having other people to point them out is a great help!





https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://myshakespeare.com/macbeth/act-5-scene-5

https://youtu.be/-oqAU5VxFWs

https://youtu.be/1D5PtyrewSs

https://youtu.be/S18LiHiJOXo





Book 3.13 - Stormcrow Burning

"So how do you deal with it?" January asked. "He tries to kill her and a hundred other people, and then he kills himself. It all just seems so pointless. Like Shakespeare said: it's a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

"Alcohol, lots of alcohol," Emilia replied. "Look, this is the hardest part of the job. The truth is when someone is dead there is no real point or reason that makes it better. Whether it's accidental, or random, or filled with passion, or cold and calculated, in the end, dead is dead. All those tomorrows lost forever."

They walked away from Gray's apartment complex. The Detroit Police had taken over the scene, leaving nothing left for them to do. The parking lot glowed with spinning red and blue lights. There were police cars, an ambulance, and the medical examiner's van. The news crews were just arriving as well.

January did not feel like being on television right now. At first it had been a thrill. But now every time a camera was pointed at her, she felt like an actor on a stage, playing a role. She was keenly aware of how people might interpret her part, or worse misinterpret it. A lifetime on the internet had taught her how quickly people were to read whatever they wanted into even the most innocuous of statements or actions. Not to mention how easily quotes and edited videos could deliberately be portrayed out of context in order to make someone look bad.

Maybe the Detroit Police were doing Blood Raven a favor, by scaring the local media away from her? Didn't that just give her carte blanche to quietly do her work in the shadows?

"Want to grab a beer?" Emilia asked.

It was late, and January was exhausted. Now that the adrenaline from the fire and the investigation had long since worn off, her body felt like lead. A weariness that soaked her bones pulled at her eyelids. She was worn out. Worse from any workout or fight she had ever took part in.

Was this a debilitating side effect of the healing Blood Raven had worked upon her? Or was it just the night finally catching up with her?

She knew that she should just go home, and pass out in her bed. But the last thing she felt like doing was sleeping. The last thing she wanted was to be alone.

"I would love to." January glanced over at the nearest news van. "But wouldn't they love to put that on TV."

"Come back to my place then," the state trooper said.

"You're on."

January followed the Puerto Rican woman to her Jeep. She was thankful for the darkness, for none of the news crews noticed them in all the hullabaloo. They sped off into the night with Jennifer Lopez playing over the speakers. January wanted to laugh. What could be more stereotypical? At least it wasn't country.

"So are they all like this?" January turned her eyes from the streets sliding by, and looked at the other woman.

"No," Emilia said. "They usually aren't so... grim, nor so quick."

"To be honest, the two of you really shouldn't have been involved. You should leave this kind of thing to the regular police." Emilia continued after a long pause. "Oh, I don't mean the fire. Disasters like that are exactly what capes like you are best at, that and fighting other metas of course. But regular police work, following up on leads and making arrests, it's better if you leave that to people like me."

"I thought we could help," January wanted to pout, but hoped that she was not doing so. "We got the type of car he had, and Blood Raven did her... whammy... to find out who the killer was."

"We would have gotten all that eventually, and it all would have held up in court," Emilia contended. "The product of meta-human power use is not admissible as evidence. Defense attorneys love seeing capes. You guys are great at punching things, not so good at legally gathering evidence, or upholding their client's civil rights."

"Well, that is why I called you," January said. "I wanted a real cop involved. One I could trust."

"Thank you," Emilia said. "That means, well, we don't always hear people say that. Please don't take this the wrong way. We need people like you out there. But there are some things that people like me still do better. Even supers with full legal empowerment - like the Sentinels over in Chicago - generally leave the actual police work to the police."

"Done," January said. "I like working with you."

"Well that made one of you," Emilia sighed.

"I think Blood Raven did too," January argued. "She may not have always agreed with you. But she did listen to you, the entire time."

"You like her don't you?"

"I grew up hearing stories about her," January shrugged. "She's as much a part of Detroit as the Tigers, or Better Made, or the Big Tire on I-94. I didn't know what to think of meeting her. She's even more larger than life than I ever could have imagined. But she's also more human than an urban legend ever could be. She's very standoffish, but also kind. She was very compassionate back at the fire. She didn't have to be. She strikes me as being very alone. Like she does not dare to show people her heart."

"But you don' t like her much, do you?" Now it was January's turn to ask.

"I didn't say that," Emilia replied.

"You didn't have to," January contended.

"Look it's hard for a police officer to like someone who's killed so many people as her," Emilia sighed. "Yes, I was in the Army. I know that sometimes you do what you have to, and it doesn't make you evil. But when a vigilante is the person of interest in so many murders, well, it's hard."

"I'm a vigilante too," January pointed out.

"But you haven't killed anyone," Emilia said.

"That might change," January said. "I hope not. But this is real life, not a comic book. No one knows what is going to happen, or what choices we might have to make. I don't think anyone has the right to so easily judge her. There but for the grace of the goddess we all go."

Emilia's place was a small, red brick house in Hazel Park. It was barely a mile from January's own house in Warren. The furniture was simple, but tasteful. There was an image of the Virgin Mary on one wall, along with prints of a sunset beach, and a brilliantly colored traditional Spanish city street. Small throw pillows on the couch were decorated with the Puerto Rican flag. There were numerous pictures of people that must have been her family all about. If so, she had been right about what she said in the hospital. She had a big family.

The entire space had a very warm, inviting, and definitely Latin feeling. January found it immensely comfortable.

January noted several cd racks near the stereo. She drifted over to look at them, while Emilia took off her badge and gun and vanished into the kitchen. January could not believe that anyone had cds anymore. Or even a stereo. There was a tuner, a cd player, even a tape deck in the stack of electronics. She wondered if Emilia had a horse and buggy back in the garage?

Emilia returned with a two bottles of beer, and offered one to January.

"You know, technically I'm not old enough to drink this," the 19-year-old noted as she accepted one of the cold bottles.

"Take a walk on the wild side chica," Emilia laughed.

January took a sip, and immediately made a face.

"You people drink this stuff?" she gagged. "It's terrible."

Emilia laughed. "It grows on you."

January set the bottle down on a coaster. She felt a little dizzy, like her head was too heavy, and moving it made the world seem to slosh around back and forth. She stared back down at the beer. Surely one sip could not have caused that?

January blinked hard, and looked away. She noticed a framed picture of Emilia and woman with soft brown skin, straightened hair, and sloe eyes. They looked very cozy together.

'Who is that?"

"That's Jennifer, my girlfriend." Emilia said proudly. "She's a teacher in Oak Park. I met her through work."

"I hope you weren't arresting her students!"

"Oh no," Emilia laughed. "For the last year I've been doing community service. I do a lot of outreach with kids, plus social media monitoring, and working with neighborhood watch programs, and other things."

"That actually sounds nice," January said.

"Yeah, before that I spent seven years on highway patrol, and two more as a detective," Emilia made a face. "It's not that bad most days. Except the times you have to peel someone off the highway, or pull the needle out of a dead addict's arm."

"That sounds gruesome," January winced. She immediately thought of the the oxygen-starved body of John Gray hanging from the ceiling.

"You learn to build a callus to it," Emilia shrugged. "Just keep calm and carry on like the Brits say."

Was she going to have to build that callus? Right now, it sounded good. But she wondered, how thick was Blood Raven's callus? Is that why she was so distant from people? Was she building up barriers on purpose to protect herself from emotional pain?

This was the problem with being a writer. It taught her to try to see every character's point of view and motivations, whether she really wanted to or not.

"You aren't going to drink that are you?" Emilia nodded to the beer, which had gone untouched since January had set it down.

"I'm sorry," January shook her head. "I guess I am just not a beer person."

"Well your waist will thank you for that," Emilia said. "I could look to see if I have any milk and cookies."

"Actually milk would be great," January said seriously. "It does a body good after all."

"Could you be any more Lawful Good?" Emilia laughed as she took the beer bottle back into the kitchen. "I suppose you ride a unicorn in your spare time?"

"That would be so dope!" January again said in all seriousness. "You know D&D though? You don't look like a gamer."

"My brother roped me into playing it a couple of times. That was back before I joined the Army." Emilia's voice floated out from the kitchen. "I thought it was kind of silly, playing make-believe with dice. I suppose you loved it right? Hey, do you like Dr Piper?"

"Do I ever!" January said loudly, so her voice would be heard in the other room. She pulled down the front of her armored tunic. She fished out her new raven banner pendant and turned on the video camouflage unit built into it. Then she tucked it back under her armor before Emilia could return.

"You like D&D, or Dr P?" Emilia returned from around the corner with a can of the latter.

"Both," January said. "Dr P better though. I never liked the magic system in D&D. You cast a spell and then forget it? Magic doesn't work like that. To be honest, D&D's more like a gateway drug. You start with it because that's all anyone has ever heard of. Then you move on to much better games, like Shadowrun or Call of Cthulhu."

"I had you pegged for a nerd," Emilia smiled. "You have that whole smart, thoughtful, social awkwardness thing going, just like my brother Eduardo. Let me guess, you played a Paladin."

"Why thank you," January said as she accepted the can of pop, which proudly announced that it was made from a blend of 33 flavors. "I was always more partial to Monks however. I have a Kenku Monk named Harmony, or just Harm for short."

"A what-ku?" Emilia did not try to hide her consternation.

"It's like a humanoid crow, but without wings," January explained.

"Of course," Emilia made a show of face-palming. "I guess I should have seen that from a mile away."

"Let me guess, you were a Fighter?" January ventured.

"Close," Emilia said, "a Ranger. Eduardo showed me pictures of this Dark Elf guy with twin scimitars, and I thought that was pretty cool."

"Drizzt!" January exclaimed. "Yeah, he made everyone want to play a Drow, myself included."

"So do you see anything you like?" Emilia nodded to the music collection that January had parked herself in front of.

January looked back over the cds. She was tempted to remark how old they all were. But even a nerd like her knew that would not be very tactful. Then her eyes glowed when they settled upon a gem.

"You have Counting Crows?" she exclaimed. "I love them!"

"I should have known!" Emilia laughed, and gestured to the crow logo emblazoned across January's armor. "I suppose you like the Black Crows too"

"No," January shook her head. "They're just a bunch of stoners making noise."

She fished out the cd and put it in the player. She cued it up to the fourth song. In a moment a guitar came strumming through the speakers, and she nodded along to the music.

"Let me guess, your favorite Counting Crows song is Mr. Jones!" Emilia laughed.

January stuck her tongue out at the older woman. "That's like the one they always played on the radio back in the day right? No, my favorite used to always be Long December."

"Isn't that kind of depressing?" Emilia asked, and took a swig from her beer.

"My friend Gadget says all their songs are depressing." January admitted. "But it always sounded hopeful to me."

"And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe,
Maybe this year will be better than the last.
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself,
To hold on to these moments as they pass."


"You said used to," Emilia noted, "so what's your favorite now?"

"This is it," January nodded to the speakers. "Four Days. It always makes me think of flying."

"Take a breath,
Take your time,
Spread your wings and rise,
Rise into the black Ohio skies."


"So what's it like, flying?" Emilia asked more seriously.

"Awesome," January said plainly. "It is pure, unadulterated awesome. When I am in the sky, everything else just falls away. All puns intended. Sometimes I feel that I could soar to Valhalla."

"If you aren't careful, you just might," Emilia pointed out."

"That's fine with me. But I'd rather to go Sessrúmnir." January said honestly. She went on when it was plain that Emilia did not know what she was talking about. "It's Freyja's hall. She and her Valkyrjur gather up the slain. She gives half to Odin, and those ones go to Valhalla. She keeps the other half in her own hall. Since she's a nice person, she even brings their loved ones back when they die too, so they all can spend the rest of eternity together."

"That is very thoughtful," Emilia nodded.

"She's a cool chick with a hot ass," January said completely deadpan. Emilia nearly sprayed a mouthful of beer all over her.

"Well, that's what I heard anyway," January winked.

"The Wedding Singer for the win," Emilia smiled. "You know, you're pretty cool too Crow. What do I even call you? Storm? Crow? Crowgirl?"

"Well I think calling me Storm might get me sued by a certain comic book company…" January whistled. "But I do kind of like Crowgirl. It has a nice feel to it."

"Crowgirl it is then," Emilia held up her beer bottle, and January clinked her Dr Piper against it.

While January was sitting there feeling chill, she remembered something important.

"Oh snap! I need to text my mom to tell her I'll be out late!"

Posted by: Acadian Jan 11 2020, 08:06 PM

This was simply a wonderful episode, chock full of good one-on-one girl talk! I bet you had as much fun writing it as I did reading it.

The ladies covered a lot of ground over plenty of subjects, but the big news is that Crowgirl unveiled herself to a new and trusted friend.

That Emilia has a girlfriend both simplifies and complicates things – if that makes sense. As a blossoming superheroine, January has enough new things going on in her life right now. Emilia’s friendship, trust and connection to police stuff is plenty for now.

"Video camouflage," January said. "My alignment isn't Stupid Good you know." tongue.gif

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jan 13 2020, 12:39 AM

This was a great chapter! The exchange between the two was very insightful, and I enjoyed reading it. Jan's thoughts here showed much of what's been happening.

"January did not feel like being on television right now. At first it had been a thrill. But now every time a camera was pointed at her, she felt like an actor on a stage, playing a role. She was keenly aware of how people might interpret her part, or worse misinterpret it. A lifetime on the internet had taught her how quickly people were to read whatever they wanted into even the most innocuous of statements or actions. Not to mention how easily quotes and edited videos could deliberately be portrayed out of context in order to make someone look bad.
The power of the press, huh. Even in our own world media can be altered in a dishonest fashion to further one's agenda. The media itself can be just as powerful as any super-villain out there. She's wise to worry about this, too!

There was much insight on the the legal aspects of the follow-up of a crime, and how metas are their own thing. I'd like to believe both are very much needed and the one can't live without the other, of course.

I can see why Emilia would be distrustful of Blood Raven. When someone has that much power and was responsible for deaths, even, let's say, somewhat justifiable deaths, its still a slippery slope when it comes to morals, especially in this modern age.

The entire space had a very warm, inviting, and definitely Latin feeling. January found it immensely comfortable.
This was on point! Since half of my family is Latin in a way, I can totally agree with this!

"You people drink this stuff?" she gagged. "It's terrible."
laugh.gif laugh.gif Jan is totally a milk drinker!

I honestly thought Emilia would be a love interest. Actually, I still think she might be a love interest.

Note: I'm curious about the Sentinels in Chicago now!


Posted by: Renee Jan 13 2020, 03:52 PM

Okay yes, that's good her mask covers all her face. Still, I can't help thinking maybe her eyes are distinctive enough for somebody to say "WAIT!.. I know those eyes..."

QUOTE
The product of metahuman power use is not admissible as evidence. Defense attorneys love seeing capes. You guys are great at punching things, not so good at legally gathering evidence, or upholding their client's civil rights."


Interesting. I can see Emilia's side of the argument too, since that is exactly what defense lawyers do, look for any kind of way to cause a mistrial.

So there are capes over Chicago too! Dang, we really need a couple in Baltimore? More than a couple.


QUOTE
his is one of the things I like about posting here. Feedback like this helps me immensely, because I cannot look at the story from every angle, so I miss opportunities sometimes. Having other people to point them out is a great help!


Glad we could help.

MY gosh you scared me at the end. I forgot about Gadget's pixelation software, or whatever his anti-camera doo-dad does.


Posted by: SubRosa Jan 18 2020, 05:44 PM

Acadian: I had a ton of fun nerding out when I wrote that episode. I have not had the chance to show January's nerd half since the beginning of the chapter, when the Knights of Nerddom were around.

I know exactly what you mean about Emilia's having a girlfriend makes things simpler and more complex. On one hand it means she is off limits romantically. OTOH, someone being off limits romantically tends to make them much more romantically alluring. But Emilia is also... thirty! ohmy.gif January would never think of dating someone so ancient. She's practically a mummy!

January is trying really hard to avoid being Stupid Good. But she won't always succeed.


Darkness Eternal: One of the things about making this a contemporary story is the way everyone has a camera in their phone, and everyone can't wait to put their video and pictures on the internet. Even just back in the 90s, the world was incredibly different. January only knows what that world was like from watching old movies and TV shows. Her entire life as been on the internet. Now she is starting to see the downsides of the "pics or it didn't happen" culture we now live in.

I googled Latin Home and Puerto Rico Home to get some ideas for how Emilia's house would look inside. I have to admit, that everything I saw looked very warm and comfortable and inviting.

January is absolutely a milk drinker!

It sounds like everyone is curious about the Sentinels since I have name-dropped them so many times. I don't really have any definite plans for them to appear just yet. They are just an example of the world that January lives in, where superheros are a reality. Being the biggest city in the Midwest, I figured Chicago would have one of the most high-profile super teams in the country, along with New York and LA. I imagine most major cities only have one or maybe two local heroes at most. Like Detroit now has Blood Raven and Stormcrow.


Renee: January is definitely not doing the Clark Kent move of "glasses will protect my secret identity" shtick. She basically has everything covered up except what she needs to see, breathe, and eat.

I do want to create a world where the police are not made obsolete by capes. I hope to eventually show an ideal situation of being one where the capes complement the police by adding some extra firepower and ability to act 'outside the box' of mundane reality. I created Emilia to serve as that touchpoint with the police, whom January can work with.

Don't forget Gadget's Video Camouflage!





https://i.imgur.com/YHO3OUu.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/KS6PWwy.jpg




Book 3.14 - Stormcrow Burning

January stifled a yawn as she rode out of Adin's dojo the next afternoon. She had not been up that late with Emilia the previous night. In fact she had left shortly after texting her mother. But sleep had not come easily when she had finally gotten home. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Gray's hanging body.

Thankfully she did not have school any more, and would not for months. But she still had to work. Many martial arts studios were closed on the weekends. Adin kept his open because most people worked during the week, so they often took advantage of weekends to practice at his studio.

At least Sundays were not too hectic. It was open mat day, with no organized classes. That allowed her to spend most of the day simply hanging back and vegetating. The few times she sparred with members of other schools she had quickly found herself staring at the ceiling with her back on the mat. Adin had quickly noted that she was not herself, and told her to go home. She was too tired to argue.

She stopped at two different apartment complexes on the way back to look them over. She was not thrilled with what she saw. So far everything was either too expensive, or too sketchy. Nothing felt right. But her mother was moving out in a few days. She had to either find her own place, or go live with her at her grandmother's in Livonia. She did not mind her grandma Sarah. But Livonia! It was practically the moon.

"This is Gilda Gadfly of Worldwide Network News, and do I have some dish for you folks today!"

Avery had given her a pair of wireless ear pods and connected them to a new radio he had installed on the Stormcycle. Now she could listen to something while she rode.

"Are you people in the Motor City tuned in? Because Detroit's latest sensation Stormcrow just teamed up with none other than Blood Raven! That's right, the black and red scourge of Detroit's criminal element - well, I could have just said scourge of Detroit right? - is actually playing nice with another cape. I can't think of the last time the scary red Raven has been willing to rub shoulders with any other super. Is it the Crowgirl's winning personality? Or do birds of a feather really flock together? I smell a super team in the making, so keep your eyes on the Detroit skies for these two blackbirds."

The gossipy reporter went on to talk about the Flying Dutchman fire from the night before. She listened briefly, then tapped on the control panel of the bike to turn it off. She had been there. She knew what had happened.

Finally she pulled up to the house, and was pleased to see that her brother's car was gone. At least there was that one small thing to be thankful for. Her father's car was still there however. Even though she had barely said two words to him in the last week, she had no desire to increase that number. The less she had to do with him, the better.

She threaded her way between the cars in the driveway and walked her bike onto the patio behind the house. She locked the Victory down to the concrete there, and pulled off her helmet. She took a moment to let her hair down from the simple braid she normally wore while riding before going inside.

Something felt strange. She could not put her finger on exactly what. It was not a wrongness, just something different. She smelled something coppery. Or did she taste it? She wondered if she was just allowing her imagination to get the best of her, or if it was just the stress of the last few days. Well, the last week really.

The last thing she expected to see was Blood Raven sitting at the kitchen table calmly drinking coffee with her mother and father.

The other heroine wasn't wearing her red and black armor of course. She was dressed normal, in a pair of jeans, a fitted top, and sweater with only the top button done up. The snarky part of January's brain wanted to remind her that 1990 was calling for its fashion back. It was not hard to ignore that part.

January also noted that her hair was different. It was styled in a short, choppy bob around her head, and was an ordinary shade of auburn. Last night it had been a literal crimson waterfall spilling down past her shoulders. Likewise, her rosy skin was now lit with warm undertones, and her eyes were the green of an Irish forest. If January did not know better, she would have sworn that this was an entirely different person. But she did know better. She did not know how she knew. She just did.

January nearly dropped both her helmet and her copy of Apartment Buyer's Guide. Apparently she covered her surprise well enough. Or at least well enough to be explained, because neither of her parents were perturbed by her reaction. Blood Raven herself simply stared back at her, face a mask.

"Look who's here honey," her mother put on a smile that even January knew was forced. "It's your aunt Branwen."

"She has not come to visit in a long time," her father said. January's heart doubled a beat at the sound of his voice. It instantly brought back memories of that same voice the week before, extolling the litany of her failures as a human being. "Not since, what, fifteen or sixteen years."

"Not since you were three," 'Branwen' stared at January from over the rim of her coffee cup. "Certainly, your countenance has changed much since then."

"That's funny, I don't remember you at all." Now that the shock was wearing off, January felt her hackles begin to rise. How dare she come here! She might be new to the cape life, but she knew this was completely out of bounds. Her fingers curled into a fist, and she did not try very hard to uncurl them.

"You were too young then," her mother said. She nodded for January to come to the table. One of the family photo albums was laid out there with its pages open. She looked down to see a picture of herself - barely a toddler - sitting on "Branwen's" knee. Next to it was another of her and her brother practically buried under Christmas wrappings on the living room floor, with "Branwen" laughing in the background with her parents.

January stared dumbfounded. Now her fingers did relax of their own accord. Jedi mind tricks were one thing. But these photos were real. They were her, and her entire family, right there with Blood Raven herself. Only clearly no one else knew who she really was. Just as they did not know that she was Stormcrow.

"I swear, you haven't aged a day since then Branwen," January heard her mother say. Her voice seemed far away, as if it was coming from the moon instead of right beside her.

"The advantages of eating healthy and living a clean life," "Branwen" responded. "But look at you too Barbara, you are as young as ever as well."

Her mother blushed, and January stared back down at the pictures. Her mother had been right. "Branwen" had not aged a day since those pictures had been taken, what sixteen years ago? Was that the advantages of superpowers, or something else?

"So where have you been all this time, aunt Branwen?" January set her pink motorcycle helmet down upon the kitchen counter. She tried to keep her voice cool, and suppress the sarcasm that wanted to rise from her throat.

"Traveling, writing, working," Blood Raven said. "I allowed myself to fall out of touch. But I am glad I reached out again. Aren't you?"

"What made you decide to come by again, today of all days?" her father asked. He was clearly trying to put on a polite face. But January was certain he would rather be anywhere than entertaining a guest with his estranged wife and child.

"The fire last night," Blood Raven said smoothly. "It reminded me how fleeting life is. How quickly it slips by us, and before we know, it is gone. It looks like I was just in time."

"Since we're moving out?" January lobbed that out like an artillery shell. She was rewarded with a squirm from her father. But her heart sank when an equally uncomfortable look darkened her mother's face.

"Yes," Blood Raven said, holding January's gaze. "I would hate to have missed you. The world can move so fast sometimes. It seems only yesterday that I watched you learning to walk. Now look at you. So much has changed. I wish I had been here for it."

"Yes, a great deal has, changed," her father noted sourly, and shot a dark look at January.

"Her transition?" Blood Raven said. "How very extraordinary. I applaud you, January. Did you know that at one time almost every culture in the world believed gay and transgender people had special powers? They were always held among the greatest of magicians and holy people."

"They were the Enarees of the Scythians, the Semnotatoi who served Hecate, the Galli of Cybele. The list goes on and on, from Europe, across Siberia, to here in the Americas. One of my colleagues likes to say that you could not swing a goddess by the tail in the old days without hitting one of her transgender priestesses. You follow a long and noble tradition."

Her father rolled his eyes, but her mother looked pleased to hear that.

"Did you know that your aunt is a writer?" she said. "You know, January is going to be a writer as well."

"You're Branwen Renner!" The realization blossomed within her like an exploding star. This time January could not contain her stare of amazement. "I have some of your books, like An Introduction to Wicca."

"What did you think of it?" Blood Raven continued to lock her gaze upon January.

"It helped me learn to find my power," January gave back her stare.

"Good," Blood Raven smiled. "Very good. I can send you more of my books. Perhaps you can show me some of your own writing as well? Are you interested in non-fiction, like your father? Or fiction?"

"Fiction," January felt her ears start to burn, as they always did whenever someone started asking about her writing. "Fantasy, swords and sorcery, that kind of thing."

"Like Tolkien," Blood Raven smiled and leaned forward. "I very much enjoyed his writing. It would have been nice to have seen a few more female characters in it however, in more active roles."

"Eowyn did kill the Witch King," January's mother pointed out.

"Yes, something 'no man' could do," Blood Raven noted. "I thought that was rather clever on his part, and revolutionary, given the times."

"But now I am afraid I have a plane to catch," "Branwen" pulled out her phone. "I had best call for my Cyber-Cab, they can get backed up sometimes."

January had to fight down a secret smile. Cyber-Cab had started the day after she had talked Isaac down from going on a robot rampage through the city. Now he was making his mark on the world in a much more positive way

"That new company with the fully robotic cars?" January's father scoffed, "you're braver than I thought."

"They may have started just a few days ago, but they drive just fine," 'Branwen' insisted. "They do not engage one with inane chatter, nor engender uncomfortable silences without it."

"And I suppose you do not have to wonder if you are supposed to tip them or not," January's mother added. Then she turned to January. "But January can take you. It will give you two more time to catch up."

"That would be wonderful." 'Branwen' put her phone away and smiled. "I understand you posses a motorcycle."

January opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. No, this would be ideal. She wanted answers, to questions she could not voice with her parents around.

"Let me get you a helmet." January darted up the stairs to her bedroom, and dug through her closet for her spare helmet. It was not the old Bell helmet she had originally used. She had given that back to Avery. This was a half-helmet, with a faded metallic red surface. Unlike her full-faced helmet, it was not all scratched up. It had cost just as much on Ebuy however.

She came back down to find her new 'aunt' waiting by the door. After a few hugs, plainly forced on her father's part, she led January out the back door. She did not say a word as she pulled the half helmet over her head, and January did likewise with her own, full-faced helmet. She slipped onto the back of the bike a moment after January.

Her arms slid around January's waist. She instantly tasted blood in her mouth, and smelled it in her nostrils. By now January was not surprised. After what she had seen of Blood Raven's ability to control blood last night, it was clear that her name was not accidental.

She sped off without a word, and took them around the block. Then she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"So where are we really going, Auntie Branwen," this time January did not try to conceal the sarcasm from her voice.

"You are right, I am not really your aunt," Blood Raven said. "But my blood does flow through your veins. I smelled it when you were in Hart Plaza. Later at the Flying Dutchman there was no mistaking it. You are one of my descendants."

"How can that be?" January could not hide the skepticism from her voice. "Are you trying to say that you're my mother?"

"Many more generations removed than that," Blood Raven said. "Let us be off, to a place we might speak in private. All will be made clear then."

Posted by: Acadian Jan 18 2020, 09:27 PM

By Azura! I think I would have nearly dropped my helmet as well. What an intriguing and unexpected surprise. So Blood Raven is blood kin and has had her eye on Jan for her whole life.

It also helps explain the abilities that Jan is just beginning to discover.

Despite the surprise, I’m sure Jan quite appreciated Aunt Ann’s support and encouragement of her transition.

Good to hear about Isaac's success with Cyber-Cab - a welcome little follow up.

Wow, so Jan shares blood, bewitching abilities and a love of writing with Blood Raven. This raises loads of possibilities and I look forward to learning more about this.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jan 23 2020, 12:25 AM

The Sentinels being mentioned plenty of times does make for great world-building.

Stormcrow and Blood Raven are the quite the popular news lately!

Is it the Crowgirl's winning personality? Or do birds of a feather really flock together? I smell a super team in the making, so keep your eyes on the Detroit skies for these two corvids."
laugh.gif laugh.gif

It was great seeing Blood Raven out of her super outfit and into jeans and sweater with a new makeover. Its fascinating to see how easy she can transform herself and look like a completely different person with her other identity. Aunt Ann . . . wow!

The advantages of eating healthy and living a clean life,"
This was too funny.

Blood Raven's comment praising Jan's changes and the some of the cultural beliefs surrounding it was a nice verbal slap-in-the-face to Jan's father. And how fitting that Blood Raven/Ann somehow helped contribute to Jan's progression with one of her books! She's more involved in Jan's life than every before now.

They are related then by blood, even if its distant. This is great on so many levels and offer several implications that I'm eager to find out.

Posted by: Renee Jan 23 2020, 02:47 PM



QUOTE
January only knows what that world was like from watching old movies and TV shows. Her entire life as been on the internet.


This is what makes me glad to have grown up in the era we did. We got to see all that technology evolve to where it is now. Personally I am somewhat of a Luddite. Typing on this laptop and having two desktop computers at home are as far as I want to go with tech. But for my daughter for instance, smartphones and constant referrals to the Internet and are what she knows. indifferent.gif And for any sibling(s) she'll possibly have, brain implants (or whatever tech is next) which make human into virtual robots will be all her kids know. Then she'll be the Luddite, looking back fondly on those days when "we all held that technology in our hands. It wasn't implanted into our heads. We had to actually TYPE messages back and forth!"

biggrin.gif Sorry.

That is something to note: a superhero having trouble finding a place to live because she's broke, and her family's in tatters.

The radio DJ sounds like Three Dog (in my head).

Whoa. Blood Raven is over for coffee. And she's dressed like a prep. blink.gif ... they're related? [censored]. I have to read that part over again. I am stunned.

QUOTE
"I swear, you haven't aged a day since then Ann,"


I was already wondering this... if Blood Raven / Ann ages at all, especially if you're hinting she's from some other century.

Hee hee "Ebuy".... that's clever.

Well good. Saturday is coming fast, what in the heck is coming? I'll be waiting for you to drop that next chapter, hon.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 25 2020, 06:26 PM

Acadian: Jan has a lot in common with Blood Raven, which was intended by me. They are magicians. They are imaginative. They are artistic (if you consider writing art, which I do), they are not content to just sit back and let the world turn: they both feel the need to step in and steer it to a better course. Naturally Jan is her own person, and has a lot of differences from her ancestor. Being trans, being lesbian, being born in a different age, with a different set of values. These are differences we will see Blood Raven encourage Jan to embrace. Because she definitely does not want Jan to be just like her.

Cyber-Cab was something I threw in during the editing process. I wanted to touch back on Isaac for a moment, and subtly show that he was indeed making both physical and emotional progress. We will eventually see him back in the story, but it will be a while.


Darkness Eternal: I really should try to include some mentions of supers in other places. I have gotten some mentions of Heisenberg in, but none lately. Plus a few name-drops from old time metas like Panzer and Hailstorm. But that is it.

Blood Raven does live a really healthy lifestyle: She does not drink... wine, does not smoke, does not use drugs, does not sunbathe, has no gluten in her diet, or meat, or vegetables, or water. Just that nourishing blood...

Blood Raven has been around for a very long time, and seen all sorts of people. Enough to challenge her rather (literal) puritanical upbringing. Plus, like Jan, she is willful. She won't be told what to think or feel.

Jan's blood relation to Blood Raven will be a central part of both their stories. Their blood is a gift, and a curse they cannot escape.


Renee: I am somewhat of a Luddite too. Though it is not just from old person stubborness. I think having grown up in the time I did, and been without a lot of instant gratification tech, has taught me I don't need most of this stuff. Like digital assistants on my phone, or an alexa in my house. I can go to a website and order things. I am not so lazy that I have to use a voice command for a robot that is always listening to everything I say.

But more importantly, I can see how the increasing mechanization of life has simply not made us happier, but the opposite. The internet is a great source of information, and a great way for vile individuals to sow blatant lies in order to further their hateful agendas. Social networks are great for bringing people together, and an even greater way for terrorists to recruit more murderers, for hostile foreign powers to push their propaganda, and for dictators to sow genocide. The modern fascist movement in America could not exist without the internet. That is where they recruit all their mass shooters.

Jan's struggles with everyday life are in part inspired by the Batgirl comics of the last decade or so. In them the Black Canary's house burns down, and she ends up couch-surfing at Batgirl's. Then later Batgirl gets kicked out of her apartment, and ends up couch-surfing herself. I like these little touches that show that just because you have a cape, it does not mean you are exempt from real life.

The DJ Gilda Gadfly was inspired by a similar character in the new Batwoman TV show - Vesper Fairchild. They use little blurbs of Vesper talking to show how people in the city are thinking about what is going on. I am going to try to use Gilda the same way. She can be a way I can show how Stormcrow memes are trending or not, and what the masses are thinking about Crow and Company. I can also use it to simply fill in little blanks of information that I had no other way to convey.

I based Blood Raven's civilian look on what I remembered people in the 90s wearing in offices. So not grundge, but the upper-middle classish types. She might be getting a fashion makeover from Jan and her mom in the future though.




https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://i.imgur.com/TZAKqVc.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunguska_event

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johannes_Kelpius

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Butler_(alchemist)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Parsons_(rocket_engineer)

http://www.gods-and-monsters.com/selene-the-moon-goddess.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hecate





Book 3.15 - Stormcrow Burning

Blood Raven directed January to Van Dyke, which they took north. In time they passed the border of Warren, and into Sterling Heights. Big box stores and a movie theater passed by on their right. One giant automotive factory after the next took up the entire landscape to their left. Eventually they ran out of factories, and stayed to the left on Van Dyke when a freeway split off from it and headed north parallel to the surface street, with roughly a quarter mile of small businesses and residences between the two. They were nearly out of Sterling Heights when Blood Raven finally prompted January to turn.

They made a right onto Utica Road, which ran at an angle back to the south-east. Several old suburban streets passed by on her right, and then an apartment complex. To her left was a line of newer, and larger, houses set far back from the road. January saw the freeway crossing over the street ahead of her on a bridge. But before they could reach it they turned left, and rode one of the long driveways back to a house set within a small island of trees.

The home was built in the Queen Anne style, like a classic haunted house from the 1800s. It was a jumble of smooth corners, sharp peaks, and jutting bay windows. The wood looked strong and solid, showing no sign of wear or aging. It was painted a soft shade of blue-gray, and sported several red brick chimneys that rose up from the steeply-pitched roof.

A covered porch ran the length of the front face of the building. The first two floors seemed to follow the same plan, with rounded bay windows facing forward, and a turret bulging out beside the driveway. A rounded tower jutted up to a third story from the top of the turret. Steep gabled windows braced the roof to either side of the tower. Finally, a single dormer peeked out from the center of the roof, facing the street.

Blood Raven led her up the covered porch to the door in the front corner of the house. She fished a set of keys out of one pocket, and clicked one of the doors open. She led the way within, and turned to look back at January.

They stood within an entryway that was flanked by doors to either side. But Blood Raven led her even deeper into the house, into an octagonal rotunda that was open through the second floor above. A staircase curled up one side of the space, and another opening led to more of the house on the far side of the room.

The interior of the house was bare, completely bare. There was no furniture at all, at least not in the two rooms she had seen. There were no rugs on the hardwood floor, no pictures on the oak walls, nothing. She did notice a light switch, and a fixture in the ceiling. So at least that was something.

"What is this place?" January wondered. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. Apparently Blood Raven had not been paying the bills. Given the dust on the floor, it was really no surprise.

"My friend Keziah built it," Blood Raven said. For a moment her eyes seemed to stare beyond January, as if looking back through the years. "She left it to me after she moved on."

"Oh, I'm sorry," January said by reflex. "I didn't know that she..."

"Oh, Keziah Talmadge is not dead!" Blood Raven laughed. "She has moved on, to new realms."

"Keziah is a rather odd name," January observed.

"It was not so when she was born," Blood Raven insisted, "nor when I was for that matter."

"When was that, the American Revolution?" January said under her breath, taking in the antique building that surrounded her.

"Yes," Blood Raven's voice brought her back. "I was twelve when General Gage's men marched on Lexington and Concord. Keziah was a least a century old by then, perhaps more."

"And I wasn't born yesterday," January insisted. She put her hands on her hips in defiance.

"Of course not," Blood Raven said. "You were born on Friday, August 13th, 1999. I was there."

The red-haired woman raised her hands into the air, and those golden Celtic symbols sprang up in a circle around her. Again, she murmured in Gaelic, and closed her eyes as the triquetras and triskelions wove their way around her.

She reached out with both hands together, and January felt power dance through her fingers. She drew her hands to either side, like she was unrolling a scroll. January felt that power linger in the space behind her hands. It caused the wall of the house to disappear from view, and replaced it with another image. It was like Blood Raven had created a television screen in mid air.

Within this magical screen, January saw a darkened chamber of marble. With another flick of Blood Raven's finger, several lights glowed to life within the room that they were remotely viewing. They illuminated a towering stretch of dark marble wall. Written up and down it in elegant golden calligraphy were several trees of names, like waterfalls that spilled down the marble. January quickly realized that they were family trees. She saw her old name - August - and that of her brother Julian at the bottom of the longest tree.

"I will have to change the name," Blood Raven remarked.

January followed the tree up from her and her brother. There were her parents, and then grandparents. Beyond them the names became unrecognizable. She could not remember any of her great-grandparents. They had all died long before she was born.

The river of names went back and back. They forked off into different directions. Some ended abruptly. Other lines petered out only after multiple generations. Her line went back to Anne Hopkins, née Scanlan, and Experience Hopkins. Above them she made out the name Saiorse Scanlan, but she could not see who she was married to. The portal ended just before his name.

"That is I, Anne," Blood Raven declared. "I was born in 1763."

"How could you be alive after all these years?" January narrowed her eyebrows in distrust.

"I never said I was alive," Blood Raven murmured. She pointed to her name, to the date of her death, in 1793. It was the same year her husband Experience was listed as dying in.

"Metas did not exist back then," January insisted. "It wasn't until the early 20th Century that they first came along."

"Not until Tunguska," Blood Raven said. "I know."

"Before there were meta-humans, there was magic," Blood Raven explained. "There has always been magic. There always will be. An ancient magic came out of the centuries and engulfed my family. It took my husband. It took me as well, after a fashion. It was only with the aid of Keziah that we defeated it."

With that the warmth melted away from Blood Raven's skin, which turned bone white. Her hair lengthened, and cascaded down into a great mane of blood red crimson. Her eyes glowed scarlet. They literally glowed. With one bony finger she swept her hair back from her neck, and revealed a set of horrific scars there. They were not neat and straight, like the cuts on January's wrists. Rather the wounds were rough and jagged, as if the claws of a terrible beast had torn her throat out.

"You're a vampire!" January gasped.

Blood Raven smiled, revealing fangs between her red lips.

"That is a word best left unspoken," she cautioned. "Refer to us as Selene's Heirs if you must. We have done much to convince the world that we do not exist. The rise of meta-humans has given us an opportunity to blend into their ranks, and insipid sparkly fiction has made the very idea of us the subject of ridicule. But there are still those among us who remember the Burning Times. They can be very zealous in maintaining our secrecy."

January nodded. Her head swam with questions. Could she go out in sunlight? Well duh, it was the middle of the day after all. Did crosses and holy water repel her? Did garlic? How often did she have to suck blood? Did she even do that, or was it something more subtle, or exotic? What about wooden stakes? If she threw rice down, would Blood Raven be compelled to count every single grain?

Suddenly January realized that she was reacting exactly like everyone else did when they found out that she was trans. With a bunch of questions about how she was an Other, rather than a person. They acted like she was some sideshow attraction to be gaped at though the safety of the iron bars. She was not going to behave that way, never. Blood Raven was a person. She was going to treat her like that, above all else.

"Selene's Heirs?" now that was something that January felt was appropriate to ask about.

"Selene was one of the moon goddesses of the Greeks," Blood Raven replied. "Legend says that she is the mother of all of us."

"Of course I am a magician as well." Blood Raven's hair shrank back to its slightly messy bob and faded into a mundane shade of auburn, while her skin took on a warm, lively hue. The scar disappeared, as did the glow from her now ordinary green eyes. "It is said that a different moon goddess - Hekate - gave the world the gift of magic. It goes hand in hand with Selene's legacy. Of course since Tunguska, all magic has grown so much more potent, as if the goddesses have awoken from a long slumber."

"Hekate's Gift has always been strong in our family." Blood Raven turned back to the family tree displayed through the magical window. She pointed to her mother Saoirse, and followed her ancestors back generation after generation, until she stopped upon William Butler. January noted that his birth year was listed as 1534, and his death in 1617. "William was an alchemist and necromancer, from Clare County, Ireland. You will find many other alchemists and mystics within our tree as well."

"It was what brought the vampire Kelpius to our family in the first place," Blood Raven explained. "He wanted to learn my father's magic, to master it, and with it all the Creatures of the Abyss."

"Who was your father?" January wondered, "and what are the Creatures of the Abyss?"

"They are the Creatures of the Abyss, things best left to the darkness, lest they rise up and engulf you," Blood Raven said cryptically. "I have learned the hard way to watch over my descendants, lest another shadow rise up from out of the ages to take them. I have been lax of late. I have allowed myself to lose track of time. It is a hazard for those like me."

"But my eye is fixed upon my bloodline once more. None of my progeny since your great-grandfather Jack has taken up magic." She now pointed to a much nearer part of the family tree, to her father's grandfather, whose name was listed there as Marvel Whiteside Parsons. "Jack was strong in magic, but he lacked discipline. He was not willing to put in the hard work and mental exercise needed to fully control it. He opened doors best left shut, and paid for it dearly."

"I can see that you are already far more powerful than Jack ever was." Blood Raven now set her eyes upon January.

"You mean it's magic that my powers come from?" January stared down at her hands, and curled her fingers into fists, then opened them again. It was like she was seeing them for the first time, seeing herself for the first time. Of course! That explained so much.

"Naturally," Blood Raven insisted. "Everyone has magical potential. But few people actually unlock it within themselves. Clearly you have."

"How do people unlock it?" January wondered.

"When they stop being sheep led by a shepherd," Blood Raven declared. "When they believe in themselves, in spite of how hard the world tries to tell them they are insignificant. When they believe they possess real agency. When they know they can change the world."

"That is when I transitioned," January mused. "But I don't go around casting spells like Gandalf."

"Gandalf did not actually cast many spells either," Blood Raven murmured. "Think back to that time. Were you thinking about spellcraft? Or were you thinking about physical action? I would say the latter, as your gifts are clearly in that realm. That is where you unconsciously channeled your magical power as you developed it. That is the most powerful form of training. Your forebrain never got in the way with doubts or distractions. You dedicated yourself to an ideal, and your will made it reality."

"After I rehabbed for my hand, I transitioned," January mused. "I went back to school. The bullies were... Well it made me yearn for the joy of rehabilitating my severed tendons. After I came home with a black eye and split lip my mother taught me kick boxing - Karate. I fought back. I beat them, three of them, at once."

"That is when you embraced your power," Blood Raven said. "Continue working with your talents. The more you exercise them, the stronger they will grow. I can teach you spellcraft as well of course. There is no reason you cannot learn it, even if your primary focus is physical."

"I've learned so much already from your book," January thought aloud, "about raising energy, about visualizing a clear goal, about focusing my will."

"All magic comes down to these things," Blood Raven nodded. "I am glad it has been helpful. I am always glad when one of my books improves someone's life. That is why I write them after all."

"It seems so strange that you're a superhero, and you are writing books on Wicca," January shook her head.

"Why should that be unusual?" Blood Raven countered. "I have to make a living, the same as any other cape, the same as any other magician. Writing books not only aids me financially, but it also helps me complete a legal identity through which to navigate the world. I have a clear income, I pay taxes, and so on. For someone like me, the difficulty of managing an earthly identity increases every century."

"Is that why you lost track of us?" January wondered what it was like to be over two hundred years old. How many times had Blood Raven been forced to move, and change her name, her life?

"It was one reason," Blood Raven nodded. "The years can fall by the wayside so quickly at times. For someone like me, it is easy for them to slip through our fingers, like trying to hold on to a flowing stream. I often have to remind myself to stop and pay attention to what is happening right now, rather than lose myself in the years."

"That brings me back to the Witch House." Blood Raven raised her hands to indicate the home around them. "Technically I own it. But I have rarely dwelled here. I prefer to remain in the heart of the city."

"Perhaps you and your mother should like to make your abodes here instead?"

Posted by: Acadian Jan 25 2020, 09:42 PM

Fascinating! Most everything Blood Raven revealed quite fit the clues to date. I must admit the vampirism was a surprise. In looking back though, the clues were indeed there (Duh! BLOOD Raven practicing BLOOD magic). tongue.gif

’Suddenly January realized that she was reacting exactly like everyone else did when they found out that she was trans. With a bunch of questions about how she was an Other, rather than a person. Like she was some sideshow attraction to be gaped at though the safety of the iron bars. She was not going to behave that way. Never. Blood Raven was a person. She was going to treat her like that, above all else.’
- - It was wonderful to see Jan battle her prejudices and use her own life experience as she vowed to keep her mind open. I'm sure her natural curiousity about the challenges of living as a vampire will be revealed to her as she spends time with Blood Raven.

My goodness, the tales I bet Branwen/Ann/Blood Raven can tell!

And, of course, this all explains Blood Raven’s interest in not only Jan but her entire family.

Finally, where Jan and her mother should live may have just been solved.

Wonderful stuff, SubRosa!


Nits:
’The{n} she pulled them apart, as one might slide open a pair of windows, …’
"Selene was one of the moon goddesses of the Greeks," Blood r{R}aven replied.’

Posted by: Renee Jan 26 2020, 03:13 PM

Hmm, I wonder why she's being brought to this gigantic, empty house? Maybe since Jan needs a place to live...

Blood Raven can open up other realities with her bare hands. blink.gif Ancestry.com? Hah.

QUOTE
"How could you be alive after all these years?" January narrowed her eyebrows in distrust.

"I never said I was alive,"


Yikes. blink.gif

I love that she's maintaining a modern presence by paying taxes and writing books. I wonder if Jan and her mother will actually move there.

Edit: and I love that name Marvel. And also Experience. I didn't know Experience could be a name.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 1 2020, 05:16 PM

Acadian: I deliberately left a lot of breadcrumbs to follow back to Blood Raven being a vampire. I am glad they were not too blatant, but still stood out once you looked back. I was going for that "oh, of course!" moment. We will slowly learn more about what being a vampire means for Blood Raven. She has two scenes told from her point of view in chapter 5, which should shed a lot of illumination.

Naturally I started out with Blood Raven's past being mostly a blank slate, with only a few key events filled in. I have been able to fill in a lot of those blanks as I have written her. Now I know everything from 1940 to the present, and everything from her birth to about 1820 or so. Plus where she was from 1862 - 1865. The rest of the 19th Century is still wide open, as is the early 20th Century.

Thanks for those nits. Both were late additions, so did not get my usual fine tooth treatment.


Renee: It is not that Blood Raven can create gateways. It is just a simple clairvoyance/remote viewing. I went back and rewrote that part, to try to make that more clear. Keziah is the one who could teleport and create gateways to alternate realities. We will see more about that this chapter, as the Witch House is where the learned.

I imagine that blending into the modern world becomes more and more difficult the older an immortal becomes. Many of the older ones probably withdraw and become recluses, like Howard Hughes, or completely shut themselves off from society. Blood Raven is not that old yet. She still tries to be part of the world, in spite of how difficult it can be. That means having a legal identity, paying taxes, and so on. I went with writing because it is a job with flexible hours. That leaves plenty of opportunities to go out superheroing at all hours of the day or night. She writes about Witchcraft simply because as a real magician, that is what she knows. It is also a way for her to have a positive impact on the world.

Marvel is of course Jack Parson's real name. He was a fascinating person - rocket scientist, founder of the JPL, and magician. He was a perfect ancestor for January, and descendant of Blood Raven.

If you go back to the 16th and 17th century you will find a lot of wild names, especially among the Puritans in New England. They love Biblical names, like Judah, or Ezekiel. They also liked to name people after virtues, like Prudence, Faith, the aforementioned Experience, and so on. I looked up a bunch of sites like https://nameberry.com/nametalk/threads/64943-The-Weird-and-the-Wonderful-from-the-16th-17th-18th-Century to find Experience and Keziah. Although Keziah is also the villain in HP Lovecraft's story Dreams in the Witch House. I ultimately went with her name as a deliberate subversion of the evil, devil-worshiping Witch she is portrayed as by Lovecraft.






https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://i.imgur.com/TZAKqVc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/HlcYpqw.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunguska_event

https://www.wired.com/2011/11/in-depth-rpg-review-trail-of-cthulhu/



Book 4.1 - Pride

May 27th - June 1st, 2019

"Well, at least we didn't have to borrow your uncle Jerome's van again." January picked up the pieces of her bed and walked to the back of the U-Haul with them. Once she was in danger of being seen, she let them drop down into both of her hands, and pretended to be struggling with the weight, while Avery lifted the other end. In actuality, she was still taking all of the load herself. But they had to put on a good show for her mother.

January wished there could have been some way for her to talk her mother into doing something else while they moved. Then she could have done all the heavy lifting herself, in just a few minutes. Now she had to make it look hard, and pretend to be winded by the effort.

"Yeah, it would have taken three or four more trips with the van," Avery noted. "At least we got it all with one trip."

January glanced over at her mother's Mini, which was likewise packed to the brim, along with Avery's Geo. When she added in her Victory, the trio of vehicles did not even come close to the cargo space of the truck her mother had rented for the day. They were lucky to find a rental place open on Memorial Day. But at least neither of them had school or work to worry about.

Her eyes lingered over the brightly-painted mural on the side of the truck. Jane Jet, an old hero from the 70s and 80s, was emblazoned there. She wore her trademark goggles and jetpack, and flew over the L.A. skyline with a grin. January wondered how many people realized that Jane was a gay icon? She had never been Out. But it had never really been a secret either. Every gay person knew it, and every straight person pretended it wasn't true.

"Wow, are you like, moving in here?"

January and Avery both turned to the author of the voice. He was a man aged somewhere between thirty and fifty. His straight brown hair fell down to his shoulders, and his eyes were liquid blue. He was short, but made up for his lack of height with extra width. He was not fat, so much as thick. January instantly pegged him as a Mountain Dwarf, and felt a surge of kinship for him. After all her Shadowrun character Dora the Kneecapper was a Dwarven physical adept.

He wore a plain blue shirt and ragged jeans. A pencil was clutched, almost defensively, in one of his hands. His eyes were wide with amazement. Like a child seeing Star Wars for the first time.

"Yes," January's mother said from the porch. The Dwarf nearly leaped out of his skin, and barely held onto his pencil. "My sister-in-law is letting us stay."

"Hi, I'm Barbara, that's my daughter January, and her bestie Avery. They're sort of a dynamic duo." January had to fight to keep a straight face at the latter description. If she only knew the truth about Stormcrow and Gadget!

Her mother walked down to the man while January and Avery pretended to groan under the weight of the bed frame. She offered the neighbor her hand, but he backed away nervously.

"Oh I can't do that," he said. "I don't do that. It's too messy, with all the souls, and not souls, and things. It gets too messy. Oh, I'm Chase. I always forget that."

"You forget that your Chase?" Avery laughed.

"I forget my shoes sometimes," Chase said. "I forget to take my vitamins. Sometimes I forget my name. But I never forget to love life, even when I hate it. Especially when I hate it."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around these days," January frowned. She was starting to wonder if Chase was supposed to be taking medication, and had forgotten that as well?

"That's why it's important to remember what you don't want to forget," Chase said. "What was I saying again? Oh, you're actually moving in here?"

"Yes, we actually are," January's mother smiled as she headed for the back of the U-Haul. "Why do you seem so surprised?"

"Well, you know about the house don't you?"

January and Avery missed most of what came next, as they carried the bed frame inside the house. Once out of sight January took all the pieces and easily vaulted up the stairs with them to the second floor. She laid them out on the floor, and was back out on the lawn as Chase was wrapping up his tale.

"They say the last time the house disappeared was over a hundred years ago," Chase explained. "Back in 1908. Some people said it was because of the Tunguska comet. But I checked when I was fourteen. It disappeared the night before."

"Well there is a time difference between here and Siberia," Avery noted. He pulled out his phone and typed for a moment. "Let's see, the Tunguska Event took place the morning of June 30th, at 7:17 their time. That means it would have been, oh, 7:17 pm on June the 29th here in Michigan."

Chase's face fell. January had the distinct impression that was exactly the wrong thing to say. He glanced up at the house, then turned and fled back through the trees to the house next door.

"Well that went admirably," January's mother smiled.

"What did I say?" Avery rubbed the back of his head in consternation.

"He was telling me that this is 'The Witch House', that's all capitalized by the way," January's mother explained. "He said it was here before 'The White Man' came - all caps as well - and that sometimes it disappears, then reappears days, or even months later. He said no one has lived here in over fifty years."

"Houses don't normally disappear," Avery noted. "Not normally."

"Well, Aunt Branwen did tell me it was built by a Witch," January noted. She took one side of a dresser, while her mother hefted the other. She had to pretend that she was straining under the weight. "But you know how superstition is. If a house sits empty for a while, it's automatically haunted."

"I don't suppose anyone has any pictures of the empty lot," Avery mused as he took the other end of the dresser from January's mother. That allowed January to stop pretending and take all of the weight. "At least any that aren't all out of focus and shaking around."

"Like every Bigfoot and Nessie video," January's mother chimed in.

The sound of a car pulling up the long driveway from the street brought January's head around. It was a rusty Ford Explorer, older than she was. January immediately recognized it as the Kell-Mech. She was still surprised to see Blackjack, Rus, Ryo, and of course its owner Kell come spilling out of its spacious interior.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that the guys were coming out to help," Avery grinned. "How could that have slipped my mind?"

"It must have been when you were too busy being the best best-friend ever," January restrained herself from hugging the taller black man. She raised a hand to wave at the newcomers, and felt the dresser tip precariously in her other hand. She adjusted, and waved anyway. It was just a dresser after all, not an I-beam. Not that an I-beam would have been difficult to lift either.

"Did we miss all the heavy lifting?" Blackjack cried. "I really hope we missed all the heavy parts."

It turned out that they had not after all, missed all the heavy parts. Where just a few minutes before January had been wishing she had been alone to do all the work, now she found that she was glad for the company. The moving may have taken longer, but it was much more enjoyable.

In time the U-haul was empty. "We can drop it off tomorrow," her mother sighed when the work was done. "It's paid up until then anyhow. Now who's thirsty?"

Thirst was quenched with warm Fae Cola and Dr Piper, followed by truly magnificent pizza from a local pizzeria on Van Dyke, on the far side the apartment complex that rose up across the street. Since the night was still young, the guys immediately broke out their gaming books, and Rus walked January through creating a new character for Trail of Cthulhu. She had not gamed in so long. It seemed so trivial compared to all of life's other pressing needs. But she had no trouble slipping into the fun of hanging out and role-playing with friends. It was good to let the rest of the world just fade away sometimes.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 1 2020, 06:09 PM

A new chapter, with an intriguing title.

Moving day – assisted by the dynamic duo! You did a nice job of showing us how Jan had to carefully manage her strength. Happily, she had a knowing accomplice in Avery. You absolutely nailed the official meal for moving day: warm soda with take out pizza. tongue.gif

Chase is a very interesting fellow, and raised many more questions than he answered.

I chuckled when Avery scared off Chase with his display of web-based factual nerdism. What struck me here was that Jan and her mother knew exactly what had happened to the clueless Avery. Another case of men are from Mars and women are from Venus – aggravated here by Avery’s reliance on tech.

Posted by: Renee Feb 3 2020, 07:54 PM

QUOTE
I imagine that blending into the modern world becomes more and more difficult the older an immortal becomes.


Absolutely. This is true for mortal ones too (like me).

It's also clever and realistic that Blood Raven's a writer. This way, she can drop in with her agent every 6 months or so, it's not going to be an everyday job. From what I have heard about big-selling writers (Grisham, Stephen King, Anne Rice, etc.) they are allowed a lot of freedom because it adds to their creativity. That agent or publisher can't be hounding Blood Raven every single day, and also expect spectacular results. nono.gif

Then again, what do I know about the modern world? Maybe nowadays it is possible to simply shoot emails and text messages back and forth from writer to agent to publisher to editor, etc. I am talking about pre-internet and old phones in the paragraph above.

HEY that names website is chock-full of unusual names! ... Now I have even more names to draw from when making my next toons! biggrin.gif Sheesus.... Godsgift was an actual name. Cleophus. Dionyse. Pretoria. My spellchecker is all confused. Some names it spells without putting red lines under, others it's screaming NO that's not a word!

Nice. Looks like she'll have a small castle of a home to live in.

That's awesome. She has to pretend to be a weakling, lest her mom notices her superhuman strength.

I've never heard of Jane Jet before. Time for a few moments with google, once again. That is a bit of foreshadowing, the fact that her moving van has a heroine buried under some paint. Well, not foreshadowing. Can't think of the word I mean.

Chase seems like some character I've seen in a movie. Can't really place which one, though. Wow. He's afraid to shake hands. I get it, but wow.

Aw, wow, I love the end. She forgets all her troubles and who she actually is, for awhile. smile.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 3 2020, 09:40 PM

Oh, I forgot to post a picture of https://i.imgur.com/sdHTLVW.jpg, he is Steve Zahn, from his role in the movie Speak. He was originally going to be a large part of January's non-superhero life, someone she partnered up with on a business venture (he is an artist). But later I decided to use another character for that. So I no longer have any plans for him. I left him in because he still adds some local color, and he fills in some exposition on the Witch House.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Feb 4 2020, 02:57 AM

The thing about Blood Raven and her vampirism is that there were certainly some clues there, as Acadian pointed out. Her unnatural longevity being key among them. Blood Raven did remind me of your other character Phereinon from your Seven Reimagined story(yes, I read some of that hehe). I enjoy reading about her and Jan/Stormcrow because as the chapters go along, you give is more information that fill in the blanks so to speak, and paint a larger picture of the character. Blood Raven has a very rich history, full of experiences that Stormcrow can learn from and apply to herself.

"Apparently Blood Raven had not been paying the bills. Given the dust on the floor, it was really no surprise".
Can imagine why. This part made me laughter harder than I should have.

Blood Raven again shows her impressive abilities as she shows Jan her extensive family tree!

" . . . and insipid sparkly fiction has made the very idea of us the subject of ridicule."
Isn't this the truth? I think, as a major fan of vampires and monstrous folklore, the image of vampires have been sort of exhausted in the recent years as young adult and teenage romance, but thankfully is just now starting to come back again in its original form. I agree with Blood Raven.

Fascinating new information on Blood Raven's history. I was especially intrigued with Selene's Heirs and Hecate's Gift, and now Stormcrow's inspiring potential for greater things!


It was great to see Avery and Jan back together again! The duo must go on!

And Chase was a welcome addition to this chapter. Funny guy! I imagined to be exactly like that! Long hair and everything! Avery putting him on the run cracked me up. That was priceless!

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 8 2020, 07:22 PM

Acadian: The title will become very clear in another 3 or 4 episodes. It is part of how I am using local events in the story.

I hate moving. The only good thing about it is the pizza afterward.

Chase is a very idiosyncratic fellow (wow, I cannot believe I spelled that right the first time). I was going to use him more with January's career as a writer. But upon further rumination I decided to replace him with another character who was previously introduced, and is already closer to Jan. So I probably won't use Chase much more, except perhaps minor things concerning Jan at home.

Avery definitely did the absolute wrong thing by reminding Chase that the house did supposedly disappear at the same time the comet hit Tunguska. Oops!


Renee: I also decided that Jan would be a writer for the same reason as Blood Raven: the flexible hours. Though I also wanted her to be a creative person in general, like an artist, or decorator, or fashion designer, or even architect. The writing wound up perfect because it meshes so well with Blood Raven. It becomes one more thing they have in common.

I know most professional writers (at least the old school ones), sign a contract with a publisher to write a book. Then they write it. Some people write first and submit their manuscripts. But most book publishers won't even look at cold introductions like that anymore. Magazines will however.

However, thanks to the internet there is a crop of new authors who self-publish online, and never have a paper copy of their books printed. Or only later as an afterthought. Kickstarters are another route people take to self-publish, including hard-copies. https://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Days-Anna-OBrien-Collection-ebook/dp/B07P9S1TMR/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=ghost+days+asher+elbein&qid=1581183976&sr=8-1 is a great example. It was financed by a kickstarter, and the backers had the option to receive a hardcopy or just ebook version depending on how much they donated. Then it went to the usual online outlets like Amazon and Barnes and Noble (which is where I bought it). I first heard about it on Monstertalk, a podcast about monsters. The writer and illustrator were guests in an episode about Appalachian myths, as Ghost Days is set there and all about Appalachian monsters.

Jan is going to go this latter route, with self-publishing and crowd-sourcing. Though she might eventually do a deal with one of the more progressive publishing houses like Tor.com

A lot of those Puritan names sound like something you already came up with!

Jane Jet is based on Joan Jett. I just decided to invent an older generation hero and use her as inspiration. I got the jetpack and goggles idea from her last name. Like the real Joan Jett, my fictional hero was a lesbian who was never Out and public about it, but never really worked hard to keep it a secret either. When I wrote that I looked out the window and saw a https://www.uhaul.com/SuperGraphics/. So I thought, in a world with supers, wouldn't they put murals of Superheros on the sides of their vans, instead of things like local landmarks or pop culture icons, like they do in the real world?


Darkness Eternal: Blood Raven and Phereinon have some similarities, as they are both immortals. But Blood Raven is a whole lot more kind and compassionate. We have not had a chance to really see that yet, but we will, starting with this chapter.

In the Crow-verse, vampires deliberately created the pop-culture image of themselves in order to hide. As a lot of vampire settings do, I am going with the idea that the Inquisition was really started to hunt down vampires. It not only killed a lot of them, but also drastically changed their society, as afterward vampires had to take pains to blend into the mortal world. Not showing their powers. Not killing people when they feed. Changing identities every few decades, etc... Those that could not fit in, were killed by the Inquisitors. One of those inquisitors will be named later in this chapter - Heinrich Kramer: the writer of the Malleus Maleficarium. Jan will face off against him one day.

I am thinking that Bram Stoker was a vampire, and he was probably the one who began the campaign to de-mythologize vampires, and turn them into pop-culture. The idea being that eventually no one would believe that vampires were real. Carl Laemmle at Universal may have been a vampire himself. Or he was at least being manipulated by them to make monster movies. The same with the Hammer horror films. Anne Rice was not a vampire herself (she is too highly visible), but was definitely inspired by vampires, probably with a hypnotic or subliminal implantation of the idea. I figure Stephanie Meyer was a total free agent. By the time she rolled out Twilight, the train did not need a vampire conducting it anymore. No one believes vampires are real. If they do see one fly or feed, they will think it is just something else, like a superhero or a fetishist.

I came up with Selene's Heirs when I was working on a scene in Chapter 5 that is from Blood Raven's pov. I needed some terms and ideas that a vampire would use to form their worldview. I looked up "mother of vampires". I discarded Lillith because that has been done to death. I found Selene from Greek myth, and she struck me as perfect. That gave me a nice myth for Western vampires to ground themselves within. Whether or not any of it is actually true. Hecate's Gift naturally followed as a way to describe 'normal' magic, that keeps the Greek theme. They both add some color.









https://www.vox.com/the-highlight/2019/4/16/18287446/incel-definition-reddit

(Author's Note - Nightgirl, Nightman, Superious, Ms. Miracle, and Donar are all thinly veiled versions of Batgirl, Batman, Super Man, Ms. Marvel, and Thor. Wolfstone and Jet Gladiator are completely invented by me.)

(Second Author's Note - I decided to go back and change Blood Raven's civilian ID names, to make things less complicated. Now she was named Anne when she was born. Her current identity is as Branwen Renner. That is who wrote the books that Jan has read on Wicca).



Book 4.2 - Pride

It was past 11:00 pm when the last of the guys left. January cleaned up the dining room table, a.k.a. the gaming command center. Then she wandered around her new home - her new home! - and found her mother sitting on the living room floor. She had the long boxes of their shared comic book collection scattered around her. All were opened up, and individual books littered the room. She had a yellow legal pad in one hand, and was taking notes in it while she looked from comic to comic.

"Let me guess," January's mouth leapt into gear before her brain could clamp on the brakes. "You're Stormcrow, and you're brushing up on tactics."

"I wish," January's mother said. "Besides, she has blond hair, like you do."

Now January wished she had kept her big mouth shut. She was pretty sure that the first rule of maintaining your secret identity was not giving the people around you reason to think about superheroes, or consider how much you had in common with one in particular.

"She probably dyes it," January said instantly. "Or maybe she has a power that changes its color, so it looks that way when she's in her armor, and its actually black in real life."

"Or maybe she wears a wig…" her mother continued in that vein, which relieved January to no end. But only for the barest instant. "You are clever when it comes to this superhero business."

"Well I was reading all this since, well, I could read." January sat down beside her mother and picked up a worn copy of Nightgirl. She found herself smiling in spite of herself. When she had been little, Brigit Gallagher had always been someone she could look up to.

"Oh hey, remember that time you went out on Halloween dressed up as Nightgirl?" her mother gushed. "What were you, eight, or nine? I think I still have the pictures."

"Yeah," January smiled again when her mother produced her phone and brought up the photos. Compared to the Stormcrow Armor that Gadget had so masterfully crafted for her, the Nightgirl costume she had worn was cheap and trite. But she had worked on it for weeks, and had been so excited to finally put it on. She had even convinced her mom to let her wear makeup. Which had been a big deal, since it was still years before she came out and transitioned. Halloween was every transperson's favorite time of year.

"I remember Dad was so pissed," January mused, "I guess now we know why. Well, I guess I did then too."

"To be honest, even then I still had no clue," her mother said. "Even when you put that lipstick on like you had a hundred times before. I was just so overjoyed, because Nightgirl had always been my favorite. It felt so good to know that one of my kids actually thought something I liked was cool."

"That's one reason I wanted to be Nightgirl." January laid an arm around her mother and hugged her. "She was a librarian, just like my mom."

January realized that this was one of those golden moments in life. Like flying. She leaned into it for all that it was worth, determined to soak up all of the joy she could from this instant, and burn it into her brain for the rest of her life.

"So why do you have all this stuff out?" January said. "It's getting late you know."

"I'm working on an event for the library," her mother explained. "It's kicking off the Summer Literacy Program. I want to do a presentation on comic books, talk about themes they explore, have some for the kids to read, and hopefully get them excited about reading. But it's been so long since I have read them, I am out of touch with what is current."

"Well I hate to say this, but the superhero genre is not really that popular anymore," January noted. "With the internet and social media, people can watch videos of real supers in action. So comics about fictional ones are kind of superfluous, unless you like an actual plot or character development. What's big these days is Fantasy and Sci-Fi comics, like Wolfstone the Half-Orc or Jet Gladiator. Alternate Histories are getting more popular too, especially with Steampunk."

"The old comic icons like Nightman and Superious hang on because they're cultural institutions, like Colonel Sanders, or the Scooby Gang. The newer super comics that have staying power do it by keeping up with the times. The Nightgirl of Hancock run had stories about villains using social media to mine data, gentrification of neighborhoods, and even clean energy. Of course they could not resist throwing in a psychopathic transgender villain either. I guess the classics never do go out of style. Then again the new Ms. Miracle actually dared to introduce a new protagonist who is not only female, but a Muslim, and in Baltimore no less!"

"Really?" her mother's eyes widened in surprise. "I stopped reading these around the time I had you. I had no idea."

January moved around the boxes, and found a few that were hers. She dug out some comics and handed them to her mother. "Read these, you'll love them."

"Donar is a girl now?" the red-haired librarian's eyes goggled.

"For a while," January said. "The incels were in an uproar. Donar being a toad or a horse-headed alien was perfectly fine. But having boobs was the end of the world."

"You shouldn't use that word," her mother insisted. "Remember, when they go low, we go high."

"That's not what you said when you taught me kick-boxing…" January noted.

"There is a time and place for putting your fist in someone's face," her mother said. "But until then, you should always be nice. You won't change their mind. But the other people who are watching will be swayed one way or the other by your behavior. They are the ones you want to win over. Besides that, a fight is what the trolls want. Don't feed them."

"When did you get so wise about the internet?" January marveled.

"I had AOL in my day," her mother murmured. "So why else do you like Nightgirl? I see you have a bunch of her issues here that I never read."

"I have more on my tablet I can send you. I do all my reading digital now," January remarked. "I like Nightgirl because she always had an uphill battle. Not just against the villains, but the people who should have been her mentors. She literally became a superhero because her father used his power as the police chief to prevent her from becoming a cop. Then the other capes she first reached out to all tried to dissuade her, and talk her out of being a superhero. She wasn't tall enough, she wasn't experienced enough, she wasn't male enough. Every door was slammed in her face. But she persevered and succeeded, in spite of everyone in her way."

"That was just what was on the pages," January mused. "The real misogyny was in the writers and editors behind it all. They literally victimized and objectified her to create 'character development' for the male characters. Not just once, and not just all a long time ago. In spite of all this abuse, she as a character persisted, and rose above the people who tried to hold her down. That is what I really admire about her. She is a Viking. She does not give up, no matter what."

"You should be giving this presentation, not me," January's mother declared. January simply stared back in amazement. Which prompted the older woman to continue. "I am serious. I am out of touch. But you not only know what you are talking about, you look at this from the perspective of both a writer and a reader. You can talk about more than just what's on the page, but what is behind the page."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about doing something like that!" January was flabbergasted. Slugging it out with Whitewater Security again seemed a less daunting prospect. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I will help you organize it," her mother reassured her. "I have done a million of these things, it's no big deal. We can work on it together."

January instantly felt it, the hook being set. Her whole family had just fallen apart. There was absolutely no way that she was going to turn down the chance to spend more time with her mother. After all, that was one of the reasons she had asked her to move into the house with her. She needed to rebuild that bond.

"Okay, I am in," January heard herself say. "When do you have to give this thing?"

"You will be presenting it this Friday," the librarian smiled.

"But that's in four days!"

"Then we had better get to work, shouldn't we partner?"

Posted by: Acadian Feb 8 2020, 08:14 PM

A wonderful episode with some much needed bonding between Jan and her mother. I’m so pleased they seem to be connecting so well. The change in venue is probably good for both of them.

Wonderfully done conversation between the older librarian and the budding young writer.

’January realized that this was one of those golden moments in life. Like flying. She leaned into it for all that it was worth, determined to soak up all of the joy she could from this instant, and burn it into her brain for the rest of her life.’
- - It truly is a magic moment that you want to cherish forever when you realize it as it is happening.

"There is a time and place for putting your fist in someone's face," her mother said. "But until then, you should always be nice. You won't change their mind. But the other people who are watching will be swayed one way or the other by your behavior. They are the ones you want to win over. Besides that, a fight is what the trolls want. Don't feed them."
- - Wow, Jan’s mother really shows her creds with this ‘quoted for truth’ observation.

Posted by: Renee Feb 12 2020, 07:51 PM

I am super-depressed today. sad.gif Maybe reading some Stormcrow will cheer me a little. Ghost Days looks like something I'd also like to read. Thanks for linking to that.

As much as her mom knows her, I don't think she'll be able to discern that January = Stormcrow. She's too close to really see the tree from the forest. I have a feeling somebody will figure this out though, somebody somewhat close to Jan.

QUOTE
Halloween was every transperson's favorite time of year.


Interesting. Yes, who can make judgments when everybody is dressed so silly?

Ha, who is this Ms. Miracle? biggrin.gif I wonder if she's battling our https://www.bing.com/search?q=squeegee+kids+baltimore&qs=SC&pq=squeegy+k&sc=8-9&cvid=FF086EA6AC0147799DF9A74045BA4801&FORM=QBLH&sp=1, along with actual gangs, and whatnot. Oh, there's our list of corrupt mayors too, almost forgot about that!

That sounds nice, mother working with daughter to give this presentation. I'm sure Jan will be able to handle it, although I agree that the thought of doing so will be pretty intense. Because now Jan is going to need to be more personable in front of strangers, right? That's something she hasn't really mastered like her mom has.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Feb 14 2020, 01:18 AM

Oh the incels. Heard about that quite often.

Very funny of her to make that Stormcrow comment, and even funnier was her mother's response. I'm in agreement with her. Sometimes it is wiser to keep quiet on certain matters. Jan giving her mother some facts about the popularity of superheroes and comics made sense.

Nightgirl's history was also very interesting too, and Jan made very strong points. With her transgender background, it made sense why she would be so knowledgable regarding these matters. Her mother made a very wise decision in choosing her to make this presentation. I suppose she has a new mission.

Very emotional chapter smile.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 15 2020, 06:59 PM

Acadian: I really enjoyed writing that scene with Jan and her mother. I want her relationship with her mother to be a major force in her life, one of the ways she is grounded in real-life as opposed to cape-life. Although it might be difficult in the future, as her mother does have a life of her own. Or at least, she is going to realize that she needs to have a life of her own, and that is going to precipitate some changes.


Renee: I hope our friendly neighborhood Crowgirl put a smile back on your face. I don't see her mom ever figuring out that Jan is Stormcrow either. But you are right, someone close to her will very soon. Although he won't say anything about it for some time.

https://www.advocate.com/exclusives/2019/10/30/theres-reason-why-queer-folks-love-halloween-so-much. It is one of the only times you can be yourself in a way that is reasonably safe.

Ms. Miracle is my version of https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kamala_Khan. I changed the names because I did the same with the other comic book characters I cited as existing in the Crow-Verse. I decided she lives in Baltimore rather than Jersey City because of you. So at least your city will get a comic book character in the Crow-verse. Though I am sure there is at least one *real* superhero there as well.

Jan giving that presentation is indeed a case of personal growth. As you said, it is going to be nerve-wracking. But as a cape, she is going to have to get used to speaking in public. This is her first step in that direction. In the future she will eventually do an interview with a reporter, and do several podcast appearances in her civilian ID to promote her writing.


Darkness Eternal: You cannot avoid the Incels if you are female and like science fiction or comics. I hemmed and hawed over whether or not to even use the term. It can certainly be used pejoratively. But it is also what they call themselves. Which is why I kept it in the end.

That scene gave me a nice way to do some world-building concerning the existence of comic books in the Crow-verse. It can get confusing, because now I am citing characters who are fictional within the fictional universe. Nightman, Superious, Joan Jet, are all in the comics in the Crow-verse. Not actual superheros like Jan. But it can be confusing at times even to me.

Nightgirl is a thinly disguised version of Batgirl, http://www.theradicalnotion.com/misogynistic-treatment-batgirl-killing-joke/










https://www.sciencenewsforstudents.org/blog/technically-fiction/doctor-whos-tardis-bigger-inside-how

https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/R%27lyeh





Book 4.3 - Pride

"This feels kind of weird, like I'm sneaking around behind my mother's back," January groused.

She followed Blood Raven up the stairs to the second floor. Like January, her new mentor was dressed in ordinary attire, a pair of leggings and a fitted jacket. It still took some getting used to, seeing her like that, just being ordinary. January was so used to seeing the other woman in pictures and shaky video footage. She had always been clad in her armor, cape spilled out behind her, flame red hair waving in the wind. For January's entire life, that was the only way she had ever imagined Blood Raven.

This was indeed going to take time to get used to.

They made almost a complete circuit of the balcony that ringed the rotunda in the center of the house. They only stepped off one door before the last, into a small loft located in the front corner of the house, beside the driveway. That placed them within the round tower in that corner of the home, directly above the foyer and front door that lay on the ground floor below.

Golden light spilled from Blood Raven's fingers. The light faded, and with it went the northern wall of the loft. This revealed a stairway leading up to a perfectly ordinary-looking door overhead. January followed the elder heroine up the stairs. There she paused once more, and turned to look back her descendant.

"Do you wish to tell her, everything?"

"Yes," January said honestly. "No. It wouldn't make her life better to know. Only worse. I just don't like keeping it a secret from her. I'm trying to make our relationship work."

"This is something everyone who wears a cape must grapple with," Blood Raven sat down on the top step, and motioned for January to join her. When the younger woman did, she continued. "First off, there are many ugly truths you have to face. Such as if you tell her today, will you have the same relationship in ten years? Or will she hate you so much then, that she will betray you with it?"

"She would…" January stumbled over the words before they could leave her mouth. Would her father betray her? Yes. Would her brother? Yes. Her mother, for all that she loved her, had been resistant when she came out and told her she needed to live as a girl. Only after January had attempted suicide had her mother accepted the reality that she was trans. That had always lain there like a dead rat, sitting in the darkest corner of January's mind. How much could she really trust her mother?

"This life engenders suspicion and paranoia," Blood Raven sighed. "It forces one to view the people nearest to you coldly, dispassionately, strategically. It is one of the reasons most meta-humans give up the cape, or never take it up in the first place. The battles with black hats are trifles. Living with the cape is the true challenge. There is no shame in walking away from it. You can still lead a virtuous life, and remain a decent person without being this."

"Can I?" January shook her head. "How can I live with myself if I do nothing? I never would have made it through school without other people standing up for me. People like Avery, and my mother, or even my high school PE coach Mrs. Staley. I have to do the same."

"Good," Blood Raven said. "Knowing yourself is the most important first step. I suspect you know more about who and what you are than most people three times your age. You are going to have to decide for yourself just how much you can tell others about being Stormcrow, and how much to keep in."

"How many people know you are Blood Raven?"

"Half of them are sitting right here," the flame-haired woman answered. "But do not let my answer inform yours. You must follow your own stars. You cannot follow mine."

"You know, you can be a really warm and caring person, when you want to be," January laid a hand down on the other woman's leg. She was surprised when Blood Raven laid a hand - warm and seemingly full of life - atop her own.

"We all can be," she said. "We just pick and choose when and to whom we show that side of ourselves to."

"So what do I call you?" January asked. "I can't say Blood Raven for times like now. It said Anne on your genealogy chart. But you said Branwen yesterday."

"Either is fine," she responded. "I was born Anne, but obviously that is a name I do not hear often any more. Branwen is the name of my current identity, so that would be wisest. If someone else overhears, it would be easier than explaining why you would refer to me as Anne."

"Better safe than sorry," January nodded. "Branwen it is then, great-great-to-infinity-grandmother."

"Now my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter, I have something to show you." Branwen smiled in return.

"That is a lot of greats," January murmured. "It's a good thing you are immortal, otherwise you might die of old age just saying it."

"Some also simply use the number of greats," Blood Raven said dryly, "my seven times great-granddaughter."

January thought of that. She was nine generations removed from Branwen. Had Branwen known every member of all nine generations? Had she been there for their births, watched them grow, watched them die? How many identities had she been forced to juggle across that time? How many times had she gone through the contortions of inventing another distant cousin or aunt to pretend to be?

Suddenly it no longer seemed so strange that Branwen had disappeared from her life for fifteen years. What was that, compared to nine generations of children?

January was pulled out of her reverie by the sight of a soft golden light emanating from Branwen's fingertips. The auburn-haired woman reached out to the doorknob, and that light spilled off her hand and sank into the metal. January heard the click of a lock turning, and the door swung open on its own.

"I have kept this room sealed," Branwen explained, "so that none might abuse its… possibilities."

January followed her into the room. The ceiling rose high overhead, and the walls spread out far around her. The room was clearly larger than the entire house. January blinked, it was several times larger. From the outside, the tower could only have been a dozen feet across, at most. But from the inside, it was a far greater space. In fact, she was not even sure if the walls were circular, as they appeared from the outside. The more she stared, the more difficult it was to tell just what the actual shape of the room was, or its dimensions.

"It's like a Tardis," January breathed, "bigger on the inside,"

"Curious that you should say that," Branwen said softly, and closed the door behind them.

The ambiguous size of the room was not its most notable feature however. It was the designs inscribed into its walls, floor, and ceiling. The floor was inlaid with a pebble mosaic, like the kind January was used to seeing in pictures of ancient Roman or Byzantine buildings in her father's study. The pebbles traced out numerous curved lines that crossed and overlapped one another. Each line was laid out in a different color. Where two lines met, the color seemed to shift from one to the other, depending on how January focused on them.

The walls were inset with strips of metal, that likewise drew out more curved lines. Again, these came in all colors, depending on the metal they were made from. There was bright copper, gleaming gold, cold silver, dull gray iron, and more. Some of these lines intersected with those on the floor, joining together to form even larger contours. Others floated alone in the sea of angles and curves.

The ceiling was hung with beads. Every inch of the surface was covered with these strings, which varied in length, and the number, color and shape of beads fitted upon them. Some were made of metals such as the aforementioned copper, bronze, brass, or steel. Others were minerals such as quartz, malachite, carnelian, or bloodstone, and so many more stones that January could not put a name too.

These not only formed into still more lineaments of varying colors and textures, these changed depending on where January viewed them from. The entire room swam before her eyes. It seemed to form - and reform - as she walked around it. The more January concentrated on a specific set of features, the more sharply they leaped into focus, and the more the room seemed to alter itself to conform to that reality. It felt like the room was made of playdoh, while her eyes and mind continually reshaped it.

"It's not a Tardis," January declared. "It is R'lyeh. Euclid would have a heart attack in this place. There are angles that are there, but aren't. The room is a sphere, and a cube, and a pyramid, and whole bunch of other shapes I cannot even begin to describe. It's like being inside all my gaming dice. All at the same time, and none at the same time."

"Awesome!" she marveled. "This really is a Witch House!"

"This was my friend Keziah's sanctum sanctorum," Branwen explained. "She built all of this herself, to help her focus her energies. But also to help her cast herself across the realms. All things are possible here. All places, and all times. This is a wondrous place, and a terrible one. I am placing a great deal of trust in you, allowing you to be here."

She did not have say "Don't let me down." January conjured up the words all on her own.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 15 2020, 09:44 PM

As enjoyable as the previous episode of mother-daughter bonding was, this one of great grandmother(7) – great granddaughter(x7) was fully its equal. I love how you are showing us that Blood Raven does indeed have a side to her that is warm, even caring.

Blood Raven well demonstrates the loneliness being a cape can entail. I suspect it is good for both her and Stormcrow to have a fellow cape to open up with.

I’m quoting two passages of conversation below because the styles of speech in each so perfectly match who is saying them:
- - "Half of them are sitting right here," the flame-haired woman answered. "But do not let my answer inform yours. You must follow your own stars. You cannot follow mine."
- - "Awesome!" she marveled. "This really is a Witch House!"

What a fascinating room!


Nit: ’She did not have {to} say "Don't let me down."

Posted by: Renee Feb 18 2020, 06:23 PM

Yes, Stormcrow did cheer me up a little last week. smile.gif Thank you.

QUOTE
There is no shame in walking away from it. You can still lead a virtuous life, and remain a decent person without being this."


January won't walk away though. Just flying around alone, and coming to the rescue of others.... she's already addicted to this lifestyle. (I hate to use the word "addicted" but I can't think of a better one). It's the same rush I am sure police and EMTs feel all the time when the flame goes under the pan.

QUOTE
January thought of that. She was nine generations removed from Branwen. Had Branwen known every member of all nine generations? Had she been there for their births, watched them grow, watched them die? How many identities had she been forced to juggle across that time? How many times had she gone through the contortions of inventing another distant cousin or aunt to pretend to be?


I just thought of something else. I am wondering what Bloo-- err -- Branwen did in all those decades and centuries in which there were no superhero "costumes?" You know what i Mean? Did she fly around in the late 1800s too, except wearing conservative Victorian garb instead of an outlandish outfit which makes her immediately recognizable in this modern age?

That would be a neat chapter ... go back in time and write about one of Branwen's adventures from back then. Hee hee! Well I guess they'd all consider her a witchy woman. Rumors abound around her, and so on.

I just got shivers reading about the Tardis room. indifferent.gif I wonder what this room could be for.


Posted by: Renee Feb 18 2020, 09:56 PM

QUOTE(Acadian @ Feb 15 2020, 03:44 PM) *

Nit: ’She did not have {to} say "Don't let me down."

I actually like very little flaws like this. smile.gif With Goblin Lady I'd intentionally leave small mistakes in, just to remind myself I'm nowhere near perfect.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 22 2020, 06:07 PM

Acadian: I do want to show that Blood Raven/Branwen is a well-rounded character, not a one-dimensional dark avenger constantly lurking around every gothic church steeple. She is a person, she has a life, and a past, emotions and opinions (boy does she have a lot of the last!).

I too really enjoyed the chance to finally start developing the relationship between BR/B and Jan. Like you said, it is something very positive and healthy for both of them.

The hardest thing about writing BR/B is her dialogue. I actually have copied and pasted snippets of dialogue from 19th century novels like Frankensetein and Moby Dick, and put them all in a text file. I refer to that to get an idea of the style of speech, and use of particular words like "shall" and "should" instead of "will" or "would". Like "I should like to go to the fair on the morrow, dear Mr. Darcy." A lot of my work on later drafts is in tweaking her dialogue like this.


Renee: You are right. Being a cape makes January feel like she is an impact on the world in general, and people's lives in particular. Being that directly influential is very attractive. Though I do foresee a time when she will hang up the cape, at least temporarily.

I do have a lot of BR/B's history worked out. She was just an ordinary person until she became a vampire in the 1793. She spent years just learning to control her vampiric nature after that. But she would have been out in the world by the end of the 1790s. I know the money she has (she is rich) comes from pirate treasure that dates back to the early 1800s. Maybe Jean Laffitte's, but more likely one of the Ohio River pirates, or even one of those from the Great Lakes (there were pirates in Lake Michigan!). Most of the 1800s are a blank for her, though I do know she fought in the Civil War. Her history really gets filled in from WWII onwards. She was with the SOE in France for the war, and a Red Cross nurse afterward. She returned to America in the early 50s, and became a teacher in one of the first special ed private schools. Then after the death of Tanya Blanding in the Detroit Uprising in 1967 she became a superhero. Her contempt for the police goes straight back to that (Tanya was a four year old girl who was literally gunned down with a .50 caliber machine gun by the national guard, who were all exonerated afterward).

BR/B did not really indulge in a lot of blatant power use before she 'officially' became a cape. Like other vampires, she kept it on the down low. And her abilities have evolved over time. She wasn't always the awesome juggernaut she now is. The Tunguska event plays a role too, since magic became extremely more powerful after it. Before it, it took hours, or even days, to cast a spell, and even then it would not have been something as blatant as casting a fireball.

The Tardis Room is where BR/B's own mentor Keziah learned to travel between space, time, and alternate realities. It is heavily inspired by Lovecraft's story Dreams in the Witch House. Though also from A Wrinkle In Time. Keziah eventually learned to "tesser" all on her own, and no longer needed the reality warping effects of the room. But it still remains a place where all times, places, and worlds almost meet.






Book 4.4 - Pride

"This is where Keziah taught me to use magic," Branwen explained. "The mists between realms are very thin here. All things are possible. Because of that this place can help you feel your power, raise it up, and direct it, among other things. Yet I must caution you. If you are not focused, if you allow your thoughts and intentions to run wild, the room will react to them. The things beyond this room might react to you. That can be very dangerous."

January nodded. She felt like she was in martial arts class for the first time. She took her eyes from the walls and their ever shifting phantasmagoria of shapes and boundaries, and focused on Branwen. She let the rest of the room slip away, and concentrated on her face, and her voice.

"Everyone can use magic," Branwen said. "It truly is as I wrote in my books. It is not something reserved for people who are somehow special, or chosen by fate. It is no different from using your muscles, or using your brain."

"Now it is true that some have a natural gift for magic, and for tapping into their power. While others have no talent for it at all. In this way it is no different from those gifted as artists, or musicians, or coders, or running backs. But even the most ungifted are still capable of using magic, even if only in relatively minor ways. Just as everyone is capable of throwing a punch, even if not in the manner of Joe Louis."

"So why isn't everyone running around zapping things with wands?" January wondered.

"First off, no one needs a stick to use magic." Branwen shook her head. "They are nothing but theater props. Sadly however, some people who call themselves magicians still do wave them about. But that is because they think they need to, not because of any true necessity. In a few cases their wand or staff is actually enchanted to focus their power. But that is another bag of cats entirely."

"Sticks aside, magic is quite simply the ability to reshape reality: to change the world. It only works when you truly believe, deep in your heart, that you possess power." Branwen continued. "You must know you can create change, just like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, or that something you drop will fall to the floor." To emphasize her words, her ring of keys made a loud clatter as she let them plummet to the floor.

"And the sad truth is that very few people honestly believe they can change anything." January found herself nodding. "From our births we are taught that we are powerless. First our parents hold absolute power over us. Then our gods. Then our teachers. Then our bosses. Then our government. Anyone who rebels is an outcast, a weirdo, a criminal. They are Lucifer, the Fallen."

"You speak with a poet's tongue," Branwen observed. "When did you awaken to this wisdom?"

January showed her the scars on her wrists. "I know you saw this the night of the fire. I did it because I couldn't take living in the world anymore, and I knew in my heart that I could never change it, or myself. But I was wrong. I survived it. I overcame it. I learned that I could change myself, and my world, even if just one tiny step at a time."

"That is when you learned magic," Branwen declared.

January reflected on that. After she had finished her rehabilitation she had gone back to school. Only this time it was as January, not August. That had not been easy, in the way that climbing Mount Everest was not easy. Life had not gotten better, but worse. That is when the harassment started. When she learned what it was like to have two bigger people hold you down while a third pounded his fist into your face.

That was also when she learned to fight back, when she focused her will upon standing against her oppressors. Now it was clear to her that it was not simply her mother's Karate lessons that had enabled her to defeat all the bullies. It was her magic, focused upon her need to fight. All this time she had been using magic, without even realizing it!

What if she consciously focused that will on something? What could she do then?

"I need some way to strike out at opponents from a distance," January said. "I recently fought a flying robot, and half the time all I could use against it was harsh language, because I could not reach it."

"Of course, an arcane bolt." Branwen nodded. "That is a staple of magicians worldwide."

"First, feel your magic," the auburn-haired woman said. "Call it up from within, gather it together into a ball, and hold it."

January followed the exercises she had learned in her books on Wicca, and did just that. This time she felt her power not as a simple tingling on her skin, or warmth in her flesh. Now it was a cool flow of energy that she tapped into, like a mountain stream that washed through her spirit. She pulled that energy up as Blood Raven had directed, and slowly gathered more and more of it.

"So what is this energy called," January asked. "Is it mana? or magicka?"

"There are as many different names for it as there are people who use it," Blood Raven said. "The Romans called it numen or numina. The Chinese call it qi, or ch'i. Elphias Levi described it as 'astral light'. The people of the Pacific say that mana is a spiritual power. Hinduism and Yoga speak of kundalini. That is only scratching the surface. The more you look, the more answers you will find. The exact names and even meanings vary between every society in every age."

"So what do you call it?" January asked.

"I find myself drawn to the term aion, from the Greek," Branwen explained. "Much of the lore of my… particular kind… stems from Ancient Greece, and their moon goddesses. So that is what feels most natural to me. What term feels most natural to you?"

"Well, mana I guess," January thought aloud. "That is what most RPGs call it."

"Mana it is then," Branwen insisted. "Do not guess. Know your magic. Your will must be absolute. Now concentrate on your mana."

January said nothing. She turned all of her concentration inward, upon her power. She gathered more and more, until it felt wobbly in her metaphysical hands, like an overstuffed closet in a cartoon, whose door was about to burst from its hinges.

Branwen waved one hand, and a glowing wall of force sprang into existence between them. "Now visualize a bolt of pure energy erupting from your hand, and aim it at this barrier. Pour all of that power - all of that mana - you just raised into that. Hold nothing back. You must totally commit yourself."

January let go of her mana, and pictured it blasting forth from her body in a torrent of energy. She felt the mana spill out into the universe around her. It swirled like water circling a drain, then evaporated like steam. In moments it had fizzled away to nothingness, without even the barest sparkle rising from her fingertips.

"You are defeating yourself," Branwen said. "I saw you build your power. Clearly you have practice at this already. That is good. It appeared that you visualized the change you wished, and directed the power toward that. But there it failed. You must believe in this absolutely. Not that you can do it, but that you will. Magic is one tenth energy, and nine tenths in here."

She laid a hand over January's heart in emphasis.

"I do believe it!" January cried. "I'm trying. It just isn't working right."

"Then do so," Branwen declared. "There is no trying, no maybes, no mights. They all leave room for doubt. A conjure woman who doubts, is a conjure woman who fails. Banish these words from your vocabulary. A magician is absolute in her certainty. Do it, or do not. There are no other options."

"Did you just quote Yoda?" January asked.

"Who?" Branwen wondered.

The older woman sighed, and ran one hand through the auburn mane of her hair. "Keziah had this same conversation with me over two hundred years ago. This is the hardest part of teaching someone magic. The fact is, no one can teach you magic. I can tell you all about raising energy, or focusing on a result you wish to create, or that you must apply your will. But in the end you must find your own magic. It is an utterly personal thing, unique to every practitioner. That is one reason there are so many names for it. I know you can do it, because you have been for years."

"I can do it," January said. "No, I will do that. I will practice, I will work, and I will make it happen."

"That is the attitude," Branwen said. "Magic is no easier to master than martial arts. It takes commitment, effort, and time. After all, Rome was not sacked in a day."

"No, it took the Visigoths three days," January remarked dryly. That actually brought the ghost of a smile to her mentor's lips.

"I suggest you try a centering technique to help you focus your power," Branwen said. "It shall assist you in exercising your magical muscles as you find your way."

"Oooh, in Shadowrun centering can be used to reduce Drain, or penalties, or to improve a skill test."

"Shadow-?" Branwen stared at January in consternation.

"It's a role-playing game," January said. "I'll show you. It has a really cool magic system. Anyway, in it you can use centering skills, like zen mediation, or chanting, or singing, or dancing, anything really. It puts you in harmony with your being, your magical energy, and the world around you."

"Hmm," Branwen nodded. "It sounds like whoever wrote that knows a thing or two about actual magic. In the old days, before Tunguska, attaining an altered state of consciousness was a requirement for all magical undertakings. Today chaos magicians call it gnosis. The Neo-Platonists called it illumination, or ecstasy. But not in the physical, carnal sense of course."

"Plotinus defined ecstasy as the liberation of the mind from its finite consciousness, and so becoming at one with the infinite. Plato said it was the ardent turning of the soul toward the divine."

"It is a state where you focus your mind on one intent, and banish all other thought. Before Tunguska it could take hours, or even days, for a magician to change their level of consciousness and tap into their power. If they ever could at all. That is why ceremonial magic like that in the Western esoteric traditions are filled with such elaborate rituals."

"As I said before, to be a magician, one must first embrace one's power, in spite of the world insisting one is powerless. Next one must find this state of consciousness to call one's energy. Today it is not that trying for the most skilled of us. The power is always there, just waiting for us to draw it forth and direct it. But many modern practitioners still mistakenly read the old books and take them for the gospel. They rely upon the outdated methods, even when they do not truly need to."

"The old techniques can still be useful however," Blood Raven admitted, "For those less naturally talented, or less practiced, it is still the only way they can use magic. For those of us with greater ability it can aid in focusing our will. It is also an effective means by which to calm your mind and simply relax, even when not actually working magic. It is a way to remain silent in the presence of the divine, until it removes the clouds from our eyes and enables us to see by the light that issues from ourselves. Not to see what we think is good, but what is intrinsically good."

Thanks to her high school philosophy class, January recognized the quote from Plato, albeit heavily paraphrased. Then her jaw dropped.

Branwen raised her hands and closed her eyes. Golden light sprang from nothingness and formed complex Celtic knotwork designs in the air. The symbols turned around her, and January recognized the magic circle she had seen her conjure after the fire at the Flying Dutchman. The auburn-haired magician's voice sang in Gaelic, and symbols and knots revolved around her in a breathtaking display.

"This is how I focus myself," Blood Raven said. "At one time I would have had to have drawn these out with ash, or salt, or scratched it into the dirt. But in this era, the magic comes to us much more willingly."

"Wow," January heard herself say. "That's sick!"

"It is not ill," Branwen narrowed her eyes in consternation.

"No, that means it's good," January explained. "It's how people talk."

"That is asinine," Blood Raven insisted, "never say that again."

"Ok Boomer," January breathed, "how about it's awesomesauce?"

Branwen let the circle fade away, and looked at January.

"That is much more palatable," she agreed. "As your game declared, there are many ways to achieve gnosis. Chanting, dancing, meditating, some make passes with their fingers, like Japanese Kuji. It must be something that calms you, relaxes you, distracts you from your distractions. Think about that, and practice."

"But first show me this role-playing game," she said. "I should like to study its teachings. You may work on your skills while I do."

Posted by: Acadian Feb 22 2020, 09:21 PM

A fascinating discussion of magic!

I like how Branwen explained how ‘sticks’ (wands and, I presume, staves), while not necessary in the hands of a well-skilled mage can help project or focus one’s magic. The reason that strikes close to home is that, in time, Buffy will learn to use a staff to help overcome her inability to project her healing magic beyond the reach of her hands.

You continue to superbly contrast the speaking styles of Jan and Bran to wonderful effect. Awesomesauce! Er, I mean. . . most palatable. tongue.gif

The latter part of this episode was a hoot as the two ladies freely moved between real world magic and RPG magic during their discussion. Given Jan’s gaming background – which we can all relate to here at Chorrol – referring to her magic as mana makes perfect sense.

Posted by: Renee Feb 26 2020, 03:34 PM

Ah, thanks for explaining about Branwen. So she did not have all those super powers for most of her existence. I like the way she had some more ordinary jobs here and there.

[censored], I didn't know the Great Lakes had pirates! Of course it'd be possible though,

I'll have to read more Lovecraft as it gets to be summer. I have a habit of reading in my backyard as weather gets summery instead of playing videogames. Haven't read Dreams in the Witch House yet, so it'll be interesting to compare any similarities.

Have you heard of Dark Matter by Blake Crouch? There's a scientist who builds a box which I'm now realizing could be similar to the Tardis. This box can link up to any of the zillions of alternate realities which supposedly surround us.

-----------------------------------------

QUOTE
"So why isn't everyone running around zapping things with wands?" January wondered.


I know the answer! Oooh ooh, Mister Kotter! It is .... Because we don't believe, or suspend out disbelief, at the very least. Branwen basically agrees a few sentences later.

Aw, Jan causes the Raven to faintly smile with her Rome comeback. smile.gif

laugh.gif == "Did you just quote Yoda?" ... "Who?" biggrin.gif

QUOTE
"Wow," January heard herself say. "That's sick!"

"It is not ill," Branwen narrowed her eyes in consternation.


rollinglaugh.gif

Uh oh, Blood Raven's going to spend an evening rolling dice! I have a feeling Jan is going to educate her mentor just as much.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 29 2020, 05:27 PM

Acadian: The stick discussion is something I learned in the Wicca 101 books I read back in the 90s. All that eye of newt and tongue of bat stuff is just theater. It can help you focus, but that is because you believe it helps you focus. In the end, they are just props. The real power is always within you.

In Shadowrun things like wands and staffs can be two different magical objects: fetishes and foci. When you learn a spell you have the option of making it require a fetish to cast it. This gives you a bonus in the spell's power, or makes it cause less drain. The tradeoff is you cannot cast it without the fetish. A focus is your basic magic item. A spell focus gives you extra power for a specific class of spells, like combat or healing. A power focus gives you extra power across the board. They are really expensive.

It sounds like Buffy is learning some 2nd Era ESO magic! It is nice to have some drawbacks or counter-balances to your characters. Otherwise they can start to seem too uber and just become annoying. So needing a wand or staff or other ingredient to do something can be a good thing. It puts some real limits on them. It is something I always grapple with in this tale, because, superheros. I can keep January seeming down to earth because I can always compare her to Blood Raven. Also, her magic only works when she couches it in terms of the elements. Because that is just how she thinks. It is all in her head. Keeping Blood Raven down to earth is much more difficult. I am coming to find that her being a vampire is her biggest disadvantage, rather than greatest power.

I am basically rolling with both ideas in the Crow-verse. Most people who use wands or staffs do so because they believe they need to. Some people know they don't need them, but instead use them because they are enchanted to give them extra power. It does not even need to be a staff or wand. It could be anything, a ring, a tie-tack, a cufflink, an earring, a lucky coin, a phone, you name it.

The dialogue with Blood Raven and Jan is something, as always, I pay extra attention to. Sometimes it is just as hard keeping Jan and Avery's dialogue appropriate with modern slang as it is making Blood Raven's old fashioned.

The gaming stuff is naturally a treat to finally be able to write about.


Renee: I did not know the Lakes had pirates either! I only started researching it recently when I was working on Blood Raven's history. None of them are as impressive as Blackbeard of course. One of them was even some kind of religious cult leader whose flock lived on an island. Another one was active even into the 1900s. I may adapt the cult one to be more nefarious than in real life, and use that. They could have been a bunch of Deep Ones living in the Great Lakes.

Dreams in the Witch House is one of Lovecraft's better ones. I don't like all the Witch-bashing in it. But I do like all the mathematics that it uses to reach alternate realities instead of magic. It is an example of how his later work moved away from using magical and religious ideas, to science instead. The gods like Cthulhu were not gods at all, but alien beings from somewhere else. Medieval magic was not the way to call upon higher powers, but rather cutting edge physics was. In many ways he went from being a gothic horror writer to a science fiction writer. The https://store.hplhs.org/products/dark-adventure-radio-theatre-the-dreams-in-the-witch-house?_pos=4&_sid=cb20501c0&_ss=r. I highly recommend it.

Jan will be teaching Blood Raven as much as she is learning. Not so much about RPGs, as I don't see Blood Raven as a gamer, but just about the modern world in general, and embracing life. While Blood Raven makes for an excellent mentor in magicing and superheroing, Jan herself in an excellent mentor for being a part of the world.






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Book 4.5 - Pride

"So what are comic books?" January stared out at the room filled with bright young faces. And bright bored faces. And bright runny-nosed faces. And bright, interested faces. Lots of bright, and lots of young, and lots of faces.

And she was standing in front of them all trying not to act like an idiot.

She reminded herself that this was no different from teaching martial arts classes at the dojo. Only today she was wearing leggings and a Ms. Miracle tee rather than a karategi. But Karate, Muay-Thai, and Krav Maga were all old hat to her. She never got nervous teaching them. They were as much a part of her life as breathing after all.

So were comics. She was just not used to talking about them in front of a room full of people. She yearned for the halcyon days of slugging it out with Whitewater Security.

"Well that's a dumb question right?" January went on, to a chorus of low chuckles. "We all know what comic books are. Or do we?"

She nodded to her mother across the Warren Civic Center Library's spacious conference room. The red-haired librarian tapped a key on her laptop, and the projector it was cabled up to spilled an image across the wall behind January. It showed a series of stone carvings that climbed up a wide column. Depicted on it were images of Roman legionaries battling barbarians, gathering up livestock, or just standing around talking.

"This is Trajan's column," January explained. "It was built almost 2,000 years ago by a Roman Emperor. He wanted to show off how cool he was after conquering the barbarians. Like they used to say, statues or it didn't happen."

That brought some giggles from the room, and January nodded to her mother for the next slide. This one showed a series of panels of a futuristic warrior in a space ship, accompanied by a sidekick that looked like a cross between a dinosaur and a dog. The space warrior piloted his ship through a ferocious battle, blasting alien spacecraft through panel after panel.

"This is a page from last week's issue of Jet Gladiator," she continued. "Does anyone see the similarities between the two?"

Dead silence greeted her. January's heart did not stop however. Her mother had warned her that people were often slow to speak out in groups. Sometimes they just needed a little prodding.

"Let's go back and look at the Romans," January said, and her mother backed up the presentation slide to the image showing Trajan's Column.

"Let me see, it must be the clothes right?" January said. That brought more laughter. "No, that's not it."

"They both have pictures!" a young boy cried from the back.

"Yes, they both have pictures!" January agreed. "Thank you for playing! You win a comic book. What do you like, Wolfstone the Barbarian, or our friend here Jet Gladiator?"

"Wolfstone!" came the cry.

"By the Gods of Steel!" January growled in as low a barbaric voice as she could muster. She picked up the latest issue of the half-orc barbarian's adventures and walked out to hand it to the boy, who could not have been older than nine. "Good choice my young Padawan. Maybe when you get a little older you will try reading the novels by the writer - Howard E. Roberts. They are full of action and excitement, and fearless heroes who always do what they think is right, in spite of the consequences."

Kind of like capes, except she was not nearly as fearless as the half-orc warrior. Nor was she anywhere near as heedless of the repercussions of her actions.

"So why am I bringing up this boring stuff?" January nodded to her mother, who advanced the presentation to a slide of the Bayeux Tapestry. "Because when we read comics - and I read them too - we are taking part in a very ancient tradition: using a series of pictures to tell a story."

"Some people might say that comics are just for kids." January hunched her back over, and thinned out her voice into a creaking parody of an old woman. "They think we should grow out of them when we get old and decrepit like I am."

"But the truth is we never outgrow stories, and we never should." January straightened up and let her voice go back to normal. "We think in stories. When we don't have them, we even make them up. Because we want a narrative to explain why things happen in life. Those narratives can teach us, inspire us, show us who we could be, and who we shouldn't be. They also help pass the time when the Wi-Fi is down."

That brought some more laughs. January continued on with her short presentation, telling the kids an extremely short version of how modern comic books got started in America. She wrapped up with how they were evolving into the new age. From all comics being released digitally as well as on paper, to things like web comics that never had a single hardcopy ever printed.

"Almost anyone can make a comic book these days," January ended. "If you have a story to tell, and you can draw a picture, you can make your own comic. You don't have to work for a big company. You don't need a ton of money. Maybe one day, one of you will make the next Jet Gladiator. Now how about we read some comics?"

The children cheered. January suspected it was more because it was time to start passing out the comics than from her speech. But that was fine. As long as they had fun reading, that was all that really mattered. Plus she had survived it. January knew that being challenged and growing as a person was supposed to be important. But it did not come without anxiety. She was glad that being challenged was over for the day, and she could go back to being her ordinary self.

Her mother turned off the projector and came up to help pass out comics for the children to read. When they were all loaded up with books and found spots to start reading quietly, she turned to January.

"So why don't you write a comic?"

Posted by: Acadian Feb 29 2020, 09:20 PM

Thank you for your insights on fetishes and foci. My enhanced interest is fueled by a couple things. Staves are (for the first time in Elder Scrolls history!) good weapons in ESO. Secondly, ESO NPCs often require you to help them find a focus object to help them cast a spell that is necessary to open a portal, lift a magical ward, request key information from a spirit or other such arcanery needed to progress things along.

*

Oh yes – that old Roman saying, ‘Statues or it didn’t happen.’ tongue.gif

A fun episode!

January’s nervousness is this unfamiliar arena of rugrats who are known for being blissfully unfamiliar with tact was understandable. Preparation, perseverance and some courage served her well though. In fact, the fledgling teacher managed her class magnificently. A+ I say.


Nit? - - ’This one showed a series of panels of a futuristic warrior in {a?} space ship,’

Posted by: Renee Mar 2 2020, 05:57 PM

That radio drama looks intriguing. Thanks. Another 20 bucks though. I'd better finish up the Lovecraft book I already have first. Thanks, though.

Aw, well Jan is doing a good job in front of the class so far. She has them giggling at least. Yes, because the thing is when she's in front of one of her martial arts classes, she is in front of people who are there mostly specifically to learn about martial arts. But she's doing well as a comic book speaker. I am getting flashbacks to guest speakers in my own schooling.

Off-topic, but I recently learned in Japan, street cops don't have a need to carry guns, but they must know martial arts. ph34r.gif That's so deep.

QUOTE
While Blood Raven makes for an excellent mentor in magicing and superheroing, Jan herself in an excellent mentor for being a part of the world.


Absolutely. Blood Raven is awesome but being more in-touch with modern civilization could help her for sure.

Nice. She's giving comic books away as rewards. That's awesome. It's also ironic. Because surely there have been zillions of classrooms ever since the 1950s in which reading a comic book in class could merit a pink slip!

Delightful chapter, hon.




Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 4 2020, 02:35 AM

4.3:

laugh.gif Jan is such a mamma's girl. Blood Raven continues to pass on her wise words to Jan, and if there's one thing that rings true, is that people can be fickle, and circumstances can change just as fast as the weather. A lesson Jan needs to understand from the beginning. It is for sure a challenge cape-wearers must deal with.

Had she been there for their births, watched them grow, watched them die? How many identities had she been forced to juggle across that time?
This was an interesting part. As an immortal, one has to adopt an assumed identity throughout to countless years to cover their own tracks. I'd imagine as a person staying in one area for too long, people would begin to notice, and unless there is a credible explanation as to why he/she won't age, one must move on and "become someone else" per se.

The room was very appropriate! I like it.

4.4:

Forgot to point out that I like the chapter name. Very appropriate.

We continue to learn more about magic, and it is very fascinating to read. I'm learning just as much as Jan is. Magic having different names in different cultures is so true, and those names are all familiar.

"That is what most RPGs call it."
To be honest I grew up with 'mana' too. And now 'magicka'. laugh.gif

What I really like about Jan is despite it all, her hurts and unfortunate circumstances, and nearly giving up, she was able to withstand and stand tall. Very inspiring. And her sense of humor had me laughing my rear off.

"Ok Boomer,"
I'm dead.




Posted by: SubRosa Mar 7 2020, 04:48 PM

Acadian: In the Mythica movies, magicians often had to use alchemical ingredients to cast spells. So you would need something like fire salts to case a fire spell. The ingredient was essentially the ammunition. That gave magic a real check, to keep it from being too uber. It is an idea I have filed away for future thought. It might be something I could used in an idea I have for a character called Artemis Argent (whom we will hear more about in the Crowverse, as she is a character January invents).

This was a nice episode in that it showed January stepping out of her comfort zone and doing something somewhat new. The confidence gained and experience will certainly help her in her future encounters with the public, both as Jan the writer and Stormcrow the cape. The final sentence by her mom will also have a significant effect on her future.

Thanks for the nit. In spite of having gone over that particular section at least a dozen times, little things like that still slip through.


Renee: The $20 is only for the cd. The mp3 version is cheaper, I think $12.50 or so. All of HPLHS's radio dramas come in multiple formats, with the mp3s being cheapest. I always buy the mp3s. I have not listened to a cd in a decade at least.

One of the ways I keep Blood Raven from seeing too uber, and hopefully just more accessible as a person, is that she is somewhat out of touch with modern times. You will see a lot of that in her interactions with January. They really do make a great pair, because they are so different in so many ways.

Oops, Jan's presentation was not in a school, but at the city library. I went back and tried to fix that up a bit to make it more clear.


Darkness Eternal: It would be difficult to be an immortal and still try to remain in the lives of your family and descendants. Because of necessity you cannot remain one place and one identity for too long. Then on top of that you have to keep finding ways to put yourself back in your descendants lives without anyone recognizing you. Talk about a serious juggling act!

The chapter title will become much more clear in today's episode.

The thing I like best about writing January is that in spite of all the trials and tribulations in her life, she still stands tall. She is an inspiration, but still has enough foibles to remain down to earth and ordinary, in her own caped way.

I am glad someone got the OK Boomer line!




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https://i.imgur.com/bHZl7Ld.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/GLhQr0g.jpg

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https://i.imgur.com/8IdFcid.jpg





Book 4.6 - Pride

Her mother's question was still reverberating around January's head when she left work from the dojo the next afternoon. Of course the presentation of a comic would be totally different from writing prose. She would have to think about writing in panels and pages. But she already framed the events of her stories in her head by thinking of how they would play out in a movie. She could translate that into a graphical format with little effort, hopefully.

She would have to find a penciller, an inker, and a colorist, of course. Or one gifted artist with the time and skill to do all three. She had no idea how to find such a person. Maybe she could take an art class during the summer? She knew she was never going to be a Jamie McKelvie or Russell Dauterman. But maybe she could learn enough to draw breakdowns to pass along to the real artists. She had read that Neil Gaiman did that.

"Hello America, this is Gilda Gadlfy, bringing you all the dish on our caped and cowled friends."

January knew she should not waste her time on a trite rumor-monger like Gilda. But now that she wore a cape herself, she just could not resist hearing what was going in the superhero world. Or at least what the non-supers thought was going on. Of course it had nothing to do with wanting to hear her own name on the radio. Nope, not one bit.

"Today our friends in the Motor City are celebrating Pride Day in the suburb of Ferndale. A little birdy told this reporter that our favorite feathered heroine Stormcrow might be in attendance. Word has it that the festival committee has reached out to the Crowgirl and asked her to come up on stage. Ever since the bombshell was dropped that she is a lesbian, or isn't she, everyone has been wondering what side of the bun our favorite Detroit cape spreads her butter on. Come on girl, you can tell us. Give us all the dish!"

January shook her head. She had no idea that this would happen when she told that gas station attendant that she was gay. She had just been trying to let him down easy when he was hitting on her. Never mind that it was true.

"In other news, the trial of former Senator Wade Harding of Michigan continues into its fourth week. Michigan Attorney General Dana Essen introduced evidence that Harding allegedly laundered money from Russia into numerous real estate deals. This is in addition to the charges that the senator used his non profit organization - named Non Profit 1488 - to funnel money illegally into his political campaign. He is also charged with using the non profit's finances to buy himself a million dollar boat, which he calls the Warfighter. It appears that of the millions of dollars raised by his ComeFundMe campaign for Non Profit 1488, none of it went toward that organization's murky goals of furthering promoting economic nationalism and American sovereignty.

January shut off the radio as a new announcer droned on about the latest political scandal, which was notable in that for once it did not involve the president.

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at the new text that had popped up.

You here yet?

She typed furiously with her thumbs, and sent Avery a reply.

Coming up to Star of India.

January lowered her phone, but did not put it back in her purse just yet. She wore a rainbow halter top that left her abs on display, along with a miniskirt that showed off her legs. A Make America Gay Again hat graced her head, with her long blond hair pulled through the back in a ponytail.

She would normally never wear anything so incredibly eye-catching. But today she looked quite tame and ordinary compared to the people who flooded the street around her. It was Pride day, and downtown Ferndale was packed to the brim with brightly colored people. There was a belly dancer, and a woman beside her who wore an exotic outfit of numerous veils all layered one over the other. Someone was dressed in a full cheetah costume, wearing a tank top over it emblazoned with a rainbow-colored housecat. Many people wore rainbow capes, or had their faces painted with bright colors. Some even wore entirely ordinary clothing, and on a day like today, they were the ones who stood out the most.

The great thing about Pridefest was that it was the only day of the year that was not about being ordinary. Well that and Halloween.

She saw a black man's head rising above the crowd, and put her phone away with a smile. She suppressed a fangirl squee as she slipped past a stormtrooper, a Princess Leia with purple hair, and a Sabine Wren with blue hair. She was just about to tap Avery on the shoulder when he turned around to face her.

For a moment she thought he had worn just ordinary clothes. Then she noted that his orange shirt said "Homo Depot", rather than the familiar logo of a certain home improvement store. She smiled, and he gathered her up in a warm hug.

"Careful, someone might think we are a straight couple," January breathed.

"This is like the only place that will never happen," Avery laughed.

"So how has your first week in the Witch House been?" Avery asked. "Seen any ghouls or goblins yet?"

He led them out into the street. Nine Mile had been blocked off at either end and now each side of the road was lined with kiosks devoted to every sort of outreach organization there was. Even an animal shelter had set up with rows of dogs and cats in little cages. All through the street between people wandered, danced, and schmoozed.

Through it all January never once felt self-conscious, or worried about someone reading her.

"Not even a kobold," January said. "The house hasn't disappeared either. We did get the electric turned up on Wednesday, and water on Thursday. So no more taking sponge baths with Aquafina. We got pellets for the wood burning stove too, it's very energy efficient."

"But you don't like, cook on it right?" Avery wondered.

"It's not that kind of stove," January said. "It's the furnace kind. It's very energy efficient, and the pellets are made from sawdust and other scrap wood that just gets thrown away otherwise."

"Sweet," Avery nodded. "You know I could probably put a nuclear reactor in. I've been working on another one this week, trying to miniaturize it."

January wondered if he meant to shrink it down small enough to be put in say, a suit of powered armor? But she did not say that out loud.

"I'm not sure what my mother would say about that," January murmured. "Besides, I thought you might want to keep that stuff on the down low, know what I mean?"

"Well she already knows I have the cold fusion in my car," Avery insisted. "Besides, we don't have to tell her it's a fusion reactor. Oh, hey, and I've got something for you."

He opened up a little paper bag that he held in one hand, and held it out so that she could see inside. January saw a baseball-sized gizmo within, with a ring and pin on one end, like on a hand grenade.

"It's my first adhesive wave emitter," Avery said proudly. "Pull that pin, and in five seconds everything nearby sticks together. The battery is limited though, so use it sparingly."

January nodded, and unobtrusively tucked the immobilizing weapon into her purse. It would have come in handy during her fights with Archie a few weeks before. Of course something like an arcane bolt spell would be nice too, if she could ever learn to cast it correctly.

"So are you meeting that fireman's sister here?" Avery teased. "You know, the one with the…"

"No I am not," January declared. "That's the last thing I need in life right now. But what about you? Are you going to hook up with someone?"

"I already did," Avery said.

"You dog you!" January laughed. "Spill already!"

"He was ok. Had these abs that were just fire." Avery gazed across the street wistfully. "But the more we talked, the more I realized that he was lame. He had never even heard of Babylon 5, and you can just forget Farscape."

"You know, if you keep your standards so high, you are going to end up like me," January observed.

"There are worse fates," Avery mused. "Besides, I'm not a monk yet!"

January stopped at the sight in the street before her. There were always plenty of sights at Pridefest. But this one hit home. It was a child around nine or ten, January guessed a boy from the bone structure of their face, but she could have been wrong. Not that it really mattered. They wore a Stormcrow costume: cape, winged helmet, crow insignia on the chest, everything. It was pretty good too. Much better than the Nightgirl costume she had worn for Halloween when she was nine.

The junior Stormcrow was walking along holding the hand of an older man, who January imagined must be their father. Beside them was a second man, also holding hands with the first adult. Husbands? Even just ten years ago, she never would have seen that. At least not without a triple murder taking place…

"You inspire people," Avery breathed quietly in her ear. She felt him lay an arm across her shoulders, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She could not help but to smile. Maybe there was something good in the human race after all?

"Hey, have you thought any more about what the organizers said?"

"About me getting up on stage?" January broke off their contact, and shook her head. "No. I'm not going to do it. What would I say? Rah for the home team? I'm not a cheerleader. I wouldn't know what to even say, or do."

"Come on, you could do Karate demonstrations, like Elvis!" Avery laughed.

That did provoke a smile from January, along with an eye roll. "I left all my rhinestones at home."

"Seriously, you said you survived the comic thing at the library yesterday," Avery replied. "So what's a few rainbow-huggers compared to that?"

"That was different," January explained. "It was for the kids, hopefully to get them reading. This just seems… self-indulgent. Like all these Instantgram influencers and Cardassians, famous for being famous. It can't be about me. It has to be about them."

January pointed to the mini-Stormcrow tagging along with their two dads in the street ahead of them.

"I get that, and I'm the first one to be all about staying on the down low," Avery said. "But when it came out that you were a lesbian, it changed the conversation. America's first openly gay superhero. Sort of, because you have never really came out and said it directly."

"Well there was never really a good opportunity during my fights with Archie or Whitewater," January said wryly.

"I know," Avery held his hands up in self-defense. "But this, this is the opportunity. You could tell people what you are, and what you stand for."

"And give all the incels and homophobes even more to troll about on social media," January rolled her eyes.

"I know you aren't afraid of that," Avery said.

"Of course not," January said. Being insulted and threatened by bigots was just an everyday part of life after all. It was the same as having to brush her teeth and shower. "But why does it have to matter?"

"It does matter," Avery insisted. "Remember when you came out, and your parents didn't want to believe you? That's because they didn't know the first thing about trans people, or what being trans even was. This is an opportunity to get people talking, so that doesn't happen to some other kid."

January wanted to lash out and say that she shouldn't have to do outreach for people too ignorant to accept reality. Or that the onus of being the poster girl for the entire Queer community should not lie upon her shoulders. But she didn't. Instead she remembered the therapy sessions she had been forced to take after she had attempted suicide. She thought of what she had learned about communicating with people. She breathed deeply, and felt her mana wash through her like cool water.

"I know what you are saying, and I understand why you feel that way," January said. "But wearing the cape is not as easy as punching bad guys. There are moral and ethical implications to everything I do. If I stand up there, is it really about doing the right thing? Or is it about flattering my ego? When does one end and the other begin? Worse, if I do, isn't that just going to put a giant target on this festival? Not just now, but for years to come? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So isn't it also encouraging white supremacist capes to do the same in response, and incite even more hate and fear everywhere? Now I see why Blood Raven stays in the shadows, and why the Sentinels have a PR person."

"You're right," Avery said, "you're right. It's so much simpler just sitting in my basement making gadgets. But you gotta come out of the basement sometime."

"That's why I had to learn Karate," January breathed.

Avery laughed, and just that easily the tension that had built up between them deflated like a split tire.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 7 2020, 08:34 PM

Yay, Gilda Gadfly again!
’Of course it had nothing to do with wanting to hear her own name on the radio. Nope, not one bit.’ - - tongue.gif

Fun descriptions of those colorful folk at the festival.

And Avery gives her a glue grenade! That should prove useful.

"Not even a kobold," January said.’
Oh, I remember those from Baldur’s Gate.

Jan faces a dilemma. Though she does not rely on the support of ‘fans’ like an entertainer, she does rely on the support of law enforcement so how others perceive her certainly impacts her effectiveness. Another consideration is the potential risk to her secret identity; shrouding herself in mystery helps preserve not only her identity but, I should think, the safety of her family. ‘What would Blood Raven advise, and why?’ might be a relevant question for Jan to consider as the older cape certainly has much more experience on the potential ramifications of the choice Jan faces than dear Avery. Regardless, it is a thorny question and I look forward to learning how Jan resolves it.


Nit: ’January nodded, and unobtrusively tucked the immobilizing weapon in into her purse.’ - - An errant ‘in’ slipped in.

Posted by: Renee Mar 9 2020, 09:10 PM

QUOTE
She would have to find a penciller, an inker, and a colorist, of course. Or one gifted artist with the time and skill to do all three. She had no idea how to find such a person.


Maybe one of her friends mentioned previously has some artistic talent? The friends who went to that concert?

Aw, it's Pridefest. We have our own version down here too, in B'more. Been over a decade since I've gone, though.

Ha! They want her to show her pride. wub.gif All because she wanted the cashier she bought that soda from to stop his pursuit.

QUOTE
Some even wore entirely ordinary clothing, and on a day like today, they were the ones who stood out the most.


Ain't that the truth?

Avery is working on another nuclear reactor. laugh.gif He's so casual about it.

Aw, a mini-Stormcrow. :blush: That's sweet. That really must hit home. And I agree with her thoughts about going on stage. It's just not the right time, I'd imagine. Too early. Too much has happened. Maybe she (as Stormcrow) even needs to lie low as she's been doing, for awhile. So much has happened.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 14 2020, 05:10 AM

4.5:

QUOTE
"It would be difficult to be an immortal and still try to remain in the lives of your family and descendants. Because of necessity you cannot remain one place and one identity for too long

So true. It is a constant life of moving, disguises, new identities, etc. A bit lonely I imagine.

Oh this was a short chapter but nonetheless a good one. It sure isn't easy to stand in front of a many-faced audience, but Jan did it so well in spite of her worries of making a fool of herself. I've learned something just as new as the students.


"It was built almost 2,000 years ago by a Roman Emperor. He wanted to show off how cool he was after conquering the barbarians. Like they used to say, statues or it didn't happen."
laugh.gif laugh.gif This was funny. And just randomly throwing this out there, as I'm reading this there is a series called Roman Empire playing on my television. How appropriate.

It was pretty cool to know about the origins of comic books from the past and the modern-day. I'm sure she felt great sharing this with the students, as her own life is comic-book worthy. No doubt she felt a strong connection with comics. Why doesn't she write one, indeed?

4.6:

The idea of a comic book begins to form! A comic writing super-heroine? That's pretty kickass.

Ferndale Pride certainly looks fun and vivid, just as the diverse people that make it come to life. Jan herself had quite the outfit, and the descriptions provided were great!

Sabine Wren! I spotted the Rebels fan!

"Through it all January never once felt self-conscious, or worried about someone reading her."
A liberating experience! She feels quite welcome here. No judgement at all. Just freedom of expression!

Neat little gizmo Avery's got there!

Hmm, I understood both sides of the argument here between Jan and Avery. On one side, Stormcrow can come out as the first gay transgender superhero, but as she said it, there are consequences to her every choice, and not all of them are easy. In such a delicate yet harsh world, she has to be very wise in everything she does. Equal and opposite reactions for sure!

Great chapter!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 14 2020, 05:10 PM

Acadian: I am having fun with using Gilda to convey general information about the goings on in the Crowverse. She will probably appear at least once in every chapter from now on.

We will see what that glue grenade can do very soon!

I remember kobolds from the old days of playing D&D. Only half a hit die, so easy to kill in a straight up fight. But they loved traps, which made them annoying.

Blood Raven would of course advise to remain in the shadows. Of course she would also remind Jan to follow her own stars, because she cannot live Jan's life. They will have more than one talk about it in the future.

Thanks for spotting that extra 'in' that slipped in there.


Renee: One of those Knights of Nerddom might indeed be an artist! Be on the lookout for that a few chapters from now.

I have not been to Ferndale Pride in a long time too. I got my cat Freya from an animal shelter my first time there. The shelter had a kiosk at the festival, with lots of cats and dogs. I saw Freya in one and fell in love with her.

I love how casual Avery is about things like fusion reactors too! To him it is like talking about a toaster he fixed.

The mini-crow was inspired by an episode of Supergirl, where group of kids in a school talent show all did a song in supergirl outfits. Of course the real Supergirl was there in the audience, as one of her friend's daughters was in the show. It was a nice way of showing the positive impact she was having on people's lives. She gave people inspiration.


Darkness Eternal: Jan's experience talking in front of all the kids is actually going to be a major event in her life, as it has given her the confidence to be ready to speak out in public. Something we will see her doing in the future.

I loved seeing that Sabine Wren in Pridefest pics. She was my favorite character in Rebels, because she was the most interesting. Those pictures are all from the 2019 festival.

The issue of Stormcrow coming out is still not resolved in January's mind. As much as she is trying to think logically and strategically, in the end her final decision will simply be based on what she can live with, or not live with, doing.






https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniroyal_Giant_Tire

https://i.imgur.com/osnIVIp.jpg

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=deets


https://i.imgur.com/GiKb2xf.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/9k5oV0c.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/h68HwEn.jpg


https://youtu.be/9L7mZH2u3Qc


Book 4.7 - Pride

"So if you were a superhero, what would you call yourself?" January changed the subject. It took an effort to say "if" rather than "when".

"Me? No way am I wearing a cape." Avery shook his head. "Way too much attention, and you can keep all of these philosophical quandaries for yourself."

"But if you did," January pressed. "I know, The Big Tire, or The Fist."

"Oh Drek No!" Avery laughed. "Maybe something like Giant Sausage Man, or Mr. Beef."

"I can just see you on in the freezer aisle selling breakfast food," January teased.

"Well I was hoping Grindr, but hey, you take what you can get right?" Avery laughed.

They worked their way through the crowd, pausing at kiosks here and there, an admiring other people's cosplay outfits, or just plain wild clothes. They stopped to eat at M.C. Wiches for subs. Like all the restaurants on Nine Mile, it was so packed that they had to eat sitting on the curb outside. But January did not mind. Her Jack White sandwich was amazing, and Avery gave the thumbs up to his Big Sean Steak 'N Onion. Life was good.

They people-watched, drifted around, and listened to music at the stage. More than once young, attractive men stopped to chat up Avery. More than once deets were passed between them before moving on. January was not sure how he did it. Though she suspected that Avery was more than a little handsome, and that the libido was not an insignificant force in young males.

"If you want to, you know, spend more time with someone, that's cool," January breathed at one point.

"No way," Avery waved a hand dismissively. "We've been going to this thing for what eight years now? I remember when we used to ride our bikes to get here. This is our day. No Knights of Nerddom, no parents, just you and me sister. You know, I haven't seen you since Monday. When is the last time a week's gone by without you in the Gadget Cave?"

"That time my family went on vacation to Florida," January mused.

"Yeah," Avery sighed. "Let's face it, we're not kids anymore. We're growing up, and our lives are going to change. We aren't going to be able to spend every night hanging out in the basement and shooting the skittles together."

"So we have to hold on to whatever moments we can," January finished his thought. She held out her pinky finger. Avery wrapped his own little finger around hers.

"Friends until we die," Avery sagely intoned.

"Then our ghosts go on to scare the frak out of the living!" January laughed.

January tried not to think about what he had said. Moving out had not exactly been what she had wanted. But it was what she and her mother needed. Ever since ConFabulation, and her first night as Stormcrow, her life had been racing faster than her mind could keep up with sometimes. So much had changed. So much was still changing. She had to remind herself to stop, and appreciate what she had right now, before time marched away with it all.

She was still doing her best to just live in the moment when they came upon the animal shelter's kiosk. Her heart melted to see all those adorable cats and dogs in cages. She wished that she could take them all home. But she did not see how she could make time for a pet. And how would she take one to the vet on a motorcycle?

The afternoon was sliding into evening when January felt it, just like she had at Hart Plaza. It was a wrongness, like in a villain's lair in the old Nightman TV show from the 60s, where the picture was all slanted to one side. A less than subtle cue that you were no longer standing on stable ground. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck, and her jackfruit sandwich threatened to leap up out of her stomach.

She smelled blood again too, thick and coppery. But this was most definitely not like she felt around Blood Raven. She had been in the superheroine's presence enough now to know her magical scent. She was a vampire, and blood was an integral part of how she related to the Universe after all.

But this was different. It was not so clean and wholesome, if such words could be used to describe a vampire. Blood Raven used blood - well life really - to live, just as January breathed air and ate jackfruit sandwiches. Or just like a tree fed on sunlight and water.

But what she felt now was not about life at all. It stank of cruelty. It stank of horror, and corruption. It felt like the universe was being thrown upside down, torn up, and perverted in some very basic, and very terrifying way.

To his credit, Avery automatically noticed the shift in her demeanor. "Oh snap!" he breathed. His phone was in his hand, and he took a moment to scan its screen. "Time to go to work. I've got nothing so far. I'll get to the Geo and set up on a real computer."

"I'll get back in touch once I suit up," January nodded.

They split up. Avery headed north through one of the alleys between the buildings on Nine Mile. January imagined that he must have parked in the big lot north of all the businesses. She headed east along Nine Mile, weaving through festival-goers like a running back. With one hand she absentmindedly grabbed her raven banner pendant, and thumbed on the video camouflage unit concealed inside. That would hide her from cameras.

She reached Woodward, but the light was not with her, and a wall of cars whizzed past. She could feel that wrongness growing in the air, sickening her stomach. There was no time to waste.

She leapt out into traffic, racing between cars. Horns blared at her. She laid one hand on the hood of an approaching Ford, and used it to spring board herself over the car. Her feet hit pavement beyond, and she leapt again. In an instant she sprang past an oncoming truck, coming just inches from its massive grille.

She could have simply leaped over the entire south-bound side of the avenue. But that would have been too blatant, even with her video camouflage. She tried to make sure everything she did was plausible for a mundane person. Lucky perhaps, but realistic.

Then she was in the grassy, open space between the north and south bound sides of the split roadway. She darted across to the north bound side, and once again dove through traffic. She jinked between a Chevy and a Dodge - she found the latter to be aptly named, given the circumstances. Then she was on the sidewalk, and tore her way along Nine Mile Road to the stares of people all around. She ignored them, and raced past the businesses on the corner of the two streets. She ducked into the first alley on her right, and followed it around a corner to the parking lot where she had left her motorcycle.

She unlocked the fake gas tank bump, and pulled out the pack she kept stowed there, in case of emergencies. She slapped the container shut again, and raced back into the alley that she had come from. After a pair of glances to either side to confirm that no one could see her, she leapt straight up and onto the roof of one of the buildings facing Woodward. She could see that the sky had now turned slate gray with clouds.

Fire give me passion and energy. Transform me in the night sky.

She was in her armor, and her clothes were tucked away in the backpack. She hid it behind an air conditioning unit. She paused to turn off her video camo to spare the battery. Then she raced for Woodward. She did not pause when she ran out of rooftop. Instead she leaped into the sky and soared out above the busy boulevard. She triggered her wings at the top of her arc, and glided gently across the twin roadways.

She stared down at the gaggle of people packed into the main festival grounds, in the closed off area of Nine Mile directly west of Woodward. She did not see anything out of the ordinary there. Nor did she see anything on top of the buildings to either side of the road, or in the parking lots beyond them. She banked to the left, and glided south.

There was a much larger parking lot there cut in half by a pair of buildings in the middle of them. The eastern lot was taken up by more of the festival, including a kid's area with a rock climbing wall just behind the Post Office. The western lot was packed to the brim with parked cars. But she did not see anything untoward in either area.

"I'm online now Stormcrow," Gadget's voice came into her ear. "Not seeing anything yet. No alarms, no 911 calls."

January banked back to the right once more. Part of her brain noted that at one time, the motion would have sent her spilling earthward. Now it came as natural as walking. Thank goodness, because she could not afford to give all of her attention to the mechanics of flight right now. Not with that sense of wrongness gnawing at her guts, and threatening to send the world topsy-turvy.

She sailed back over Nine Mile, the main artery of the festival. She still saw nothing. Numerous flashes of light blossomed in the street below, and January realized that people were taking pictures of her with their phones, or held them aloft to record videos. She ignored them, and soared across the row of buildings north of the road, then above the parking lot beyond. She recognized Gadget's yellow Geo Storm down there. He must have arrived early to find such a good spot.

That sense of wrongness was fading now. January frowned. Whatever it was, she was going to miss it again, as she had the night of the fire. Something terrible was happening. She knew it. She just could not tell exactly what, or where, it was.

She turned back to the festival grounds. She was rapidly running out of altitude now. She saw the band shell ahead, with its high metal awning that shaded the stage, and the array of lights that hung from the scaffolding. She aimed for that, and picked up speed as she nosed down toward it. Before she could hit it face first, she rolled back, and feathered out her wings flat to her angle of descent. They caught the air like a parachute, and put the brakes on her dive. Then she trigged off the wings, and transformed them back into an ordinary cape.

She dropped lightly to the top of the steel superstructure. Now people were cheering and calling out her name. The band had even stopped and were calling on her to join them on the stage below. January briefly considered trying to get on the PA and asking people to evacuate. But she had no idea if that was even necessary yet. She did know that every moment she wasted, something was dying.

That certainty drove home deep into her gut. Someone or something was dying, right now. It was not an ordinary death either. Not a farmer chopping off a chicken's head, or a person going quietly in their sleep, or slipping and cracking their skull in the bathtub. This was something extraordinarily bad. Something magically bad. Otherwise how could it affect her so?

She felt the first drop of rain strike her winged helmet, and then another drop onto her hand. A crow called out somewhere nearby.

She raced along the top of the scaffolding, turning her head this way and that to search for any sign of the danger. But still, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing appeared dangerous. She did see the crow that was calling to her, on the far side of the street.

She followed it, and leaped off the band stand and onto the line of buildings that lined the south side of Nine Mile. The crow took flight, winging its way westward. She sprang after it, leaping from one close-packed roof to the next. Most did not have an alley or even crack between buildings. Finally she came to the end of the line at Rosie O'Grady's. The Irish pub stood at the corner of Nine Mile and a side street that headed south. This second street also marked off the western edge of the parking lot behind the businesses on the south side of Nine Mile. Beyond stretched a sea of suburban homes nestled beneath the green tops of trees.

"Oh frak!" January groaned as she turned on her video.

"What the frell is that?" Gadget responded.

It scuttled out from the subdivision and onto the southbound side street. It had to stand over six feet tall at the head, and its giant, distended abdomen rose several feet higher than that, capped with a wicked-looking stinger. Its eight legs propelled it along the concrete with frightening speed. Its head, which was packed into its thorax without the need for a neck, bore eight glowing green eyes. A pair of giant, thick fangs big enough to be called mandibles hung down from its horrid face. Blood and gore splashed its black hide, underscoring its malevolent appearance.

By now the feeling of mystical wrongness had subsided. Whatever it was that January had felt was over now. This new monster however, set her mundane senses on edge nearly as much as whatever had disturbed her magical intuition. Spiders were not supposed to be bigger than an SUV!

Thankfully the side street was closed off for the festival, so there were no cars to run afoul of the monstrosity. But there were people in the parking lot adjacent to the road. January saw them scurry for cover behind cars, or just race away as fast as their feet could carry them. The movement instantly drew the attention of the spider, and its eight eyes alit upon the juicy morsels in rainbow-colored attire.

January could not let that thing reach any of them. She instantly leapt into the sky, and triggered her wings. She only needed seconds. But they had already slipped away.

A man who looked suspiciously like Freddie Mercury stepped out of a pick-up truck and drew the largest revolver January had ever seen. Thunder roared, and for once January was not the cause. The revolver bucked in the dark-haired man's hand as he leveled it at the giant spider. Again and again it roared, until the hammer was clicking on empty chambers.

"He missed," January hissed.

"No, he hit," Gadget said in her ear. "Look behind the spider. All those bullets went home in that fence, and into the house past it."

January saw that her partner was right, as usual. The wooden fence behind the spider had been turned into Swiss cheese by the massive handgun, and several holes were plain in the windows of the house beyond.

"They passed right through it like it wasn't even there," January said. "Maybe it's an illusion?"

She was going to find out quickly. Freddie Mercury backed away from the monster, which now charged him with terrifying speed. The gunman tripped in a pothole - there were Michigan's roads for you - and fell flat on his back. The spider loomed over him a moment later, gigantic fangs poised to rip him in half.

January got there first. She clicked off her wings and landed with her feet straddling Freddie Mercury's torso. She caught up both of spider's massive fangs as they drove down at his chest. Now at her chest, since she had interposed herself between them. It was like grabbing a pair of fence posts, being driven by a truck.

Earth give me the strength of the mountain.

January focused all of her power on that image, of a mountain standing tall. She became that mountain: immovable, impervious, inviolate. Her feet became part of the concrete below her, and part of the soil and rock beneath that. A freight train of slavering horror barreled into her, threatening to crush her beneath its noxious bulk. But she was adamant.

"Not one step farther!" she growled through gritted teeth.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 14 2020, 09:51 PM

Jan and Avery are wise to savor their times and memories together at this annual event. happy.gif

Uh-oh, the scent of bad blood is in the air – neat how attuned Jan is becoming to Blood Raven that she knows this is not the scent of her fellow superhero.

You really injected a sense of speed and urgency into Jan’s sprint for the Stormcycle and her armor.

Stormcrow’s flying ability has gradually become second nature to her! You 'showed' this incrementally over many episodes and it is a big milestone for her.

Ugh-Yikes! A spider the size of an SUV!

Strength of the Earth, don’t fail her now!

How suddenly Jan and Avery’s day turned into a job for a superhero!


Nits:
’Before she could hit it face first, she rolled back, and feathered out her wings flat to her angle of descent.’ - - I’m sure you’re describing a flare here but it seems like something Is missing in your wording during the last part of this sentence. Feathered out her wings flat to stop her rate of descent (or rate of closure) perhaps?
’Then she trigged off the wings, …’ - - triggered?

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 16 2020, 03:24 PM

Seeing the friendship between Avery and Jan grow stronger is great! He's a true ride-or-die friend, always with her, even in the smallest moments when he focuses on their time together instead of the number of men wanting to chat up Mr.Beef. He's just the kind of person Jan needs in her life. A true friend who understands things she does, despite sometimes having different views on certain things. While Blood Raven serves as the mentor, Avery is that life-long ally/partner/best friend. She is very fortunate, one might even say blessed.

It stank of cruelty. It stank of horror, and corruption. It felt like the universe was being thrown upside down, torn up, and perverted in some very basic, and very terrifying way. This was such a chilling description!

Stormcrow is back at it again, and while she's not facing robotic menaces . . . she's up against a fiendish spider. If I had a severe case of arachnophobia, I would shut down my laptop right now. I instantly pictured those frostbite spiders from Skyrim, or LOTR's Shelob(more appropriate because of the stinger).

Both an exciting and terrifying stand-off between hero and creature! I'm excited to see how Storm and Gadget are going to kick this spider's abdomen!

Posted by: Renee Mar 18 2020, 02:56 PM

I really need to check out Supergirl. My daughter has watched a couple episodes, and now that she's forced to stay home for the next week and a half (maybe seven more weeks) she's probably catching up on other episodes. But i myself need to check it out too. I was wondering if you'd approve of this show, you would know if it's done "right" or too cheesy or whatever.

I think that's so neat that everything up there is Eight Mile, Nine Mile, and so on. I have no idea what this means, but I am guessing eight or nine miles outside of downtown? All I know is that movie with Eminem.

What are deets? Digits? As in phone numbers?

I have a feeling she can adopt as many pets as she wants now, especially cats. wub.gif Doesn't Raven's house have tons of room? There ya go, hon!

QUOTE
I'll get to the Geo and set up on a real computer."


laugh.gif

QUOTE
She did know that every moment she wasted, something was dying.


Uh oh. What? What could it be? Oh no, a giant spider! indifferent.gif Frak. How is she going to get out of this one?


Posted by: SubRosa Mar 21 2020, 04:30 PM

Acadian: That was a nice Stand By Me moment with the pinky swear. At least I think I stole the idea from there... wink.gif Seriously though, Jan and Avery's relationship is changing due to the reality of growing up, jobs, significant others, capes, they all push and pull in different directions.

Jan has not finished improving her flying abilities. Chapter 5 will see a dramatic evolution in that regard.


Darkness Eternal: Jan and Avery are definitely ride or die friends. They literally knew each other since they infants, as the lived just two houses apart.

The spider that was summoned is not a 'normal' being from Earth, which is I went so much into the sense of wrongness and of reality being turned upside down. It is a monster from Outside, in the full Lovecraftian sense of the word. We will be getting into more of that later.

I have more than a small case of aracnaphobia, which goes back to an incident in my childhood where a spider featured only tangentially. Basically I was about 3 or 4 years old (it was before I went to kindergarten), and my brother and I were scared by a spider. My father proceeded to beat the crap out of us, because we were scared by a spider. I really should not blame the spider for that. He was just chilling, doing spider things. But they still creep me out to this day. However, I have been making an effort to dial my phobia back. So now when I see a spider I don't kill it. It is also why I made this particular monster a spider, instead of a list of other creatures of folklore that I have.


Renee: The Mile Road system is one of Detroit's unique features. They run east to west, at one mile intervals. Technically it starts in the heart of Downtown at Campus Martius. But the mile numbers don't start showing up on road signs until about 5 Mile. Each Mile road has a regular name too, sometimes more than one. 16 Mile is also Metro Parkway (it goes straight into the Metro Beach State Park at its eastern end), and it is Big Beaver. 15 Mile is also Maple, and so on. 20 Mile is also Hall Road, or M-53 (state highway). No ever calls it 20 Mile. Most people usually say M-53, and only occasionally Hall Road. 8 Mile is the northern border of the city of Detroit proper, and the suburbs to the North. So it is a major dividing line in the Metro Area.

"Deets" are details. Your daughter would know. It is phone numbers, email addresses, social media IDs, anything specific really.

She does have room in the Witch House for critters. But she is not really in a good position to take care of them. Especially since she cannot take them to the vet on a motorcycle.






https://pantheon.org/articles/d/dvergar.html

https://youtu.be/Xydf351l-gw



Book 4.8 - Pride

The giant spider's eight eyes locked on January's. They were not the comforting emerald of trees and grass. These were the sickly green of toxic waste and radiation. There was a coldness there, an utter alienness that chilled January to the bone, and set the hairs on her neck standing on end. Worse of all, there was an intelligence within those fiery depths, calculating like a homicidal computer. It gazed into her, just as she gazed into it.

"They are the Creatures of the Abyss, things best left to the darkness, lest they rise up and engulf you."

Blood Raven's words from the previous weekend rose unbidden in her mind. Somehow January knew that this was one of those creatures from the Abyss. It was a thing that had no place within the sunlit realm of Earth.

The monster reared up on all eight of its massive legs. It tried to pull back from January. But her feet did not move from the street. She held it there, pinned in place. Then it rocked forward, trying to throw her back. Again, she did not move. She was adamantine.

It reared again, but this time it was not to escape. Instead it drew up high enough that it could whip its abdomen forward, underneath its thorax. January saw the great spike of its stinger just a moment before it could strike her.

"Now water can flow, or it can crash."

January heard Bruce Lee's words in her head. She became water. She flowed out of the way, and the stinger passed harmlessly by. Moving like lightning, the monster stung again, and again, and every time January slipped aside. It was as if reality itself bent to accommodate her will.

"I have had enough of you," January growled. Putting all of her will into the strength of her arms, she pulled the two giant fangs apart, baring the monster's wide face before her. She let go of the Earth, and leapt up high, still holding the fangs in either hand. When she was even with the spider's head, she kicked out with all of her might, and pulled back with her arms.

Her feet sank into multiple eyes, and she heard something crack and tear under her fingers. She pulled hard, and groaned, then finally screamed with effort. She felt something snap, once, twice, and then she was flying through the air with the giant spider's fangs in her hands, completely shorn from its face.

It stumbled back, nearly losing its balance on its eight legs. She heard something, not in her ears, but in her mind. It was a terrific disturbance in the magic around her. It was a reverberation, a shout, a scream. It was pain. It was the spider's pain, reaching out into the world of magic and spirit.

January did not waste any time. She dropped the two gooey fangs and leaned down to gather up Freddie Mercury. Once she had tight hold of him, she leapt back across the parking lot, over numerous cars, and into the bed of a pickup truck.

"Well, I guess it's not an illusion," she heard Gadget note dryly.

She looked back at the spider, and her stomach sank when she saw that it had both of its fangs back. A glance down showed no sign of the pair she had ripped from its face. So she imagined it had somehow reattached them, and healed them. It no longer screamed in the spirit world either. Instead it leveled those eight burning eyes upon January, and came at her with a vengeance.

January pulled out the adhesive bomb that Gadget had given her just a few hours before. She prayed to Freyja that he had the same skill as the dvergr who had forged Mjölnir, among other marvels. She pulled the pin and threw it at the monster's feet.

A blue haze sprang out along the ground in a circle around the grenade. The faint light spread through everything it touched, including the eight legs of the spider. The monster stopped for the briefest of moments, as if it had struck a brick wall.

She saw those emerald eyes turn down to the emitter of the adhesive wave that held it in place. Then it did something that made January blink in disbelief. Its body seemed to wink from the physical world, like a ghost giving up its shell. Yet January could still see it with her eyes, like a ghost. It struck out with one leg, and pierced the adhesive grenade with its spiked tip.

The grenade shattered, and the blue adhesive wave blinked from existence.

Now January realized that it had somehow made its form intangible, all in an instant. For further proof of this ability, it charged straight through the cars that lined the edge of the lot as it made a bee line for January.

"That is so not fair," January heard herself murmur.

"Drek!" Gadget snarled in her ear. "Left front pocket on your belt, let's give all those eyes something to look at."

January reached down into her utility belt, and drew forth another grenade. This one had a sunburst painted upon it. She pulled the pin and tossed it in front of the oncoming train of horror. January turned her head away and screwed her eyes shut just in time. The world turned bright white, even behind her closed eyelids. The blaze of light strobed on and off several times before it finally abated for good. Even though she had not been looking, spots still danced in front of her eyes.

She turned back in time to see that the spider had come to a stop. It turned this way and that, and did appear to be blinded, at least for a moment. January took advantage of that, and leaped forward. Her feet hit the monster's back hard. Its exoskeleton was as tough as steel, and covered with short, bristly hairs that set her teeth on edge. January took two steps along its abdomen, then leaped into the air again as it thrashed around and tried to swat her from the sky.

She landed back in the street behind it, away from the parking lot and the people there. It immediately turned to glare at her.

She held one hand out, and contemptuously curled her fingers inward, beckoning the spider toward her.

"Valhalla awaits," she growled through gritted teeth.

It took the bait, and ignored the hundreds of people in the lot and the thousands further away on Nine Mile. It leveled those eight eyes upon her and charged. January leaped back to the far sidewalk, drawing it out of the lot and back out into the empty street.

"Left rear pocket," Gadget's voice said calmly in her ear.

Following his direction, January withdrew another grenade. This one had a symbol like a pool of spilled liquid emblazoned upon it. She tossed it out into the street, and it erupted into a slick of grease that instantly spread across the road. The eight legs of the spider hit the frictionless surface, and went skittering madly in all directions. It would have been hilarious, if the thing had not been the size of an elephant.

It only lasted an instant however. The thing did its spirit shift, pulling itself from the physical to the mystical. Its legs found purchase on whatever the intangible equivalent of earth was, and came forward once more.

"Right rear pocket" Gadget said calmly.

January produced another grenade. She smiled when she saw the symbol of a flame etched on its surface. She tossed it beneath the monster, and it erupted into a fountain of fire. The grease immediately caught flame as well, doubling the intensity of the inferno that roared to life. The heat beat at January's face like a physical thing, and for a moment she was back inside the Flying Dutchman, racing against the flames to save as many lives as she could.

She blinked that memory away, and once again heard that screaming in the spirit realm. It was louder this time. Its shock waves were deeper and more powerful, as they disrupted the peace of the mystic realm. January really needed a name to call it. The Astral Realm perhaps? It was hard to concentrate with the screaming. But she gritted her teeth, and refused to allow herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for the creature.

It was not an animal. It was not of this Earth. It was an abomination, in the really old school, pre-Medieval sense of the word. January had not forgotten the blood and gore she had seen sprayed across its body when it had first appeared in the street. Someone had died under that thing's fangs, maybe more than one somebody.

That ended now.

The screaming stopped, but the flames still blazed merrily away, engulfing the street in a red-orange inferno. January did not like how close it was starting to spread toward the trees on either side of the road. She wondered how she was going to put this out, and thought about her new friends from Detroit Engine 66. They would be quite welcome about now.

"Right front pocket," Gadget said. January smiled when she saw what this present was. She tossed the grenade into the blaze, and was rewarded with an eruption of fire suppressing foam that completely smothered the blaze. White flecks of the stuff rose up into the sky, and began to fall down like snow.

"Have I told you how awesome you are lately Gadget?" January wondered.

"Not in at least six days," he remarked casually.

"Remind me to-"

January's words died like ashes in her throat. Something was moving in the cloud of fire retardant. Not just something, but a giant something, with eight legs. The massive spider boiled forth an instant later. It bore not even the tiniest singe, nor a single bruise, even after all it had been through.

"Son of a-" Gadget swore. "I'm out of clever tricks, time to do that hero drokk."

Posted by: Acadian Mar 21 2020, 07:55 PM

Wow, that spider thing is an incredibly resilient foe! So not fair is right!

Thank the Nine for Gadget’s intimate familiarity with Stormcrow’s pockets and his calm, timely instructions.

’She pulled the pin and tossed it in front of the oncoming train of horror.’ - - A wonderful description!

You weave flashes of Stormcrow’s thoughts into the actions wonderfully – very effect while not losing a whit of this scene’s fast tempo.

I was as excited at Stormcrow at the success of her Gadget-inspired grenadiering. . . until. . . uh oh. ohmy.gif


Nits:
- - ’January head {heard} Bruce Lee's words in her head.’
- - ’Once she had tight hold of him, she leapt back across the parking lot, over cars numerous cars, and into the bed of a pickup truck.’ - - Not positive this is a nit but the first use of ‘cars’ seems perhaps unintentional here?

Posted by: Renee Mar 23 2020, 02:51 PM

From the previous chapter, I meant to say it's too bad Freddy Mercury apparently isn't going to see the Killer Queen in action.

I am at work, and we have muzak playing, so unfortunately I can't listen to the superhero music you posted as I type this, not without turning my laptop's volume too high! EDIT: I tried again today. Yes, the music does make the fight scene come across like something in an actual movie.

Ah no, this thing has a stinger? panic.gif Oh gosh, she's actually crushing the spider's exoskeleton parts slowly, just like somebody would crush a real spider with their shoe.

Where is Blood Raven? I have a feeling she's nearby, hence that coppery smell from previous chapter.

QUOTE
"Left rear pocket," Gadget's voice said calmly in her ear.


Awesomesauce! as Jan would say.*

.

Crap. That damn spider comes right back. See, I wonder what the heck? There's something in the story so far which is triggering a memory. I can't remember what it is, though. Maybe Blood Raven might know.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 24 2020, 07:33 PM

Heh, I use to be deathly afraid of spiders as well until I moved to Brazil. I kept tarantulas found my backyard in an old glass tank I was given. I learned to respect them, but they can be intimidating sometimes.

Appropriate song for this chapter!

The eight-legged freakish foe exuded some otherworldly menace for sure. That was a pretty chilling description of it, and size aside, this creature did not act on pure instinct but also cunning. Random thought but its origins from the Abyss reminded me of It that came to earth to feed on the fears of people.

The battle had me on the edge of my seat, and that was such a nasty but fearless move on her part, ripping away the spider's fangs . . . until it grew back and managed to survive that grenade. huh.gif

Formidable indeed. Maybe toughest opponent yet. Despite Gadget's gear, which was very useful, the Astral Arachnid is still back for more.

Jan was just getting started, I'm sure laugh.gif biggrin.gif



Posted by: SubRosa Mar 28 2020, 05:04 PM

Acadian: The spider is very not fair. It is based on a "real" creature from Native American mythology, which has also turned up in a few TV shows. So folks might be able to guess what it is. It will be named in a few more episodes.

This episode was really Gadget's moment to shine, with all the new doohickeys he created to give January a ranged element. But this is a seriously dangerous opponent, so it won't be done in so easily. Not by January or Avery.


Renee: Freddie can still hook up with the Fat Bottomed Girls at the festival afterward though...

It has more than just a stinger, as we will see in this episode. The spider is full of some really serious powers. January probably won't face a more dangerous single opponent again until Chapter 6.

That coppery smell was not Blood Raven that January sensed. She noted at the time that it was different from Blood Raven's magical aura. Rather January could feel that it was someone being murdered in a really horrific and magical way. We will get to exaclty what in several more episodes.

Blood Raven will know exactly what that memory was that is being triggered. Or you could look back to episode 3.15...


Darkness Eternal: You hit the spider's origins right on the nail. It is not from this Earth, or even this Universe. It is a fully Lovecraftian Other, from a reality of darkness and horror. As you said: The Abyss.

January is just getting started. This will be a long battle, and will take several more episodes before it is finally vanquished. As I mentioned to Renee, it is the most dangerous thing January has ever faced, or will again for a while.





https://youtu.be/OugTXTaLblE

https://i.imgur.com/02pfYpO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/sPtz26J.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elder_Futhark



Book 4.9 - Pride

Then the horror was on top of January, fangs slashing down at her head. As before, she reached out and grabbed them. She stopped them in mid-blow, and held the massive beast there. It crowded in on her, trying to bring its main legs to bear. One of them went spearing down into the pavement beside her, cracking the blacktop apart. Then came another, and another.

It was time to be like water. Hanging on to its fangs at first, January did a back flip up into the air. She let go at the top of her arc, and spun out over the spider's thorax. She came down on top of its back a moment later, and punched with the force of a hurricane. The monster's back plate shattered like balsa wood struck by a missile. Her fist plunged deeply into its soft, gooey innards. A blue liquid, like blood, splashed over January, and the street all around. She grabbed hold of something solid within the creature, and ripped with all her might. She was rewarded with a jagged slab of spider meat, that she hurled to the pavement.

She heard that scream in the astral again, and forced herself to ignore it. Then she felt the monster rear up. Too late she saw its abdomen come racing toward her, and she could not slip aside before it connected. It hit her like a truck, and the next thing January knew, she was hurtling through the air.

She felt bricks shatter under her back. Then a room spun around her. She got hold of her flight, and managed to skid to a halt in a crouch, both feet and one hand on the floor. The world swam for a moment, but she blinked it back to stability. It was no different from leaping from the uneven bars. Except for the spider and building of course...

January realized that she was in the pub at the corner of Nine Mile and the side street headed south. A long red bar ran at an oblique to her left, and a bright red wall was covered in posters behind that. To her right a line of booths lined the other wall. All around her were thick, heavy wooden tables. TV sets hung along the tops of the walls. She noticed them cut away from various sporting events to show the street outside, and the giant spider that advanced upon the back of the pub.

The bar was packed of course. It was a miracle that she had not splattered someone on her way in. As it was, she had knocked two tables over, and cracked a third one in half. Everyone drew away from her as she rose to her feet. A glance down showed that she was a fearsome sight, covered in blue spider innards and red brick dust.

"Anyone not keeping up on current events, better head on out the front," January said quietly. Then she focused her eyes on the giant hole she had punched in the wall beside the back door. Through it she could see all eight green eyes of the spider burning down upon her.

She did not bother using the door on her way out. She leaped through the same hole she had made coming in, and was in the back lot in less than a second. Her feet barely touched the concrete before she lifted herself in the air once more, and cocked a fist behind her head for a killing blow at its face.

It spat a blob of grey-white gooey material from its abdomen. January was in mid-leap. She could not dodge away like before. It struck her full in the chest, hitting her with the force of a thousand Louisville sluggers. It actually stopped her forward momentum, and threw her back to the pavement.

She tried to rise to her feet, but found that her legs were bound up in the sticky, goopy mess. So too were her arms. She pushed and pulled at the webs that entangled her with all of her might. But they were like rubbery glue. They bent with her motions, not rigid enough to ever break. It was like trying to snap a wet noodle with a blade of grass. All she could do was writhe and wriggle.

The spider came walking up to her, eight legs clicking on the concrete of the street. It took its time, clearly savoring the moment. Those eight eyes mocked January, and she somehow knew that this had not been an accident. It had set her up to make that leap, and was waiting with the webbing. Waiting for just the time when her feet were no longer on the ground, and she could not dodge. She had been out-thought, and now she was going to die.

The rain pelted her, and lightning scattered across the sky overhead. At least it would be out here, in the elements.

But January still had one last card to play. She remembered that arcane bolt that Blood Raven had been trying to teach her all week. She had yet to master it. This would certainly be a good time. January reached down and tapped into the torrent of mana that now stewed within her. She raised it up, and once again witnessed the elements flash and roar across the sky.

She laughed, and let the mana slip down for a moment. The lightning! She had been such an idiot. People said that she was the Weather Witch of Warren. Why had she believed them? It wasn't the weather that she affected, it was the elements!

She used Air to fly. She used Earth to stand adamant in the face of overwhelming force. She used Fire to transform into her armor. She used Water to dodge attacks. Everything she did magically, was all about using one or more of those forces and what they symbolized.

The spider paused in its advance, seemingly hesitant at January's mad display of bravado. She took advantage of that to begin to chant in Old Norse. Golden light sprang up around her, and formed into a string of Old Futhark runes. They formed a circle at her feet, and slowly rose up into the air around her. She felt her consciousness shift, and the energies of the astral swirl all around her.

"Vindr, leggjmikr þinn leiptr!" she cried in the Old Norse tongue. She hoped she got it right, and was calling upon Air for lightning. Otherwise she was going to wind up really embarrassed.

The sky lit up with a blinding crack of electricity. It drove down straight into both January and the spider, which now loomed over her. The world turned to fire, light, and deafening thunder. Her hair stood on end, as the elemental force ravened with calamitous delight. It chewed up concrete and sent the ragged fragments hurling up into the sky. It blazed through exoskeleton and flesh, and filled the world with the stench of ozone.

Then came another lightning strike, and another. By the fourth one January had climbed to her feet. The webbing that had encased her had long since been incinerated in the electrical storm. Her heart raced. No, it sang, as the thunder blasted overhead. She felt herself washed in arcing power. It dancing down her arms, leaped across her fingertips, and glowed in her retinas. She was fire, she was air, she was the storm!

She was completely unscathed by the electrical holocaust.

"Holy spit January, did you just do that?" Gadget's voice brought her back down to earth. "Good thing I hardened all the circuitry in the suit after you fought Archie…"

January clamped down on the flow of mana within her, and the storm quieted to a mere shower of steady rain. She found herself standing within a crater blasted through the concrete and steel rebar of the road, and down into the earth beneath. Deep down in the center of that pit lay a blackened and burnt husk, with eight broken legs pointed skyward.

"Blood Raven was right," January heard herself murmur. "I can't do it her way. I have to find my own magic."

"Speaking of that, she's on the way," Gadget said. "But maybe I should call her back and tell her not to bother?"

"No, she needs to see this." January climbed up from the pit, and stood up at the edge. Electricity still danced between her fingertips, and played about the ends of her hairs. She held onto that, just in case she might need to use it. There was still the matter of who, or what, had summoned the monstrous spider.

She saw that a crowd had gathered, but far away. Some were clustered up at Nine Mile, peering beyond the corner of Rosie O'Grady's pub. Others were sprinkled through the far end of the parking lot, way to the east. All eyes were upon her, and many hands held up phones.

A news van was parked down the opposite end of the side street that she was on, in the suburbs to the south of the festival. One of the crew had a camera trained upon her. Another had a pack of electronic equipment slung under her arm, connected to a pair of headphones that she wore. Finally a blonde stood to one side and spoke into a microphone.

Did everyone have to take videos of everything? Did life even exist before there were pictures to prove that it had happened?

She turned from the cameras and went back to work. Her eyes fell upon the broken fence, and the bullet holes in the house adjacent to the street. She walked purposely toward the white, two-story abode, and waved to a trio of police officers who raced down the street from the festival with pistols drawn.

Like most Queer folk, the sight of three cops with guns drawn would have once made January fear for her life. But that time had long since passed. Being shot was the least of her worries these days. She waved them toward her, then gestured to the bullet-ridden home.

"We need to search that house, and the others around it," she called out to them. "There might be wounded inside."

Or dead. January did not say the last. She did not think she had to. Freddie Mercury had meant the best when he emptied his gun into the spider. He never could have imagined that his bullets would pass right through it, and into the house behind the monster. That was the problem with weapons of all kinds. Even with her martial arts training. They had a tendency to do things their owners never intended.

Discipline, self-control, January thought to herself. She had to keep a lid on herself, so she never did that. She ran over her elemental mantra in her head. She calmed her beating heart, soothed the blood that pounded in her veins, and washed her mind clean with mana.

Posted by: Renee Mar 28 2020, 05:22 PM

QUOTE(Darkness Eternal @ Mar 24 2020, 02:33 PM) *

Heh, I use to be deathly afraid of spiders as well until I moved to Brazil. I kept tarantulas found my backyard in an old glass tank I was given. I learned to respect them, but they can be intimidating sometimes.

Spiders have never bothered me, even as a kid, even those huge garden spiders with psychedelic coloring. Now https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gTLk_GjMTHY/TYfRsw8SuEI/AAAAAAAAAVo/CyvLq4ysHTk/s1600/house_centipede.JPG on the other hand..... indifferent.gif I literally just got the crawlies linking that picture up. sad.gif


QUOTE
Renee: Freddie can still hook up with the Fat Bottomed Girls at the festival afterward though...


Har har. laugh.gif

Good, so in Chapter 3 there is a reference to Boris the Indestructible Spider, eh? Sweet.

The music fits perfectly. Gosh, she's really tearing into that thing this time!

That is awesome when she has that moment. She realizes it's not the weather, it's the elements. Wow. She just made a Storm Call. There's a shout in Skyrim called Storm Call (or Call Storm). Also, druids in the old tabelgames could do this.

QUOTE
Did everyone have to take videos of everything?


I know Jan, right? Even you as a millennial gets this.

I'd say the fault is not with Freddy Mercury, even if he did hit someone else. He only had split seconds to react to something nobody has ever seen before, here in Detroit.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 28 2020, 07:12 PM

Wow! Talk about battle of the titans!

’It wasn't the weather that she affected, it was the elements!’
- - A wonderful moment when Jan realized what she had unknowingly been showing us all along. A milestone awakening for the StromCrow!

’She got hold of her flight, and managed to skid to a halt in a crouch, both feet and one hand on the floor.’
- - What an epic and classical superhero pose this conjures. I can see Spiderman, Wonder Woman or one of several other superheroes in exactly this same pose.

"Anyone not keeping up on current events, better head on out the front," January said quietly.’
- - For some reason, I can imagine John Wayne or Clint Eastwood saying exactly the same!

’Did everyone have to take videos of everything? Did life even exist before there were pictures to prove that it had happened?’
- - ‘Hey, statues or it didn’t happen!’ Jan, don’t you just hate it when your own words come back to haunt you? tongue.gif

’She calmed her beating heart, soothed the blood that pounded in her veins, and washed herself clean with mana.’
- - Wonderful that Teresa’s ‘Cleanse’ spell travels worlds and time so nicely.

Definitely a good opportunity at the end of this episode for Jan to remind herself once again about the hazards of friendly fire.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 4 2020, 06:58 PM

Renee: Centipedes ick me out too. They don't frighten me. They just gross me out. Nothing needs that many legs.

There is not a reference to the spider in particular, but to the class of creature it is, yes. It will come up again in the story very soon again as well.

I was completely inspired by the Druid spell to call down lightning. It is Pure awesome in Neverwinter Nights 2. It fits into January's elemental outlook perfectly.

January never really understood how ridiculous it was to record everything on your phone until she was on the other end of that phone. Otherwise she would still be just as oblivious that life still happens without the internet.

You are right, Freddy Mercury is not a bad guy. He tried to be a stand up guy and do the right thing. He had no idea that the spider could phase (who would?). But that is the problem with guns, and all sorts of weapons, including martial arts training. They can easily harm or kill people their users never intended. With guns in particular, two-thirds of all gun injuries are self-inflicted. That is a lesson Jan takes to heart, because she knows how easily she could get carried away with her power.


Acadian: The battle of the titans is not over yet! Jan really struts her stuff in this chapter, in a way she has not done since she squared off against Lighthammer and Whitewater back in Chapter 1.

This was indeed a moment to really cheer for January, as she finally, finally understands the true extent of her abilities. She is not just a magician, she is an elementalist. As Blood Raven told her to, she has find her own magic.

I admit to totally stealing that line from Clint Eastwood. At the end of Unforgiven he tells the bar "Anyone don't want to get killed, better clear on out the back." I channeled that to January's situation.

Ooops, that was not meant to some across as a cleaning spell. Rather Jan was trying to calm down and get her emotions - and adrenaline - under control. I went back and tweaked the wording a bit to fix that.







https://i.imgur.com/QOtXk8A.jpg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFQYaoiIFh8

https://www.reddit.com/r/vexillology/comments/8s1g5h/battle_flag_of_wales_known_as_y_ddraig_aur_the/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djieien


Book 4.10 - Pride

But the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and January felt something dark and terrible rising. She turned to the crater that her lightning had blasted into the street. The police had almost reached it. She waved them back, and leaped forward.

An instant later the giant spider loomed up, showing no signs of injury. It moved toward the police, and they raised their guns automatically. January focused on Air, and leaped back to the street in a flash. She landed in front of the cops, too late to stop them from firing.

She hit the twin triggers in her gauntlets. Her cape instantly snapped out into a pair of wings directly in front of them. Their bullets drove into its armored surface on each side of her, threatening to send January spinning like a top. She planted her feet and held firm against the ballistic downpour. The cop directly in front of her sent his bullets hammering into her chest. One, two, three, she counted the impacts against her breastbone. But the strength and resilience of earth filled her now. She stood before the bullets as impassive as a mountain before a swarm of angry bees.

The police stopped firing in horror, and instantly lowered their weapons. Especially the one who had shot January in the chest. They cursed, and tried to spread out to get clear shots around her.

"No guns!" January shouted to them. "The bullets go right through it. You are going to kill the people behind it."

"Get back to Nine Mile," she waved them back. "Keep the people safe. I'll deal with this thing."

She triggered off her wings, and they fell back into an ordinary cape. At the same time she spun around to face the monster. She did not pause to see if the police officers followed her orders. She hoped they would. She hoped she had gained enough trust by now. But there was nothing more she could do about them. The spider demanded all of her attention now.

There was no time to dodge its onslaught. She dug in her heels, and took its charge. It crashed into her like a freight train. Its massive fangs speared her chest, piercing her hagfish armor as if it was tissue paper. But January did not falter. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant.

"Not one more inch," she growled to the beast. She laid one hand on its head, and used it to rise up about a foot into the air. Then she came crashing back down with an elbow directly into the monster's face. The lightning that had been dancing around her body cracked loudly, and blasted straight into the spider. Its head literally exploded under the blow, while the rest of its body went flying back into the pit.

January glanced down at her chest. Her armor was torn open in two places, where the fangs had impaled her. She could see that her skin beneath the rents was bruised red and purple, but not cut. Thankfully it was high enough that she was still G-Rated.

She also noted that the leftover electricity she had absorbed from her lightning bolts was gone now. Apparently her downward jumping elbow had sent it all into the spider, with dramatic effect. She was going to have to remember that trick for the future.

"You ok Crow?" Gadget's voice came in her ear.

"Just a few bruises," January breathed and bit down a wince. It hurt every time she inhaled or exhaled. She hoped it was just a few bruises... "The suit's going to need some work though."

"Is that the same spider, or another one?"

"I think it's the same one," January leaped to the edge of the crater and scanned its contents. She did not see the burned up corpse of the spider she had blasted with lightning earlier. The current monster had to be the same one. "This thing regenerates like crazy."

It came rushing back out at her. The head which January had just annihilated with her elbow was back once again, as healthy and ugly as before she had struck it. She let it bite at her with its fangs to commit itself. Once she saw how it was moving, she was Air. Laying one hand on top of its head for a boost, she leapt up over top of it, and landed on its back.

It spun around, trying to get at her. But it could not reach her in her high perch. January gave all of her attention to its wildly bucking frame, which shifted violently beneath her feet. She was thankful for all of her years of gymnastics, for it had taught her how to maintain her balance in the most precarious of positions.

"There's a telephone pole next to you," Gadget said over the comm. "If you can pull it loose, maybe you can spear it, and pin it into the ground?"

January glanced over at the pole as the spider turned in place. It was shorter than most power lines, but still an impressive length of pine. Better yet, she did not see any power lines, or even phone lines attached to it. Rather it seemed to just have a handful of thin stabilizing wires that connected it to one other post, and a light that hung over the street.

"No, that won't work," January shook her head. "Bullets pass right through it remember, and it just ran through those cars in the parking lot."

"Damn," Gadget cursed. "This is so not fair. How many times have you killed this thing already?"

January did not answer. The spider lifted its abdomen up toward her in a great sweep. She leaped up to avoid being clobbered by it. The spider darted aside while she was in the air, and January came down atop the pole Gadget had considered using as a spear. Thankfully its top was flat. About thirty feet from the ground, it was also out of the spider's reach.

Though not out of range of its webs. That was something January discovered when it leveled its abdomen at her once more, and sent a long streamer of that globby webbing her way. She leaped off the pole, and landed on the rooftop of the two-story house that had been shot up.

The spider continued its barrage, and January ran along the rooftop, just in front of the webbing. She noted a tall evergreen near the pole she had so recently vacated and leaped for it. She dove right into its branches, and felt the needles stinging into her face and body. She ignored them and grabbed hold of the trunk. She swung around it in a half circle, then let go. That sent her feet-first into the spider, which was turning to face her.

Her boots crushed its exoskeleton and caved in its softer insides. Once again she was splashed with blue spider innards. She did a back flip off the near-headless spider, and landed on her feet before it. Grabbing at its thorax with both arms, she lifted it in the air and power slammed it to the concrete.

"Now pin him for the three count and end this thing," Gadget said. It was a good sign that he was joking. January did not share his confidence however. Nothing she did seemed to truly stop it. It just kept coming back for more. What would happen when she finally got tired, and could no longer move so fast, or punch so strong, as she could now? Eventually this thing was going to wear her down, and that would be it.

Even now the thing had flipped itself over, and was rising to its eight feet. Its eyes glowed with emerald malevolence. January noted that every one of them was focused upon her. She never liked being the center of attention at the best of times. This was definitely not one of those. Once again, she wished for the halcyon days of fighting Whitewater Security.

"Go back to the Abyss that spawned you!"

Blood Raven's voice rang out from somewhere above her. January did not simply hear it with her ears. She felt it reverberate through the astral. It was a hurricane of power. It rushed past her, and battered against the giant spider. January could see the monster buckle under the impact. Not physically, but magically. Those words hammered it, tore at it, shoved it from this reality.

January spared a glance up. She saw the flame-haired superheroine hovering in the air above her, cape spilling out behind her in the wind. She radiated power in the astral, like a star burning above the street. January wondered how much of that was visible to mundane eyes, and how much she was sensing magically? She was not nearly experienced enough to tell the difference.

The monster held on under the onslaught of arcane might, just as it had endured all of January's efforts to eradicate it. Then came a scratching, rustling sound. It reminded January of crumpled up paper scraping across a dusty floor. Something about it set her teeth on edge, and made her want to wince.

You cannot banish me little leech. Blood and death has called me.

The voice was in her head, laughing like the devil. January wanted to punch its eyes out once more.

"If you will not leave, then you will be ended," Blood Raven declared imperiously.

Blood Raven's magic circle of golden Celtic knotwork glowed to life in the air at her feet. It rose up around her, spinning as it went. Behind it a longsword formed in her hands. Its three foot blade of black steel was etched with glowing golden runes. It looked like Death itself, formed into a sword.

"This is Y Ddraig Aur," she declared, "The Golden Dragon. Perhaps you have heard of it?"

January had never heard of the sword. But she certainly felt it. It occupied a space in the astral completely out of proportion to its physical size and mass. It loomed in January's mind like a dragon rising up from its lair. Even when she was not trying to sense into the realm of magic, January could feel it blazing there, just like its namesake.

For a moment she almost thought it really was a dragon, physically there in the street. But that would have been crazy after all. Another glance confirmed that it was just a sword after all. But it certainly felt like the mythical creature it was named for. It was as if the energy of a dragon had been formed into a sword, or if the blood of one had been...

January thought that the monster actually quailed before Blood Raven and her terrible blade. But that might have just been a ruse. For an instant later its abdomen shot forward, and a blob of webbing hurtled through the air toward the superheroine. A force field of glowing yellow light sprang to life before Blood Raven's left hand, and the webbing was harmlessly caught upon its surface.

Blood Raven struck fast as lightning. One moment she was standing there in mid air. The next she was down in the spider's face. Its fangs skittered off her force shield. Then that terrible sword lashed out. January actually heard the blade roar in the astral, like a dragon joining battle. It seemed to hate the spider, and slaver for its destruction. Four of the monster's legs went flying from just one blow. The rest of its limbs followed a second later. Finally, its head was separated from its abdomen.

"It won't help," January said. "It'll just regenerate."

"I know," Blood Raven declared. She took a moment to turn to face January. "There is only one means to slay a djieien. Its heart must be found, and destroyed."

"I already ripped out its insides," January shook her head, and glanced down at the blue spider blood that splashed her armor. "It didn't help."

"The djieien can place its heart anywhere, within anything," Blood Raven explained.

You cannot stop us mosquito. The Master is coming. When he does, this pathetic realm shall be transformed.

The monster rose up again, fully healed. Blood Raven stopped its charge with a wall of golden force.

"Pray tell, who is this Master you speak of creature?" she asked.

You shall be among the first to feel his wrath lamprey. You and your little pet blood-bag.

"I am no one's pet!" January snarled. She cocked a fist, and prepared to leap upon the spider.

"It's baiting you." Blood Raven laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder for one moment, diffusing her rage.

"You may not have blood Abyssal," she said to the monster. "But you possess something near enough for my purposes."

Blood Raven reached one hand out toward the monster, and clamped her fingers shut, as if she was grabbing the spider. It shook under her magical grasp. Blood Raven gritted her teeth in effort, and her eyes blazed to a brighter shade of scarlet. January could feel her magic reaching into its body, taking control of its internal fluids, roiling them, burning them, and finally vaporizing them. Blood Raven opened the fingers of her hand, and the spider literally exploded from the inside out, with a horrific shower of fried innards.

It was the most stunning, and revolting, demonstration of power January had ever witnessed. She mentally filed that away. If Blood Raven could do it to a creature the size of the spider, how much easier could she do that to a human?

"This is one of your Creatures of the Abyss then?" January asked. She knew that in spite of the spectacular death, the monster would be back shortly.

"Oh yes," Blood Raven nodded. "One like it plagued the Seneca three hundred years ago."

"How come I can hit it, when everything else just passes through it?" she wondered.

"Because for nearly half of your life you have forged your body into a magical armament," Blood Raven declared. "The djieien is a spirit of magic and darkness. You are one of magic and light."

"So it's just like in D&D then, with the Monk's Ki strike ability counting as a magic weapon," January stared down at her fist. "That makes sense."

"Is this another of your role-playing games?" Blood Raven shook her head.

"Everything I know about being a hero, I learned from playing RPGs," January said.

"This djieien sounds a lot like a lich," Gadget's voice came over the comm. "Destroy its phylactery and you destroy it."

"So how do we find its phylactery?" January wondered.

"Look where it was summoned," Blood Raven said. "It will have hidden its heart somewhere near."

Posted by: Acadian Apr 4 2020, 08:42 PM

Some quick and creative thinking by Stormcrow to use her wings as a shield! She learned early and has consistently gone to great lengths to prevent collateral injuries to innocents. I’d say that is one of numerous distinctions that make her a white hat among superheroes.

Stormcrow was fabulous as she repeatedly destroyed her imposing foe – only to have it regenerate. I was worried that the djieien’s strategy was to wear down Stormcrow, and was rewarded when the young superheroine soon expressed the same concern.

Then the cavalry arrived!

If the young Stormcrow is awesome (and she is), by Kynareth’s wings, Blood Raven is some sort of superawesomesauce! Wow! You quite imparted a truly epic feel to the older superheroine in this scene.

And, thankfully, Blood Raven knows exactly what they’re dealing with and how to ultimately vanquish it.

Heart hunting up next I should think.


Nit: ’She mentally filed that way {away?}.’

Posted by: Renee Apr 5 2020, 11:35 AM

OH you are lucky. Centipedes make my skin crawl and they frighten me. indifferent.gif They aren't popular to see here in Maryland; I might usually only see two or three per year, usually in summer, but when I do see one I sometimes lose my balance as I scurry backwards, trying not to drop the laundry or whatever. Did you know they have cyanide in their legs??? When attacked, they make this little hissing sound which I presume is them trying to poison their attacker. panic.gif Were you facing your own spider fears as you wrote those chapters?

Okay. Please be gone, Boris.

QUOTE
An instant later the giant spider loomed up, showing no signs of injury.


Crap. Anybody got a thousand cans of raid?

Okay, it's good there are no power lines attached to that pole. Because yeah, that would make this dilemma even worse.

QUOTE
discovered when it leveled its abdomen at her once more, and sent a long streamer of that globby webbing her way


Yicch. She must be a mess right now, with all sorts of guts and spider webbing everywhere. That shower back at Blood Raven's house won't last long enough. She'd better use all ALL the hot water after this is done. Oh good. Speaking of Blood Raven. Here she comes. Yeah, I was wondering.


QUOTE
"How come I can hit it, when everything else just passes through it?" she wondered.

"Because for nearly half of your life you have forged your body into a magical armament,"


I was gonna say. It's similar to silver or enchanted only affecting undead. You have to reach these beasts in their other plane of existence, and normal metals will not do. ... Ha ha January makes a similar observation a moment later.

Uh oh. Where is its heart? Guess that shower's gonna have to be postponed for another chapter.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 9 2020, 12:15 AM

QUOTE
Spiders have never bothered me, even as a kid, even those huge garden spiders with psychedelic coloring. Now centipedes on the other hand..... indifferent.gif I literally just got the crawlies linking that picture up.

Uck! We had plenty of those at home! I remember my grandmother whacking them with a broom every time they ran through our kitchen floor.


Wow. What a fight! Made even more epic with the song you provided

'The monster's back plate shattered like balsa wood struck by a missile. Her fist plunged deeply into its soft, gooey innards. A blue liquid, like blood, splashed over January, and the street all around.'

winksad.gif That was disgusting.

Seeing Jan's powers was pretty awesome, and as time goes she's learning to use them well! That Nether-Spider is very resilient.

Her heroism shines through again in every aspect. Smart of her to warn against the use of bullets against it. Blood Raven's abilities and powers shined through here, too. No matter how often the creature comes back, Jan was there to kick its rear again. She's just as resilient. What a couple of badasses!

I'm curious as to what sort of threat the master is, and how interesting that to destroy this cosmic entity one has to destroy the heart. Totally reminded me of It, and how he turns into a giant spider.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 11 2020, 06:15 PM

Acadian: Jan's concern for protecting others will always be foremost in her mind, in every situation she ends up in. Like you said, it really shows where her values are.

I spent some time thinking creatively on how a super could use their wings for more than just the obvious. One inspiration was the anime Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust, where a vampire uses his cape as both a shield and a cutting weapon. https://youtu.be/EyFfyDpy7Rk?t=5282. Jan will be doing more of this kind of thing in the future.

The Djieien is a deceptively dangerous foe. Because while it has some impressive powers, January can defeat it. But its greatest power is that it can simply outlast everyone else, as Jan eventually realized. In the end, it would win.

We have just gotten a taste of Blood Raven's pure awesomeness. There will be a little more this episode, and a lot more in Chapter 5, when she squares off against 10 super-powered Neo-Nazis.

Thanks for filing that nit away for me... wink.gif


Renee: I was facing my arachnophobia when I wrote this. I was not going to make it a spider at first. But I decided to meet my own fears head on by writing it. I still don't want to look at a picture of it. But I am glad I wrote it this way. The Djieien makes a great opponent!

The funny thing is, I don't mind spiders as enemies in 3d isometric style games, like Pillars of Eternity, or Dragon Age. It is only in the first person type games, like Skyrim, that they bother me. I remember in Divinity Original Sin I had a character who used to summon spiders in fact. In that game they had a neat poison power, that sprayed their attackers with poison whenever they were hit.

Thankfully January tends to make it rain whenever she fights, so the shower is already taking place!

Yep, Jan has that pretty much 'standard' ability in RPGs that monks attacks count as magic weapons. As Blood Raven pointed out, January is a magic weapon.


Darkness Eternal: Eeep! I would not want to have lived with your grandma!

Nether-Spider is a great name!

The Master is the big bad in the entire over-arching tale. We will find out more about who Blood Raven thinks he is in the episodes following this one. We will not actually meet him until chapter 11 or 12, or maybe later.






https://youtu.be/9L7mZH2u3Qc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SI1CB4rcf8

https://i.imgur.com/CFLv5sc.jpg




Book 4.11 - Pride

"I'm on it," Gadget said in her ear. "I'm in the local porch cameras right now. Got to love these home security systems. They are so easy to hack."

January turned to the nearest house. The two story one with the bullet holes. Until Gadget came back with something, that seemed a good place to start. If nothing else, she could help any people inside who might have been wounded by the gunfire. A glance down the street showed that the news crew was still there, and in fact, had been joined by a second one.

The spider rose up once more, and tried to intercept January has she leaped for the house. But Blood Raven stopped it, and that blade of hers roared once more in the gathering dark. January heard flesh cleaving, and screaming in the astral.

She continued on, vaulting over the fence and into the yard of the nearest home. She was at the back door in an instant, and found it locked. She fished out the electric lockpick that Gadget had made, and thrust it into the lock. It buzzed to life, and the tumblers in the lock clicked open in just a few moments.

She moved inside quickly, and ignored the stairs going to the basement. That would be too low to have been in danger from the bullets. Instead she went to her left, into the kitchen, and found several holes in the outer wall. She looked across the room, and found more holes opposite them, leading deeper into the home.

"Is anyone here?" she yelled. "I'm Stormcrow. I'm here to see if anyone is injured."

Nothing but silence greeted her.

January followed the kitchen to the living room. There she saw a man standing in front of the television. He wore a VR headset and gloves, and January saw what he was playing on the TV. It was some kind of space dogfight game. As she watched, January saw the man maneuver along the hull of a massive warship, peppering it with energy weapons. Then he zoomed around the far side, spun around, and blasted an enemy fighter that had been on his tail.

January shook her head. A real life-and-death struggle with an eldritch monstrosity was taking place right outside his house, and he was playing video games.

She did not see any injuries on him. She darted over, and laid a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped through the ceiling. He tried to pull the goggles from his eyes, but forgot that he still clutched the controllers in both his hands. He just ended up scraping them against the headset. January reached out and plucked the headset free. She asked him if anyone else was in the house. His surprise turned to shock. He had probably never imagined that he would find a superhero in his living room. January repeated her question, and after he shook his head, she bustled him outside.

Blood Raven still battled with the djieien at the end of the street, just to the left. January gave the man a gentle push the right. After one glance at the giant spider, he did not need any further persuasion to put his feet to good use.

January darted back into the house. Just to be sure, she checked the bathroom and bedrooms. But the homeowner was true to his word, and the house was empty. January noted that the bullet holes stopped half-way through the building. So at least it seemed that no one else might have been endangered by them.

January raced back outside. A glance showed that the djieien still battled with Blood Raven in the side street. The vampire gestured with her hand, and a brilliant bolt of yellow light blossomed from her fingers. It ripped along the length of the spider's body, cut it in two, and left a smoldering ruin behind in its wake. Clearly, she needed no assistance.

So January went on to the next house. This was a one story ranch, with a red roof and garage door. A For Sale sign stood on the lawn. The shades were drawn across the front windows, blocking her view inside. She tried the door and found it open. Pushing it in, she yelled out once more to announce herself.

"This is Stormcrow!" she declared. "Is anyone in here? Is anyone injured?"

The sound of buzzing flies came to her ears in reply. Then came the stench. It was that sickly sweet smell of meat that had turned. Almost at her feet was a dead dog, with a hole in its head wide enough to put a fist through it. The edges of the wound were charred, as if something incredibly hot had lanced through the poor animal's skull. It immediately reminded January of how Blood Raven's arcane bolt had seared through the spider just moments before, albeit in much smaller scale.

Beyond the dog things only got worse. The furniture had been overturned and shoved to the walls to clear out a wide, open space in the center of the living room. It was red. Not from paint, but from blood. A large magic circle was drawn at one end of the open area, using colored powders. January recognized runes from the Eldar Futhark. But she could not make out the words right off. Only that it had something to do with darkness, magic, and death.

Two pathways were drawn out from this larger circle to the far corners of the room. Each pathway was a set of double lines, with a wide open lane between them, like curbs and a road. Within each of these curbs were long incantations of incomprehensible glyphs. One pathway led to a small magic circle that was drawn out in what looked likes salt, and bore more symbols that January did not recognize. The second path led to still another circle. This last one was drawn in wood ash, and inscribed with what she realized were symbols from 19th century Western esotericism, such as those used by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

Within the runes of the last circle of ash was a wash of blood on the floor. Red drag marks led across the floor from it to the large circle, contained neatly inside the lines drawn out connecting the two. Within the large circle were the remnants of a human body. January could not tell if it had been a man or woman. There were literally no pieces large enough to judge from. It had been not simply torn apart, but it seemed to have exploded from the inside out, and somehow been contained within the circle.

"Got it!" Gadget's voice rang triumphant in her ear. "The second house from the end of the street! It walked right out of the front wall just before the fight started."

January tried to respond, but had to hold her mouth shut, as her gorge rose into her throat. She doubled over, feeling her stomach wanting to erupt with revulsion. The physical sights and smells were bad enough. But the magical impressions she felt were so much worse. She felt the terror of the person and dog who were murdered here. She felt their pain, their desperation. It was written more boldly than the symbols on the floor, or the horrific aftermath sprayed between them.

But that was nothing compared to the feeling of wrongness in the air. Of reality having been warped and snapped. It was a psychic, or magical, footprint that filled her with loathing. It stank of the djieien, and worse things.

"Oh snap!" Gadget hissed. January imagined that he was looking at the feed from her helmet camera now. "What the-"

Two cops crowded the doorway behind January. Once they took a look inside, they seemed to lose their desire to go any farther. She heard one gulping, and did not feel so bad about her own rebellious stomach.

"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but that is a circuit," Gadget said in her ear. His voice was dispassionate, professional, an engineer examining a technical point. "You've got two power sources, my guess is of different voltages, and the load the energy runs to. I recognize some of those symbols too. Those are Cauchy-Riemann equations. It looks like something about space-time, and extra dimensions."

January turned that over in her head for a moment. A summoner who used advanced mathematics as well as the more traditional forms of esotericism? It really did not matter right now however. She had to kill that spider.

"The heart must be in here," January finally choked out. She forced her feet deeper into the house, casting her eyes from one horror to another.

"How will we even know it when we see it?" One of the policemen said through gritted teeth.

"With little difficulty I suspect," January breathed. She turned back and waved the police deeper into the room. "We have to find it. It's the only way to destroy that creature."

"It could be anywhere," one of the cops shook his head. But he started looking none the less.

January silently agreed with the futility of their task. It could be sitting in plain sight, washed within the gore of the person so horrifically slaughtered. Given that the creature could make itself intangible, it might even be inside a wall, or the roof.

There was only one way to find it. This thing was clearly from the Outside, in the most Lovecraftian sense of the word. It stood to reason that in the astral, it would not feel the same as anything from the Earth. It should stand out like a sore thumb.

January stopped looking with her eyes, and screwed them shut so that the sights in the house would not distract her. She concentrated on her breathing, and felt the mana as it flowed through her body. She ran her elemental mantra through her head to steady her. Then she reached out with her magical senses, and felt the room around her.

The terror and wrongness that had assailed her when she first stepped into the house came back a hundred times in strength. It beat down upon her heart, and threatened to crush her soul. She was driven to her knees by the wave of horror, that seemed to eclipse all light from reality.

But she mastered herself. Not one inch farther, she told herself. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamantine. She would not be overwhelmed by the dread of it all. The Crow had always been more than just her namesake, and Crow did not fear the dark. He had existed in the Void before Creation. He had born witness to the making of the universe, and knew the secrets of transformation. He was home in the dark, and remained a guide and guardian for those who walked in dark places. Like him, she would walk through those places with her head held high.

So she pushed back the revulsion, and felt about for something out of place. She found it almost instantly. There, beneath the floor, right in the center of the largest magic circle. She felt that sickening perversity that assaulted her whenever she sensed the djieien. It pulsed, strong and terrible, there in a web of darkness just beneath their feet.

January stepped into the gore-splattered magic circle and curled her fingers together. She took a moment to center herself, and then smashed her fist through the floor. She ripped out carpet and chunks of hardwood. She tried to ignore the blood and bits of organs that washed everything she touched. She tore out more of the floor, and there it was.

It was a sickly green in color, cracked through with rivers of red. It pulsed steadily, growing brighter and darker, like the beat of a heart, which of course it was. In the astral it was a vortex of wrongness. It was like reality stopped there, and something else began, some terrible piece of the Outside.

January reached down and grabbed it. It was physical enough, at least under her magically enhanced fingers. The instant she touched it, she felt the monster stop what it was doing outside, and level all eight of its eyes upon her. She felt that terrible green stare though the walls of the house, and knew it was coming for her.

January once again took a moment to gather herself. Then with the djieien's heart in one hand, she drove her other fist into it with all of her might. It squished under her clenched fingers, but sprang back into shape afterward. Its pulsing increased, like the heart of a runner. But it was plainly unharmed.

January could see that it was going to take more than just a physical force to solve this, even magically enhanced force. Thankfully, she could call upon the elements for aid. But she could not do that inside the house. Not without destroying it, and everyone inside.

"Get over there and hide!" January commanded the cops. "Go!" she grabbed one and literally tossed him across the room and into the hallway that led deeper into the house.

"It's coming!" she hissed. "Hide. I'm going to lead it out the back."

With that she tore through the house, racing through the dining room and kitchen, and bursting out the back door. She could feel the spider hard on her heels. Then she was in the backyard. Thankfully it was a large, open space. The only trees rose up at the far edge, where an alley lay beyond the fence. There was nothing to get in her way.

She turned to see the djieien roar through the back wall of the house, with Blood Raven in hot pursuit on the roof. It lunged at January, but was stopped by a lasso of golden light that sprang from one of Blood Raven's hands. It looked like the same energy that made up her force fields, but now shaped into a rope or whip. The cord of power wrapped around the monster, and yanked it back as effortlessly as a puppy on a leash.

January lifted the heart above her head with both hands. She stared up at the clouds overhead, and called up the mana within her. It sang out to the sky above, and the firmament answered. A brilliant lance of silver-white energy spilled from the clouds and cracked down into her hands. The world erupted into light and electricity, blotting out everything in existence for one, brief instant that seemed to drag on for epochs.

Thunder roared around January as the dazzling spots of light flickered from her eyes. Her nostrils stank of ozone, and the hair on her neck and arms stood on end. The grass beneath her feet was gone, and the earth had turned to glass. In her hands was... nothing. There was nothing left of the heart, nor of the spider. Both had ceased to exist.

"Yes!" Gadget exulted in her ear. "You did it!"

January wanted to pump a fist to the heavens, to cry out in victory, or at least reel off some clever one-liner. But while the terrible Otherness of the djieien was gone, its handiwork still remained. If indeed the person and animal inside had been killed by it, and not someone else. For a moment, all she could think of were those bloody pieces scattered around the floor.

She fell to her knees in spite of herself. The next thing she knew, she was vomiting all over the glassy surface of the lightning-scorched earth. So much for being a big, tough superhero. She was aware of Blood Raven walking up beside her and holding her hair back. The other woman said nothing. She simply let her empty her stomach out onto the earth.

When her insides were once more under her command, January leaned her head back to the sky. She opened her mouth and washed it out with rain. She spat the last of bile away, and climbed to her feet.

Blood Raven leaned down, and murmured something in Gaelic. Her hand passed over the pool of vomit, and it vanished under a brief wave of fire.

No DNA traces, January thought. Blood Raven did not even have a real secret identity to protect, but she was clearly far, far better at this than she was.

"Come back inside, and we shall see what we might learn from the summoning," the older heroine said.

"I can't go back in there," January shook her head.

"Yes you can," Blood Raven insisted. "You are strong. You are powerful. You have vanquished a Creature of the Abyss. Few living or dead can make that claim."

"I don't feel that way," January said honestly.

"Good," Blood Raven said. "Hold on to that humility. It will keep you sane. Now come. We have won a battle. The war goes on. We must glean whatever insight we may before the next battle is joined."

"This is what happened the night of the Techno Fest." January found herself being pulled along behind Blood Raven, as if by magnetism, or simply the force of the other woman's charisma. "This is what you were hunting before the fire."

"Not a djieien specifically, but a Creature of the Abyss, yes," Blood Raven agreed. "That one was less powerful, as was the one before that, and the one before that."

"How many times has this happened?" January wondered as she stepped back into the house.

"Too many," Blood Raven said. "Someone is practicing, expanding their repertoire, and gaining power."

"Who?" January wondered, "who would do such a thing?"

They stepped back into the living room, and January was glad that she had nothing left to throw up.

"This is ceremonial magic," Blood Raven declared. She pointed to the large magic circle of colored powder at one side of the room, then the smaller circle of salt, and finally that of ash. "Norse runes, Celtic Ogham, even the Golden Dawn's system, all mixed together. The mathematic symbols are new. They are learning, adding their own touches to the ritual. Even the materials have changed since the last time. Now he has salt, ash, and this powder in the summoning circle appears to be a combination of brick dust, cornmeal, and bark. My guess is he was inspired by Vodoun for that. He is experimenting, picking and choosing from different traditions, like at an all-you-can-eat salad bar."

"This would have taken hours to prepare. The djieien was called up in the large circle. The sacrifice originally contained in the smaller circle of ash was used to anchor it to our world. That is why my banishment failed. It was infused with the blood and life of our realm. That made it part of our world. The Summoner stood in that smaller circle of salt. From there they provided the magical power to enact the ritual, and remained safe from the creature that they called up."

Two voltages, just as Gadget had said, going to a load. All made with an amalgam of varying magical styles and even advanced science.

Blood Raven turned to stare directly into her eyes.

"Where were you for the last three hours?"

"Wait, you think I..." January blinked in shock. She stared at the horror show around her, and then back to Blood Raven. "How could you? How Dare You!"

"Someone with great magical power did this," Blood Raven said. "Where were you today?"

"I was here!" January wanted to slap her. But she was not going to lose control of herself like that. She would not act like a child. No matter how outraged she might feel.

"I was at the festival all afternoon." January gritted her teeth. "I met Gadget here after work. We had lunch. We listened to the bands. We walked around. We actually had fun, if you can believe that, until that thing came at least."

"Cray?" Blood Raven said, though clearly not to January. Once again, January realized that she had a hacker somewhere in the internet, watching her back just as Gadget watched hers. He must have said something she liked, for a look of relief crossed the flame-haired woman's features.

"Good, take her off the list, we won't need to look at her again," Blood Raven said. "Now what of our other two suspects?"

Her mouth hardened, but she nodded once more. "He has not ventured from the school library for hours? You are sure then? Very well. The third has been at home within his office? Then it must be another."

"You have someone looking for me on every camera in the city? You really think I could do this?" January bristled. "And who are these other two? Who else do you think-."

"Wait, my brother and my father, you think it's one of them," she said before Blood Raven could reply. "What is wrong with you? I trusted you. I thought you were my friend! What was the Witch House about then? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?"

"I am your friend Stormcrow," Blood Raven looked pointedly at the police officers gingerly stepping through the room. That reminded January that other ears were privy to their conversation. "It is because of our blood that I had to suspect you. This has all happened before. I told you that your great-grandfather Jack died. I never told you who murdered him."

"I never told you about my father..."

Posted by: Acadian Apr 11 2020, 07:06 PM

That was a fabulous ‘Close your eyes, Luke. Let the Force guide you!’ moment when Stormcrow let her sixth sense do the searching for her.

Loved Blood Raven’s Golden Lasso. It made me grin with thoughts of Wonder Woman.

Some serious awesome from Blood Raven vs that creature, but Stormcrow’s heartbursting bolt from the heavens was right up there too.

I wondered about Blood Raven cleaning up the vomit until Jan figured it out for me. No DNA traces! Brilliant.

Great advice from Blood Raven telling Jan to hold on to her humility.

Ahah, Blood Raven reveals how this latest creature from the Abyss fits into an ominous pattern.

And yet another unexpected twist as Blood Raven interrogates Stormcrow! My reaction at first was the same as Jan’s but as Blood Raven begins to explain their family history, it begins to make sense. Besides, I totally believe Blood Raven is a true friend; after all, only true friends hold your hair out of the way when you vomit. Seriously, that simple act speaks volumes about Blood Raven and was a brilliant touch.


Nit: ’Go{t} to love these home security systems.’

Posted by: Renee Apr 16 2020, 02:36 PM

QUOTE
when she squares off against 10 super-powered Neo-Nazis.


Oh heck yeah. Give it to us, 'Rosa.

Now... Boris is dead right? smile.gif

Gosh that is scary that security cameras can be hacked; why not, though? The ones I have link straight through the internet, after all. But I look at it this way-- whoever'd try to hack them wouldn't have much to look at. Where i live is pretty boring.

I wonder how Pridefest is going now? closedeyes.gif Guess it's pretty much over.

QUOTE
anuary shook her head. A real life-and-death struggle with an eldritch monstrosity was taking place right outside his house, and he was playing video games.


laugh.gif Those damn gamers!

Shesus, what is going on in this guy's house?

QUOTE
No DNA traces, January thought. Blood Raven did not even have a real secret identity to protect, but she was clearly far, far better at this than she was.


I love this. The Raven basically does not exist, in any modern database.

The end is confusing to me, but that's okay. I have always been that girl who watches an entire movie and then has a bunch of questions after it's over. But I don't understand why Raven would suspect her own family member? Guess we'll find out in next chapter.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 18 2020, 06:42 PM

Acadian: January is spending experience points to learn astral sight. This chapter was nice, in that it brought some really major steps in her evolution as a hero. More of that will follow of course.

I freely admit to being inspired by Wonder Woman and her lasso. I worked it into Blood Raven's repertoire as a version of telekinesis. We have already seen that she can create magical force fields. So I took it one step further and decided that she can use that same force to manipulate objects from a distance, through a cord of that force. So it becomes a prehensile force whip/lasso. We will see her use it to pluck things out of people's hands in Chapter 5.

I remember a radio interview with Iggy Pop, and he said that a true friend is someone who holds your hair while you puke in the shower. Given all the heroin that was flying around when he was star, he had a lot of experience.


Renee: I am giving it.

Boris the Spider is dead for once and all. https://youtu.be/JWpz2OYf1QU

Anything that is connected to the internet can be hacked. That is why the entire world has seen Scarlet Johanssen naked. I agree though, anyone watching me would be bored.

It is not over yet. The explanation is coming today and in the next three weeks. It is a long story that Blood Raven has to relate.





https://i.imgur.com/kcJiFPc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/lEfyq0w.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/gN0rxFy.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/4H6J2mY.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/JXWWj3g.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/g5CO1ii.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/1fvLzBj.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/llSWmGx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/TVPGaEI.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/VHfP2DZ.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/ACRZyzP.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/Ne2APsI.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/24th_Michigan_Volunteer_Infantry_Regiment

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Springfield_Model_1861

https://youtu.be/WxlE7Z18qD8


Book 4.12 - Pride

The motorcycle ride downtown was quiet and tense. January stared straight ahead the entire time, not looking back at Branwen behind her, or down at her hands clasped around her waist. Both had changed out of their armor, so appeared entirely normal. January concentrated on her driving, on her balance, on the cars around her, and the lights in front of her. She breathed deeply in and out. Her mana flowed through her, clean and pure as a mountain stream.

Her ribs still ached where the djieien had pierced her armor with its fangs. But at least that made sense. It was normal to feel sore after a fight. She had no idea how to feel about Branwen's distrust of her, and her family. The older superheroine's allusions to her own father conjured a sense of atavistic dread from deep within. It was a shroud that hung between them, choking off the light.

January had the sense that whatever she was about to learn tonight, she was not going to like it.

She took Woodward the entire way. Neighborhoods changed as they went farther south, becoming older, poorer, and sketchier. Things got more interesting once they reached the New Center area. There the Art Deco masterpiece of the Fisher Building soared high into the sky, like a Gothic sentinel watching over the city. Newer office buildings like New Center One crowded around it, along with older Neoclassical structures like the old GM Building and Hotel St. Regis, and other Art Deco masterpieces such as the Argonaut Building.

Then they were across I-94, and into Midtown and Lane State University. It was a mish-mash of contemporary pragmatism and old school grace and elegance. Here were modern, functional buildings of plain red brick. Yet right beside them rose stately old constructions at least a century old or more. The Tierney Alumni House was a fairy tale castle sitting beside a plain white parking deck. The Detroit Institute of Arts with its green bronze Thinker statue out front passed by on their left. Then an Art Deco skyscraper with a Lane State sign went by on their right.

January's mother had been trying to convince her to go here to Lane State for the Fall Term, or to Michigan State University, where she had gotten her own degree. There was little more that January could do at Macomb Community College after all. They did not offer English degrees. She was only accruing credits to use elsewhere. But January was no longer sure if she wanted to go back to college at all. What would the point be?

She sighed as they rode adjacent to the Cass Corridor. It was once the most infamous area of Detroit. January had grown up hearing it spoken of in hushed terms, the way fictional characters spoke of The Dark Forest. There was a Dark Forest in every story, and you never wanted to go there, especially not at night.

But she did not see any monsters as she drove past tenements and homeless shelters and empty lots. Perhaps that was because she knew the real monster was sitting behind her on the bike. Or maybe it was the one holding the handlebars? What horror lurked within her blood, that made Branwen's hacker partner look for her on every camera in the city?

They came up on Little Caesar's Arena, and January realized that they had passed the ruins of the Flying Dutchman, just a block over to the west. That was where she had first met Blood Raven. Where she had healed her from the wounds she had incurred from the flames and toxic fumes. She had been so excited to meet her childhood hero. That had not lasted.

She found herself actually wishing for the old days, before she had transitioned, before she had started using magic, before she had learned that there were monsters in their world, and other worlds, far more real and terrifying than Jigsaw, Annabelle, or Slender Man.

Then they crossed over I-75, and entered Jotunheim, the domain of giants. Comerica Park passed by on their left, its main entrance guarded by great tigers of stone. The Hockeytown Café, Fox Theater, and the Fillmore rose up to the right. Then the trees of Grand Circus Park came up slowly in front of them, and eventually surrounded them as they continued south.

Traffic here nearly ground to a halt. Signs about the Grand Prix reminded January why. The race was taking place this weekend at Belle Isle. Downtown teemed with people for the event. She knew from past experience that all the hotels, restaurants, bars, parking lots, and casinos, would be packed for the weekend.

Slowly they moved into the realm of Downtown's giant skyscrapers. First they passed the angled David Whitney Building. January knew it was named that because it was written in stone across the top of the building. Then they went through block after block of office buildings that dated back to the golden Art Deco era of the 20s and 30s, right up to present day constructions.

They passed by the Hudson Café on their right. To their left was a huge parking lot. Farther ahead on that side of the road was the massive angled structure of the Compuware Building. Its multiple faces alternated between glass and chrome, with elaborate red and black artwork.

Then Branwen motioned for her to turn right at State Street, just before they could reach the Compuware Building and Campus Martius beyond. They found themselves in a narrow two-lane road. A ten story office building rose up on the right, whose ground floor was taken up by an Under Armor store. There was a tall parking deck on the left, whose first floor was lined with shops, including a bakery. Just after the parking structure Branwen motioned again, this time to a small alley between it and the next building - the imposing spire of the Detroit Radiator Building.

The latter stood at the next intersection, of State and Griswold. It was a Neo-Gothic masterpiece from the 1920s, made of black and gold brick. At street level it was all onyx marble and black mirrors, with shining gold corbel tables to add a brilliant display of color. It was a stately old masterpiece, from a bygone era when buildings were not just places to inhabit, but artistic expressions meant for all the world to see and admire.

January turned into the narrow alley beside the stately old lady, and finally came to a stop at a large roll-up door. There Branwen dismounted from the bike, and took a moment to smooth down her short auburn hair. Then she went to the door and flipped open a metal panel, revealing a code box within. After punching in a series of numbers, she leaned forward and stared into a retinal scanner. Only after all of this did the metal door clang open.

January stepped off the Victory as the door rolled up. She pushed her bike inside to a dusty loading dock. Only after the door clanged shut behind her did she pull off her helmet. She did not want to take too many chances with her face being seen. She took a moment to tame her own hair, which she had put into a braided ponytail before starting the ride from Ferndale.

"You good girl?" Avery's voice floated through her earpiece. "I've got places to be."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I kept you waiting," January put a finger to her ear to talk. "You going home?"

"Nah, my mom's off today, so she's there to watch Nana," he explained. "One of the guys I met today texted me. We're going to meet up."

"Brandon or Tayvon?" January wondered aloud.

"Justin," Avery replied. "He knows his Star Trek at least. We can always argue about Star Wars over breakfast tomorrow."

"Of course," January smiled. She envied Avery for how easy it was for him to meet other men. Sometimes it seemed to her that other women were a bigger mystery than the Bermuda Triangle. Not that she would know what to do with a girlfriend if she ever really had one. Telling them she was trans always insured things never went that far.

"Your friend?" Branwen asked with a raised eyebrow, "the one who works with you online?"

"Yeah," January managed a smile. "He actually has a life. Though I don't know how he does it."

"So you live here?" she steered the conversation away from Avery. Except for the high tech security on the door, the building looked abandoned. "I thought this place was taken over by the homeless?"

"It is. Hundreds of people live here, who have nowhere else to go," Branwen nodded. "But they cannot enter certain spaces."

The older superheroine led her up the concrete loading dock. January did not much like the idea of leaving her motorcycle there, so she lifted the Victory under one arm and carried it with her up the pedestrian stairs. They came to a freight elevator with more cutting edge security. Branwen let them in, and they began a long, slow rise up the skyscraper.

"Wasn't there a bunch of murders here?" January wondered, "some kind of gang war?"

"A gang tried to turn the building into a crack house during the 80s," Branwen said. "They murdered several of the people living here, to make an example of them. They never witnessed another sunrise, and a different sort of example was made."

Blood Raven's smile looked more like a wolf's than a human's.

"You killed them," January said plainly.

"I did," Branwen replied evenly. "I will not tolerate that in my house, never."

"You have a habit of doing that," January noted, "killing people. That's what makes it so hard for the police to cooperate with you."

"The police in this city could not pour piss from a boot were the instructions written upon the heel," Branwen declared. "Their incompetence would be laughable were they were not so dangerous and corrupt."

January shook her head. Never meet your heroes… At least that was what she knew she was supposed to think. But every time she tried to feel sympathy for those she knew Blood Raven had killed - the mass shooter in the Ren Cen, the sex slavers, and now murderous drug dealers - she could raise nothing but indifference. Was it really that different from Aragorn slaying orcs, or a Marine shooting a suicide bomber?

"You really just go your own way, and make up your own rules, don't you?" January still said.

"We all do," Branwen responded. "You do. When I was a girl, a gay or transgender person would have been executed, simple as that. There are still people who would do the same today, given the opportunity. It was a scandal when I - a woman - learned to play the violin. You are far more a rebel than I could ever be, even though the King of England branded me as such."

"That's different," January insisted. "My being a lesbian, or trans, doesn't hurt other people."

"I agree. But it depends upon who you ask, does it not?" Branwen debated. "There are some who would say - who truly believe deep in their hearts - that you are a threat. That your very existence endangers everyone around you, physically, morally, and spiritually."

"What we call ethics and morals are entirely dependent upon our points of view. In 1775 we went to war because it was morally and ethically just. King George sent his troops against us, because that was no less morally and ethically just for him. Nearly a hundred years later I went to war against the South to end slavery. It was my moral and ethical responsibility. The people I fought against believed they had God's mandate to own slaves, making that morally and ethically just."

"We all have to find our own truths, our own values, and live by our own commandments," Branwen said softly. "I know that is not easy. Few people possess the courage to truly do so. Instead they surrender their own moral authority and become sheep, obedient to the commandments of their shepherds. I think you have the will and desire to be more than that."

"You know, sometimes I don't know if I should love you, or hate you," January sighed.

"Because I challenge you, and that is not easy," Branwen said. She laid a hand on January's shoulder. "You challenge me as well, my seven times great-granddaughter. None of this is easy for me. Our blood is not a blessing, but a curse, as you shall now bear witness to."

The freight elevator came to a halt, and Branwen pushed its doors open. It let out directly into what could best be described as a penthouse, or a palace. The space was square in shape, and rose at least three stories tall. The center of the room was filled in by a towering wall of black marble. Each of the four outer walls bore tall glass doors that let out onto wide balconies which looked out across the cityscape below. Tall windows rose up even higher beside them, and the entire interior space must have been three stories tall. A winding iron staircase curled up in one corner near the elevator, leading higher up into the building.

It was a loft apartment, decorated in early Gothic. The floor was soft gold marble, and the walls a gentle shade of white marble, gilded with gold filigree, that rose to a vaulted ceiling. The interior was portioned off into sections according to which side of that central marble block each was adjacent to.

Directly ahead were bookshelves packed to bursting with leather, wood, and cloth bound tomes. These were no simple paperbacks or even modern hardcovers. They truly were tomes in the Old World sense of the word. They had gold calligraphy along their spines, and buckles to lock them shut. Some were truly massive, several feet on end. A few honestly looked a thousand years old.

January could read the titles as she walked past, and recognized a few: The Corpus Hermeticum, The Lesser Key of Solomon, The Book of Enoch, The Grand Grimoire, and other ancient codexes. All had one thing in common. They were ancient occult manuscripts. Nothing looked newer than a century. It was the classic wizard's library.

January even noted a massive stone tablet covered in Arabic writing. It was roughly pyramidal in shape, like a jagged mountain peak. Sitting upon an easel beside it was a single piece of paper, with writing in English, in an elegant, flowing hand. January noted a few words:

That which is below is like that which is above
and that which is above is like that which is below
to do the miracles of one only thing


She recognized the concept from the modern books on Wicca she had read, including those written by Branwen. Usually it was shortened to something like "As above, so below." The physical and spirit worlds were connected. What happened in one, affected the other. She had even read the same in Shadowrun's magic system.

A polished wooden table with elegant, curling legs sat amidst the shelves. Next to it was a truly magnificent writing desk. Also of wood, this was inlaid with what looked like genuine gold and mother of pearl. Like the table, it was all gentle curves, with numerous little drawers and panels that folded out to nearly double its size. It looked like something from an 18th century Queen's study.

They rounded a corner of the massive marble slab that blocked off the center of the room. In this new area January saw more shelves. These were filled by books that were clearly new. Most pertained to Witchcraft and Chaos Magic. January recognized authors such as Christopher Penczak, Kerr Cuhulain, Starhawk, Peter J. Carroll, and Phil Hine. She also saw all of the books Branwen had written under her current identity. Alongside these modern occult workings were books on psychology, anthropology, and comparative religion by such worthies as Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. January noted with a smile that the latest rulebooks and assorted supplements for Shadowrun, Earthdawn, and Dungeons and Dragons even held court on one lower shelf.

Here the furniture had changed as well. Where the previous space had been a window into a centuries-old past, this was ultra modern. There was a desk with a surface of polished black stone and gleaming marble legs. A computer atop it had three monitors, and several office chairs surrounded it. Next to it was an actual table computer. Something January had only seen in films. Its screen must have been at least three feet wide, and it was mounted on a wheeled stand, so evidently it could easily be moved to any part of the building.

It was like stepping from the past to the present. January wondered if that was what life was like for Branwen - one foot always in the past, the other in the now?

Opposite the books January noted a tall glass case with a mannequin inside. It was dressed in a blue civil war uniform. It even had a tall black forage hat with the left brim folded up, and a large brass bugle emblazoned across the forehead. It was clean, but the cloth was worn, and in some places, pierced with small round holes. Beside it was a rifle nearly as tall as the mannequin. No, it was a musket, the old muzzle-loading, black powder kind.

Beside it was a large framed picture of an American flag that was practically torn to shreds. All that remained was the blue field in the corner and a few ragged strips of the bars. That field held far fewer than the usual fifty stars that January was used to seeing. "24th Michi-" was written in gold across one of the stripes, the rest of which had been sliced off.

January paused to stare at the uniform and picture of the flag. Branwen stepped up beside her.

"That was mine," she said, nodding to the uniform. "I wore it from when we mustered in during 1862, until we mustered out in 1865."

She opened the case, and reached inside to take up the rifle. January noted that she held it with reverence. She was surprised when Branwen handed it to her. The wooden stock was smooth and polished, and her hand instantly slipped down to the grip, just behind the trigger. It was heavy, not physically, but metaphorically. For a moment the harsh stench of gunpowder stung January's nose, and she imagined she heard booming thunder and the blare of trumpets in the distance.

"This is a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket," Branwen said. "It fires a .58 caliber Minié Ball. For three years, it never left my side."

"You killed people with it?" January asked.

"I honestly do not know," Branwen shrugged her shoulders. "It was not like in films. There was so much smoke, so much noise, you could not tell whose shot felled whom. Likewise, you could not tell whence the bullet that struck you originated."

January nodded, and handed the weapon back to the other woman. She admired the craftsmanship that went into its creation. She could feel the very real connection between it and Branwen. A part of her was imprinted on the gun, without doubt. But it also felt disquieting, like touching Death.

"So you fought in the Civil War," January said. "How? I mean you're-"

"A woman?" Branwen finished her sentence. "A great many women fought in that war, hundreds for certain, probably thousands. It was not truly that difficult. All one had to do was cut your hair, wear pants, and pretend to be a teen. Some of us bound our breasts. I was never particularly large in that regard, so I sufficed with simply wearing baggy shirts."

"It was not like today," Branwen explained. "People now are used to seeing women in trousers, or hearing of transgender individuals. But back then either was literally unheard of. If someone wore pants, they were a man. If they wore a skirt, they were a woman. It was as simple as that. Anything else was literally inconceivable."

"People see what they want to see," January said, "what they expect to see."

"Exactly," Branwen agreed.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 18 2020, 10:15 PM

An ominous and interesting Victory ride as January notes the incongruous palette of architectural styles she sees and ponders whether she or Branwen is a monster.

And what a splendid . . . lair(?) within that magnificent building! Poor Jan, lugging her Stormcycle upstairs. I loved your screenshot and description of the old queen’s desk.

The more I learn about Branwen’s moral code/compass the more I like her. She knows what’s right and wrong and doesn’t hesitate to squash the latter.

We also learn quite a bit more of Branwen’s long and colorful history.

"You challenge me as well, my seven times great-granddaughter. None of this is easy for me. Our blood is not a blessing, but a curse, as you will now bear witness to." - - What a perfect and timely reminder of the blood relationship between the two women.



Nits:
- - ’She also saw all of the books under Branwen had written under her current identity.’ – An extra ‘under’?
- - "If someone wore pants, they were man. If they wore a skirt, they were a woman." – For consistency, I expect you’d prefer either man/woman or a man/a woman rather than mixing the styles. Probably you simply want an ‘a’ in front of man?

Posted by: treydog Apr 25 2020, 02:45 PM

What with the virus loose in the world and reminding myself to be grateful I have a job to go to still, I also decided to take more time for the things I love. Reading being high on that list. So- slowly catching up. Will comment further as further arrives....

3.1

The other students being completely oblivious to the value of Mr. Wirth's memories rings true. When I worked at the university library, we did orientation classes for HS seniors on the resources available. The sessions were held in a computer lab- where 90-100% of them immediately started surfing the Net for athletic shoes.....

Loved the crow companion going along for part of the ride.

QUOTE
… Mazda MX-5 parked out front, red as the blood of a fresh victim.


Yeah- we don't like him....

QUOTE
Let everyone see her for who she really was, scars and all.


Now there is something that takes real courage.

QUOTE
The moment the invective turned to Avery, something inside January snapped.


Yep. I never came close to a physical confrontation over anything anyone said about me- but... attack my friends... bad idea.

3.2

Love the gaming group/band. And video-invisio-ability will definitely come in handy.

3.3

QUOTE
"Whatever it is, the old lady can take care of it," Avery reassured her. "She's been looking out for this city since before we were born."


That is how to end a scene.

3.4

Flying- not just for the birds... and beautifully envisioned.

3.5

Most people run from the fire- true heroes run towards it.

QUOTE
"That hagfish armor is made for fire. Nothing will burn it short of the Sun.”


Why would I feel better about that if the fire was natural?

Have I mentioned recently how outstanding I think this novel is? Consider it done.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 25 2020, 06:24 PM

Acadian: One thing I noticed when I was a courier is that cities are not static. They grow, they change, old buildings get torn down, new ones go up, and pretty soon they become a crazy quilt of varying building styles. Downtown Detroit is really like this because the city has 300 years of construction and reconstruction. You can see 18th century churches right next to brand new casinos. Art Deco, Neo-Gothic, Modern Minimalism, you see it all thrown together in a blender. That was something I wanted to dwell on to show the city's age and character.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Radiator_Building. I transplanted it to Detroit, and picked a red skyscraper - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Stott_Building - for it to replace.

Branwen has been around for about 250 years, so she has had a lot of time to get set in her ways, and to learn to take a stand for what she believes in. That is not always a good thing, as it has really alienated the local authorities. Not that she cares.

I really enjoy writing the relationship between January and Branwen. They are very different, but bonded by blood and principle, which also makes them very alike. I think I enjoy it because it shows that so long as you are willing to respect another person in spite of how different they are from you, you can have a very strong relationship with them.


treydog: Three Dog! Sounds like you are still fighting the good fight.

Most of my teachers from my school days are just blurs in my memory at best. Mr. Wirth is one of those few people who still stands out starkly in my mind. I think he and my college psychology prof Gordon Blush "El Gordo" were the two most influential teachers in my life. I see both of them in my head even now.

Likewise, Jan's gaming buddies - The Knights of Nerddom - are partly based on real people. Rus and Kell specifically are people I used to game with. Jack is Jack Black of course. While Ryo is in many ways me, with a touch of Asperger's added on.

The fire is mostly natural. At least there is no super power usage involved. Though there certainly are mundane accelerants at work. This is a chapter with no supervillains at all. In fact, the fire was inspired by two real life fires.



https://i.imgur.com/HKR1cgg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/8s8YRGG.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/gT0flCK.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/k78t8HB.jpg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akan_people

https://www.nps.gov/jame/learn/historyculture/african-americans-at-jamestown.htm

https://i.imgur.com/E3fh45W.jpg

https://monstertalk.skeptic.com/grimoirespart-1

https://monstertalk.skeptic.com/grimoirespart-ii



Book 4.13 - Pride

"But come, I have a sad tale to impart." Branwen placed the rifle back in the case with the uniform. Then she continued on into the house. January glanced out one of the tall windows. Given how high they towered over the streets below, she imagined that they were near the top of the building. The steeply-angled green bronze roof of Book Tower rose up to her far left. To her far right she could see the green playing field of Comerica Park nestled within a sea of smaller buildings.

Between them she traced the line of Woodward Avenue back the way they had come from. It passed through the flanking towers of the David Whitney Building and David Broderick Tower as it made its way northwest. Then the wide avenue passed by the western face of the baseball stadium, crossed the freeway, and then stretched by the eastern side of the new hockey arena. It arrowed through Midtown beyond, and finally vanished in the haze somewhere after the Fisher Building, which rose majestically in the distance.

It was an amazing view. Part of her wanted to run out onto the balcony and leap into the air.

Instead she followed Branwen around another corner, putting them directly opposite the central marble wall from the service elevator they had entered from. Through the windows she could now see the tan stone and decorative columns of the stately Westin Book Cadillac hotel. It was a skyscraper in its own right, but the grand hotel squatted beneath January's high perch. Farther beyond rose the bare concrete of the Federal Building, which had been built in the stark Brutalist style back in the 70s. A far cry from the Neo Gothic masterpiece in which she now stood.

Far to the left sat the wide rooftop of Cobo Center, and beyond it along the river rose the three wide spires of the Riverfront Apartments. Each building was designed to look like a trio of skyscrapers built one into the next. So it gave the illusion of actually being nine towers of varying heights. Finally, miles away in the distance the green-painted Ambassador Bridge stretched out across the Detroit River and linked the city to Canada.

January recognized this real estate. She had flown past - and over - all of it the night of the Flying Dutchman fire. She had even landed on the Book Cadillac and used it to leap to higher altitude. To think, she had gone right past the Detroit Radiator Building that night. If only she had known then that it was the lair of Blood Raven herself!

Her eyes moved back to the interior of the skyscraper. Beside the window was a baby grand piano, its polished black surface gleamed in the sunlight that filtered in from outside. Lying atop its surface, almost casually, was a closed violin case of warm cherry wood. That made her remember what Branwen had said earlier, about it being a scandal that she had learned to play the violin. How long ago must that have been, 200 years, or more?

January looked back inside, and here upon that great, marble edifice that blocked off the center of the interior were several family trees. Branwen had shown it to her before using magic. Now that she beheld it in the flesh, January had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. The wall stretched all three stories to the ceiling, and was literally covered in flowing script denoting her family history, and the histories of numerous other families related to hers. She even noted that her own name had been changed from August to January, with no mark of erasure left behind.

Here was a third desk. This one was a cross between the other two. It looked to be hand carved from lustrous cherry wood. It sat upon thick, gently curved legs, and had a small hutch over the work surface. It was piled with papers, and beside it stood a pair of vintage wooden filing cabinets. This was the kind of thing that Ben Franklin might have written his almanacs upon. While the first desk might have sat in Marie Antoinette's study, and the other would fit in the office of a modern tech genius like Doctor Heisen.

"I have learned the hard way that I must watch over my descendants," Branwen explained. "For they share more than just my blood, they share my father's as well."

January craned her neck to look up that far. She saw two names listed there for Branwen's father: John Corbin, and Nátthrafn. That name - Nátthrafn - appeared on several other genealogical charts on the walls, going back centuries earlier. One went back as far as the year 999.

"I have said before that magic has always been strong in our family." Branwen held up a hand in warning. "Oh, I know what you are thinking. No, it is not because we are all Chosen Ones selected by Fate to be great wizards. That only happens in fiction. It is that our bloodlines are ones with an exuberance of will. Stubbornness one might say, or arrogance, or rebelliousness."

"My father called himself John Corbin in Boston of the 1760s and 70s. But he has gone by many other names, much as I have myself. The oldest record I have found of him is under the name Nátthrafn."

"Night Raven," January said. "I know my Old Norse."

"Indeed," Branwen observed. "You are Old Norse, as well as Irish, English, Polish, Italian, and Akan, among others."

"Akan?" January puzzled.

"An ancient people of West Africa. They played a major role in the trans-Atlantic slave trade," Branwen explained. She pointed her finger up the waterfall of names, to one in particular. Then she lifted a piece of paper from the desk and skimmed across the hand-written page. "In 1619 your ancestor Akosua spoke out too loudly against the wrong person. They had her kidnapped and sold to the Portuguese. They took her to the New World, but their vessel was captured by the White Lion, an English privateer sailing under letters of marque for the Dutch crown. They took Akosua and other slaves to Jamestown, and sold her to the English colonists there as indentured servants. Slavery was not yet legal in America, but indentured servitude was common. In 1890 her descendant Judith married my descendant Algernon Hopkins. Their child Ruth Virginia was your great-great grandmother."

"Wow," January did not know what to say. She stared in awe as she traced through the names on the family tree, which was more like a family forest, from herself all the way back to Akousa. It was a like a biological game of dominoes, one falling against the other, and tumbling down to make her. It was humbling, and exhilarating.

"In any case your eight times great-grandfather Nátthrafn was born in Denmark, over a thousand years ago." Branwen went on. "He was given his name for his raven black hair. It is said that a Völva who tried to read his fate killed herself in horror, never revealing what she had seen. He was outlawed for murder when he was fifteen. So he went viking, and traveled east. He joined a band from Sweden and they made their way down the rivers of what is now Ukraine, to Kyiv. I believe it was there that he converted to Christianity. Many did, as it made things far easier when serving the Christian Grand Prince there."

"Yet he remained only shortly. For from Kyiv he and many others were recruited into the Varangian Guard of the Roman Emperor in Constantinople. He learned to not only speak Greek and Latin during this time, but to read and write in them as well. For it is evident that he came into the possession of the Scripta Mortis. With it he became a necromancer."

"The Scripta Mortis?" January wondered aloud, "Dead Writing?"

"The Writings of Death," Branwen said. "It is an ancient book. A terrible book. It teaches one not only magic, but the art of summoning the dead, and worse, those from Outside."

Branwen led her away from the sprawling family tree and into the final quadrant of the massive chamber. It could be best described as a modern command center. This was dominated by a large black conference or plotting table in the center of the area. A closer look at it revealed a glass surface, and several controls along the edges. It was an actual table computer, larger than a pool table!

The walls were covered in gigantic computer screens, along with several workstations. A sealed glass cabinet filled with servers and networking gear blinked silently away nearby. January wondered if she used magic to keep it so quiet. Every time Avery turned even one actual server on it filled the Gadget Cave with a near deafening racket.

Branwen led her through the bridge of the starship Enterprise without comment, and turned the last corner to put them back at the entrance to the chamber. January looked out the windows once more. Far beyond the white spire of the Blue Cross Building to the northeast, Belle Isle rose from the middle of the Detroit River. A single bridge connected the island to the American side of the river. Even though it had to be at least two miles away, she thought she could see the tiny cars moving around the southern tip of the island, flanked by a sea of spectators.

She turned back from the windows and the freight elevator. Before them was the library of antique occult books. She reached into a bookcase, and drew forth a tome bound in pale white leather. It was longer than her forearms, and made a distinct thud when Branwen dropped it on the elegant table amid from the shelves.

"This is the Scripta Mortis." Branwen unlocked the buckles that sealed the ancient codex shut, and drew open its hand-written pages. January leaned forward, and saw a diagram of a magic circle taking up one page, with images of skeletons drawn into the margins. The opposite leaf was all in Latin. It was the old Roman kind, with no punctuation marks or spaces between words. Trying to read it made her head hurt. "This copy is nearly two thousand years old, and was spirited from the Great Library of Alexandria before its destruction."

"Yet it is only a copy of an earlier work of Greek, the Grafes Thanatos." Branwen explained. "Some even whisper that in turn is but a copy of much older Babylonian and Sumerian works, now lost to time."

"I suppose you have that too." January looked up, and over the sea of ancient books that crammed the shelves.

"Unfortunately I do not," Branwen shook her head, "though I should certainly be desirous of obtaining a copy."

"You sure like your books," January noted.

"Do you not as well?" Branwen said. "I collect them. It is a hobby. It aids me in retaining a sense of perspective when it comes to magic. For you see most of these are pure nonsense."

The older woman waved an arm to indicate the library of old occult compendiums.

January nearly did a double take. That was the last thing she expected from a real life magician and arcane scholar.

"Most of the Medieval and Renaissance grimoires are literally pure fiction," Branwen explained. "They were created as show pieces for the libraries of wealthy individuals. The rituals described within are so deliberately time-consuming and obsessed with minutia that they are practically impossible to recreate. This provides a convenient excuse for why they do not work. One can always blame the practitioner for making a mistake."

"They are also very Christian in nature," Branwen continued. "They believe that magic is bound up in certain words, which must be spoken with specific inflections or accents, in a certain order, along with many other specific gestures, and images, and so forth. Just as the Abrahamic religions are revealed religions, that place their validity in a literal interpretation of specific religious texts, they believed the same when it came to magic. That the power was in the words on the page, rather than within the hearts of the people who spoke them."

"But magic is all about raising energy, visualizing goals, and applying the will," January's eyebrows beetled.

"Yes, real magic is," Branwen concurred. "Most of these are elaborate frauds. I keep them to remind myself how easily one can be duped by a veneer of verisimilitude." She looked back down at the deathly pale book on the table before them. "This is real however. It teaches one to not only use magic, but also to call the dark spirits from the Abyss."

"Like that djieien?" January asked. "Is this how you knew how to defeat it?"

"Exactly like that djieien," Branwen said. "The reason I do not destroy this book is because just as it details how to summon such creatures, it also describes how to defeat them."

"So your father, my great-grand-whatever, he found this book a thousand years ago? I take it he used it?"

"Oh yes," Branwen said. "It must have taken him years to master it, and the use of magic in general, if not decades. Remember, he was also just learning Latin and Greek at the same time as well."

"He and the Varangian Guard were sent to campaign against the Lombards and Normans in Italy and Sicily," Branwen said. "In 1018 they fought at Cannae, and crushed the Lombards. Some time after that Nátthrafn came into possession of the Grafes Thanatos. I believe he murdered another member of the Guard with magic to obtain it. I do know that afterward he fled the Guard."

"He seems to do that a lot," January noted dryly.

"Yes," Branwen agreed. "As I said before, we all must make our own rules, abide by our own oaths. My father never lived by any rules, not even of his own making. He intimidated, tortured, and murdered, whenever it was convenient for him."

Posted by: Acadian Apr 25 2020, 09:29 PM

’It was an amazing view. Part of her wanted to run out onto the balcony and leap into the air.’
- - You can take the Stormcrow out of the sky but you can’t take the sky out of the Stormcrow.

Another wonderful visual tour of Detroit’s diverse skyline from the heights of the Blood Raven’s nest. Super birds like Blood Raven and Stormcrow use nests instead of lairs, right? tongue.gif

The furnishings inside the nest are as eclectic and diverse as the surrounding forest of buildings that provide the skyline. From a desk that Marie Antoinette may have used to a command center that rivals the bridge of the Starship Enterprise! Haha – only after invoking the Enterprise did I read your correction to Death Star bridge.

The Scripta Mortis – the writings of death of course. Necromancy that includes summoning those for Outside. And a grandfather many times removed named Nátthrafn who has had over a thousand years to perfect his craft. The gravity of the threat, as well as Branwen’s rationale for closely watching her relatives – old and young alike – become much more clear.

A completely engrossing episode!


Nit: ’To her far right she could see {the?} green playing field of Comerica Park…’

Posted by: Renee Apr 26 2020, 05:33 PM

Uh oh. First Buff's in trouble, now it's January. What a depressing bike ride that must have been. Or anxious, I guess. But to me it sounded sort of depressing.

QUOTE
Was it really that different from Aragorn slaying orcs, or a Marine shooting a terrorist?


I think Raven slaying the people she slays is different than these examples. I'm too hungover today to really analyze specifics, but Raven definitely seems more reckless. Like, she did not give those crack lord the option to leave her building, she just murdered them. At least Aragorn or the Marines might give some sort of warning. Terrorists are always negotiated with first (if possible), orcs were -- Ah dang. Lost my train of thought.

Edit: I'm forgetting my high school Lord of the Rings, but aren't orcs and elves constantly at war anyway? I can't remember if there was any sort of treaties or whatever tried to allay their hatred. But the bottom line is their world is more black and white.

I'd better stick to finishing both chapters today!

Good lord, what a palace she lives in. wub.gif I like how it's all organized; things from the past, and things from modern times. Guess we can now see what Branwyn does during her off days. You, as a writer, have lots of imagination, Rosa. You really go into some details here.

Wow, she has their whole family history written on that huge wall. blink.gif

Hmm. Her family includes a summoner. Maybe this has something to do with that spider? I am still confused about that, and why Raven seems to think Jan is somehow responsible. But maybe I misread that portion of the chapter.

QUOTE
The rituals described within are so deliberately time-consuming and obsessed with minutia that they are practically impossible to recreate. This provides a convenient excuse for why they do not work. One can always blame the practitioner for making a mistake


That's so awesome.

Posted by: treydog Apr 27 2020, 02:34 PM

Still reading- still behind. Still loving every new installment.

3.6

Wow. This is one of those “quote the whole passage” to highlight the “good parts” situations.

3.7

QUOTE
What did you say when you met your idol, and they gave you such a gentle suggestion? She had no idea.


Pretty much that. Unless you stumble out “You're one of my biggest fans,” and then have to live with THAT as your introduction for the rest of your life.

The thing you do really well, even in the short intro to Blood Raven, is give us a feeling of how “apart” she has become (chosen to be?) from mundane humanity. If somebody asked me to explain how I get that vibe- I would just shrug and tell them- “Because it's there.”

3.8

QUOTE
she heard Blood Raven speaking in an odd language. Perhaps it was Gaelic? It sounded ancient, primal, and wild. It was the kind of thing that she imagined might have been shouted on Beltane or Samhain from stone circles that crowned shadowed hills.


Paint a picture with words....

QUOTE
January felt something being pulled from inside her, as if drawn out with her blood. Even with her writer's imagination, she could not put words to the feeling. It was as if some dark spirit was being exorcised from her being. Some malignity being cut away from her body. Whatever it was, she felt it being siphoned away by a strange form of energy. By that power she had earlier felt beneath Blood Raven's chant. That energy seemed to drag the darkness from her, out through the wound in her arm, and draw it up into Blood Raven.


That is very much how I have envisioned Elder Scrolls healing spells also... There must be balance- something taken- something given. And it has to go somewhere.

3.9

QUOTE
Was it magic? Or did she just have a Charisma of 18?


Those moments of humor elevate the story so wonderfully.

And yes- the healing has costs that no one can truly understand- except Blood Raven herself.

3.10

Oh my. Fredo the Firefighter is a gem. A rough, caked in clay gem- but valuable all the same.
QUOTE

But I don't think Captain Feldercarb here will be too cooperative.


Yay- Galactica swear word.

Posted by: SubRosa May 2 2020, 06:16 PM

Acadian: The Crow can't look at any high place without wanting to jump from it.

Thanks to what you said, I have officially named Blood Raven's lair as the Raven's Nest. It will show up in print in two chapters.

That picture was of Marie Antoinette's desk. And the Ben Franklin desk, was his too. Though in the story, Blood Raven would not have those specific desks. Just ones that look like them.

I also went back and changed it from the Death Star bridge to the Enterprise's. I am using too many Star Wars references, I need to balance it out with some Trek.

I worked some to come up with the Scripta Mortis and Grafes Thanatos. There is also a third book - Ars Necromantia - which is another translation of them into English. It goes Grafes Thanatos -> Scripta Mortis -> Ars Necromantia. Each is in a different language - Greek -> Latin -> English - and loses some elements in the translation. The Ars Necomantia might show up someday in a future storyline about a straight up necromancer, but not summoner of Abyssals.

All the other books I cite are entirely real. You can even find digital copies of some.



Renee: I think the word you are looking for about Blood Raven is ruthless, rather than reckless. Yes, she is not shy about delivering her own brand of justice. As she said to January, we each have to make our own code and live by it. Hers is severe. And there is reason for it, and why she has no use for the law and authority figures.

I think we conjured up different ideas from the word terrorist. I suspect you were thinking about the terrorism of the 70s, when radicals siezed airplanes and held people hostage with a list of demands. Negotiating was a common tactic then, even if just as a stalling method. Where I was meaning modern terrorists, who drive cars into crowds of people and blow up buildings with day care centers. I am glad you brought that up. I went back and changed it to suicide bomber to be more clear, as one of the people Blood Raven has killed was a neo-fascist mass shooter.

I know it is taking a while to get there. Blood Raven is telling a long story. It is written as one big piece, and is really meant to be read that way. I had to break it up for the forum. Today's episode and next week's will make it clear why Blood Raven's bloodline is cursed.

All that stuff about medieval grimoires is true. I linked to a couple episodes of MonsterTalk that does a deep dive into grimoires. It is really fascinating stuff.


Treydog: https://www.quotes.net/mquote/773470 biggrin.gif

I completely admit to stealing from HP Lovecraft for my description of wild rites being howled out from shadowed hilltops at the passing of the seasons. The guy knew how to create mood.

Fredo was a ton of fun to write, of course. Every group has a class clown, and he is it for Engine 66.

Lots more Galactica and Shadowrun swears. I am really leaning into them, as they allow me to be PG13 and still have people swear. And show their sci-fi cred.





https://youtu.be/Jmk5frp6-3Q

https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/rau-skinna-famous-icelandic-book-black-magic-006856

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heinrich_Kramer

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malleus_Maleficarum



Book 4.14 - Pride

"In 1027 Nátthrafn was in Rome. There he met Cnut the Great, who was the king of Denmark, Norway, and England. Cnut was a Christian, and was there on a pilgrimage to attend the coronation of Holy Roman Emperor Conrad the Second. Somehow Nátthrafn ingratiated himself into Cnut's entourage, styling himself as a spiritual advisor."

"I always thought that the Vikings were all, well, Vikings," January said. "I mean Pagans… Heathens."

"By then Christianity was firmly established all over Scandinavia." Branwen explained. "Kings loved the new religion. It stressed obedience and humility, something they craved from their subjects. It made them loyal, non-threatening, and hard-working servants."

"Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," January murmured, "and the meek shall inherit the Earth."

"Exactly," Branwen agreed. "On the other hand Norse Paganism inspired individuals to follow their own personal convictions and fight against any odds. Sometimes that included overthrowing the current king. Odin needs heroes to fight at Ragnarök after all. It was not hard for the kings to decide which of those two options served them best. Of course once a king did become Christian, he outlawed all other religions, just as every Christian king in Europe did."

"So far as I might discern, Nátthrafn was immune to Christ's finer qualities, such as compassion and forgiveness. But he did recognize that the days of Odin and Thor were done, and the White Christ was the future. As ever, he did what was convenient."

"He went with Cnut, first to Denmark and then to England. When Cnut made a second trip to Rome in 1030 Nátthrafn did not accompany him. He had been given Portchester and the surrounding lands of Hampshire to rule over as eorl. His hall soon gained a dark reputation, and the people whispered of strange lights seen in the windows, strange voices heard in the dark, and bodies missing from their graves."

"Portchester?" January asked, "Hampshire?"

"It lies on the southern coast of England, across from the Isle of Wight," Branwen explained. "It was originally a Roman shore fort, and later a Wessex burh."

"By the time of the Norman invasion in 1066 many were already starting to remark that Nátthrafn looked very young for man of over three score years. He is said to have joined King Harold at Hastings. But he was not seen in Portchester afterward. Most thought he died in the battle. Most hoped he had died there."

"But he survived, and escaped the oncoming Normans. I can only piece together small scraps of information here and there about him from this period. He moved ever north. He was rarely able to stay in one place for more than a few decades, as his marked lack of aging eventually set tongues to wagging. As did other, darker rumors."

By now "darker rumors" did not sound as vaguely threatening to January as the phrase might once have. After what she had seen of the djieien, and heard of Nátthrafn's story, it conjured very specific horrors in her mind.

"By the 15th Century he was in Iceland. I believe he spent at least three score years in the south of the island. Later he went north and took the name Gottskalk Nikulausson the Cruel. It was the local people who appended 'the Cruel' of course. He was Bishop of Holar from 1496 to his death in 1520. I think it is notable that this followed a period when the Bubonic Plague ravaged Iceland. From 1494 to 1495 it killed half the population of the island. That would have made it very easy for a necromancer like him to do his work."

"It was then that he wrote the Rauðskinna, or Red Skin. It is said that the book's contents were meant to teach one to use magic to enslave Satan. It's real purpose however, was to teach its owner to not only summon Abyssals, but also to resurrect Nátthrafn in the case of his death. Furthermore, the cover was dyed red with his own blood. I once believed it was part of an enchantment that would call to those who shared the same blood. That it would bring his descendants to the book, and tempt them to use it. I now suspect the opposite, that copies of the book find their way to our bloodline."

"How did you find it?" January asked.

"With surprising ease," Branwen said. "I had thought there was only one copy in existence. Only a few short days after I began making inquiries, it appeared in a local bookseller's shop. The owner said it had been part of a mass consignment of books he had purchased from an estate sale, and assumed it had been placed with the others by accident."

"Then I found another copy of it half a century later, with the remains of your great-grandfather."

"Jack," January noted, "Jack Parsons?"

"Yes, poor Jack," Branwen frowned. She led January back to the great genealogical charts upon the wall. Here she pointed out several distinct bloodlines. "But I draw ahead of myself. In his new identity as the bishop, Nátthrafn made for himself at least two mistresses. One was named Gurdun, and he begat upon her two children: Odd Gottskalksson and Gurdun Gottskalksdottir. With a second mistress named Jonsdottir he had a daughter named Kristin."

"He must have sensed his doom approaching. He had been in Iceland for at least a century. Although in his identity as Gottskalk Nikulausson he claimed to have been born in 1469, there were rumors that he was disturbingly similar in appearance to other men who had vanished in the past. One a chemist, another a smuggler. There were whispers that the catacombs beneath the church held hidden chambers, where dark rites were howled out at the passing of the seasons. Graveyards showed signs of recent disturbances, and exhumations found their contents to be empty."

"I suspect that by 1520 he was preparing to make for himself a new life elsewhere. But he was too late. Iceland still remained within the Catholic Church, and Rome had dispatched a Papal Inquisitor to investigate the rumors of his misdeeds. The Pope must have taken it very seriously, for he sent the German priest Heinrich Kramer. Perhaps you have heard of him, he was the writer of the Malleus Maleficarum."

"The Hammer of the Witches?" January could not help but curl a lip in disgust. "Of course I've heard of it. It is all about how to torture and murder people under the pretext of them being Witches. It's a monument to religious bigotry."

"Kramer is also known to certain… people, like myself, as Der Hexenhammer. He is a powerful sorcerer in his own right. It is worth noting that Kramer died in 1505, a full fifteen years before this."

"Even after his death he remained an unofficial witch-hunter for the Popes. He was the one they called upon to perform their vilest of tasks. The ones never put to paper to acknowledge their reality. Whether he still does their bidding is open to speculation. The Papacy has changed much in the last half millennia. Der Hexenhammer has not."

"You mean he is still alive today?" January stared at the other woman in amazement. "Is he a- well, like you?"

"He is not blessed by Selene," Branwen said. "But he is undead. I believe your role playing games would describe him as a lich, if there is a word to describe him. Be very wary! If you encounter him, he will stop at nothing to kill you. His hatred and fanaticism lends great strength to his will. He has ended many promising individuals over the centuries."

January nodded, and filed that away for future reference. At first being a magic-wielder had seemed cool. Now the shine was definitely wearing off.

"Nátthrafn learned of the Hexenhammer's arrival on the island and must have guessed his intent." Branwen went back to her story. "He loosed an Abyssal upon Kramer, and it killed five students in the adjacent religious school before it was stopped. The families of the deceased led a mob to the church, with Kramer at the head. They caught Nátthrafn in the catacombs, while he scrambled to pack his things. A frightful battle took place within. Not only was Nátthrafn killed, but also his first mistress and their children as well. The survivors of the raiding party all swore to never speak of it afterward. I only learned what sparse details I could from the diary of one of the mob's relatives."

"However, his second mistress Jonsdottir and her daughter Kristin had not lived in the church. They were able to escape, and fled to the south of the island, and from thence to Denmark. Through them, his bloodline lived on."

"Nátthrafn himself was buried in the catacombs of Holar's church. Some reports hint that his book Rauðskinna was destroyed. Others said that it was buried with him. In any event, his remains were hidden away, so as to not be so easily discovered."

"It was not until two centuries later that lamentable event finally came to pass. The last descendant of Jonsdottir and Kristin returned to Holar as a student. He was named Loftur, and was already a sorcerer. He used his magic to create strife among the populace, and searched the catacombs for Nátthrafn's tomb. He got one of the kitchen servants pregnant, and sealed her up in a wall for her trouble. When another student tried to stop him, Loftur murdered him too."

"Loftur called up Nátthrafn soon after. He was killed in the process. For he did not realize that there is a trap built into the ritual to summon Nátthrafn. The Rauðskinna deliberately obfuscates this. Loftur was turned inside out as Nátthrafn's newly reborn body burst out from within his flesh."

"Like the djieien," January frowned. "When I first saw it, it was covered in blood."

"Yes," Branwen said, "the blood and life of our realm serve to ground a creature from beyond into our reality. It weaves elements of our world into them. That makes it all the more difficult - if not impossible - to banish them back to the Abyss. That is a trick our current opponent has but recently learned."

Posted by: Acadian May 2 2020, 07:47 PM

I'm humbled that you chose to incorporate a couple of my musings (Raven's Nest and some trekkie speak) into Jan's story. Mara knows, I routinely borrow from your fics and observations when writing Buffy's story. smile.gif

’At first being a magic-wielder had seemed cool. Now the shine was definitely wearing off.’
- - Love this. It is the perfect relief and punctuation to the somber tale Blood Raven tells and phrased in such a ‘January’ manner. Jan’s comments during Branwen’s narration continue to vividly ‘show’ the magical kinship between her and Branwen, as well as their equally important differences.

What a fascinating family history this pair has, including skeletons and even liches in the closet!

How devious of Nátthrafn, when writing Rauðskinna, to conveniently omit or obscure the part about the one resurrecting him paying with their life and blood. Of course. . . Loftur merits no sympathy. . . .

Lots of info provided in this episode but you did so in a totally engaging tale woven by Branwen, with January’s comments injected at the perfect moments to help keep us anchored to the moment and their current plight.

So, if I have the right of it so far, Nátthrafn was resurrected two centuries after his death by his descendent (Loftur) using Rauðskinna. I’m wondering if their foe is the resurrected lich himself. We shall see.

Posted by: treydog May 4 2020, 12:48 AM

Still reading and enjoying. And not caught up- so yay me?

3.11

Had to love Blood Raven's reaction to “electronic... music.”


[quote]She respected her. But she did not have to agree with her.[/quote]


And that is a distinction it can be hard for people to learn.

[quote]When you stood in the same room with her, and breathed the same air, you felt her, like a ghost walking over your grave.[/quote]

Creepy feeling- but darned great writing.

[quote]"Thank you Obi-Wan," January breathed.[/quote]

January is just irrepressible sometimes- which is why we love her.

3.12

[quote]Never meet your heroes, she thought. They will only disappoint you.[/quote]

And also remind you that you- meta or not- are also human...

[quote]A gunshot might miss Emilia, but it would go straight into that home.[/quote]

I like that Crowgirl thought of this first. And that Blood Raven also took steps.

[quote]The real enemy was alienation, loneliness, and despair.[/quote]

A thing to remember at all times- but especially under current circumstances.
[quote]
The cloud of jet-black corvids rose up into the sky like a black storm. Within moments they faded into the night, leaving no trace of Blood Raven in their wake.[/quote]

Lots of people can make an entrance- but most cannot top that exit.

3.13

[quote]All those tomorrows lost forever.[/quote]

Succinctly, perfectly evocative of the waste.

[quote]There was a tuner, a cd player, even a tape deck in the stack of electronics. She wondered if Emilia had a horse and buggy back in the garage? [/quote]

Hey now! Just because some of us are more comfortable with our "analog" lives....

[quote]"Could you be any more Lawful Good?" [/quote]

laugh.gif

[quote]My alignment isn't Stupid Good you know."[/quote]

And again.

[quote]"Oh snap! I need to text my mom to tell her I'll be out late!"[/quote]

Meta-human to-do list---

Save people from burning building- check
Assist police with inquiries- check
Meet another long-time meta- check
Let Mom know I will be a little late- oops

3.14

Aunt Branwen. Hmmm.....

Loved the history lesson showing that “modern” civilization could learn a great deal from the “ancients” in terms of things being non-binary. I would blame computers, but the idea of “0 or 1” being the only possible answers goes back farther than that.

[quote]“But my blood does flow through your veins. I smelled it when you were in Hart Plaza. Later at the Flying Dutchman there was no mistaking it. You are one of my descendants." [/quote]

Blood calls to blood.


And apologies that the "quote html code seems borked again.

Posted by: SubRosa May 5 2020, 01:22 AM

I tried some testing, and found out that the quotes problem is related to how many quotes you have in a single post. It seems there is a limit to how many the forum software can handle. I was able to get the first half of the post working fine, and the second half working fine, just not all together in a single post.

Posted by: Renee May 5 2020, 03:53 PM

Yes, Boris the Spider! ph34r.gif Funny to see The Who dressed up for the '80s. That video rocks! Thank you.

Yes, I was sort of talking about modern times, like with Isis. We won't just go bombing their headquarters without some discussion first, and also considering if there are innocents who might get harmed. It's a complicated subject of course. I can remember after 9/11, some American (idiots) were saying we should just blow up all of Afghanistan & Pakistan. We certainly could have done this. Fortunately, it didn't work that way.

Branwyn seems like she never tries to negotiate, or consider her actions. I understand where she's coming from.I am not sure how vulnerable she is, but her ways have certainly contributed to her survival all these centuries. Maybe at some points in her past though, she's come to regret some of her ruthless actions.

Today's music really kicks in slowly, as Raven begins her sermon. indifferent.gif

Yes, SO true about Christianity playing right into the hands of various rulers. Pretty sure Jesus didn't mean for it to work this way. I believe Jesus was a real guy, but his message has been way distorted every which way over time.

Getting sidetracked, Renee... rolleyes.gif

Ha, that's awesome. She found a real-life necromancer book at a bookstore. See, never underestimate your local library. Evil abounds, and nefarious deeds can be afoot amongst those gray-haired, glasses-held by-chains wearing librarians!!!

QUOTE
. I believe your role playing games would describe him as a lich, if there is a word to describe him


I can see her saying this with a little sneer. Your role playing games...

Gosh I love this. I wonder if Branwyn finds living in the modern world more challenging than living in centuries' past. I suppose living back then was tougher, especially since she wasn't as powerful.


Posted by: SubRosa May 8 2020, 01:13 AM

As an Editorial Note, I have changed January's birthday to August 13th. I just discovered that was a Friday. So she was born on Friday the 13th. smile.gif

I am also thinking of changing her friend Jack's name. The reason is that her great-grandfather Jack Parsons keeps coming up in conversations with Blood Raven. I don't want people to get confused about which Jack is which. So I might make her friend's name something like Jake (which I believe is Jack Black's real name). Or maybe I could go with a completely invented nickname, like her friends Rus and Kell have (their real names are Russell and Kelly).

I also need to think of what kind of car he drives, and Ryo too.

Okay, Jack (or Jake) has to drive https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TUseIA24u0

Edit: I changed it to Jacob Schwarz. He was called Jack until he was about 5 or 6. Then the gang saw one of the Transformers TV shows, and he became Blackjack (A Decepticon). January sometimes calls him Jacktimus Prime however.

January herself has a nickname now too. She is Morning Star, after the first month in the Elder Scrolls calendar. While Avery is the OG of course, the Original Geek.

Posted by: SubRosa May 9 2020, 06:59 PM

Acadian: January thought that being trans made her the skeleton in the family closet. Turns out Not! There are some real skeletons in there! laugh.gif

These last four episodes were difficult to write because they are essentially a big info dump of exposition. If this was a film, I would do a four or five minute series of flashbacks showing Nátthrafn up to all these dastardly deeds, with Blood Raven's voice narrating it. Like how the beginning of Fellowship Of The Ring has that prologue narrated by Galadriel, that explains what happened in the past to bring you up to where they were.

I looked at various ways I might try to write something like that. But nothing really worked. They all took us out of the moment, which is supposed to be about Blood Raven explaining to January why their bloodline is cursed. It wasn't about January any more, or her relationships to others. It had turned into the Nátthrafn show. Which is not my intent.

So I went with the present format, of Blood Raven doing a retelling. But I am purposely interrupting her at regular intervals with January's thoughts, and out loud questions. I am also breaking it up with descriptions of Blood Raven's lair, and her telling her own story while she is at it. Because I want this to be about her and January, and their struggle with their atavistic fears.

There are a lot more twists and turns to Nátthrafn's tale. Today we will finally learn them all.


treydog: There was a time when I would have said the same about Electronic... music. But after I gave it a chance, I do like artists like Moby and Orbital. The Orb was really my gateway drug into Electronica. It was great background music for gaming nights. (Along with George Clinton and Bootsy Collins, and the Mechwarrior 2 and Quake 2 soundtracks).

January has had the fortune of being raised in a relatively diverse environment, growing up her friends were all different from her, and she was different from everyone else. So she learned that different is not something to fear. She also learned that many of the creative people whose work she admired could be quite... problematic in other aspects of their lives. So like all of us, she has to grapple with balancing the value of their artistic creations, versus the kind of people they were in their private lives. She learned to admire certain things, but not agree with them.

One of the things writing this has really brought home to me is how old I really am now, and how much the world has changed since I was in high school. January's feelings are easy for me to relate to. Those are timeless. But she lives in a very different world than the one I grew up in, with CDs, mixtapes, Sony Walkmen, a news cycle that was only a half hour every day, and even then only on weekdays, the library being the only place to find books or do research, and so on.

January's To Do list is one of those timless ways that she can stay down to earth in her crazy superlife. She still has a mom after all. Which come to think of it, is something very few protagonists in any form of fiction have, especially films.


Renee: Blood Raven always considers her actions. But yes, she rarely bothers with trying to negotiate with her opponents. If she is getting involved, it has gone beyond the point where talking can make a difference. She leaves the talking and hostage negotiations to the police. That is their job, and she does not want to compete with them in doing it. The mass shooters and giant spiders are her territory. She has never killed innocent people, and it is not like it is something she does every day, or even every year. We will learn more about that in Chapter 5, when she is tempted to kill again.

It was not a real life necromancer in a book store. She wanted to find the Rauðskinna, and it literally appeared as if by magic. As if it was drawn to members of her bloodline. We will see more of that this episode.

Branwen/Blood Raven does find living in the present more difficult than the past. Before there were no photographs, no internet, no driver's licenses, no passports, no social security numbers, or the thousand other ways people are tracked and filed away now. In the 1790s you could walk from Boston and Philadelphia, say you are named Jane, and just start a new life there with no one to ever know that you were really Anne from Boston. Now it is a lot more difficult to navigate from one identity to another as the years roll by.










https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hancock

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_Universal_Friend

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johannes_Kelpius

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thelema

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Parsons_(rocket_engineer)



Book 4.15 - Pride

"In any case," Branwen went on, "with that Nátthrafn returned to the world. In 1760 he came to Boston. There he called himself John Corbin, and made the pretense of being a scion of old English nobility, now fallen on hard economic times. That same year he was wed to my mother, Saoirse Scanlan. She was the daughter of an Irish shipwright, whose services were highly sought after. As such their family was moderately wealthy. Yet being Irish they were shunned by the polite society of Puritanical New England. For example, my grandfather was forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Anglican faith."

"As John Corbin, Esquire, my father brought respectability and social status to the family. In turn he used their family fortune to invest in shipping. He quickly turned this to a substantial profit. Some say it was almost magical how his ships were able to weather terrible storms that sent others to the bottom. Or how they always managed to elude the customs cutters, no matter how vigilant the Royal Navy's watches. In any case, he soon owned several vessels, and built a small empire on the Triangle Trade of slaves, rum, and molasses."

"So my ancestor was a slave-trader," January murmured. "Wonderful."

"We should be counted as fortunate were that the worst of his sins," Branwen replied.

"My parents first made their abode in the North End, at the south-east corner of the North Burying Ground. What is now is called Copp's Hill. Across the cemetery was New Guinea, an enclave of emancipated Africans. It was not considered a fashionable neighborhood. But in 1762 they moved into a mansion on Marlbrough street, just a few houses down from the Governor. But my father still retained the old house in the North End. A year later I was born."

January noted that Branwen now referred to him as 'her father' rather than Nátthrafn. Suddenly it had become much more personal. He was no longer just a character in a story. He was someone real, someone close to her.

"However, my father's sorceries once again overshadowed the carefully woven tapestry of his life as a ship owner. Again dark rumors swirled around him. Many of the slaves his ships transported had a habit of vanishing while doing work in the North End house's basement. There were whispers of tunnels under the building, and secret ways leading to certain places beneath the city, and even hidden entrances to them from the bank of the Charles River. Still others claimed to have heard his voice issuing from the burying ground, even when he could not be seen there. Those who inquired too loudly about these things, and his apparent lack of aging, began to disappear."

"Some of these unfortunates were members of the Sons of Liberty, and friends of John Hancock. You may not realize this, but Hancock was one of the richest men in all the Thirteen Colonies. He lost quite a bit of money to my father in the Triangle Trade. He was especially incensed when one of his ships - The Liberty - was detained by customs officials in Boston Harbor. At the same time my father's vessels sailed freely, openly defiant of the Townsend Acts, and the other taxation acts to follow."

"Finally in 1775 Hancock secretly organized an effort against my father. His band of partisans included other Sons of Liberty, Freemasons, prominent landowners, and smugglers alike. Since they suspected my father was a necromancer, they enlisted the aid of Jemima Wilkinson, a powerful spiritualist of the day."

"If you do not know of her, well, of them, I suggest you research them," Branwen said. "I believe they were what is now known as a non-binary person. This was just a few years before they openly declared their gender preference - or non-preference if you look upon it that way - and took the name Public Universal Friend."

"Really?" January stared at the other woman in amazement. "I have never heard of her, um them. Great, I misgendered them to."

"They were a major force in the American spiritualist movement of the late 18th century," Branwen explained. "I never did have the opportunity to meet them. I should have very much liked to. I regret that far more than I do their assisting in the destruction of my father."

That would have sounded utterly insane under any other circumstances. But January could only nod, and silently agree.

"They raided the North End house at night, while my mother and I were at the Marlbrough mansion. In fact, I had never been to the North End house while my father was alive. He kept it for his private work. My father was prepared, and had raised up a number of the dead to stand as his bodyguards. While certainly no warrior, by all accounts it was the Public Universal Friend that put paid to these servants of darkness with her own spiritual abilities."

"With the battle going badly, my father attempted conjuring up a more powerful assistant, undoubtedly an Abyssal. Once again, it was the Public Friend who either banished it, or prevented the summoning. My father was finished off. Some said by Hancock himself, though I doubt that vainglorious popinjay had the nerve to even look my father in the eye."

"In any case, the house was closed up afterward. The entrances to the chambers beneath sealed, at least all those which could be discovered. My father's remains were buried within, hidden from any who might come prying."

"Afterward it was rumored that the Sons of Liberty had assassinated him. Just a few days later General Gage sent his men to march upon Lexington and Concord. Nothing ever came of my father's case after that. The Loyalists certainly had no more love for my father than the Patriots. The entire affair was simply eclipsed by the war and forgotten."

"So did you fight in the Revolution as well?" January asked, thinking of her Civil War uniform.

"Nay," Branwen shook her head. "At that time the thought never entered my head that I - a woman - could even dare such a thing. Besides, I was too young for most of it. I was only twelve when it began and eighteen when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown."

"Even if I had been older, I would not have known who to fight for," Branwen continued. "The Revolutionaries had killed my father, and at the time I knew not what a monster he truly was. On the other hand I felt no loyalty to the English. With my father dead, they no longer felt the need to obfuscate their racial prejudice toward my Irish mother and me. Yet in spite of all this I was an American. I had lived all my life in America. We had always collected our own taxes, defended our own lands, and managed our own institutions. Americans needed no king in London to tell us how to manage our affairs."

January could not mistake the prickly sense of pride within Branwen's words. It was finally sinking home that she really had lived for two and half centuries. This was a woman who had been there at the dawn of her country's history, at least as an independent nation.

"With my father dead, my mother sold the Marlbrough mansion and the ill-fated abode beside Copp's Hill," Branwen continued. "We moved in with my grandfather, to his own house near the docks on North Street, in the North End."

"Life was, well, life. It was not easy going from the wealth and privilege we had once possessed to the life of a shipwright's granddaughter. Because it was rumored that the Sons of Liberty had killed him, most presumed that my father had been an informant for the Crown. That made life even more difficult. Being Irish of course, did not help either."

"Then there was the war too of course. The British occupation lasted less than a year. But their blockade continued for the entire war. For a city whose lifeblood was trade and ship-building, that was nigh a death sentence. They say the population shrank to one fifth its original size during the war, as people moved away to better prospects."

"Our family hung on however," Branwen said. "As I said, we are a stubborn bloodline. In 1785, two years after the Treaty of Paris, I married Experience Hopkins. He had served with the Continentals during the war. I was much taken with him, and his uniform, when he returned to Boston afterward. We had two children together, Ambrose and Constance."

Branwen's eyes took on a glazed look, as if she was not seeing January and the room around them. Rather it must have been a far different scene painted before her centuries-old eyes. January could not imagine what it must be like to live for hundreds of years, and see the present fade to the past like that, until it only remained a ghost of memory.

"Experience used the money my mother had put aside from selling the old property, and he started the Colony House. It was a public house on Orange Street. That is the main road through Boston Neck, that one must take to get into or out of the city. Many would say it was a tavern. But in those days, that did not simply mean a drinking establishment, or a place with rooms for rent. Mail was delivered there, political meetings were held, court was convened, and troops recruited by the military. It was really a central place in the community."

"It was a hard scrabble at first, and we nearly went bankrupt," Branwen said. "But we held on, and gradually people began to return to the city. By the 90s things were looking up, and business was good. I think that might have been the happiest time in my life. I had my husband, I had my children, and I had my mother. The dark stain of my father had faded into history, forever I thought, and the future seemed bright."

January looked back up at the genealogical chart. She saw that the date of Branwen's death was listed as 1793.

"Then a shadow came from my father's past," Branwen said. Her eyes snapped back to reality, and she followed January's gaze up the marble edifice, to the date of her death. "Yes, right there, in 1793. Johannes Kelpius, a correspondent of my father's, came to see why none of his letters were being returned. When he learned that my father was dead he became obsessed with discovering his secrets. Secrets which of course, we were incapable of imparting even had we a desire to do so."

"We learned that he was a vampire," Branwen frowned. "He killed my husband. He was slowly killing me, night after night, as a means of leverage to get what he wanted. My mother sent to Keziah Talmadge for aid, she who built the house you now abide within. She had been the midwife at my birth, and my mother trusted her."

"We laid a trap for Kelpius, and he fell into it. But it cost my life. It also made me a vampire, like him. Afterward I was forced to leave. My son Ambrose had walked into the room where I lay, not dead, not alive. But I did not see my son. I saw a banquet, and I was starving. If Keziah had not been there to stop me, I would have devoured him."

She spoke with firm words, and her face betrayed no sign of emotion. She might as well have been repeating a recipe for cookies. But January felt a wash of emotions roiling about the other woman in the astral. She could not discern exactly which was which, but she did not need to be a genius to guess.

She could also imagine that the very simple and brusque description of her death and resurrection as a vampire was greatly simplified for January's ears. Her writer's mind was certain that a much deeper story lay behind it all. But she was not going to pry into so sensitive subject. She did not have the right. Not yet at least.

"So I went away with Keziah, to the Witch House. There she taught me to control myself, and to use magic. In time she moved on, and left the house to me. For well over a hundred years I made my own way in the world, as best I thought able. Until your great-grandfather Jack came along."

"Jack Parsons," January said. "Why do I know that name?"

"Jack was one of the founding members of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," Branwen explained. "He was one of the first inventors of rockets, along with Robert Goddard. He and Mr. Goddard were not on very good terms however. But Jack was also a great magician, a friend to Aleister Crowley. He led a lodge of Crowley's Thelema in California."

"The Beast?" January said. "I have heard of Crowley of course."

"The drug-addicted poser more like," Branwen snorted. "Crowley was a master of self-promotion, and little else. If he had spent even a tenth of his time on magic as he did upon seducing women, and men, and lying about his achievements, he could have been truly great. He was a pale shadow compared to your great-grandfather. A pale shadow compared to you."

January could not help but to feel a rise of pride at that. She had heard the same unflattering opinion about Crowley before of course. But he was still put on a pedestal by so many other modern esotericists. To be ranked above that. Well, it felt good. Of course by now she had noted that Branwen could be quite opinionated in her own right, and might not be immune from a certain bias in favor of her own bloodline.

"I was not keeping track of Jack, except when he made the newspapers," Branwen said. "I did not know that I had to. I was still in Europe after the Second World War when suddenly Abyssals began to appear in Los Angeles. Someone was calling them up, and turning them loose to their own devices. It was too late that I realized Jack was the one doing the summoning. He had discovered the Rauðskinna, and was following it step by step."

"Just like someone else is doing now," January nodded. Now things became clear. Now she could see why Branwen had suspected her. Why she had to suspect her. "That book is a trap. It comes to your father's descendants and ensnares them. It uses them to call him back, and kills them in the process. It's truly hideous."

"It is," Branwen frowned. "I raced back to America, to Jack's home. But he was dead by the time I arrived, lying in pieces in the middle of a ritual working. You have seen what I speak of. In his place I beheld my father, living once more."

"What did you do?" January wondered.

"I killed him," Branwen said. "He was summoning another Abyssal as I arrived, and anchoring it in our world. You know what that entails. I could not stand by. Not over my own grandchild's corpse."

January was about to ask how she could have done that, given how powerful Nátthrafn appeared to be. But then she remembered how easily Branwen had dealt with the djieien in the street. She had used its own blood to make it explode from the inside out, among other things. Her great-grandmother was truly not one be frakked with.

"Since then, I have learned what manner of creature my father truly was, truly is," she said. "I have learned that I must watch my descendants, and find others who have sprung from his loins. Our blood is cursed. It is his means of returning to this world, even after death, even after countless deaths."

"How does he do it?" January asked. "Cheat death like that?"

"Truly, I know not," Branwen sighed. "If I possessed the Grafes Thanatos, perhaps I might learn his secrets, but perhaps not even then. In these matters I am but a study witch. I am not willing to make it a part of myself. He has done something with his spirit, unfettered it from the normal processes of life and death. I suspect that he has become an Abyssal himself, though how I know not."

"So you think that it's all happening again?" January said. "Someone is summoning Abyssals, in order to build up to resurrecting him? Couldn't it just be some magician who stumbled upon this magic on their own, and is still figuring it out for themselves, completely separate from your father?"

"That may be," Branwen admitted. "I pray that be so. For if it is truly my father behind all this, his return would herald a darkness this world has never seen. He has spent long centuries beyond. I cannot imagine what terrors he might be capable of unleashing now. I only defeated him before because of Tunguska. He did not realize how much more powerful magic has become in our world. He was still using the old ways, the slow ways. Once he understands just how quickly and easily the power comes now, he might truly be unstoppable."

Posted by: Acadian May 9 2020, 09:17 PM

Ahah, this episoded clarifies much and gives us a much better picture of the threat they face. Some unknown relative has been cursed by Rauðskinna to begin the suicidal cycle of resurrecting Nátthrafn.

Branwen also shares much about her life, including how/when she became a vampire.

I was fascinated by how effortlessly and effectively you wove real historical figures, such as John Hancock, into Branwen’s history.

In the episode before this one, you used January’s comments to both keep us ‘in the moment’ as well as lighten things up a bit and remind us of January’s modern way of thinking. In this episode you use her thoughts and comments to equal but different effect. Not only do you again keep us grounded in the moment but you use January’s observations to highlight the poignancy of the memories flowing from Branwen. Very effective, given Branwen’s rather stoic presence and manner.

’Her great-grandmother was truly not one be frakked with.’
- - Quoted for truth!


Nit: "We moved in with my grandfather, t his own house near the docks on North Street, in the North End." - - Perhaps the ‘t’ in front of ‘his’ is a stray?

Posted by: treydog May 14 2020, 01:52 AM

3.15

Most excellent discussion of magic and the ways in which it can manifest.

Names... yeah, I always had to wonder about “Philander” though, considering the more current meaning. Well- actually- ALL the meanings, even going back to the original Greek. Given the Puritan and Victorian attitudes and also that it is a man's name....

Dora the Kneecapper

Had this image of the little cartoon girl running around with a double-bitted axe and chain hauberk....

4.1

Between 3.15 and here, Aunt Branwen becomes Aunt Ann? Okay, the note kinda clears that up- if Jan made a slip. But Anne's terminal “e” got disappeared....

4.2

The comic book moment between Jan and her mom was beautiful, as was the entire segment.

4.3

And more excellent relationship (and character) development with the ancient ancestor.


Posted by: SubRosa May 16 2020, 06:19 PM

Acadian: It took a long time, but eventually we got to the meat and potatoes of what is going on.

Someday I intend to do an in depth story about how Branwen became a vampire. I have all the particulars down on pixels. It is just a matter of when it will be appropriate.

Weaving in real life events and objects is something I learned from reading HP Lovecraft. One thing he used to love was book porn - reeling off exhaustive lists of esoteric books in his villain's possession. He would put his fictional books like the Necronomicon in with real ones like the Golden Bough, and name drop fictional authors like Al-Hazred alongside real ones like Elphias Levi or Borellus. Likewise, he would incorporate real events into his stories, like the discovery of Pluto, right alongside the fictional stuff.

All of this intertwining of fact and fiction lent his works an air of verisimilitude that they otherwise would have lacked in a pure fictional setting. Or as grifters would say, weave in a little truth with your lies to make them more effective. Now that I am writing in the 'real world' I am embracing this as much as I can. That is why I deliberately looked for real people that I could write the story of Nátthrafn and Branwen around, like Kelpius, Hancock, Heinrich Kramer, Loftur, and so on. I am doing the same with the Abyssals whenever I can as well. hence making my giant spider a djieien, rather than some nameless entity from beyond. We will be hearing about Buggane's, Flying Heads, and even goblins in the future.

January herself is of course, what emotionally grounds this all into reality. This is ultimately her story after all. All of this stuff with her ancestors affects her directly, and will for her entire life. She will always be part of this struggle against Nátthrafn.



treydog: Both I and January also envisioned a little cartoon girl when I came up with the name Dora. But she is a Shadowrun character, so she would be wearing partial heavy armor and using her magical fists of kung-fu fury!

The comic books (more on them coming up) was a nice way for me to give a nod to the ultimate origins of all superhero fiction. As well as point out some of the very serious issues with it, that continue to this day.

It also got me some good mom-time. Protagonists in film or print rarely have mothers. At least not with a name, who play any part in the character's story. One of my goals with the Stormcrow fic is to actually have a protagonist with a relationship with her mother.

More of that ancient ancestor coming up, as January receives her first formal lesson in magic.




https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://joybeat.com/venues/leland-city-club-detroit/

https://youtu.be/OKRJfIPiJGY



Book 5.1 - Crystal Death

June 1 - 9, 2019

Chad shut off Gilda Gadfly's podcast after he stepped into City Club. The last thing he needed to hear was more about the Blackbirds joining forces to fight for Metro Detroit. It was all anyone could talk about these days. Like the world needed more women pretending to be heroes. Sure they looked good. But really, everyone knew it was men who faced real danger and actually did things. Stormcrow and Blood Raven were just there to put on magazine covers, or serve as click-bait for websites.

City Club was in the basement of the Leland Hotel. It was a dark, brooding place filled with shadows and ghosts, including that of Jimmy Hoffa, if you went in for that sort of thing. The black paint on the walls was peeling off, and covered over in graffiti in many places. It was a 90s movie idea of what a post-vampire apocalypse bar would look like. Complete with lots of young, pretty Goths wearing tons of black makeup and piercings.

Chad went straight for the bathroom. He stopped to look both ways first. Then he went through the door and found an empty stall. No one was likely to recognize him here. But you could never be sure. If anyone did know him, they would try to stop him. He knew he should try to stop himself. But he couldn't, not even after two years of sobriety. Or maybe it was because of those two years, he just had nothing left to fight with?

He had simply been out walking. Then he had seen that guy in the parking lot, the guy with the ponytail. He had instantly known. He had known it was a dealer. And he felt it, that siren call of meth, that heavenly choir promising joy and freedom and energy and transcendence. He had been fighting that call for so long. He just could not fight any more.

The dealer's name had been Lonnie, and he had something special. Not your run of the mill meth, but something new, something even better. It was designer meth, and Chad could try it for free.

It was too much to resist. He had taken the little baggie of red crystals from the dealer. He had grabbed it, and a little leather case of works, and headed inside. Now he stood in the bathroom stall and laid out his treasures on the toilet seat cover.

He took the rubber hose first, and tied it around his arm. Pumping his fist in and out, he got a good vein going. Then he reached for the spoon, and spread out the ruby red crystals across its small basin. The dealer had said he would not need to heat it with a lighter. He said it would easily dissolve in water instead. He was right. In no time at all the red crystals melted and flowed into the water he had squirted on the spoon with the syringe.

Chad stared at the crimson liquid. It glowed, hot and bright, like something from a science fiction movie. It was like he had cracked open a neon sign and poured it out across the utensil. Chad stood there for long moments, entranced by the radiance. All he could hear was that sweet, sweet call of addiction rising higher and higher from within. Finally he could stand it no more, and he sucked up all that heavenly light into the syringe.

He barely felt it plunge into his arm a moment later. Most people smoked meth. It was easier. But it was slower, and lost so much of the potency. Smoking ruined the goods, and weakened what little of it actually got through. Only babies smoked. Besides, who wanted meth-mouth? No, injection was the only way to go, straight into the blood and right to the brain.

The rush hit him almost before he had finished squeezing the plunger all the way down. It was light, and sound, and pure, pure joy. There was no other way of describing it. Words had not been created that could describe it. It was beyond mundane, arbitrary things like labels. It was spiritual. It was godlike.

It was not like meth. Even if he could not wrap his brain around the terms to describe the feeling, Chad knew that much. This was so much better, so much stronger. He was so much stronger. He could feel the power, popping through his muscles. He heard his shirt rip as he flexed his arm. He was literally bursting with muscle and energy.

He turned to look back, and he could see through the thin metal door of the stall. He could see through the bathroom wall. He could see out onto the dance floor beyond. He could even see though the bodies of all those good little Goth girls and boys who gyrated to Bauhaus. He could see their veins, and see their bones. He wondered what they would look like, when he pulled them apart?

Chad pushed open the stall door, without bothering to undo the latch that locked it shut. It flew off its hinges and crashed into the mirror across the bathroom. Glass shattered into a million pieces, every one reflecting his glory. This must be how metas like Varg or Annihilator felt, like a god walking on Earth.

He would show the world what it meant to be a god. He crashed through the bathroom door, and leaped past rows of booths. Someone laid a hand his shoulder. He thought he heard his name. He turned and bared his teeth. How dare they lay a hand upon their Lord! He took that hand, peeled back the fingers until each one snapped, and laughed as someone screamed.

People gave way around Chad. Except for two men, who loomed ever nearer. They were big men, men who would have pounded him into a paste a minute before. But he was a meta now, and they were nothing, mere mortals. He would swat them like the flies they were. They had no right to live in the same world that he did. It was insulting! It was outrageous! His blood boiled at the thought.

They lay at his feet in mere moments. But as he prepared to trumpet his glory, something strange happened. The world crashed. He crashed. It felt like a great weight suddenly fell on his chest. He couldn't breathe. The light died, and he could not see through the ceiling anymore. Wait, through the ceiling? He was on his back. When had he fallen on his back? Why was it so hard to breathe? Where was that godly meta-human power?

It was slipping, slipping from his grasp. He tried to hold on. But it just slid away with the rest of the world. It seeped into a black pit of nothingness, until nothing was left of it, or of him…

Posted by: Acadian May 16 2020, 08:09 PM

I thought of crystal meth as soon as I saw your title for this new chapter.

So Gilda's calling them the Blackbirds! Cool!

Chad shows his unattractive colors in the first paragraph. So seeing him get his head pumped up then promptly smacked onto his back was somehow gratifying. evillol.gif

Telling this from Chad’s perspective gave a neat, disorienting picture as his brain on drugs tried to blend real and not real.

It will be interesting to learn how this episode, with its drug connection, fits into the bigger picture.


Nit: Except for two men, who loomed every {ever} nearer.

Posted by: Renee May 18 2020, 07:04 PM

Good, so she does get rid of her ageless, necromancing father. Gosh that's creepy... he's got his own undead working for him. indifferent.gif

So if Branwen was born in 1763, this made her roughly 13 when Public Friend allegedly took care of her long-existing father. goodjob.gif At that age, she's old enough to have learned a thing or two from him. But let's continue reading.

Ooops, 12, not 13. And she apparently received no instruction from her father. WHAT she dies in 1793!!!?? So she becomes a vampire at age 30? .... But somehow gets noted as deceased? I hope I got that right.

AH, and also, I see now why January got suspected. Goodness.

Ah, so Bauhaus. biggrin.gif She's in Parties is my favorite. That whole album is incredible actually.

I finish this week's chapter later.

Funny, as soon as Chad's heading into that restroom I knew he was about to use. Bleah. I once lived catty-corner to an apartment full of meth heads. I knew nothing about it back in those days, I guess I was about 29 or so. Anyway, my roommate spent some time with them and then came up and told me "you gotta try this!" And for no real reason I was like "nah." nono.gif And then later on that night, I was going to work and ALL of them were still up and partying. I worked nights. Came home in the morning, sun was fully risen. All of them were still up and partying. I realized... these folks never went to bed. wacko.gif I'm glad I said no instead of anything else! They eventually got busted by our absentee landlord. indifferent.gif

I remember one guy was really into sidewalk chalk. He'd get his hit or whatever, and an hour later a portion of the sidewalk was coated in crazy colored chalk drawings. I also remember one time, I locked my keys in my apartment, which was on the second floor. One of the meth heads saw me stressing and said he could help. 30 seconds later he was in my apartment. He did this crazy acrobatic move off a fence, got sideways and upside down! ... But he got in, because we'd often leave our porch door open if weather was warm. indifferent.gif But I mean, I think the drug must make these folks really fearless, or something.

Ha maybe Blood Raven got Chad. Guess we'll find out tomorrow.

Posted by: treydog May 20 2020, 03:18 PM

Still reading- and enjoying immensely.

I have adjusted the choke on the Quot-a-matic ™ so it doesn't give the forum the whim-whams.

4.4

QUOTE
Do it, or do not. There are no other options."

"Did you just quote Yoda?" January asked.

"Who?" Branwen wondered.


And the whole 21st C. slang discussion caused me to nearly spray tea onto my monitor.

4.5

QUOTE
… statues or it didn't happen.


Or historical markers that tell it in a way that is... pleasing to the ones who created them.

QUOTE
She was glad that being challenged was over for the day, and she could go back to being her ordinary self.



And although I did the teaching thing, I admire ANYONE who can stand in front of a group of small children and engage with them. I would have flailed miserably, despite my love for comic books.
Good luck with that.

Posted by: SubRosa May 23 2020, 06:23 PM

Acadian: When I was looking for a name for my new killer drug, I wanted to be topical, so I went with a variation on meth rather than one of the older standards like heroin. Besides, meth is similar in that it at least gives people a ton of energy. The Germans gave it to their troops in WWII so they could fight for 3 days straight without sleeping. It is one of the things that made their 1940 Blitzkrieg through Belgium happen.

Gilda is now firmly ensconced within the Crow-verse. We will be hearing from her more this chapter, and every one that follows, keeping her finger on the pulse of the nation.

Chad was originally going to be less repulsive. But I don't want it to seem like January is living in some sort of paradise. Bigotry is something she deals with every day. So I used Chad as an example of the misogyny she has to face. He is basically an Incel. I named him Chad out of a sense of irony. (Google the two terms if you don't already know them).

Unfortunately everything that Chad experienced was real. We will be learning more about that in today's episode.

This chapter will be a departure from the magic stuff. Though we will get back to the overall Summoner/Nátthrafn story arc in Chapter 6. I will roughly alternate between it and the mundane threats in a super world every chapter, until it finally wraps up.


Renee: Blood Raven/Branwen's father kept her completely out of the 'family business' of necromancy, the same with her mother. As Gandalf told Saruman, the Dark Lord does not share power. They were just a means to an end for him, a way to father more descendants that he could someday use to resurrect him if he was killed again.

You read that right. Branwen died when she was 30. She rose afterward as a vampire. He death could not be kept a secret. Especially since she had to be separated from temptations while she learned to control her new nature.

Yep, that is meth alright. Militaries use it for exactly the reasons you described. As I mentioned to Acadian, the German Army was big into it, using a brand name of meth called Pervitin.

Blood Raven did not get Chad. The same drug that gave him powers laid him out, as we will learn this episode.


treydog: I have had to work hard on my slang, both from today, and from 200 years ago. I have text files with terms so I don't forget.

January has some experience in public speaking, thanks to being a martial arts instructor. But that is not the same as speaking in front of the kids. It is just one piece of her evolution in dealing with the public. We will be seeing more of that in the future.





https://i.imgur.com/hN5Am6V.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/3WvIrsO.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/6r6mlQs.jpg

https://www.michigan.gov/msp/0,4643,7-123-72297_25680-79671--,00.html



Book 5.2 - Crystal Death

January soared across I-94. The wind caressed her face, and danced across her wings. More than ever before, she felt like a bird. She almost wanted to flap her wings. But of course, they did not work that way. Still, she felt less like she was gliding, and more like she was actually flying than ever before.

Lighthammer had told her that she needed to keep working on her flying mojo, and she certainly had been. Between their regular training sessions at the Packard Plant she had taken whatever time she could in the evenings to practice her flying. All she had to do was walk out of the back door of the Witch House and into the woods beyond. There was a nature trail back there, winding along the Clinton River. The trees were so thick that there was no way for pedestrians to see her soaring above the green canopy. Besides, the dense branches gave her an added incentive to remain airborne.

Now she winged over a forest of concrete and steel, rather than the bucolic Sterling Heights park system. Below her stretched out a patchwork of apartment blocks, small businesses like pizzeria's and phone stores, and fairy tale chateaus that were either privately owned mansions or part of Lane State University. Speaking of the latter, the entire area was filled with the school's many classroom buildings, sprawled out across block and after block of the cityscape.

Unlike Macomb Community College, which had its own self-contained campus, Lane State was simply a hodge podge of buildings thrown across Midtown. It reminded January of dice scattered across the table on gaming night. Here was an alumni house next to a gas station, there was a party store beside a classroom building. It was a jumbled, chaotic mess. But January found that as much as she had liked MCCs neatly manicured lawns and cloistered atmosphere, Lane State's casually tossed-about nature felt more lively, and in touch with the real world. In contrast MCC had sometimes felt like that fabled ivory tower of academia everyone talked about, albeit a very small tower.

Perhaps she should go here for Fall Term after all?

Her earpiece dinged, and her heart instantly doubled its pace. That was for Official Business only. Carefully, so as not to disrupt her aerodynamics too much, she touched a finger to the side of her helmet to answer the call.

"Stormcrow," she said. She hoped she sounded confident, but not emotionless. She had been working on subduing her perky phone voice after all. She had to sound more professional, at least when she was caping.

"It's Trooper Mercado," a woman's voice said in her ear. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Emilia!" January exclaimed in her perky phone voice. "It's so nice to hear from you again. Did you want to try playing Shadowrun after all?"

"That's not what I was calling about," January could almost hear the laughter in the Puerto Rican woman's voice. "This is more of a work thing."

"Oh yeah, work thing," January murmured. "So what is up?"

She soared above a tall, cylindrical apartment building that reminded her of the iconic Capitol Records building in Los Angeles, except on a smaller scale. She was tempted to set down on its roof and use it to leap frog back into the air to regain altitude. But she was almost where she wanted to go anyhow, and winged past it instead.

"Have you heard of crystal death?"

"No," January shook her head, which of course Emilia could not see on the phone. She was so used to Skype. Why did people even use phones for talking anyway? "But I am assuming it is like meth?"

"It looks like it, except that it is red," Emilia replied. "But in actuality, they are nothing alike. It gives people meta-human abilities, but only temporarily."

"What?" January almost lost control of her flight and crashed into the bronze cap of church steeple that had been green with verdigris for at least a century. "I didn't think that was possible?"

"It is now," Emilia sighed. "The abilities people manifest seem to be random. But what is consistent is that does something to the brain every time. It makes people angry, violent, and filled with delusions of grandeur."

"Which all go great with meta abilities," January noted.

"Oh, it gets better," Emilia continued. "The drug only lasts a short while. When it finally crashes, it takes the rest of the brain with it. It causes seizures, strokes, heart attacks, and massive brain damage. Half the people who have taken it are dead, the lucky ones who survive end up in a persistent vegetative state. Some of them never even get the meta abilities. They just go straight into a coma."

"Who would want to take that?" January said. Then she caught herself. "What am I saying, I bet people are lined up for miles."

"I'm sure they would be, if they knew about it," Emilia said. "The state police are keeping this quiet. All that the news knows is that it's a form of tainted meth that's killing people. They are hoping to find the source and stop it before the meta-human part gets out. But that's just one MeTube video away from happening."

"Why the secrecy?" January wondered. "Are they afraid that the demand for it will go through the roof?"

She was nearing her destination, and losing altitude rapidly. She skimmed over the flat rooftop of a long apartment building beside Woodward. Then she came to roost amid the gables, bays, chimneys, and dormers on the roof of the Whitney mansion. The grand, three-story Romanesque masterpiece was constructed from pink jasper. It was a majestic Old World statement among the modern apartments, fast food restaurants, and school buildings that surrounded it.

January wondered if she would ever have the money to eat inside. For the elegant manse had long ago been turned into an upscale restaurant. It was the kind of place where if you had to ask how much it cost, you could not afford it. But January always had to ask how much it cost. That was just the life of a young person in the 21st Century.

"No, there has actually been very little of this stuff on the street," Emilia said. "In fact, it almost looks like someone is testing it a little at a time, and tweaking the formula in between. Every time it gets more potent, and the aftereffects more devastating."

"So why the cover up?" January asked.

"No one will say it right out, but I think the real reason for the secrecy is that they want to keep capes out of it," Emilia explained.

"You mean Blood Raven," January sighed. She did not know who to be more exasperated at. Her many times great-grandmother for alienating the police, or the police for being too proud to ask for help from Detroit's only superhero. Well, maybe not the only one anymore.

"No, she's the least of their concerns," Emilia said. "They are afraid either foreign agents or some meta mastermind is going to get their hands on this. With it, they could create an army of superpowered foot soldiers. Assuming they can get it to work more reliably than it has so far."

January imagined that the CIA or Department of Defense would love to get their digits on it too. But she kept that to herself.

"They've got the Emergency Response Team on this one," Emilia explained. "But they aren't really detectives, even though their leader claims to be. They're more like a state police SWAT team. That's why me and all the other community resource officers are spending all of our time on social media looking for any clues that might lead us to the Death Dealer."

"The Death Dealer?" January whistled. "That's a catchy name. Sounds like a Frank Frazetta painting, or a Metal band."

"It's probably both," Emilia said. "But that's what everyone is calling whoever is making this stuff."

"So how do you want to work this?" January said. "Should I meet up with this Emergency Team?"

"No, no, no," Emilia said emphatically. "This is supposed to be a secret remember? I'll be lucky to just be fired if they find out I am talking to you. I'll probably go to prison."

"Are you sure you want to stay in this then?" January asked. "I can take it from here. Leave you completely out of the rest, so you have deniability. You don't have to put everything on the line like this."

"The last idiota to take this stuff went on a rampage in a club downtown. He put three people in the hospital before his brain turned to gumbo and he dropped dead," Emilia said. "It's just a matter of time before an innocent person gets killed, or a cop. I can't sit on my pompis and do nothing. Not if I can do something about it."

January could not fail to notice how familiar that sounded.

"So how do we do this?" January mused aloud. "You funnel information to me, and I go out and do the legwork? Hopefully we find this guy before the Emergency Response Team does?"

"Something like that, yes," Emilia said. "I'll send as much your way as I can. But my access is limited. You are going to be on your own for most of it."

"Wonderful," January breathed. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I'm not a detective like you. This should be the two of us, side by side, right out front. It's going to be harder. I'm going to have to bring in Gadget for starters. Don't worry, he won't leak anything about you."

"I expected you'd need the computer backup," Emilia said. "And believe me, I wish this was above-board. I've waited my entire life as a cop to do something like this. I don't want to do it in the shadows any more than you."

"What about Blood Raven?" January asked. She knew the other heroine was a sore spot with Emilia. But there was no dancing around it. She might need the help. "Let's face it, she's a lot better at this than I am."

"Bring her into this if you have to." Now it was Emilia's turn to sigh. "But I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. That would really be a slap in the face to some people if she's the one who brings the Death Dealer in."

"Ok, only if I have to." January frowned. She did not like any of this. Why did all these people have to put their egos above doing the right thing? She made a mental note to make sure that she did not let herself fall into that same trap. She only hoped that she remembered it when the day came that her vanity threatened to exceed her actual ability.

"I'm sending what I have to that share drive Gadget set up for us to use," Emilia said. "I'll be in touch if anything more comes through."

"Thanks Emilia," January said. "I appreciate you reaching out to me like this. I won't let you down."

The state trooper ended the call, and January took a moment to just breathe. Great, she had to do a secret investigation into a mad scientist making metas, all behind the back of the state police. What was she going to do after breakfast? Maybe solve climate change? Or create world peace?

She closed her eyes, and reached down for the mana inside her. She coaxed up that cool river of energy, and allowed it to flow gently through her body. She visualized it washing away her anxiety, and leaving her clean and calm. She let her breath synch with the energy, in and out, and soon found that her heart was beating slow and steady once more.

Posted by: Acadian May 23 2020, 08:09 PM

‘She had been working on subduing her perky phone voice after all.’ - - tongue.gif

A very well-crafted set up for the Stormcrow’s next quest. A notable challenge with numerous constraints. Looks like this one’s gonna take speechcraft and guile. I can imagine Gadget will be essential here.

My reaction to the drug at first was the same as Jan’s. If some people are stupid enough to commit suicide by drugs, what’s the problem? But, like Jan, after a couple moments of thought, problems do arise. Like those three folks Chad put in the hospital. Or the thought of someone spiking a cop’s jelly doughnut. Or a team of terrorists with no regard for their own lives. Yup, we got a problem here.

Posted by: Renee May 28 2020, 03:00 PM

Yes, I think I remember reading Hitler himself was basically using meth at some points. Same with Jim Jones, once he moved his cult down to South America. He'd get wired and spend hours yelling over loudspeakers about how the outside world was coming to get them all! I went though a Jim Jones mega-obsession-read a couple years ago.


QUOTE(treydog @ May 20 2020, 10:18 AM) *

I have adjusted the choke on the Quot-a-matic ™ so it doesn't give the forum the whim-whams.

We can adjust that thing? I better find that instruction manual.


QUOTE
"Stormcrow," she said. She hoped she sounded confident, but not emotionless. She had been working on subduing her perky phone voice after all. She had to sound more professional,


I love that part. Even while gliding high over the populaces, something most folks would be over-excited about, she's concerned about sounding professional.

Oh my gosh! laugh.gif She wants to play her game, so her perky phone voice returns! So much for professionalism.


There was some book I read years ago. I'm not going to remember its name. But it had a similar plot with some sort of super-drug making users super high for a short while, except it would make them super-intelligent if I remember correctly. It would mess up peoples' brains, of course. I can't remember how though.

Heee hee "MeTube"


QUOTE
e put three people in the hospital before his brain turned to gumbo and he dropped dead,


I get it. So nobody stopped that guy when he wigged out, The drug's effect simply ended. wacko.gif

Looking forward to more Crystal Death. I'm hoping this set of chapters was easier for you to write about than ... Boris the Spider. indifferent.gif




Posted by: SubRosa May 30 2020, 07:29 PM

Acadian: Jan's perky phone voice will continue to vex her in her career as a superhero.

You are quite prescient that this one is going to take a lot of Speechcraft and guile. Unfortunately, Jan has still not spent enough experience points on the first. But she does have Gadget!

Crystal Death is kind of like a bomb in the form of a pill. Someone could easily walk into any place, take one, and cause untold horrors.


Renee: Hitler was incredibly strung out on a complicated cocktail of drugs all put together for him by his personal physician. Something he and Elvis had in common. https://player.fm/series/behind-the-bastards/episode-0-farting-hipster-hitler. But it could have been in their two parter on his sex life (He had something like seven girlfriends in his life. All but one committed suicide. Great guy!)

https://player.fm/series/youre-wrong-about. As you pointed out, he was a real disaster by the end too. Obviously!

Jan definitely takes superheroing seriously, and wants to be seen as such. But it does not always work out!

The whole "deadly drug makes people super" has been done several times in various comics and superhero shows. It gives a writer a convenient way to make what might be an otherwise disparate group of people super, often in a chain one after another. So that gives you fodder for multiple issues/commercial breaks. It also creates some sort of mastermind behind it all. Basically everything you need for a 'standard' superhero story arc. I decided to use it in order to tie into a real life event here in Michigan, and give it a different dimension.

Yes, it was the drug itself that stopped Chad, not any cops or supers. My original draft of this chapter did not even have the scene with Chad at all. I put it in after I started going over it, because I realized I needed to show just what Crystal Death did to people.

Google must think I am a lunatic. One week I search the heck out of spiders and Native American mythological monsters, the next week it is abusing illegal drugs, then neo-fascists, then Chinese actresses...








https://i.imgur.com/43LmcWb.jpg


https://i.imgur.com/PoRanUO.jpg


http://motorcitymuckraker.com/2018/11/01/decades-long-devils-night-ended-year-handful-fires-detroit/




Book 5.3 - Crystal Death

January opened her eyes with a smile, and looked across Woodward to Engine 66 of the Detroit Fire Department. The fire station was a two story affair, made from red and tan brick. A pair of huge, roll up doors were set to each side of the rectangular building. In the center of them was a pedestrian door of darkened glass, flanked by a planter overflowing with greenery, and a bench for people to sit on.

January felt for her power, and this time sent it into her legs. She crouched down, and pictured herself leaping across the wide boulevard. Her mana poured into that image, and she sprang into the air. She felt herself propelled higher and farther than she had ever leapt before. She could not resist throwing in a somersault halfway across Woodward, and dropped to her feet in front of the fire station a moment later. She stuck the landing out of habit.

Blood Raven had told her that she had been unconsciously using magic all this time. This was an example of what she could do when she intentionally focused her will. She knew that she could do so much more.

Cars honked their horns as they passed by. January paused to look and saw a car load of people waving at her. She smiled and waved back. Being a cape was not all angst and challenges. For once it was nice just to be appreciated for what she did.

She strode into one of the open bay doors, and threaded her way around an ambulance parked within. One wall of the garage was lined with firefighting equipment such as coats and helmets. Hoists hung from the ceiling over each lane. A tool chest decorated with stickers sat by another wall, along with a large American flag. It was cluttered, but not a mess. Everything was clearly in its place, and used on a regular basis.

A fold up table was set up behind the ambulance, and there January found a trio of firefighters. They were fiddling with a stack of smoke detectors, and had several of them taken apart. They looked up as she stepped into view, and their eyes nearly popped out of their heads.

"It's you!"

"It's me," January breathed. She tried to play it cool at professional. The way Blood Raven would do it. That lasted for less than a second. She could not conceal a grin that probably looked as goofy as she felt.

"She showed!" Another voice emanated from a doorway in the back of the garage. January saw that it was the lieutenant she had met the night of the Flying Dutchman fire. He was the young one, with bright blue eyes and what she now saw was short blond hair. He was followed by a pair of other firemen, both of whom looked twice his age.

"Of course I showed," January said, "you think I can afford to pass up on a free lunch? I didn't know you guys lived across from the Whitney. Is that where we're going to eat?"

"Oh hell no!" an older firefighter laughed. "Fredo's cooking up the fettuccini right now. You know he's serious about his sister right?"

"The one with the ah…." January let her words trail off suggestively.

"That's the one," a third firefighter declared. "I've seen 'em too. They should be declared a national treasure."

"Nicholas Cage might steal them then," January remarked, which brought a chorus of laughs. The next thing she knew, cameras were produced, and she was taking selfies with the crew. More of the crew came along, including Captain Henderson, with his salt and pepper mustache and craggy features. They gave her a coat and helmet, which she put on for more pictures with them, including one with the entire station's crew.

Afterward they gave her a tour of the station. January was crushed to learn that they did not have a pole to slide down from the second floor, or a Dalmatian sidekick. The lieutenant put the lack of both down to budget cuts.

"So is Blood Raven actually coming too?" one of the firemen asked as they sat down for an early dinner in the dining room.

"I asked her twice. But I don't think so." January shook her head. Blood Raven had most emphatically refused each time, but January was trying to be diplomatic.

"I think she's more the dark avenger lurking on Gothic steeples type of person," January explained, trying to make light of it. "She's not the Italian feasting and laughter kind."

"But you are?" the blond lieutenant asked - January thought his name was Randy.

"Oh, give me pizza every day for the rest of my life!" January exclaimed.

"I still remember the first time I ever met Blood Raven," the captain said as a very young fireman went around and filled with plates with steaming hot fettuccini alfredo and grilled garlic bread. January wondered if he was even younger than she was, and imagined that he was the newest, and thusly lowest, man on the firehouse's totem pole. "I was younger than Stevie here, and barely on the job a week when Devil's Night rolled around."

"Over 800 fires in one night," Captain Henderson's eyes glazed over, as if he were reliving the event once more. "It was a nightmare. All night, all the next morning, we were running from one fire to the next. The one's we could get to at least."

"And the Raven was there through all of it. Pulling people out of fires just like you did at the Flying Dutchman. She was rounding up arsonists too, mostly young punks. I heard she even stopped a double-murder that night. She'll always have a place at my table, even if she never comes to sit at it."

That was her litmus test, January mused, the bar she had to live up to. She might not do it Blood Raven's way. But she would do it nonetheless.

"So how many fires did you have last year before Halloween?" January asked.

"Five," the Captain said with a smile.

The fettuccini nearly dropped from January's gaping mouth.

"Since Mayor Archer started the whole Angel's Night thing back in the 90s, things really changed," one of the older firefighters explained. Thousands of volunteers were out every year, patrolling the streets. It kept the arsonists and vandals away."

"They finally cancelled Angel's Night last year, because it's such a non-event," the captain said. "Now the 4th of July is our big day."

"Now that fireworks are legal in Michigan, lots of folks celebrate Independence Day by burning down their houses with 'em." Another firefighter piped up.

January learned more about fighting fires in the next half hour than she had in the entire life beforehand. They were putting the plates away when the alarm went off. The firemen literally dropped everything and scrambled out of the dining room for the garage below. Captain Henderson paused at the door to look back at January.

"Well, you coming or what?"

"Oh frak yes!" January grinned. With one leap she was past the captain and into the hallway outside. She spilled down the stairway with them to the ground floor and burst out into the garage. They grabbed their gear and were out the door in less than a minute. January piled into the first truck, next to the captain.

It turned out to be far less dramatic than the Flying Dutchman fire. Instead it was a little home in a residential neighborhood. Apparently there had been a grease fire in the kitchen and someone had thrown water on it. That had led to consequences as spectacular as they were unfortunate.

The family had evacuated the house by the time they arrived. There had been little for January to do. She was able to rescue a cat that had been hiding under the bed in the parent's bedroom. Much like the dog she had pulled out of the Dutchman, it had not been a fan of crows like herself. She had barely managed to hang on to it as she raced it out of the house. By the time she had gotten out on the front lawn it was climbing up the back of her head. She was thankful for the hagfish armor that Gadget had so presciently built for her. It saved her from a mauling. She did not hand over the cat to the homeowners, so much as they rescued her from him.

"President Chips is usually such a nice kitty," the mother breathed.

"President Chips?" January found herself wondering aloud.

"He's the commander-in-chief of the couch," the father laughed.

She went back inside to help with the fire. But she mostly just stood around, and watched how the real firefighters worked. She was tempted to use a fire suppressant grenade. But she only had one, and did not want to waste it. Not when the men of Engine 66 had things so clearly under control.

When all was said and done they filed out of the house with most of it not only still intact, but untouched by the fire. The kitchen was a disaster of course. But the rest of the place looked livable to January's admittedly untrained eye. She was about to climb back aboard the fire engine when the sound of police sirens wailed in the distance.

She waved goodbye to Captain Henderson and his men. Then she leaped into the sky. She had more work to do.

Posted by: Acadian May 30 2020, 08:55 PM

January’s struggle with ‘perky voice’ is simply one of her quirks that serve to just make the young cape more endearing to readers. happy.gif

Stormcrow’s mana-assisted spectacular launch in the opening scene shows us yet another significant advance to her flying. That she 'stuck' the landing is a nice tribute to her martial/gymnastics skills.

January’s nature and natural insights serve her well when it comes to tact and speechcraft. A stellar example of this was how she made Blood Raven’s apologies for not joining them.

Captain Henderson’s accounting of Blood Raven’s actions during Devil’s Night made me want to cheer for the older super heroine. I’m glad to see it also had a powerful effect on Stormcrow.

I could not help but think of Julian of Anvil during the cat rescue. laugh.gif

A nice interlude here that shows the Stormcrow building relationships with some of Detroit’s first responders. In this area, she is wise to forge her own way rather than follow the more. . . scorched earth example of Blood Raven.


Nits:
’In the center of them was a pedestrian door of darkened glass, flanked by planter overflowing with greenery, ‘ - - Perhaps ‘a planter’ or ‘planters’?
"But you are?" the blond lieutenant - January thought his name was Randy.’ - - This sentence seems to be calling for a speech tag like ‘said’ or ‘asked’ somewhere I think.

Posted by: Renee May 31 2020, 03:53 PM

Hey, thank you for the Jim Jones link there. That really is a gift, I mean, I got really obsessed with that guy until I couldn't read anymore ... because. After awhile, it gets to be too much. He was a horrible man, but also oddly, he also did a lot of good things too, early on. Especially with civil rights for blacks, that really fascinated me, because there are all sorts of interviews on the 'net from 'minorities' who joined his cult early on.

She's trying to act professional again! I love all that!

QUOTE
January paused to look and saw a car load of people waving at her. She smiled and waved back. Being a cape was not all angst and challenges. For once it was nice just to be appreciated for what she did.


She's a kinder, friendlier sort of cape. smile.gif

Oh gosh, more selfies. I wonder if I was a millennial if I'd be a smartphone owner myself? Obsessed with picture after picture, putting them all online.

Sorry. Sidetracked again.

Is she standing there eating pasta with her superhero gear on? biggrin.gif Either way, it's a good thing Blood Raven isn't there, maybe. She would probably disapprove heavily.

In general, it is interesting to see January working through her identity. She's frequently comparing herself to Raven, deciding what is right and what is wrong. Unsure in some ways if she's to follow directly in her great x20 aunt's footsteps, or go her own way.

Posted by: treydog Jun 1 2020, 12:05 AM

4.6

QUOTE
He had never even heard of Babylon 5, and you can just forget Farscape.


Firefly and appreciating Tom Waits on first hearing are among my “tests.”

And the Junior Stormcrow reminds us why Jan does what she does.

And she is also still dealing with the fact that whatever she does as Crowgirl is suddenly significant in all sorts of ways- not all of them positive. And that conversation did a wonderful job of showing not telling.

4.7

QUOTE
Spiders were not supposed to be bigger than an SUV!


No. Just... not. We had a wolf spider in the house for a while- and when you see something that big, with that many legs- that runs toward you....

QUOTE
Earth give me the strength of the mountain.

January focused all of her power on that image, of a mountain standing tall. She became that mountain: immovable, impervious, inviolate.


4.8

Having a Gadget in one's ear is a great help- and shows that strength comes from teamwork.


Posted by: SubRosa Jun 6 2020, 07:20 PM

Acadian: I love Jan's perky phone voice. As you said, it is one of the things that keeps her down to earth.

Stay tuned for some even greater advances in January's flight later this chapter.

January is definitely committed to her goal of reaching out to people rather than trying to be a Lone Wolf. That won't always succeed of course.

Thank you for catching those nits. Having a proofreader helps immensely.


Renee: January will keep trying to act cool and collected and a consummate professional. You can probably guess already that is not going to work out... laugh.gif

These days life is all about posting pictures online. People live on social media as much as they do in the physical world. And social media is all about subtly one-upping all of your friends by showing how cool and perfect your life is. So it becomes more important to show that you were at the Lady Gaga concert with pictures on Twitter, than it is to actually enjoy the show. It is one reason I avoid all forms of social media.

She was sitting there eating pasta with her super outfit on. Like you said, at times that has to feel silly. But under the circumstances, there really was no other option except not show up at all. The life of a superhero...

January is definitely working on her identity, and defining who she is, and who she is not. Blood Raven plays a huge role in that, as she has been Detroit's only superhero for over 50 years. There was one other back in the 20s and 30s who fought the Purple Gang, but I have not even figured out his name yet. I keep circling around something like Model T. There are capes elsewhere, like the Sentinels in Chicago, but Blood Raven is the one January actually knows. So in many ways she is what Jan compares herself to.


treydog: The Junior Crow was inspired by a scene in the Supergirl TV show, where the gang all went to see a school play, in which all the kids were dressed up at Supergirl. James Olson whispered into Kara's ear: "They don't want to be you, they are inspired by you." I wanted to do something similar, and show a person inspired by January's example.

A spider was not my first choice for the monster in Pride. But the more I thought about it, the more and more it sounded like the ideal choice for our introduction to the Creatures of the Abyss. There is just something so altogether wrong and sinister about something with that many legs and eyes.

January would not get far without Gadget. He's as much a super as she is. Eventually he will come out of the shadows and suit up alongside her.









https://i.imgur.com/dRVTGNN.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/R0J2znu.jpg



Book 5.4 - Crystal Death

"Frak girl, when you do lunch, you really don't mess around," Gadget's voice came over her headset.

"What do you have?" January replied. Her eyes scanned to either side as she winged toward the wail of the sirens. She soared west above the side street that the house with the burning kitchen had been on. She came to a Baptist church and an apartment complex. Beyond that the ground flattened out in a freeway.

She was not sure if she had enough lift to glide across the numerous lanes of traffic. So she came down on top of one of the apartment buildings and disengaged her wings. She ran for a few steps along the shingled roof, then rocketed back into the sky once more. Her wings snapped back out and caught air once more. By now this was all second nature.

All those weeks of practice with Lighthammer were really paying off. He had said that he could not understand how she did it. Her glide ratio was completely wrong for a person in a wingsuit. Thanks to meeting Blood Raven, she now knew that it was because of magic. Her magic was holding her aloft, far beyond what should be possible for the glider wings that Gadget had built into her cape.

That meant that one of these days she would be able to do more than just glide, but actually fly. Maybe someday she would do it without Gadget's wings at all. After all, magic was about reshaping reality. All she had to do was change the law of gravity, at least where it pertained to her.

No problem.

She soared across the John C. Lodge freeway. It was a sunken highway, cut down into the earth like the Death Star trench. As always it was a river of cars that screamed along at breakneck speeds. She would sooner take on Whitewater Security again than chance riding her motorcycle on it. Every day down there was the Grand Prix.

"Ok, I got it," Gadget declared. "University Foods just got robbed. It's just west of the Lodge from you."

January saw the red and blue lights of police cars, and banked hard right toward them. She lost some altitude in the maneuver, but still had plenty of lift remaining beneath her wings to get where she needed to be. She lined up on the supermarket and little strip mall beside it, and a moment later she soared over the rectangular buildings.

The parking lot spread out before her. The service drive to the freeway was directly to the right. Straight ahead across Warren Avenue was a gigantic parking lot for Lane State's football and baseball fields, which sprawled out even farther beyond.

The lot beneath her was a kicked over anthill of activity. Police cars blocked the only exits, with their lights flashing and doors hanging open. Police officers took shelter behind the vehicles, and aimed their guns into the lot. People were running everywhere through the area, or likewise taking shelter behind cars or trucks.

A rusted white minivan came to a screeching halt in front of one police car. January noted that all of the cops had their weapons pointed at it. She banked slightly to turn herself once more, in order to close in on the van. All she needed was a few more seconds, and she would be on top of it.

Then it lurched backward, and began to careen through the parking lot in reverse. It weaved its way drunkenly through the lines of cars, nearly shearing off bumpers or staving in quarter panels on more than one occasion.

Clearly, this was not going to end well.

January triggered off her wings and dropped to the pavement. She hit the asphalt and turned her momentum into a forward roll, and sprang back to her feet. The van was coming right for her now. Her elemental mantra sang in her mind, and she concentrated upon Earth.

Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.

But the old rust-bucket veered off at the last moment. Whether that was because the driver had seen her, or if it was just by accident, January could not even guess. She could see that its new course would send it careening into a Honda which an old man and a young girl crouched behind.

January could easily see events play out in her mind. The van would crash into the Honda. It in turn would be sent flying backward, and crush the two bystanders into the broad body of the Lincoln just a foot behind them. It took only an instant for this disturbing image to play out in January's head. That left her plenty of time for action.

Rather than earth, she became water. She flowed, and then she crashed. It almost seemed as if the world reshaped itself around her. For a moment later she was between the van and the Honda. She absentmindedly noted the bumper stickers on the back of the Chrysler. One proudly proclaimed that the driver's student was on the Honor Roll, while the other implored January to Coexist.

She stretched out her hands, and caught the back doors of the oncoming vehicle. She felt herself being shoved back by the mountain of steel. But now she was stone, she was the mountain, she was adamant. Her feet became part of the earth, and the earth did not relent. The Chrysler minivan shuddered and ground to a halt. January heard loud thumps from inside, as if several large objects had been thrown backward through its interior.

"Either a soccer mom decided to rob the grocery store, or that van is stolen," Gadget said in her ear. "DMV says it's owned by Alicia Washington, a 50 year old from the East Side."

The minivan's tires ceased to strain against the asphalt. January warily let go, ready to grab the vehicle again if it began to move once more. She spared a quick glance back to the old man and the young girl behind her, between the Honda and the Lincoln.

"This would probably be a good time to relocate," January suggested gently. She turned back without waiting to see if they complied. She did not like taking her eyes off the van for even a second. There was no telling what might happen.

Looking through the rear window of the Chrysler, she could see green dollar bills scattered everywhere. Some still fluttered down through the air like the particles within a snow globe. Someone was sprawled across the driver's seat, and another person had fallen between the passenger seat and the long bench seat in the middle of the van. Both were clawing their way back up. She noted a gun in the hand of the one in the back.

She tried to think of her options. She could try opening the back door of the van and going inside after them. But then the driver could still take off and ram the innocent bystanders behind her. The same if she simply tried going around to either side of the vehicle. She could go for the driver and subdue him, then put the car in park. But that would give the passenger free reign to use his gun.

The van, or the gun, which was the bigger threat?

"See if you can get a flash grenade in there," Gadget suggested.

January fumbled at the back door. She could have just ripped it off, but this was clearly not the robber's van. She did not want to destroy what was probably someone's only way to get back and forth to work, and everywhere else. She knew that it was taking her too long. She was giving the thieves time, too much time. But she saw no other option.

She had the door open just in time to find both barrels of a sawed off shotgun in her face. Her Krav Maga training instantly took over. She grabbed the shotgun with both hands and pivoted the barrel up in the air. She would have kicked the gunman in the knee at the same time, but that just was not possible inside the minivan. Instead she shoved the gun back into his face, and slammed the steel barrels into his forehead.

He staggered, and let go of the weapon. She yanked it from his hands, and cracked it open while he was still seeing butterflies. A red plastic shell fell out of each of the barrels. She tossed the now harmless weapon down to the blacktop behind her. The gunman was coming back around by the time she was finished. Before he could get his bearings, she grabbed both his wrists and pulled them around a seatbelt that hung from the ceiling. With a zip tie from her utility belt, she bound his wrists together around it.

He snarled like a caged beast, and actually tried to bite her. January paid him no mind however. He was done. She turned her attention to the driver, who bolted out his door as soon as she clapped eyes upon him. But the van was still in reverse. January felt it instantly begin to creep backward, toward the Honda, and the two people that for all she knew were still hiding behind it.

She was air. She sprang through the back of the van, over the bench seats in the middle, and went head-first into the driver's seat. Her passage disturbed the money scattered everywhere, and kicked it up into a shower of green bills. She slammed down hard on the brake with one hand, and brought the van to a halt. Then she reached up and grabbed for the gear shift with the other hand, and jammed it into Park.

She felt the man in the back fumbling at her ankles. She absentmindedly sent a kick his way. She held back, as she always did to avoid killing people. But she still felt flesh give under her heel. She did not bother looking back to appraise her handiwork. Instead she scrambled out of the open door. She allowed herself to fall face first into the pavement. She turned that into a forward handspring, and bounced back to her feet.

She found the driver just a few feet away, hands grabbing for the clouds. Three Detroit Police officers had their guns trained upon him. In defiance of the adrenaline that rocketed through her veins, January forced herself to relax. She eased herself out of her fighting stance, and showed the police her open hands. She was not going to give them an excuse to shoot her. As a Queer person, she had learned that lesson long before donning the cape.

But the police were less interested in her, and more in searching and handcuffing the driver. They had him face down on the asphalt in moments, and pulled a handgun from one of his pockets, and a knife from the other. January glanced back, and saw more cops reaching into the minivan to take the second thief into custody. From the red mess in the middle of his face, she could see that his nose was broken. She wondered if that was from smacking the shotgun back into his face, or the kick she had sent his way later?

"That was quick thinking Stormcrow, catching the van like that," one of the cops said to her. "That could have hit someone."

"I'm just glad I could help," January murmured. She knew that sounded lame. It was the stock answer every athlete gave when they were interviewed after a game. But the truth was that she had no idea what to say. People complimenting her was not exactly something she was used to. The Detroit Police doing so even less so. Obviously they were not all like Captain Feldercarb, from the night of the Flying Dutchman fire.

She took a moment to find the old man and young girl she had protected, and learned that she was indeed his grandchild. As seemed to be the post-battle tradition, she took selfies with them and the police. She could just imagine Blood Raven rolling her eyes, especially at the latter. But while she certainly respected the older superheroine, January knew that she was going to do things differently than she did.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 6 2020, 08:24 PM

I enjoyed Jan’s musings about her flying ability and especially her realization that she had not yet reached the limits of her envelope.

'The lot beneath her was a kicked over anthill of activity.'
A wonderful description that I’d expect from an aviatrix.

’The van was coming right for her now.’
Having carefully followed January’s growth since the beginning, I was pleased that this was all the clue I needed to know her plan – become earth and physically stop that van. And with a slight unexpected veer, that’s what she did!

"This would probably be a good time to relocate," January suggested gently.'
Jan's calm, quirky manner of phrasing here ever so much reminded me of Blood Raven’s first words to Jan at that big fire. The same old world courtesy and unusual choice of words that characterizes Blood Raven’s speech. Superbly done!

And how ‘January’ to open the stolen van’s back door instead of just ripping it open/off out of consideration for its owner.

This whole incident in the parking lot showcased Stormcrow’s skills, caring nature and sound judgment under fire. She certainly banked some cred points with Detroit’s finest here. You continue to show us how alike and different she is from Blood Raven. Both have the courage to forge their own paths. . . but those paths are not at all identical.


Nits:
’One proudly proclaimed that the driver's student was on the Honor Roll, while the {other?} implored January to Coexist.’
’She would sooner take on Whitewater Security again that {than?} chance riding her motorcycle on it.’

Posted by: Renee Jun 8 2020, 12:29 AM

What are Lighthammer and Blood Raven's opinions of each other? Maybe this has been mentioned before but I can't remember.

You have Coexist bumper stickers in Michigan too. hehe.gif

QUOTE
"I'm just glad I could help," January murmured. She knew that sounded lame.


Probably sounded professional though, without forcing her voice!

More comments later. Time for dessert on this lovely summer day.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 13 2020, 07:13 PM

Acadian: There will be a lot more flying later this chapter, and Jan exceeding the limits of her envelope.

I don't have to tell you that the world looks different from hundreds of feet above it. I do have to remind myself, and put myself in that bird's eye view. Google Maps/World helps, since I can use it to see the world from high up.

I worked a lot on that "relocate" line, and went back and forth to get it right.

It is so very Jan to think about not breaking things. She would not be allowed in the Marvel movie universe with an attitude like that.

As ever, thank you for being my proofreader.


Renee: It is funny you mentioned Blood Raven and Lighthammer's views of one another, because they are both going to appear in a few more episodes, and that will be main eminently clear.

We do have Coexist bumper stickers here too. My guess they are everywhere. I wanted some sort of cue that the van probably did not belong to an armed robber. That and the honor roll student bumper sticker seemed like good hints.











Book 5.5 - Crystal Death

A few days later January stood in the Gadget Cave. The eponymous owner of the basement workshop sat at a long table. He had one of those giant, illuminated magnifying glasses strapped to his forehead, making him look every inch the mad scientist that he was. Her Stormcrow armor was spread out along the table, and he took his time, sewing, screwing, and otherwise attaching new pieces of gear to the original woven fiber material of the suit.

"Gilda Gadfly here folks, with the latest cape update."

January glanced over to see the blonde reporter on one of Gadget's many monitors. A moment later she was replaced by a series of pictures of January in her Stormcrow armor, with an agitated cat crawling all over her head and shoulders.

"It seems our loveable Crow is not a cat-person, as these pictures taken a few days ago from the scene of a Detroit fire reveal. She went in to rescue the cat, but in the end it looks like she was the one who had to be saved from the feisty feline. Maybe she's more of a dog-person. But that's ok Crowgirl, we still love you anyway!"

"I thought you said Gilda was nothing but shallow tripe?" January noted.

"She is," Gadget insisted. "But you have to admit, those videos of you and the cat are hilarious."

"Well, I guess if I am not saving people, I may as well entertain them," January breathed. Not that she really minded. It was good to laugh, and if one of her misadventures made people happy for a little while, so much the better. There was so little to be happy about in the world these days…

"So have you thought about what you are going to do for school this fall yet?" Gadget wondered aloud. "The registration deadline must be coming up soon."

"I've been thinking about that," January frowned. She turned from the table where Avery tinkered away on her suit. She walked over to the Blob, and laid an affectionate hand upon the old punching bag's duct-taped leather surface. "There's no point going back to the community college anymore. They don't offer an English degree. My mom wants me to go to Michigan State, like she did. But that's all the way out in Lansing. It's too far to commute, and I don't want to live in a dorm."

Not being trans, January thought, but did not say. It made life hard enough as it was. But trying to living communally? That was a just begging for abuse.

"You could look for a single-room dorm," Avery offered up, as if reading her mind. "Not sure about the bathrooms though."

"Most are communal, I checked," January frowned. "They say there are some single use bathrooms. But that means waiting for how long every time I need to take a shower? No thanks."

"Okay, what about Lane State?" Avery asked. "It's a lot closer. Ryo's going there. If your classes line up, you could ride down there with him."

"I like Lane State," January admitted. "I've been down there in Midtown a couple of times now. It's a lot cheaper than MSU too."

"So what do you want?" Avery paused what he was doing, and spun around on his stool to look at her.

"To be honest, I am not sure that I even want to go to school anymore." January plopped down on the tattered old couch in the center of the basement. She cradled her face in her palms, and frowned. "What's the point? Just so I can say I have a degree? I don't need one to be a writer, or to be a martial arts instructor. Sometimes I think I'm just doing it because my mom wants me to."

"I thought you liked going to college?" Avery scratched his head. His hand looked gigantic when it passed behind the magnifying glass. Like a space monster attacking his face.

"I do," January felt no urge to laugh at how silly he looked. That was how serious this felt. "It's nothing like high school. Or should I say hell school? The classes I've taken in just the last year have exposed me to books I never would have read otherwise. I've learned so much, even from the stories I didn't particularly like."

"But it always comes down to money," January sighed. "It's not like we live in Doctor Heisen's technocracy, where school is free for everyone who can make the grades. You know I'm not rich, now less than ever. And when can I make the time with work at the dojo, my physical training, my magical training, my writing, and this whole cape thing? I'll have to drop out of gaming night again, like I did last semester."

"I want to start writing now, for real, and start selling my stories. Maybe even make a comic," she said. "Then I could quit the dojo. That would give me more time for training and supering. Look, I've been waiting all day to show you this!"

She bounced to her feet, and pulled out her phone. She worked her thumbs on the Hamsung's relatively small screen, and proudly turned it to Avery. The slender black man rose to his feet and took the phone in his hands. His smile literally lit the room.

"This Spell For Hire!" he crowed. "You scruffy nerf-herder, you did it! Your first book is for sale. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," January said. She did not also mention that she did not want to jinx it by talking about it before hand. Or that even she did not believe that it was possible, until she actually saw it in pixels herself.

"It's not a real book though," she admitted. "I had to self-publish online. But you can get it on Amassona.com, or Bartleby and Aristocracy."

"It's as real as any other book," Avery insisted. "I can't wait to read it."

He handed her back the phone, and pulled out his own nerdcore communication device. It looked like an I-Phone from the outside. But January knew that the plastic case was the only thing it had in common with anything sold by Apple.

"You already have," January said. "I decided to scrap that Seven Samurai idea I was working on. I went back and adapted one of the stories I wrote last year, the fantasy detective one."

"The one where Aela and Loria have to stop the assassin?" Avery mused. "I liked that one."

"I went over it again, did some updates, and changed the setting to use the world I created for the samurai story," January mused. "I like how it turned out, and it gives me a lot of room for more stories. I can make an open-ended series out of this if I want to."

"There," Avery said, "you just sold a copy. And at $3.99, it's a steal."

"Well it's not a full novel," January admitted, "only about 30k words. Maybe I can write something longer in the future. But then again, I see a lot of shorter stories like this online. It's the perfect place. I can charge less, since I don't have to worry about printing costs. Now I just need to get people to buy it."

"No problem," Avery said. "I'll be done in a few minutes. You can get suited up, and I'll take some pictures of Stormcrow reading the latest in fantasy fiction. I'll have them all over the web faster than you can say 'influencer'."

"I couldn't do that!" January was aghast. "That's, that's…"

"Capitalism?" Avery offered up. "Being poor isn't noble. It just stinks. There's nothing wrong with being able to pay your bills. Look at Thunderbolt and Riven. They sold their wedding photos to Person magazine! I will bet you that new fusion power plant Stinger and Zero Point are building for Chicago is going to net them some change as well. Besides, it doesn't have to be that blatant, just a pic of you reading the story on your tablet."

"I don't know…" January found herself biting her lip. She stopped. She didn't want to get lipstick on her teeth.

"You know, you really can be too Lawful Good sometimes," Avery shook his head. He returned to his worktable, and went back to giving her armor his tender loving care. "There is a point where it becomes Stupid Good you know."

"I know," January murmured, "I know. I guess I could. I just don't want to be selfish, you know? Too many people in this world don't stop to think about how their actions affect others. They just want to get rich now, and don't care about the consequences."

"Well, you are hardly Leopold II, or Enron," Avery insisted. "It's not like you're cheating people. Your writing is good. Everyone who reads it, likes it. You bring some joy into people's lives, at least for a little while. That's worth spreading the news about. Besides, every time a celebrity or podcaster does an interview it is to pimp their latest project. They always plug their movies, or books, or websites at the end. Seriously, it's ok to toot your own horn once and a while."

January could not help but wonder if King Leopold II said the same thing to the people of the Congo? Not that she thought of herself as a genocidal colonialist. But when did shameless self-promotion become, well, shameless?

She wished there was a giant spider around to smash. That would be a lot easier to grapple with.

"So what's this about a comic?" Avery said. From his tone, she knew that he was pretending to be nonchalant. But really, he was incredibly excited.

"It's an idea my mother gave me," January said. "I've worked it out. I have a character, and a basic story. Artemis Argent, aviatrix of the Republic of New Orleans, or maybe Haiti. I still have a few details to hammer out."

"Artemis Argent?" Avery said. "That is like the coolest name ever. Is she any relation of Cleopatra Jones?"

"Well, she is a person of color," January could not stop herself from blushing, "and she does kick booty. She's got an artificial arm made from silver, or titanium, or something silvery at least. She flies an airship. It's steampunk, set in an alternate 1800s."

"How are you going to do the whole, you know, comic part of the book?" Avery wondered.

"I'm going to talk to Rus about illustrating it. He did my cover for This Spell For Hire." January said. "I know he doesn't want to work at his dad's tool and die shop for the rest of his life. His art is good. Better than a lot I see in mainstream comics."

"What if he says no?" Avery asked. "He might not be able to, you know."

"Then I write it as prose and self-publish on the internet," January declared. "I can go either way. Honestly, it would be easier just doing it as a novel. But I like the idea of doing a comic. It would be stretching, a challenge."

"Careful, you're starting to sound like a motivational poster," Avery chuckled. "But I agree. I think it would be great if you two could step outside your comfort zones a little, and make it work. You might be the next Neil Gaiman."

"Just don't say anything to Rus about it yet," January insisted. "I don't want to go to him until I have my drek together."

Posted by: Acadian Jun 13 2020, 08:11 PM

After Gilda’s review, I’d recommend Jan consult with Julian of Anvil about rescuing cats. laugh.gif

"I thought you liked going to college?" Avery scratched his head. His hand looked gigantic when it passed behind the magnifying glass. Like a space monster attacking his face.’
- - Such a perfect bit of background for this scene that adds some welcome levity to a serious discussion of Jan’s choices regarding college.

This Spell For Hire! The scruffy nerf-herder sure kept her book a secret from Avery! A perfect title for an Aela and Loria adventure. It is so nice to see Jan moving her writing along.

Ah yes, that point where Lawful Good becomes Stupid Good.

Posted by: Renee Jun 15 2020, 03:20 PM

How much time overall has passed so far? What month / year did this begin, and where are we now? I get obsessive with dates in a lot my own stories & updates. If it's too much trouble, don't worry, I just get curious hon.

Gilda Gladfly's report sounds just like a cheesy news update, from the "light" section of the news.

QUOTE
and if one of her misadventures made people happy for a little while, so much the better.


Plus, this is one way she'll differentiate herself from the grim, more serious-minded Branwyn. indifferent.gif

Sh1t she's dropping out of school. sad.gif That's what i did. I really wish I hadn't. sad.gif If I could go back I'd major in Languages. Lopov has inspired me over the years. I get where Jan's coming from, of course. She's got a huge career ahead of her if she wants this, to be her own boss.

QUOTE
and this whole cape thing? I'll have to drop out of gaming night again, like I did last semester."


Aww. sad.gif I can relate.

QUOTE
"I don't know…" January found herself biting her lip. She stopped. She didn't want to get lipstick on her teeth.


rollinglaugh.gif

Hey for what it's worth, I think Jan should go ahead and put her books (podcast, blog, whatever) out there. Maybe she's a little apprehensive though because she's worried about what the intimidating Blood Raven, who is also a writer, will think.


Posted by: SubRosa Jun 20 2020, 07:16 PM

Acadian: January could definitely use some pet rescue training. Her record so far is being bitten by a dog, and clawed by a cat. Good thing she has armor!

This Spell For Hire is a play on This Gun For Hire. It sounded perfect for a pair of magical detectives. The original movie from the 40s had a for cable tv remake in the 90s with Robert Wagner, which I really liked. I wish I could find it somewhere, because I would like to see it again sometime.

Lawful Good and Stupid Good, and telling the difference, will be a recurring theme for January, as she tries to do the right thing, without going too far in the direction of being Lawful Stupid, or too far in the direction of being Stupid Good on the other. The life of a Paladin is not always as simple as punching a Lich in the face.


Renee: At this point only a month has passed. Roughly a week between each chapter. If you look at the first episode I post of each chapter, I will give the date range of the entire chapter. Chapter 1 started in early May. This one takes place from June 1st - 9th. I do have a timeline written down, so I don't get tripped up on dates. I remember seeing a discussion on whether or not to keep a timeline in some writer's forum (maybe Reddit?), and one person said that after they had created a timeline of events in his novel, it turned out that it would have taken years longer than he had originally thought if he kept it as he had originally wrote it. So he went back and cleaned it up.

Here is the timeline so far, including events that happened before the first story began:

Timeline
March 24 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during the Nain Rouge Parade. it is not anchored, and easily banished
May 4 and 5 (Saturday and Sunday) = Stormcrow Rising
May 5 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Cinco De Mayo, using elemental symbols to anchor it, making it immune from banishment
May 14 and 15 (Tuesday and Wednesday) = Stormcrow Recycled
May 25 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Technofest, anchoring it with an animal sacrifice
May 25 and 26 (Saturday and Sunday) = Stormcrow Burning
May 27th = Memorial Day.
May 27 - June 1 (Monday -Saturday) = Stormcrow Pride [Ferndale Pride on Saturday]
June 1 = The Conjurer summons an Abyssal during Ferndale Pride, anchoring it with a human sacrifice
June 1 - 9 = Crystal Death [Motor City Pride]
June 1 = Chad overdoes on Crystal Death at Leland City Club.
June 8 = January called out to the Mills house on a false Crystal Death tip.

Gilda is definitely the lighter side of reporting. She is kind of the gossip columnist for all the cape news. Behind the scenes I know that she was a "serious" reporter, but had to turn to the more click-bait, sensationalist, style because she had a severely autistic child. She simply could not pay for his care on a regular reporter's salary. So she turned herself into a veritable media powerhouse. She has a national TV show, a radio show that also gets picked up by stations across the country, a podcast, a newspaper column, etc... She is a total media blitz.

You are right that January's comedic misadventures is one thing that will differentiate her from the dour Blood Raven. Stay tuned for January's decision about advertising her writing as Stormcrow. She will come up with a solution that goes far beyond what Avery suggested. Likewise, school comes up this episode once more.











https://www.dictionary.com/e/slang/zoomer/

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=The%20Goat

https://i.imgur.com/uVs0Xah.jpg

https://www.wired.com/2013/01/nanotwinned-cubic-boron-nitride/




Book 5.6 - Crystal Death

"Okay," Gadget nodded as he fitted a piece of metal to one forearm of the suit. "But I think you're wrong about school. I think you should stick with it and get your degree. I know it's a lot of money, and a lot of time. But I think it's good for you. You spend too much time alone, especially since you moved into the new house. It's good for you get out."

"I don't see how I can," January frowned. "Without school I can spend more time on my writing. I can quit the dojo, and still save up money for surgery."

"I get it," Avery agreed. "And maybe quitting the dojo is a good idea. Or at least just cutting down on your hours there, and spending more time writing instead. Remember what Joseph Campbell said: 'Follow your bliss'. Let's face it, for you that's writing. I think school will make you a better writer. Not just for what you learn in class, but for the people you meet there, and the experiences you'll have. Don't worry about the money, it will come. One day you are going to be richer than Croesus thanks to your stories."

"It isn't someday I'm worried about, it's today," January groused. "I could get a student loan, but then I'd be in debt for the rest of my life. I'd rather not get a degree at all if that's my only other option."

"Hey, your mom said she would help," Avery said, "and don't you have a rich aunt now too? Have you asked her for help with tuition? I'm sure she'd be willing to part with some of those fat stacks of Wicca book cash she has."

"I haven't," January frowned again. "I kind of want to do this on my own, if I can. I don't want to be some loser Zoomer begging their parents for money."

"All kids beg their parents for money!" Avery laughed. "It's how we get payback for them embarrassing us in front of our friends for our entire childhoods. You think Bill Gates worked his way through college, or Warren Buffett? You don't have to do everything on your own. It's okay to have help you know."

"I know." January was distinctly aware of her face turning red.

"I'll make you a deal," Avery spun around on his chair and looked her in the eyes. "If I go to college, you go to college."

"You?" January fought to keep her eyes in her skull. "But I thought you said it was pointless, since what you did with tech was not really science, but more like art?"

"I know, I know," Avery held his hands up in self-defense. "But I was wrong. Not about the art part. But I don't think it's pointless. I think knowing how the universe works matters. That's why I enrolled at Harvard for the Fall Term."

"You what?" January leaped to her feet and rushed over to wrap her arms around her friend. "You got into Harvard! That's… that's…. the Goat!"

"Well, it's only online courses from the extension school," Avery said. "So don't get too excited. I'm not actually going to Massachusetts. But I can still learn a lot, and get a degree. I'm thinking of either a nuclear or quantum physics specialization. In six, maybe seven years I'll have a PhD."

"But how can you afford a place like Harvard, even the extension school?"

"If I can make a fusion reactor for your bike, I can do it for some billionaire's private island," Avery declared. "I've got one I'm working on right now that is going to need a home. I'm sure it will cover my tuition and still leave plenty left over, in case your mom or aunt can't come through with the lucre."

"My Avery, a real life Doctor," January did blush then, and tried to brush aside his offer to pay her way through school. Avery had never really worried about paying for things. Not with his inventive genius. But she never wanted him to think that she was only his friend for the money he was bound to make in the future. "You'll be Doctor Gadget, or maybe just The Doctor."

"Doctor… Who?" Avery's eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Hey now, watch the trademark infringements!" January did laugh. "You're going to get me sued when I write our life stories and turn them into a book series."

"I'll be the first one to buy them, and go watch the movies," Avery said. Then he turned more serious. "The best part is that with this being online, I can still stay home and watch my Nana. And I can be around to watch your back when you're out doing that hero thing."

"I don't know what I would do without you," January replied honestly. Looking back on her life, she could not imagine living it without him being there.

"So that's settled then," Avery insisted. "You are going back to school for Fall Semester, just like me."

"I guess I am," January smiled. Then she remembered what Branwen had told her about magic.

A magician is absolute in her certainty. Do it, or do not. There are no other options.

"I know I am," she insisted. "Looks like Lane State it is."

"Excellent!" Avery exclaimed, "and to celebrate, let me introduce you to the Stormcrow Armor 2.0!"

He waved his arms in a stage magician's flourish, and nodded to the armor laid out on the table. At first January did not see any difference. Then she noted the solid armor plating over the shoulders, and along the forearms and shins. There was even a plate that covered the front of her chest.

Also, she noted a new logo stenciled in the middle of that chest piece. It was the classic raven banner image, of a raven in flight. The lines of the bird were all in white, contrasting sharply with the black background of the rest of her armor.

"It's beautiful!" January breathed. "But that's the raven banner. I'm the Stormcrow, remember?"

"It is a crow," Gadget insisted. "Look at the tail feathers. They make a fan shape. That is a crow."

"You are right," January stared in near shock. "A raven's tail feathers make a 'V' shape, a crow's look like a 'C' on its side. How did I never notice that?"

"Apparently no one ever has," Gadget remarked. "Or maybe people just think raven banner sounds cooler than crow banner."

"It does kind of," January admitted. She reached out and rapped a knuckle against the hard metal chest plate. "So what gave you the idea for all this steel? Did Isaac just have a bunch of it laying around, and you decided to play with it?"

"After that giant spider bit through your tunic, I thought it might be a good idea to give the hagfish fibers a little help," Avery explained. "But that is not steel. These new plates are made of nanotwinned cubic boron nitride, or c-BN. I traded a guy some gadgets for a bunch of the stuff."

"Cubic... Boring... Twins?" January raised an eyebrow. "What the yotz is that?"

"It's a thermal and chemically resistant refractory compound of boron and nitrogen that..." Avery stopped after January's eyebrow continued to rise in bewilderment. "Ok, the wiki version is that it's slightly harder than diamond. It's also non-conductive, for the next time you play with lightning."

January closed her eyes and called up her mana.

Fire give me passion and energy Transform me in the night sky.

She was in the armor, and her tights and Nightgirl tee shirt were laid out on the table in the armor's place. She took a few moments to feel the extra weight on her shoulders and arms. It was a little more, but not much. Granted, she imagined that someone without her magically-enhanced muscles might have a different opinion on what "a little more" meant.

She flexed her arms, and rotated them. It did not feel like the plates were inhibiting her range of motion at all. They were small enough not to cover her joints, which were still sheathed in the hagfish fibers. But at the same time it would not be difficult for her to use the cubic boron plates to block a hit.

As an experiment she bent over backwards, went into a handstand, and followed through with the motion into a roll, and bounced back up. Then she grasped the bare studs of the floorboard above between her fingers and thumbs, and pulled herself up into the air. She held her body parallel to the floor in a horizontal Iron Cross for long moments. Then she let herself drop enough to pull her feet in, and rotate them through her spread arms. She let go, dropped to her feet, and did another back flip.

All of it came smooth as silk. She looked back up to see a look of amazement in Avery's eyes. As if she had done something special. Really, it was just some simple gymnastics.

"It feels good," January noted. "I can feel the extra weight, but it doesn't hinder movement at all."

"I could barely lift those solid plates..." Avery murmured. Then he spoke more confidently. "Check your wrist."

January turned over both her armor-plated forearms. She found that the inside of the left hand one had a panel that slid aside with a flick of her fingers. That revealed a touch screen beneath that automatically glowed to life. She immediately started pushing buttons, and found a phone, radio, computer, and everything else a girl might need.

"Wow, it's a pip-boy!" she exclaimed.

"Yep," Avery crowed. "Now you don't need me to be your operator. You can make your own phone calls. Or play candy crush. There's a word processor in there too, so you can write. And its voice activated of course."

"Sága," Avery said clearly, "mask."

Thin metal plates slid down from her helmet and covered her upper lip and jaw, except for several vertical slits that were filled with a fine mesh of fibers. That left her entire head encased in her helmet. For that matter, her entire body was now completely sheathed in armor.

"I got that breath mask working," Avery explained. "It will filter out smoke and most toxins. But I haven't tested it out on the more exotic stuff like anthrax or sarin of course. If you really want to be careful: Sága, scuba."

Now even those breathing slits sealed up. January took a deep breath, and smelled a distinct change in the air. It was nothing she could put into words. In fact, it was nothing at all. The scent of Avery's vanilla air freshener was gone. It was just plain, bland, air.

"Now I can fight giant squid!" January laughed. "Or go to the moon."

"Well, just make it a quick trip," Avery chuckled. "The air supply is limited. But it should see you though any more fires, or scuba dives."

January glanced down at the computer readout on her inner arm, and saw it set her air at 100%. She pressed a few buttons, and the mask slid back away from her mouth, returning her helmet to normal.

"Sága is keyed to recognize both our voices," Avery said. "But I don't think her name will come up often in conversation."

"I like that for a digital assistant." January smiled. "Sága, show me the share drive."

The screen on her wrist immediately shifted to reveal a graphical display of the folders of the drive that Avery had created. She tapped a few times experimentally, and looked over the information that Emilia had sent her about the Death Dealer. Sadly, there was nothing new, and nothing substantial.

"Wow," she breathed, "just wow. I don't even know what to say. With this I can do stakeouts and write at the same time."

Posted by: Acadian Jun 20 2020, 10:50 PM

Great advice from Avery about the total ‘school’ experience helping Jan become a better writer for exactly the reasons he laid out. As both a Superhero and a writer, I’d imagine Blood Raven could offer some valuable advice. Perhaps, as Avery mentioned, even offer some help.

Wow, the new mithril steel Storm Armor 2.0 beats anything Ironman’s got! Impressive features and wonderfully presented to readers. Gadget’s been working hard!

Thanks for the running glossary of newspeak terms. This old paladin probably needs it as much as Branwen does. tongue.gif

Posted by: Renee Jun 22 2020, 01:30 PM

Wow, thanks for that timeline! smile.gif That's awesome. A lot has happened in a really short time. She's really been quite busy. No wonder she's thinking of putting everything extra aside.

Loser Zoomer. laugh.gif I've never heard that term before... zoomer. I'll have to tell my daughter since she's Z.

Off-topic, but I recently wanted to see how we have defined all these generational classifications through Wikipedia. All this time I assumed it started with Baby Boomers, but actually the terms go back quite a few decades before boomers. My folks are actually from the Silent Generation, for instance (I always assumed they are boomers, but they're born in the early '40s, which makes them part of the McCarthy generation).

In fact when I got to Gen X, I was surprised to learn how accurate a lot of it was. The term that got me was "latchkey kids". That's totally the difference between X and earlier generations: both parents were working, which meant me (as the eldest) was in charge of keeping all the keys for the house, and also eventually driving my sister around when I turned 16. It was like this for a lot of my peers.

Yah, totally, Avery will ace Harvard. He'll maybe get in trouble for maybe wanting to do things his own way (He's too smart for his teachers), but then, maybe that won't happen since he's taking online courses.

Have you ever heard of Marcus Hutchins? I'm thinking you have. If not, https://www.wired.com/story/confessions-marcus-hutchins-hacker-who-saved-the-internet/?utm_source=pocket-newtab Avery is starting to remind me of Marcus. Elon who?

The discussion between Avery and January is touching. I wonder if this means she'll be going back to school in person? Or merely online.


QUOTE
It is a crow," Gadget insisted. "Look at the tail feathers. They make a fan shape. That is a crow."


laugh.gif I love that. Avery's getting a little defensive as he tries to teach his friend the difference.

QUOTE
But that is not steel. These new plates are made of nanotwinned cubic boron nitride,


Oh goodness! In general I can just imagine her brand-new armor + computer suit. Totally unscuffed and smelling of faint metallic fibers and some sort of polishing oil. Twinkling a little. Death Dealer's got it coming!


QUOTE
Stay tuned for Jan's decision about advertising her writing as Stormcrow


You'd have to pry me away at this point!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 27 2020, 05:54 AM

Acadian: Blood Raven will indeed be putting her two pence in on the subject of Jan's writing career. Not this episode, but next week's.

Gadget is getting a lot of experience at building suits of armor, with and without power and onboard computer systems. Plus he has a spare fusion reactor laying around. Almost as if he was working his way toward something...

I have to work on the newspeak myself too. I have a text file filled with it. Listening to podcasts helps immensely.


Renee: Jan has had a busy life since she became a hero. Generally speaking, I have been going with a week between 'adventures'. But that won't always be the case. Thankfully she is not like Batman, and does not go around 'patrolling' to fight common street criminals. Otherwise she would never get anything done.

Your daughter is a Zoomer, so she probably knows the term. Though it's not always a complimentary one. Still, it is better than Ok Boomer (she probably knows that one too).

Your experience as a Gen-X'er is much like mine. In my case my mother took my brother and I to work with her in the evenings when there was no one to watch us.

Avery will definitely ace Harvard. His biggest problem will be that as a meta-inventor, he is used to sidestepping the laws of physics and just making things work with his superpower of building things. But as a student, he's going to have to obey the laws of nature for a change.

I have heard of Marcus Hutchins. I think my company got slagged by Wanna Cry in fact. We kept it out of our corporate data centers because we had spent the money on security to keep things like that out (firewalls, port forward security, etc...). But they went cheap on the factories, and it infected them all. In the end I think they paid the ransom. To this day the company refuses to admit anything ever happened.

Avery pointing out the differences between a raven and crow's feathers is not so much him being defensive, as just him showing his work. It is something I only noticed recently. It has been called the Raven Banner for a thousand years. But in fact, it is a crow. No one seems to have ever recognized that.

I see Jan going to school in person. At least for the rest of 2019. Once 2020 rolls around in fiction it will have to be remotely, given Covid. Assuming I decide to use it in her fiction (I probably will).

Jan is re-armed and ready for major action. She is going to need it, because there are things waiting for her that can slice through diamond as if it were butter.














https://i.imgur.com/9r610HK.jpg


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Split_S




Book 5.7 - Crystal Death

January soared over the Packard Plant. One abandoned building after another slid by under her nose. She took a moment to close her eyes and just feel the wind hugging her frame, but only a moment. She did not need Lighthammer to remind her that literally flying blind was not a good idea.

The vigilante flew alongside her in his glowing armor. Light spouted from his legs to give him thrust, while smaller puffs of the same energy occasionally jetted from his arms when he needed to make subtle course changes.

Unlike him, January flew more like a bird. She had even taken to thrusting her arms out to either side parallel to her wings at all times now. It helped her visualize her wings as being a literal part of her, rather than just her cape hardened into a different shape. By now, they almost really were a part of her.

She adjusted her legs and tummy under Lighthammer's direction, to create the most aerodynamic form. But she also pulled at that well of mana that bubbled deep within her. She visualized her flight, saw herself as a true creature of the air, and poured her power into that. She willed that reality into action. She did not want to fly, or hope she could fly, she knew she would fly. There was no other option.

"Looking good Crowgirl," Lighthammer noted. "You're actually gaining altitude right now, without using an updraft."

January nodded. She wanted to grin. But was afraid it might take too much of her attention away from her flight. She wanted to be perfect in her training sessions, or at least as near to it as possible. This was the time she was teaching her body to react by reflex. She wanted to make sure that the reflexes she instilled in herself were the right ones. So when the time came when she could not concentrate on her form, it would come as naturally as riding a bike.

They ran out of derelict factory buildings, which obliged January to turn back, lest she overfly the residential areas that surrounded the old industrial complex. It was time to push herself, and see if all these weeks of Lighthammer's tutelage had paid off. She allowed more of her mana to flow into her form. Then she rolled upside down, and dropped into a descending half-loop. Rather than spilling the air from her wings and falling like a stone, she executed the Split S flawlessly. A moment later she was sailing back in the opposite direction, at a slightly lower altitude, but with increased speed.

Even Lighthammer was surprised. January glanced back to see him execute a Wingover, the exact opposite of her Split S. He pulled up into his loop first, and then rolled to reorient his belly to the ground. That put him above her, but trailing far behind. Now January did allow herself a smile. She was becoming more comfortable with her wings.

January glanced to either side. She noted a short line of cars parked in an otherwise empty side street that ran parallel to the factory buildings. Some people stretched out on the car hoods, with their backs propped up against the windshields. Others stood, and a few even lounged in lawn chairs. All were watching her and Lighthammer. Many held phones up in the air to record it all.

She was going to have to find a new place to practice. Word had gotten out, and now her training sessions had turned into a spectator sport. Thankfully Detroit still had plenty of other abandoned industrial parks to choose from.

She tasted copper on her tongue. January knew what that meant. Blood Raven was near. She scanned the horizon, and picked out Detroit's other champion arrowing in over the southern horizon. She was a black and scarlet wound that cut across the blue of the sky. As always, her cape and hair streamed out behind her, like a glorious scarlet halo. January wondered if that was accidental, or an intentional use of her magic? Blood Raven certainly knew how to make an overawing impression after all.

January picked out an expanse of rooftop in the center of the complex, one that was free of trees, and nosed down toward it. Her momentum surged as the faded and cracked tar of the roof filled her vision. She pulled her arms down in a great sweep, and her wings with them, and caught the air upon them like a parachute. That cut her speed, and caused her to nearly stall in mid air. Then she triggered off the wings entirely, and dropped the last few feet to the top of the building.

With a blue-white glow, Lighthammer came to a far more graceful landing beside her. He seemed perfectly at ease in the air. Almost as if he was born there. It was clear to January that while her flight skills were improving, they were still nowhere near a match for his ability.

"Holy sh-" he stammered with less grace. "You really do know her?"

"Yeah, we've worked together a few times," January said. She was still not used to super talk. Or whatever it was when she dealt with other capes one on one. Blood Raven was family, so that made things easier. Lighthammer was not. He was an ally for certain. But she was always aware that could change in the future.

"Damn, she's tight, you know for a woman her age," Lighthammer breathed quietly.

January stifled a laugh. If he only knew that she was two and a half centuries old!

"So are you two… you know?"

It took a moment for January to realize what the vigilante was intimating. "Oh goodness no," she finally coughed. That was her seven times great-grandmother! Not that she could say that of course.

"She's just a friend."

"A'ight," Lighthammer stood up a little straighter. January was sure that if he had not been wearing a helmet, he would have smoothed back his hair, and maybe even straightened his tie. As it was, he seemed to puff up his armored chest, if that was even possible, and planted his legs widely apart. He could have been posing for a statue, or a recruitment poster. January tried not to laugh.

Blood Raven was not amused however. She frowned as she drew near and stared down at January's companion. She hung there in the air for a moment, scarlet hair flowing in the breeze, and cape flapping out behind her. January absentmindedly noted that while she herself needed wings to fly, and essentially did so like a bird; and Lighthammer did the same with jets created by his powers, Blood Raven floated through the sky with no obvious source of the ability. The veteran heroine simply moved through the air as if gravity was not a thing to defy, but something to be ignored with impunity.

Now that January had some practice with using magic, she could sense the energy that Blood Raven used to enable her flight. Just as she had sensed the other heroine's arrival, she could feel the currents of mana in the air around her. It actually reminded her of how she used magic to assist her own flight in a more practical manner, by increasing lower pressure on the upper surface of her wings and higher pressure on the underside. Except that Blood Raven had gone so much further that she did not even need to emulate mundane flight. She remade reality around her to conform to her will.

"I greet you Stormcrow," Blood Raven did not even spare a glance at Lighthammer as her feet gently came down upon the cracked and peeling tar that coated the roof. "Are you aware that you are being live-streamed right now? Apparently your practice sessions have become quite the spectacle."

"Yes, I saw them down in the street," January had to fight the urge to rub the back of her head, as Avery always did when he was nervous. Why did she suddenly feel like she was back in school, and the teacher was asking her for the homework that she had forgotten to do? "We are going to have to find a new place."

Lighthammer loudly cleared his throat.

January closed her eyes for a moment. She had literally forgotten him under Blood Raven's almost scolding words.

"This is Lighthammer," January turned to introduce the blue, white, and silver armored vigilante. "We have been training together for a while now. Lighthammer, this is Blood Raven."

"It's an honor," Lighthammer said. "I grew up hearing stories about you, even down where I'm from."

Lighthammer extended his hand to the scarlet-maned heroine. She did not take it.

"Your reputation precedes you as well sir." Her words were nothing but polished civility, but her tone was ambiguous. "If you will excuse us, Stormcrow and I have a private matter to discuss."

Blood Raven turned and began to walk away, a clear invitation for only one of them to follow.

"Umm, okay," January looked at Lighthammer and shrugged. She caught up to the black and red armored heroine with one short, lightning fast leap.

"Just ignore me, I'm not even here at all. Just go about your business." Lighthammer grumbled from behind her. For a moment January thought he meant her, but then she realized he was referring to Blood Raven's rebuff. Or at least she hoped that he was.

"That wasn't very nice," January breathed quietly. "You could at least shake his hand."

"On camera?" Blood Raven replied. "That would be sending a clear message to the world. One I do not intend to promulgate."

"Like the message I send every time I work with you?" January shot back.

"Yes." January was certainly not expecting that response. "Every time you are recorded with me, it harms your chances of ever gaining official recognition from the attorney general, let alone the cooperation of individuals within the city and county governments here. I know you are desirous of attaining legal empowerment, as the Sentinels possess. You should consider that when you choose your allies, myself included."

"I am more desirous of building relationships with individuals I can trust," January replied.

Was she truly though? Well of course. A piece of paper that said she was a legally-appointed officer of the peace was not nearly as important as her friendship with Avery, or anyone else close to her. Friends who stuck by you were few and far between for a person like herself. While people in authority, well she had learned what use they were…

"I urge caution in trusting that one," Blood Raven declared. "He has been active for only few months longer than you. In that time he has cut a bloody swath through the drug trade in and around Ohio. He is driven by passion, not principle. He has his own agenda. At the moment it might align with yours. Do not expect that to remain the case forever."

"Hey, that one is standing right over h-" Lighthammer grumbled from across the rooftop.

Blood Raven raised one hand, and suddenly the world went silent. Not only was Lighthammer's voice cut off, but everything else around them - the sound of traffic from the highway to the north, of the birds roosting in the empty buildings, of planes flying overhead. It was as if all of it had been walled off. The only sound came from their voices, and the crunching of their boots upon the slowly decaying rooftop.

January stopped, and planted her hands on her hips. She was absolutely not going to look all awestruck by the elder heroine's casual display of power, nope, not at all.

"I am well aware of his history, of all of our histories." January declared. "Maybe you should stop and think about building bridges with people, rather than walls. You know, I admire you. For most of my life, I wanted to do the things you do. But I will never be you. I can't do this lone wolf thing you have going. I am going to reach out to people, and yeah, I know sometimes it will end badly. But I have to try."

"Sometimes you are so like Jack…" Blood Raven murmured. January thought she heard the other woman's voice hitch for a moment on the name of her great-grandfather: Jack Parsons. But even in the silence, she could not be sure. What she could clearly see however, was the warmth shining in the red-haired woman's eyes.

"You remind me of him so much at times." Blood Raven laid a comforting hand upon January's armor-plated shoulder. "You have his willfulness, his creativity, his zest for life. You have truly inherited the best of our bloodline. I only pray you can escape from the worst."

January smiled. She had no idea what to say. Blood Raven - for she could not think of the other woman as Branwen when she was clad in her armor - could be so infuriating. She was cold, standoffish, and even imperious one moment. Then overflowing with compassion and understanding the next.

For not the first time January wondered if the latter was her true nature, and the harsh attitude was an emotional bulwark she had been forced to adopt in order to survive for centuries? She wondered what she would be like herself in fifty years. Dare she even say a hundred?

Posted by: Acadian Jun 27 2020, 07:15 PM

Nice flyin’, Crowgirl! I see her first split-S turned out notably better than my first one. tongue.gif

I think Jan is right to cordially accept Lighthammer’s help while never letting her guard down as far as fully trusting him.

’The veteran heroine simply moved through the air as if gravity was not a thing to defy, but something to be ignored with impunity.’
- - This wonderful sentence not only sings with evocative creativity, but so perfectly suits the woman to which it refers.

Stormcrow is delightfully endearing. Blood Raven is magnificent in her mysterious aloofness that only occasionally offers glimpses into her heart. The only thing better than either of them is the two of them together. The conversations you craft between them are a joy to read.


Nit? 'All were watching at her and Lighthammer.'
- - I’m guessing this passage at one point read ‘were looking at her’. Then perhaps you edited it to ‘were watching her’ but somehow left the ‘at’. At least that’s the kind of thing that often happens to me during my edits.

Posted by: Renee Jun 30 2020, 06:38 PM

I told her about Zoomer and she's claiming she never heard that term! But I also know how it is with kids. They sometimes keep things to themselves. There isn't as much of a generational gap between her and I as she and her friends think. Not like it was between my Silent Generation parents (who were sort of hippy-ish in the '70s) and whatever their parents were termed.

Aw, I can just imagine going to work with your mom. We did the same thing, sometimes.

Oh I'm getting dizzy! wacko.gif They're flying together over that ruined complex and I'm afraid of heights!

Yes, she is going to need somewhere new to practice without any prying eyes. Or cameraphones.

Uh oh, she smells copper. Will Raven be ... I don't know... jealous? Nonchalant? I imagine a nonchalant response might be even worse, in a way. I can just imagine what that must look like... seeing her protege come flying out of the distance. Like a shark suddenly honing in on a scuba diver from the depths. indifferent.gif

Oh my gosh, Lighthammer talks like one of the Lost Boys, or something. laugh.gif

QUOTE
He could have been posing for a statue, or a recruitment poster. January tried not to laugh.


rollinglaugh.gif I am laughing! But uh oh... Blood Raven is not amused. Just as I thought. She's cold. In fact, I almost think she might be hypnotizing her great great great great great (x?) niece.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 4 2020, 07:34 PM

Acadian: I hope you didn't crash on Split-S! Thankfully crows have a tighter turning angle than F4s.

It is always a treat to bring Blood Raven into the mix. Whenever she and January are together, they both test one another's beliefs, without being belligerent. They really are so very different, but fit together so very well.


Renee: She never heard of Zoomer? Maybe your daughter just isn't hip enough? Or maybe she only hears it is a pejorative.

I do have an new area in mind for January and Lighthammer's practice sessions. A place much more remote than the Packard Plant. I am not sure when I will be able to work it into the fiction though.

I am glad you are connecting January's sense of copper with her Blood Raven detection power. She can always sense when her great-grandmother is near now. And yes, Blood Raven is not thrilled with January's relation with Lighthammer. She does not trust him.

Lighthammer was fun to write in this. I was able to inject some humor into him, to show that he isn't just some dour vigilante.








Book 5.8 - Crystal Death

"I saw Crow Tales on Instantgram," Blood Raven murmured as she began to walk once more. "That was a clever account name for recommending books. Mary Shelley's novel was an excellent choice to begin with. Though as you said yourself in your review of the novel, I fear many modern readers will find it difficult, given the preconceptions that the films create about her story. Not to mention that storytelling conventions have changed greatly since Mrs. Shelly penned her magnum opus. I was pleased to see that you pointed out examples of that, so that readers today will better understand why she included the plot elements she did. Such as the bag of books that the monster so conveniently finds when it is time to move the story along with him developing his own philosophy."

"Thank you," January felt her back straighten, and a spring add itself to her step at the other woman's praise. "I plan to recommend a book or short story every week. I have read so many in the last few years that I have material to last me a decade."

"Will you be recommending something more current?" Blood Raven asked slyly, "perhaps one about a young human witch and her elven best friend?"

January knew she was turning red. Her back did not feel quite so straight any more, nor her step so springy.

"I will, this Saturday," was all she could say.

"I thought you might," Blood Raven replied. "I do not have to tell you the risk of associating one identity with another. I am not saying you should not. Many other capes do this sort of thing much more blatantly. That is the nature of living in a capitalist world. Those who possess official recognition receive financial compensation. The rest of us must pay our own way in the world. When I first took up the cape, the Spider over in New York used to take pictures of himself in action and sell them to the newspapers. Just be careful not to leave any breadcrumbs that might be traced back to you."

"I know," January insisted. "That is one reason I am doing Crow Tales. My own book will be buried in with the rest."

"One reason?" Blood Raven inquired.

"I helped my mom with the summer reading program at her library," January said. "It reminded me how important reading is in general. But also how what people read shapes their perceptions of the world. What they read in books or see on TV bleeds into what they believe is real. Then what they believe is real inspires what is created for new books and shows. It is a loop that constantly feeds on itself, often in very bad ways."

"I want to give people something positive to perceive in the world," January declared. "So people don't only see stories that treat women as disposable objects solely meant to prove that the male protagonist is heterosexual, or that kill every gay character, or show all people of color as criminals, and so on. Sometimes it seems that only fascists are on the internet. We need to give people more than just their fear and hate. Virtual spaces are just as real as physical ones these days. It is where people live. We need to have a presence there, even if it just something as simple a few hours of entertainment."

"That is very Awoke of you," Blood Raven nodded. "I must admit, this internet of yours took me by surprise. I still grapple with its implications."

"It's just 'Woke'," January said. "Well it was. Not many people really use that term anymore. We just say things like 'empathetic' or 'kind'. But you are doing better than most people of your generation. I think even Ben Franklin called it 'teh internets'."

"I am rather certain that is what is now called fake news," Blood Raven said dryly. "It was John Adams who said that. I was there."

January did laugh, and even Blood Raven smiled.

"I did enjoy This Spell for Hire very much," Blood Raven said more seriously. "Your characters are very likeable, and even I could relate to their struggles, and enjoy their friendship. Have you considered releasing it in print?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," January said. "I mean I read a bit about it. It seems very daunting. I've read that most publishing houses don't even consider unsolicited work. And This Spell for Hire is too short to really be a novel, but too long to be a short story. Ebooks really seem like the ideal format. Maybe after the next one, I can put them both together into a printed book?"

"I can speak to some people in the industry," Blood Raven offered. "I do not write in the same circles as you. But I do meet people, and they know other people. I can talk to some who work in magazines, and see if any of them will accept your story. I should very much like to see your work on my shelf one day."

"Thank you," January said honestly. Money and her career were one of the few things in life that worried her more than giant monsters rampaging through the streets. At least monsters you could punch.

"So what was this you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"I understand that Motor City Pride shall take place within a few days," Blood Raven said, "even though there was the Pride festival in Ferndale last weekend. Are there many of these LGBTQ+ gatherings? Is that even the right word? Language changes so quickly, it is difficult for a person of my age to remain abreast of current terminology."

"I kind of prefer 'Queer' to the alphabet soup terms," January said. "But not everyone likes a straight person saying that. It was an insult until just a few years ago. You might want to stick with the alphabet soup version."

"Now the whole thing with the parades is complicated. I don't really understand it all. I know it started in Ferndale, decades ago. Then Motor City Pride decided to go Downtown. I guess just because it had gotten so much bigger. But the people in Ferndale apparently still wanted it, so they kept having their own festival there as well. Fashionable Ferndale is the gayest place in Michigan after all. Then on top of that is Hotter Than July. That's a black Pride Fest in Palmer Park that's been going on at least as long as Ferndale's."

"That is very confusing for an old lady like me," Blood Raven sighed. "But it is heartening. So much as changed. When I was a child the idea of an… LGBTQ+… parade taking place on the Common was pure insanity. Walking on the moon was more likely. Now we have done both."

It took January a moment to realize that she had meant Boston Common. Sometimes she forgot that Blood Raven had literally been born before the American Revolution. Then little statements like that brought the full weight of her years back to the fore.

"In any case, it is but a few days until Motor City Pride takes place Downtown," Blood Raven continued. "I fear that the Summoner may strike there either Saturday or Sunday. He has proven to possess a fondness for large gatherings - the Nain Rouge parade, the Electronic Music Festival, Ferndale Pride. I should like to be prepared for him this time, in the event that he does call up another Abyssal. I feel it would be wise to combine our forces for this undertaking, and be on hand together to stave off any threats to the populace."

January had to fight the urge to jump up in the air and shout for joy. Blood Raven wanted to officially team up! Not just a case of being in the same place and time and working with one another. But an honest to goodness partnership! It was the kind of thing dreams were made of.

But of course, she had to say no.

"I wish I could," January's steps faltered. She stared down at her feet. She could not believe what she was about to say. "But I sort of have another thing going. It's kind of stalled right now, since all of our leads have turned up empty. So maybe I can do it. But things might come up on short notice."

"Another… thing?" Blood Raven raised an eyebrow.

"She didn't want me to tell you," January murmured. "But I think you have a right to know. Have you ever heard of Crystal Death?"

Blood Raven shook her head. So apparently the state police's efforts to keep the truth of the new drug's effectiveness a secret had worked. January changed that when she related everything that Emilia had told her.

"Sadly, none of this is truly a surprise," Blood Raven sighed. "Ever since Tunguska both scientists and magicians have striven to discover a means to artificially create meta-humans. Most have not even met this level of success. That the police would attempt to keep it a secret… Well I suppose you shall tell me that it is all my fault for alienating them. You will probably be right."

"I'm not saying that at all," January replied. She was thinking it however.

"You are gracious," Blood Raven said. "And you are correct that this is important, certainly as much as the rogue summoner. You must continue to pursue this. I will remain vigilant against the Summoner. If fortune smiles upon us, we shall both claim victory in our endeavors."

"So you are ok with this?" January ventured.

"Of course," Blood Raven said. Now she laid both hands upon January's shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. "I will not lie. I was very concerned when I learned you were the Stormcrow. I still fear for your safety. But I respect your decision to write your own destiny. You must follow your own stars granddaughter. At times like this, I am glad that you do. For too long this city has had but one champion. I cannot be in two places at the same time. But we can."

"When all this over, I'd like to start working more closely together," January said. "I know you have a computer specialist who supports you. I think you know I have an online partner too. I'd like us all to meet, put our heads together, and be actual partners."

"Build bridges rather than walls," Blood Raven smiled. "Yes, I should like that very much. I shall discuss it with Cray. Though I see no objections he might raise. Speak with your friend Gadget, and we shall form a covenant."

A covenant, it sounded like something that one of the characters she wrote in fiction might say. But the way Blood Raven said it was not at all ludicrous. It was not the way people spoke anymore. But it was the way their hearts wanted to speak. With a grandeur and glory that was all too absent from ordinary life.

"A covenant it shall be then," January said in her best posh British accent. She knew it was awful. But Blood Raven's eyes sparkled nonetheless.

The flame-haired superhero waved a hand, and all the sounds of the city came rushing back in. The steady thrum of traffic on I-94, the singing of birds, the beeping of a garbage truck nearby, and the faint strains of music reaching up from the cars parked in the street beside the abandoned factory.

Then Blood Raven did what she had that night of the fire. One moment she was standing there. Then the next her form shattered into dozens of black, flapping shapes. A conspiracy of ravens took flight. Their raucous voices croaked on the wind, and the wings beat the air wildly. They rose up into the sky for long moments, then faded into the horizon.

January glanced down at the cars that lined the street beside the industrial complex. She hoped they had gotten that on video. She would like to see it again herself.

She turned back to Lighthammer, to find the armored vigilante staring with his mouth open. She did not think any less of him. She had much the same reaction the first time she had seen Blood Raven perform that trick.

"I'm sorry," January said. "She can be a little… standoffish. But she warms up once you get to know her."

Lighthammer composed himself, and was once again his normal cool, collected self by the time that January had walked back to where he stood.

"So you have something going?" he said, nodding in the direction that the ravens had departed.

"I don't ask you about what you do…" January said.

"Because you don't want to know," Lighthammer finished her sentence. "I get it. But I do want to know."

"Why?" January said it plainly.

"Because I want in," Lighthammer said just as plainly. "You know, you don't have a monopoly on wanting to do the right thing. Yeah, my hands are dirty. But that doesn't mean I don't want some grace too. I am not one of the bad guys."

"I never said you were," January stated.

"You're too polite," Lighthammer countered. "You think it, way in the back of your head. You think 'he's no different from the people he fights'. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am just an animal. But maybe I want to be something more too. Maybe I want to be a knight, and not just a thug in shining armor."

"Okay, I believe you" January nodded. Of course she did not believe him. But they had been training together for weeks. She had some trust in him, even if not much. He deserved the chance to earn more. "But I can't bring you into what I'm working on. I can't bring her into it. But she's working on something you might be able to help with, even if she doesn't know about it."

"No, you don't believe me," Lighthammer said. "But that's ok. I'd be cautious too. How can I help?"

"Just be in Detroit this weekend," January said. "Motor City Pride will be going on in Hart Plaza. Stay nearby, but out of sight. And definitely bring your armor. Maybe things will be nice and quiet, and nothing will happen. Or maybe things will get weird. I don't know. But you can be our ace in the hole."

"You mean like giant spider weird?" Lighthammer asked. "I saw that on MeTube. That was whack!"

"That is exactly what I mean," January said. "But remember, this all has to stay on the down low."

Posted by: Acadian Jul 4 2020, 10:29 PM

A nice interlude that really showcases Blood Raven.

"You are gracious," Blood Raven said. "And you are correct that this is important, certainly as much as the rogue summoner. You must continue to pursue this. I will remain vigilant against the Conjurer. If fortune smiles upon us, we shall both claim victory in our endeavors."
- - As Jan will note to herself in a few paragraphs, Blood Raven’s old world manner of speech is delightfully refreshing and does indeed lend itself to an epic feel.

"You must follow your own stars granddaughter. At times like this, I am glad that you do. For too long this city has had but one champion. I cannot be in two places at the same time. But we can."
- - It is clear this invitation from the veteran Super Hero comes from more than blood affection. The Stormcrow has truly earned her cape!

"A covenant it shall be then,"
- - I wanted to cheer here. The double meanings of both pact/alliance and group of witches is so perfect for this situation!

I’m admiring Jan’s cautious but optimistic approach to handling Lighthammer. It remains unclear whether he is truly interested in whitening his hat some or if he is a silver tongued scoundrel with his own darker agenda.

Edit: Oh, and Blood Raven's clever response about John Adams vs Ben Franklin was fabulous!

Posted by: Renee Jul 5 2020, 04:34 PM

My daughter's pretending to be hip, I think. laugh.gif By keeping me out of the loop about Zoomer. All generations of kids want to keep some stuff to themselves, right?

Yeah, Lighthammer is so corny. He is more like the classic type of superhero. Even when his feelings get hurt. It's like he's such a mighty fellow on one hand, but his ego is so easily penetrated.

The Spider in New York ... okay so New York has its own heroes.

I still think January's secret will be discovered at some point. It's like with Marcus Hutchins. After he began to get out of his criminal phase, he began posting anonymously in some hacker forums, and also had Twitter feed with tens of thousands reading his posts every week or whatever. He did not reveal his true identity. Well, there was ONE girl who went to school with him, and she remembered that his Twitter screen name was the same as some random name he used briefly back in school. Bam, cover was blown. The whole world knew who he was. He even had reporters camped outside his parents' house. blink.gif

It's just that everything Jan does is under a huge microscope. No doubt there are geeks who spend all day just trying to figure out her mundane identity.

QUOTE
I want to give people something positive to perceive in the world," January declared. "So people don't only see stories that treat women as disposable objects solely meant to prove that the male protagonist is heterosexual, or that kill every gay character, or show all people of color as criminals, and so on


Yup. I get it.

Is it fair to say that gay people have owned the word queer? Sort of like blacks taking the N word for their own?

Uh oh, the Conjurer. So this person has a name. indifferent.gif How could anybody feel relaxed at any large gathering in Detroit!

Interesting how Raven says "for so long our city has had one champion" laugh.gif Poor Lighthammer. He's not even a passing thought to her.


QUOTE
Speak with your friend Gadget, and we shall form a covenant."

A covenant, it sounded like something that one of the characters she wrote in fiction might say. But the way Blood Raven said it was not at all ludicrous.


Exactly my thoughts. If one of my fellow co-workers (or somebody more modern) said something like "we should form a covenant" I'd have to stifle laughter. It's only somebody old world who can get away with this. Maybe an older priest, for instance. There would be no stifling then. nono.gif

Oh no. Poor Lighthammer. He's been there the whole time, locked out of the Blood Raven Cone of Silence.

QUOTE
"I saw that on MeTube. That was whack!


rollinglaugh.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 11 2020, 07:04 AM

Acadian: That scene between January, Blood Raven, and Lighthammer was a joy to write. As you said, January has earned the cape she wears, and the right to stand beside Blood Raven.

This is why a while ago when I was fishing around for team names, The Covenant was one I mentioned. In my case though it makes me think of https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Covenanters. So as the Blackbirds expand their numbers, I suspect they will simply be The Alliance instead.

Blood Raven and January, being both writers, tend to bond over words and their meanings. Especially how those meanings change. January is special indeed, in that she can actually bring out Blood Raven's sense of humor, like the Franklin vs. Adams comment. I like writing those moments, because they show that both are people, as well as capes.

January and Lighthammer have a long road to travel together. We will see more of him this chapter, and in upcoming chapters. In many ways, I think he is an example of January's greatest power: her willingness to set aside her differences and create alliances with people who might otherwise be adversaries.


Renee: I am glad I wrote that scene with Jan, Blood Raven, and Lighthammer, because it helped me bring things together with Lighthammer's personality. As you noted, he can be irreverent, especially when someone (like Blood Raven) is dismissive of him, or taking him for granted. He is not the kind of person to just sit there and quietly take it. He has to speak up and be snarky about it. If he was female, he would probably be reminding people that her eyes are up *here*, thank you very much.

It comes from him being a very passionate person. He gets his dander up easily. He gets excited easily. He's reckless. He is the kind of person whose emotions are always right there under the surface. But at the same time, because of that he really lives life to the fullest.

The Spider from New York is a thinly-veiled allusion to Spider-Man, who makes his money taking pictures of himself in action and selling them to the Daily Bugle in his secret identity as Peter Parker. But that was back in the late 60s. So he would have retired by the current time of the story.

People are looking into Stormcrow already, much more next chapter when Jan makes a titanic splash in world news. But the people who most likely to figure out who she is are those nearest to her, such as the Knights of Nerddom or her mother. One of them has already figured it out. That will come up in Chapter 7.

Gay people are kind of taking back the word Queer. Like January said, not everyone likes it, mainly older people, who heard that word being used pejoratively against them their entire life. They naturally have a visceral reaction to it. I get it, because I am from that age group. But I embrace it, because like January, I really do think it is better than the alphabet soup terms which are the alternative.

I really don't think the N-Word can ever be reclaimed however. There are just too many centuries or horror and shame and ugliness tied up in it. Sure, some People of Color might be able to use it among themselves to bond. But as soon as it is used by someone from outside the group, all that hate wrapped up in it comes roaring back, and I think it always will.

Ferndale Pride was the first time one of the Conjurer's conjurings was seen by the public. Blood Raven was been able to keep a lid on all the others before they could be seen. So far, all anyone really knows is that a giant spider showed up in Ferndale. Weird and creepy, but it is a super world after all.

Lighthammer is not a Detroiter, or Michigander, that is why Blood Raven left him out of her statement about the city only having one champion. The hammer normally hangs in Ohio. He only comes up to train with January. From now on, she will be going down there instead.







https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/politics/elections/2018/11/06/michigan-attorney-general-winner-dana-nessel-tom-leonard-results/1825585002/


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_Attorney_General


https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl





Book 5.9 - Crystal Death

January stared at her computer screen. One click of the mouse would post her second installment of Crow Tales on Instantgram. Her first post of Stormcrow's book review blog had been on Monday. In fact, it had been the same night that Avery had given her the idea of using her Stormcrow identity to advertise her book. Only she was determined to go much further than just personal aggrandizement. As Stormcrow, she could bring attention to many excellent novels and short stories that were progressive and diverse. As she had told Blood Raven, something that was actually positive.

She was not worried about her post as Stormcrow being traced back to her. The layers of VPNs, spoofed IPs, and other forms of internet camouflage that Avery had implemented on her devices insured that she would never be traced, at least not electronically.

But her real name was in that post - January Ward - the author of This Spell for Hire. One click, and that name would be forever linked with that of Stormcrow. Nothing could prevent a truly persistent detective or journalist from following every such link, every single contact Stormcrow ever had with another person. Every selfie Stormcrow ever took with a fan. Every conversation she ever had.

One click, and January Ward would be added to that list of people whose lives intersected with Stormcrow. It was not evidence that she was Stormcrow. But it was a link.

The paranoid part of her brain told her not to do it. That wariness had kept her safe through her childhood, by prompting her to hide the fact that she was trans. Only this time, it was not just her life she had to protect. It was everyone around her. Her mother, Avery, the Knights of Nerddom, Adin, all of them were at risk if she was outed as Stormcrow.

She knew about the unspoken agreement between the press and the caped community. She knew about the laws passed by Congress. Secret identities were never leaked, never. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened to Hailstorm...

Or did they? This world was different from the one in which those compacts had been formed. Thanks to the internet, there were no gatekeepers to hold shut the floodgates on such revelations. Now anyone could call themselves a journalist, and post whatever they pleased on social media. The only rule was that the more sensational it was, the more it would trend, no matter how toxic or potentially murderous it was. In fact, the more toxic and murderous it was, the more popular it would be.

She pulled her finger back from her mouse, and stared out one of the windows of her new bedroom. She had picked the room in the back of the house. She had learned the dangers of trying to sneak in through a window that faced the street back in Warren. Any passing car, or nosy neighbor, might see her. Here, she was safe from detection.

The backyard was a relatively small patch of grass, bordered on all sides by a dense wall of greenery, and the detached garage. Great trees, she did not know if they were elms or maples or oaks, rose up on all sides, easily twice the height of the house. They made flying to and from the roof a tricky proposition. But they also completely shielded her from view while she did so. Only a narrow gap in the trees behind the lot broke the wall of growth. But it led back deeper into the woods, where there was no one to see anything anyhow.

She looked around her new room. It was easily twice the size of her old one. But the furniture was all the same. It was the same plain, white dresser, vanity, and desk. The same tiny twin bed with its soft watermelon-colored quilt jutted from one wall. The same pictures of her role models decorated the room, such as Cecilia Braekhus. Well, she had taken down the ones of Blood Raven and the Veil. They were no longer figures to admire from afar after all. They were her colleagues now, even though she had yet to actually meet the latter.

Tacked to the inside of her door was a plain piece of paper with her Viking Virtues. She took a moment to consider each in turn.

Do Not Live In Fear
"The error is the result of letting fear rule your actions" - The Saga of Harald Hardrade, c.46.

Friendship
"A true friend whom you trust well and wish for his good will: go to him often exchange gifts and keep him company" - Havamal, s.44.

Kindness
"A kind word need not cost much, The price of praise can be cheap: With half a loaf and an empty cup I found myself a friend" - Havamal, s.52.

The Law Is Not Always Right

"When truth and fairness are different from what is law, better it is to follow truth and fairness" - Bandamanna Saga, c.6

Be A Part Of The World
"He is truly wise who has travelled far and knows the ways of the world. He who has traveled can tell what spirit governs the men he meets" - Havamal, s.18.

Never Hide My Truth
"Sorrow eats him who can no longer open his heart to another" - Havamal, s.121.

Prepare for the Worst
"A wayfarer should not walk unarmed, but have his weapons to hand" - Havamal, s.38.

Sacrifice
"Nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given." -Havamal, s.138.

Never Give Up, No Matter What
"Often times it is not numbers that wins the victory, but those who fare forward with the most vigor" - The Saga of Thrond of Gate, c.19

She remembered something that her Intro to Psychology instructor had once said. "The only constant in life was change," which he had quickly followed with: "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

Here she was, afraid of being Outed. Afraid of what people might do to her if they knew the truth.

She clicked the mouse, and Stormcrow posted her review of January Ward's story.

With a curious sense of relief, she closed out the social media site. For better or worse, it was out there now.

She absentmindedly surfed through the news sites. Headlining them all was the conviction of one of her own senators from Michigan, Wade Harding. Well, former senator now. He had been found guilty on charges of wire fraud, money-laundering, and perjury. All thanks to Michigan's new attorney general. There was even talk of a separate federal investigation into him on charges of tax evasion. For once a corrupt politician was actually going to be held accountable for his actions. It was a heady event, given its rarity.

January also noted several related stories about her home state's new attorney general - Dana Essen. One was a picture of her kissing her wife on the night of her election to office the year before. The others were stories and opinion pieces by Michiganders calling on the AG to officially empower Stormcrow as a law enforcement officer. January was a little surprised by the latter. While she certainly wanted the official recognition, and the cooperation it brought with police, even she thought it was a little early for that.

Her phone chimed, and she nearly leaped through the ceiling. She slid a finger across the Hamsung J1's screen to unlock it, and found a new message glowing on her home screen. She brought up the text with another tap of a finger. It had been forwarded from her official Stormcrow line. She saw it was from one of the burner phones Gadget had given to Emilia, untraceable by anyone.

Emergency Team about to roll on anonymous tip.
Waiting for warrant.
3600 Farmbrook Court, Sterling Heights.


January did not respond to the text. Emilia had probably broken the phone into pieces and thrown it away by now. Standard spycraft, at least from what January saw in movies and TV shows.

She needed her armor. She reached for her mana out of reflex, and relaxed in the cool stream of power that flowed through her body. Her elemental chant rose in her mind, and she effortlessly translated it into runic script. The runes glowed to life in mid-air, and scrolled around her in a circle.

Fire give me passion and energy, transform me in the night sky.

The white top and flowered skirt she had been wearing vanished. In their place she was clad in her Stormcrow armor. She blinked. Not at the speed of the change. She had been enacting the transformation since that first night at the convention. But her armor had been locked away in the fake gas tank bump of her Victory. The motorcycle itself was tucked away in the garage behind the house. She looked out the window to the separate building. The door to it was still shut.

Blood Raven had been right about her magical abilities. Using magic was just like using her muscles, or her brain. The more she exercised, the stronger she became.

She did not have time to waste pondering her growing power. She had to get to that address, but first things first. She picked her phone back up. Her thumbs danced across its screen, and she sent a text to her mother, telling her she was going for a walk in the park. Then she brought up Sága, and punched in the address that Emilia had texted her. Her armor's digital assistant brought up the location on the video screen built into her inner forearm's armor plating. January smiled. It was only a few miles down Van Dyke. She would be there in no time at all.

She slid the bedroom window open and effortlessly popped out the screen. After a glance to insure that her mother was not in the backyard, she turned to reset the plastic mesh behind her. Then she faced skyward, and plotted her path through the leafy branches that reached out from either side above the house. She crouched down, and rocketed upward with a great leap. Once free of the branches, she snapped out her wings and soared away from the house.

She did not fly around to the front of the house, which faced her eventual destination. Instead she glided in the opposite direction, across the backyard. She was instantly skimming above the literal forest that grew behind all the houses that lined Utica Road. A slender break in the trees revealed the sinuous track of the Clinton River. Though calling it a river seem generous. It looked more like a stream to her eyes, especially compared to the Detroit River. She had found that it was hardly even a challenge to jump across, being only twenty to thirty feet wide, depending on where you stood.

"Are you seeing this Stormcrow?" Gadget's voice rang in her ear. "I'm working on getting into the local cameras right now."

"I'm on the way Gadget." January followed the river south east for a few moments. Then she banked right to follow the M-53 freeway where it crossed the water. She soared above that until it joined with Van Dyke, a divided street that ran north to south through the city of Sterling Heights. She adjusted her path a bit to one side, so that she was not directly over the road. Instead she put herself over the sprawl of subdivisions east of it. She hoped that she was less likely to cause a traffic accident where there were fewer drivers. Flying was fun. But car crashes by distracted drivers were not.

As always, the wind caressed her armored frame and filled her wings. She delighted in the feeling of being unchained from the earth, and just hanging there in the air. She marveled at the land below. It all looked so different from up high. She had never noticed how green the city was. How many trees lined its streets, and clustered between houses. It gave her hope, seeing all that life stretched out in every direction.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 11 2020, 07:42 PM

A nice interlude as Jan tries to balance her writing aspirations with capehood while keeping the two (hopefully) hard firewalled apart. A daunting proposition. Not surprisingly, she chooses the riskier path, refusing to be intimidated by ‘what ifs’.

The ancient ‘new’ house is a step up in both space and discrete accessibility.

A call up from the bat crow phone! Naturally, Gadget is ‘info’d’ on the message and, sure enough, she hears from him on her comm system shortly after she’s en route.

You do a great job of routinely (as in the last scene of this episode) showing us the magic allure of flight through the eyes and other senses of Stormcrow.

Posted by: Renee Jul 14 2020, 06:44 PM

QUOTE
Lighthammer is not a Detroiter, or Michigander, that is why Blood Raven left him out of her statement about the city only having one champion.


Oh okay. That part made me smile, anyway.

Oh no! Don't link yourself to Stormcrow! panic.gif

QUOTE
The paranoid part of her brain told her not to do it. That wariness had kept her safe through her childhood, by prompting her to hide the fact that she was trans.


No, nothing to do with being trans. Everything to do with just.... you! Don't do it don't do it!

Sorry. Talking to my laptop screen again. laugh.gif This is pretty dramatic.

Is she really living in that big old house all by herself? She does have some animal or animals, right? Sorry, I forget. Pretty sure I remember reading about a cat. But I just worry about her. A cat won't save her while she's sleeping. sleep.gif It might not even alert her if some intruder breaks in. Then again, we are talking about a Blood Raven home. It's probably got some warding magic to keep the unwanted out.

Damn, she did it. Well it'll certainly make the story even more intense somehow.

I wonder what her latest call will lead to? And I agree. I haven't flown on a plane in over a decade, but it always would shock me how much green there actually is, even over parts of Maryland which (from the ground) seem like they've been heavily decimated of forest.


Posted by: SubRosa Jul 18 2020, 07:28 AM

Acadian: You hit the nail on the head. January refuses to be intimidated, either by bullies, giant spiders, supervillains, or exposure. That stubbornness is one of the things that defines her character. So even when she grapples with real fears, she always faces them head on.

I figure Gadget is automatically connected to every call that goes to the Stormcrow line. He is the one who set it up after all. So whenever she gets an alert, he does as well. They are a team after all.

January is going to make a gigantic leap on the flying front. Not in today's episode, but next week's. I am currently working on Chapter 6, and she makes some even more startling evolutions. Flying, and her wings, are really becoming a central part of who and what she is as a superhero.


Renee: I can just imagine you yelling at the screen, like how I yell at the TV when I am watching a Horror movie and the people decide to go in the basement, or split up. laugh.gif But, as I have pointed out in earlier scenes, January will not be the first cape to use their super career for financial gain. That is why I mentioned the Spider doing the Spider-Man antics of selling pics to the Daily Bugle, and in previous episodes I mentioned other supers selling their wedding photos to People magazine, and still others making a power plant in Chicago. You are right, it is risky. But unless you took the Rich perk at character creation, you have to make a living somehow.

Jan is living with her mother, at least for now. They don't have any pets. Though I keep wondering if someday Jan might bring home a baby dragon, or unicorn, or something. I am not entirely joking either. I could see it happening.

I feel sorry for anyone who tries to break into Jan's place though. Remember what she did to that giant spider! January is a wrecking machine. I have been watching the new Stargirl TV show. The antagonists are a team of supervillains called the Injustice Society of America. While watching it and seeing each villain in action, I realized very quickly that January would wipe the floor with them. Not singly, but all at once. The only one who might stand a chance against her would be Solomon Grundy. But she would grind him down to dust eventually. Just wait until you see what she does to the Nazis later in this chapter.

Looking at Google Maps with the satellite view turned on really brings home just how green urban spaces are. We don't think of it from the ground, when we are looking at all the concrete. We don't notice the canopies of all the trees overhead. But from above, the trees and grass fills up almost everything but the most solid factory districts.









https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl


https://www.theverge.com/2017/12/29/16830626/call-of-duty-swatting-prank-kansas-man-dead-police-shooting



Book 5.10 - Crystal Death

"Ok, I'm in the house," Gadget crowed. "These Refuge home security systems are so easy for a real hacker to crack. Let's see what we have. Ok, Mom's at the kitchen table doing something on her laptop. Working on a Saturday, oy! Dad is on a ladder fiddling with the garage door. He must be one of those 'Man Stuff' guys. Son is in his bedroom playing a video game. Aww yeah, he's a PC Gamer too, my kind of guy."

"Are you going to get all Elitist PC Gamer Snob on me now?" January laughed.

"It is a terribly difficult burden to be so superior," Gadget responded in a posh British accent, "but we bear it with grace and humility."

"Truly, you are a paragon of unpretentiousness," January breathed. She passed over 16 Mile Road, and began scanning the houses and streets below. She was almost there. So far she saw nothing untoward. It was just an ordinary, boring suburb.

"I've looked all over the house, and I don't see any sort of drug lab," Gadget noted in his normal voice once more. "Not even an elementary school chemistry set. Maybe we got the address wrong?"

"I don't think our contact would make a mistake like that," January frowned. She certainly hoped Emilia did not fat-finger the address. That would be really embarrassing.

"Well, I am digging up some info on the homeowners now," Gadget said. "They are the Mills family. Jefferson - 44 - works on the line at the Ford axle plant up the street. Tanisha - 41 - is a social worker. And Wayne -15 - is enrolled in Stevenson High School, looks like he's holding down a solid B average."

"This does not sound like a gang of mad scientists," January admitted. "What about Wayne. How's he doing in chem class?"

"Never took it," Gadget said. "He's got straight A's in his socio and history classes though."

"And there's nothing in the house? What about a shed?" January asked.

"No shed," Gadget responded, "just an attached garage. I see a bag of fertilizer in there. Some oil cans, and a tool box. The neighbors do have a shed in the backyard next door, and there's no fence between them."

"Sounds pretty thin," January said.

Soaring along east of Van Dyke, January noted the wide parking lot of a movie megaplex ahead of her. Casting her eyes behind the movie theater, she found the house, nestled in a sea of suburbia. It was just an ordinary one-story home with a russet-colored roof, white walls, and red garage door. She saw the shed in the neighbor's yard that Gadget had referred to, and banked toward that.

She picked up speed as she nosed down toward the earth. As always, she let the ground fill her vision before braking with her wings, and pulling her legs forward. She turned off the wings a moment later, and dropped to the grass without even needing to bend her knees to take the impact. She was getting better and better at this. Using her wings was second nature by now. They were just a part of her.

She saw a lock on the shed door, and fished out her electric lockpick to open it. She was inside in a moment, and frowned at what she saw. It was nothing but what you would expect: a lawnmower, gardening tools, a snow-blower, a bucket of rock salt. No nefarious drug lab, or even secret panels in the floor leading to one.

She locked up the shed behind her, and turned back to the house in question. She could see the mom sitting in the kitchen through one of the back windows. Her skin was dark brown, her short hair was styled in a pixie cut, and a pair of glasses hovered over her nose. Said nose was still buried in her laptop. Before she could look up and see the superhero in her backyard, January leaped up and came down upon the rooftop. She crouched down behind the crown of the roof, so as to not be visible from the street out front, and waited.

"I can try to sneak in," January offered, "and get a closer look."

"No," Gadget said. "I can see every room, even the cat in the front window."

"Should try talking to them?" January thought aloud. "Maybe they know something, but don't realize it?"

"Could be," Gadget murmured. "You know what this looks like? Swatting. I think these people are being set up."

"The text said it was an anonymous tip, so that might be," January said. "Or maybe they just have a neighbor with too much time on her hands, and nothing to do with it but invent paranoid theories about the black family in the subdivision."

"I'm going to try to get into the police report on the tip," Gadget said. "With what your friend gave me, I should be able to get in their system with no problem. But if they have the Emergency Response Team on the way, someone must have told them about Crystal Death specifically. Otherwise it would just be the city cops making an ordinary stop, and we wouldn't be here."

"Okay," January said. "I'll see what I can find out from the family. I'm looping you in so you can see."

A spoken command to Sága turned on her video link to the Gadget Cave. Then January scampered across the roof and leaped up into a forward roll. She put a half-twist in the maneuver, and came down on her feet in the front yard, facing the house. It was just like all her years on the uneven bars. This time she resisted sticking the landing however.

She walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Waiting at someone's door always made her uncomfortable. Doing so in full armor and cape did not make things easier. As she had told Emilia, sometimes walking around in the Stormcrow gear seemed silly. This was definitely one of those times. But it was not like she could walk up in her street clothes and ask if they were drug dealers.

Instead she was going to do that in her hero outfit, wonderful.

She was about to knock when the door swung open. The mom just stood there, wearing yoga pants and a tank top. She stared at January for a long moment, then shut the door.

"Wayne!" she heard her yell through the door, "one of your friends is here!"

She thought she heard Gadget laughing in her ear. This whole superhero thing was not nearly as glamorous as it looked in old movies.

After a minute she heard stomping down the hallway, and the door opened to reveal a slender youth, with short curls on top of his fade and a Bob Marley tee. His jaw practically dropped to the floor when he saw January.

"It's... it's... it's…" he stammered, "OMG you're her!"

"Hi!" January wanted to use her serious, superhero voice. It sounded good when she practiced in front of the mirror. But she always seemed to forget how to do it whenever she was around real people. "I'm her, Stormcrow I mean. Could I come in and talk to you and your folks?"

"Oh hell yeah!" Wayne exalted. He reached out tentatively with one hand and gently touched the armor plate on one of her shoulders. "Hey that's new! That's real heavy duty shi- um, stuff. I've got to get my phone! No one at school's going to believe this!"

He tore back though the living room and vanished into the hallway adjoining it to the left. January imagined he was headed to his bedroom. The living room itself was entirely ordinary: couch, recliners, coffee table, and big TV set. Family pictures held court over the fire place, the usual. The far end turned into a kitchen and dining area, with a long counter and hanging cabinets blocking off half the living room. The other half was open, with a step up from the carpet of the living room to the linoleum floor of the dining room.

The mom - Tanisha - stood up from her laptop on the round table in the dining area and turned back to face January again. January could see it was finally sinking in that she was not just some teenage cosplayer. Her eyes darted from her to the hall where her son had disappeared. Then she looked to a door in the opposite wall, where January imagined the garage might be.

"Hi Mrs. Mills," January said. She tried to be as friendly and non-threatening as possible. It was usually not very difficult for her. She had never been good at the whole menacing thing. Not like Blood Raven was. She was even thinking of changing the color of her armor to something less black. Though granted, it did work with the whole crow motif.

"Could you get your husband?" she went on, "we all need to talk."

Mom practically ran to the garage door, all while trying to make it look like she was not running to the door. She called out to her husband, who came into the kitchen a few moments later. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with Zero Point's powered armored emblazoned across it. He wiped his hands with a rag, and looked at January with shock. Wayne came charging back from the hallway an instant later, phone held high and camera light on.

"Hi," January said again. "I'm Stormcrow. I know this seems a little surprising. It's kind of a surprise to me too in fact. But we need to talk."

"Could I get you a cup of coffee, or tea?" Mom slipped into the role of hostess. January wondered if that made the extraordinary event of having a superhero drop by seem easier to deal with. She was tempted to ask for a FaeCo, but decided that she had best keep things on track.

"No thank you," January said. "Oh I would love to, but I don't think we'll have time."

"Time?" Dad asked. His eyes darted to the windows. "There's not a giant spider outside!"

"Oh no," January held up her hands in what she hoped was a calming fashion. "No spiders, no monsters. But the police are on their way."

"The police!" Now it was Mom's turn to exclaim. Her eyes immediately turned to her son. "Wayne, what did you do?"

January felt for Wayne. She had heard that same Mom voice enough times in her own life. It was never good.

"I didn't… I swear… I don't know," Wayne stammered.

"I watched him go in the bedroom," Gadget said in her ear. "He wasn't trying to ditch any evidence. He just got his phone and came back."

"I don't think your son did anything," January came to the fifteen year old's rescue. If only a superhero had come to her rescue that time she broke the lamp doing cartwheels in the living room…

"Have any of you ever heard of Crystal Death?"

They all shook their heads, and looked dumbfounded.

"Sounds like a metal band," Dad frowned. "Are you sure you're the real Stormcrow? I've seen cosplay people on Imgrr…"

"I'm the real Stormcrow," January insisted. He still looked doubtful however. So she walked into the living room and picked up the couch with one hand, holding it by just one of its wooden legs.

"She's the real Stormcrow," Mom insisted.

"Is Blood Raven coming too?" Wayne asked. "That would rock! Are you really a lesbian? Is she a lesbian too?"

"Wayne!" Mom admonished her son. "You do not go talking to people like that!"

"Blood Raven is not coming," January fought the urge to smile, and put the couch back down. She stared into the camera lens of his phone, which was clearly still recording. "But yes, I am a lesbian. No, Blood Raven is not, at least not as far as I know."

"You know he's recording that right now?" Gadget said in her ear.

January could not respond without it appearing like she was talking to herself, so she said nothing to Gadget. Instead she motioned for them to join her in the living room. She asked Wayne to stop and turn his phone off. She did not want what she was about to say to go over the internet. So she waited until she saw it actually power down before she continued.

"I know this is a lot to take in," she said. "But please think, do any of you know about a drug called Crystal Death? It's red, and looks like meth crystals. But it's really nothing like it."

"What does it do?" Dad asked. He put his arm around his wife and led her into the living room opposite January. "And what does that have to do with us?"

"Someone gave the police a tip that you were manufacturing it," January said plainly.

"What!" the mother and father both erupted at once.

"That's… that's…" the mother sputtered.

"Wayne, tell me this has nothing to do with you!" Dad recovered enough from her shock to level an accusatory gaze at his son.

"Oh hell no!" the fifteen year-old insisted. "I don't sell no drugs. That's how you end up dead or in prison. Besides, you think I'd be working at Meijer if I was rolling in gangsta money?"

"I'm in the case files," Gadget said in her ear. "The call specifically says that Crystal Death is being manufactured at that address. I'm backtracking the phone number right now. It must be turned off, because I can't get a GPS from it."

"Wayne, if you know something, now is the time to talk," Mom took a more conciliatory tone. "Maybe we can work something out, before the police get here."

"Why does everyone keep looking at me?" Wayne raised his hands in frustration. "I didn't do nothing wrong, I swear! I'm not a criminal!"

"I am not saying you are," January tried to sound as soothing as possible. "Not any of you. Is there someone you know who might want to set you up? Someone who knows how to make drugs, or does sell them? Someone who would want to take revenge on one or all of you?"

"I got in a fight with that cracker Tucker Hannity after he called me a ni- the 'N-word'." Wayne related. "But that was a year ago."

"Young man, you know we do not use words like that," his mother scolded. "When they go low, we go high."

"That's what my mother says to me too," January murmured. She hoped he went high, like for the chin…

"The phone number's a dead end," Gadget said. "It belongs to a burner phone, bought with a prepaid credit card. The anonymous tip was the only call made from it. It's been turned off ever since. My guess is that it's in pieces in a dumpster right now."

Totally untraceable, exactly how they were communicating with Emilia. Whoever this was, they had some idea of how to evade digital scrutiny.

"I did get the cell tower it was connected to when it made the call," Gadget continued. "It's in Madison Heights, about seven miles away from you. Uh oh, you got Five Oh coming up your fundament."

"They are going to be here in just a moment," January said. "Just be calm, we'll work through this. Remember, they think they are cornering a murderous drug lord. Don't give them any excuses to get violent."

"Hey, we're black," Dad said, "we know the drill."

"If you folks partake of the green, you might want to flush it down the toilet," January said.

"It's perfectly legal now," the Mom insisted.

"I know," January agreed. "But like I said, don't give them excuses."

They all looked from one to another, then to Wayne.

"Why does everyone keep looking at me like I'm the OG?" he lamented.

"The OG," January breathed. That was what the Knights of Nerddom called Avery - the Original Gamer - because of his PC gaming skills. "Swatting started in gaming culture…"

"You might be on to something," Gadget said in her earpiece. "Wayne was playing a video game. I am going to clone his computer and do a deep dive."

Before January could ask the teen about his gaming enemies, red and blue lights began to flash through the windows. She was out of time. Her whole investigation was supposed to be on the down low. But she could not just run out the back door and leave the Millses to tender mercies of the SWAT team that was about the break down their door. Besides, even if she caught the Death Dealer - when she caught the Death Dealer - she was going to have to deal with the police to turn him over. One way or another, there was no avoiding it.

"Stay here," January said, "I'll talk to them."

Posted by: Acadian Jul 18 2020, 06:12 PM

I loved the banter between Stormcrow and Gadget while she was on the way to the target address. Wow, Gadget and his. . . gadgets are darn handy! Having a preview of who and what’s inside that house before Stromcrow even gets there was invaluable.

I think the StormTeam pretty much has figured out the right of what’s going on. Looks like Jan will have to diffuse things with the police before they can learn more about the why.

Posted by: Renee Jul 21 2020, 05:00 PM

Maybe I got it wrong though. So let me ask: did January post the story under her own name, or a screen name? I was thinking maybe she inadvertently left some link between the real her, any pen name she's using, and/or Stormcrow, but maybe I got that wrong. If she's merely using her own name, maybe that'll be okay. I was thinking there'd be some link between her and Stormcrow.

That's so freaky. Avery can look in anyone's house if they've got a so-called 'advanced' security system. indifferent.gif That was my thinking too... somebody is using their house maybe like a proxy server. So they are innocent, yet don't know the Crystal Death people are doing something behind the scenes. emot-ninja1.gif So technically, if somebody didn't do their homework like Jan and Avery are doing, they could wind up simply accusing the family. Break down their doors, yet find nothing. There was a Grisham book I read a few years ago in which this happened. Sort of like what's in that Swatting link. Goodness.

Ha! Mom opens the door and immediately closes it. laugh.gif Maybe she's not aware of who Stormcrow is.

Wayne says OMG. He actually says O M G. rollinglaugh.gif This is funny episode today. And then Jan is in her outfit as the whole fam crowds around. Her thinking is right. Her outfit is certainly going to catch their attention, make them pay attention and take her words more serious.

QUOTE
. If only a superhero had come to her rescue that time she broke the lamp doing cartwheels in the living room…


laugh.gif

Hmm, I am starting to think this could be a distraction, not to get this family arrested, but maybe something else is going on right now, as the police arrive at this mundane address. Meanwhile, some other location is having some crime going on.

Gadget is going to clone Wayne's computer. smile.gif He says it like he's going to get something to eat. laugh.gif Ah geez.


Posted by: SubRosa Jul 25 2020, 05:03 AM

Acadian: Jan and Avery playing off one another is always a joy to write. They are the dynamic duo after all. Gadget really gets to show off his gadeteering in these next few episodes, as he sniffs out the electronic trail to the bad guys.

Jan is going to have her hands full diffusing the situation. In fact, I used today's episode as a way of showing that while she may be super, she is still far from perfect. She really could use some of Buffy's grace at a time like this.


Renee: January is posting her Crow Tales blog under her Stormcrow identity. I went back to make that more clear. If she did it as January Ward no one would ever notice it. That was the whole idea, use her identity as Stormcrow to promote positive novels and short stories. Because of that, there is now a link between January Ward and Stormcrow: the fact that Jan's book was featured on Stormcrow's blog. Just as Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein was. And every following author whose work she features. So it is not evidence that Jan is Stormcrow. Just that Stormcrow mentioned her.

Anything with a connection to the internet can be hacked, simple as that. Look at all those celebrities whose phones were hacked years ago, and their private pictures spread all over. Or the Sony executives whose emails were plastered all over the internet.

I thought it was interesting that you brought up the idea that this might be a distraction while a real crime took place elsewhere. That is an idea that Avery will have concerning the Conjurer in next chapter. Though it will turn out to not be the case.

Mom does know who Stormcrow is. Pretty much everyone in Michigan does at this point in the story. But she does not expect the real Stormcrow to show up at her door. More likely a cosplayer that her son is friends with.

Cloning Wayne's computer really is as simple as making a sandwich for Avery. When it comes to technology, he literally makes up his own rules. That is his gift.


All: I did some tweaking to some parts of Chapter 1 over the past few days. Nothing dramatic. I just steamlined the place where Jan is talking about her story idea at the very start. I added in a little more detail about her early flights, namely the landings. Now they went much less smoothly, showing that she has a long way to go with learning to fly. I tweaked Avery's use of the name Gadget, so it is clear that only January knows him by that name. I even went back and changed the news casters to be Gilda Gadfly as well.

Finally I changed Heisenberg's Technocracy from Central Asia to Central Europe (namely Austria). I had not thought about it at first, but lately I have been concerned that it might look like https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WhiteMansBurden?from=Main.WhiteSavior - a genius European scientist lifting the Asians out of their backward squalor. I could not find any Russian scientists whose names resonated like Heisenberg's. So I decided to scrap the location and just move it to Europe. I am still keeping the time that Heisenberg created the Technocracy as 1953, as that is still ideal with Stalin's death, and the creation of the Warsaw Pact. I even briefly considered changing him to Schrodinger, as he was Austrian and living at that time. But my original idea was to create a character like Doctor Doom - a genius scientist who ruled his own nation. The name Schrodinger just does not carry the same ominous tinge to it that Heisenberg does.







https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knock-and-announce

https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Grond

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PGM_H%C3%A9cate_II



Book 5.11 - Crystal Death

She strode purposely to the door and went outside. She was just in time to see a squad of what looked like commandos in black uniforms and body armor. Their faces were covered in balaclava, and their heads in the Army's newest style of helmets. They carried a mix of assault rifles and shotguns, all tricked out with electronic optics, vertical handgrips, and practically every other manner of tacticool bling imaginable.

They might have leaped from one of Avery's video games. Instead they spilled from a giant armored vehicle that was just one step away from being an actual tank. An MRAP is what January thought they were called. Leading the way was a man carrying a battering ram. Another followed close behind him with a giant crowbar.

They came up short when they found January planted directly in their path. She put her hands on her hips, in her best imitation of a defiant superhero pose.

"This isn't Minas Tirith, and there's no need to roll up with Grond there." January looked pointedly at the battering ram. "Ever hear of the Knock-and-Announce Rule?"

"Knock-and-Announce doesn't apply when it's unreasonable." A trooper with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders insisted. He was tall, and the skin around his eyes showed that he was a white man. That was the only distinguishing feature January could make out, given the military armor he was swathed within. "Given that our suspects pose a high level of threat, that is the case."

Gadget had prepared a dossier on the Emergency Response Team. Thanks to that January remembered that the lieutenant was named Paul Hunter. He had the dubious distinction of being investigated for misconduct more times than any other police officer in the state. He had also been essentially hand-picked for his current position by the previous governor. Hunter was clearly going to be trouble.

The rest of the team fanned out, rifles and shotguns at the ready. January wondered if they had armor-piercing rounds, like those the Whitewater mercenaries had used at the airport. Their weapons were not pointed directly at January. But they were not exactly pointed away either. She saw one of them climb up the back of the MRAP, and go prone on the roof with the largest rifle she had ever seen.

"That's a Hecate II," Gadget appraised her. "That's what Ryo uses in World of Guncraft. Fifty caliber. It's made for killing trucks."

"The only threat here is the one you bring," January insisted. She felt rather proud of herself for that. It sounded like something Gandalf or Yoda might say. "These people have committed no crimes. There's no reason for you to be here."

"We know about you Stormcrow," Lieutenant Hunter said her name like it was something slimy he found underneath his shoe. "This has nothing to do with your spooky monsters or limp-wristed friends, so clear out. Go play with the other rainbow pansies downtown."

January shook her head. She was tempted to show him how limp her wrists were by putting her knuckles through his face. Instead she reached down for her mana. She let it wash through her, cool as a mountain spring. She allowed it to sweep her anger away. Or at least she tried to at any rate. The fact that she didn't take the lieutenant's head off proved that she retained some measure of calm.

The steady drizzle that began to patter down from the sky said otherwise however.

"I am not going anywhere," she contended.

"We have a warrant to search the premises," the lieutenant growled. "If you stand in our way, you will be arrested for interfering with an officer, and other possible aiding and abetting charges."

"Oh I would never dream of obstructing justice," January insisted. "In fact, why don't I help you? I mean, just in case these big, bad suburbanites really are making meta-humans in the bathtub."

That brought sharp glances between the state troopers. January wanted to kick herself for giving too much away. She did her best to keep her face an expressionless mask. Blood Raven seemed to do it effortlessly. Since there was no way of reloading from her last save game and trying again, she decided to dive in with both feet.

"Oh you thought that was a secret? Superpowers aren't just about punching giant spiders you know. I am conducting my own investigation into Crystal Death," she declared. "I know all about it. I also have a pretty good idea that a social worker and a guy who makes axles are not criminal masterminds. But let's just make sure shall we? I'll go first, and protect you from any spooky monsters. You just worry about getting that warrant out."

January stepped back to the still open front door, and glanced back to the state police. "Oh by the way, you are being filmed, so smile for the camera."

She strode into the house like she owned it. She found the three members of the Mills family clustered in the kitchen, along with the cat. January walked slowly but steadily toward them, doing her best to remain unemotional. In reality her heart was beating like a jackhammer in her chest. But at least tapping into her mana helped her keep her cool, so far.

The state police burst in behind her, except for the sniper on the roof of their armored vehicle of course. January imagined that she - for she had noticed the sniper was female - was following everything inside with a thermal scope, or something else appropriately high tech. The other state troopers fanned out with guns drawn. Four of them immediately trained their weapons on January and the Millses. The rest of them split up in different directions. Most of them raced down the hallway deeper into the house, breaking down every door they came across. The remainder broke down the door to the garage, and vanished inside.

"Get out of my house!" Mr. Mills immediately bristled. He pointed an accusatory finger at the troopers. They turned their guns to point at him. The lieutenant came forward with two of his men to either side of him. Clearly they were intending to grab and restrain him.

Somewhere far back in the calculating, rational part of her mind, January knew that getting physically involved would only escalate things. But she could not hear that logical voice in her head. Not over the pounding of the blood in her ears, or the roar of her heart. Instead she fought back, as she learned she had to against the bullies in school.

She knew that she could not stop all three state troopers from reaching Mr. Mills - Jefferson. But she remembered how she had used her wings to block the police from shooting at the djieien in Ferndale. She thought of doing so again, and her mana poured into that image. Her will made it reality.

She had not hit the triggers built into her gauntlets to deploy her wings. They snapped out on their own. But this was not simply her cape changing its shape. No, this was an actual pair of crow's wings, feathers and all. Or at least there was the shape of feathers in the wings. But they were still made of hagfish armor. These wings however, were much larger than her cape had ever been. January did not even try to wrap her mind around that. She was having enough trouble dealing with the fact that her arms had disappeared.

A quick glance showed that was not quite true. The wings were in fact sprouting from her arms, just like a real bird's wing was its arm. Her hands were still in there, perhaps halfway through the wing. But they were much longer now. If she had to guess, she imagined that each arm/wing was at least five feet in length, perhaps longer. They stretched from one side of the kitchen to the other. That left the Mills family tucked safely in the corner behind her, out of reach of the police.

The state troopers seemed even more surprised than January was. That was certainly not in any dossier they might possess on her. They lowered their weapons, and stumbled back in shock. Even the lieutenant seemed taken aback.

"Holy Cromcakes Stormgirl!" Gadget breathed in her ear. "I didn't know you could turn your arms into actual wings!"

January did not know either. But she was not about to say that out loud.

"Tell me Lieutenant Hunter," she struck while the iron was hot. "Do the Sterling Heights Police even know you are here? Or are you going behind their backs with your little raid?"

"That's a good idea Crowgirl," Gadget's voice was in her ear again. "The SHPD are receiving an anonymous phone call right now…"

"While we are at it Lieutenant Hunter, how many people have you shot?" January continued to use his name. She wanted everyone in the world would hear it, and know who he was. "Is it true that the only reason you weren't thrown out of the state police was because you were friends with the last governor? Isn't he the only reason you have this job?"

If he wanted to make snide comments about limp-wrists and rainbow pansies, she could dish out better. That logical, rational part of her brain told her that she was throwing gasoline onto a raging forest fire. She ignored it, and decided it was time to break out the marshmallows instead.

"I have a warrant to search these premises!" Hunter finally gathered his wits and produced the folded up papers in question. He waved them at January like they were a magical talisman to ward off super crows. All the while he still gripped his assault rifle in the other hand, barrel pointed at January. "You will cease and desist this… this… obstruction at once!"

"I'm not obstructing anything," January shot back. "I'm protecting innocent people from your brutality."

"There is no brutality here!" Hunter shouted.

"Really, then why are assault rifles being pointed at the heads of unarmed people. People who pose no threat to anyone? Why are doors being broken down for no reason? Why do I hear things being smashed in the other rooms? Why is a .50 caliber sniper rifle being pointed at a 15 year old boy? Is that how the Michigan State Police behave? I say thee nay!"

January did not know where she got the last part. Maybe it was from listening to Blood Raven talk. Or it could have been from watching the Lord of the Rings movies recently. Inwardly, she groaned. Once this video got out, that was going to be a meme, no doubt about it.

"Whoa, weren't you all the ones telling me to be chill?" January heard Wayne murmur behind her.

He was right. Normally it would have been Gadget giving her that sage advice. But he must have been busy calling the Sterling Heights police. In any case, January knew words of wisdom, at least when someone else spoke them. With an effort of will, she controlled her breathing, slowed her heart, and lowered her wings. The latter shortened to the regular length of her arms. But they remained armored bird's wings rather than human limbs.

"Thank you Wayne," January glanced back at the 15 year old. She ran her elemental mantra through her head, and let her mana wash through the words. She concentrated on her breathing, and listened to the words in her head.

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.


"They do have a legal right to search the property," she said as she turned back to the Emergency Response Team. "Since none of us are criminals, we are not going to impede them from carrying out their duties. They will find that there is nothing here, and leave. In the meantime the real police - the ones from Sterling Heights - are on their way."

"Maybe you would like to explain to them what you are doing here, Lieutenant Hunter," January stared at her opposite number.

He glared at January, but did not reply. Instead he slapped down the warrant on the kitchen counter. Then he turned to his men.

"Search the family."

Again, two of the state troopers came forward, while the other pair hung back. January noted that they had moved into positions where their fields of fire would not be blocked by the advancing cops. She also remembered that the sniper was still out there with that giant rifle. January wondered if a .50 caliber round would penetrate her armor? What about an armor-piercing .50 caliber round? How many buildings would it go through if it missed? How many other innocent lives would it snuff out?

"First, lower your weapons," January insisted, "and treat these people with respect."

"You don't tell the Michigan State Police what to do!" Lieutenant Hunter fumed.

"I shouldn't have to," January shot back. She looked away from the lieutenant, and instead locked eyes on each of the other members of the team in turn. "You are pointing guns at a child. Is this why you joined the police? Is this going to be your legacy? Is this the kind of person you are? Who do you serve? Who do you protect?"

Thunder rumbled outside, in a long, low drumbeat.

Without a word, the state troopers lowered the weapons to a forty five degree angle. Except for Lieutenant Hunter of course, he stood back and fumed, rifle still leveled firmly at January's head. Two of the men then slung their weapons entirely, and came forward to search the Millses. But they did so much more gingerly and respectfully, than it appeared they would have a moment before.

January wondered if the other troopers might try to plant drugs at the scene to get back at her, and justify the ordeal. But she remembered that Gadget was watching over the home security cameras. She hoped they would not be so foolish. But the lieutenant was clearly raging, and January knew that she bore much of the blame for that.

In the end they did not take that particular low road. They did not find any drugs of course. But they did carry out a computer that January imagined belonged to Wayne, along with Tanisha's laptop, and all of their phones.

January resisted taunting them as they filed out of the house. The mom - Tanisha - however did not.

"Didn't find anything did you!" she crowed. "But you are still stealing our electronics? I need that laptop for work, and my son needs his computer for school! And who is going to pay for my broken doors! And what about this lamp you all smashed?"

"My warrant gives me the right to seize any and all evidence pertaining to our investigation," Lieutenant Hunter bragged. "Your property will be returned in due course, once it is no longer required for the investigation."

"I will get it all back for you." January turned her back on the state police and faced the Millses directly. "One way or another, I promise."

Posted by: Acadian Jul 25 2020, 08:29 PM

During Lt Hunter’s insulting opening statement to January, I had flashbacks to Buffy’s fairly recent encounter with Count Pompous Terentius! Very uncourtly behavior on his part instead of the grace that should accompany authority. Yay for Jan that she maintained a degree of restraint. . . to a point of course. wink.gif

”I say thee nay!"
- - I can imagine how much fun you had crafting this old world Blood Ravenesque line! Though Jan second guesses herself for it, I loved it!

This was a tense encounter indeed and Jan conducted herself well as she carefully managed being assertively helpful without becoming aggressively counterproductive.

Fabulous job of blending the weather with Jan's emotions. She is the Stormcrow after all.

And real wings! With feathers and everystuff! tongue.gif I look forward to learning more about this new development that surprised Gadget and even January herself!

Posted by: Renee Jul 27 2020, 02:12 PM

I have done that too, gone back to previous chapters I have written and changed stuff around. smile.gif When I was writing Sarah Phimm back in 2016-2017 I couldn't stand reading her earliest journal updates without editing. It's because toward the middle and end of these tales, we learn stuff about how they really are. In earlier chapters we haven't found their true voice yet. At least, that's how it works for me.

Okay, so she's releasing her tales under her Stormcrow name. That is best. smile.gif She'll retain her own secret self identity (for awhile, anyway) and Stormcrow will guarantee lots of reads and Likes.

I like that. 'Defiant superhero pose'. She's taking lessons from Lighthammer, perhaps.

Yeah, she needs that mana now. Even if she's in the right... that guy up top of the SWAT truck has a Hecate II. indifferent.gif

Oh boy. They're tearing up the house. This happened to a house I lived in long ago, sort of. Long story. I lived in a house in which somebody was growing pot, and long story short, the place wound up getting raided. They really do not do nice things to one's house. sad.gif My room got a little messed up by them. Thankfully, the main guy who was growing fessed up once he arrived (he heard what was going on and had to skip out of work). Police stopped tearing apart our rooms after he admitted to being the main grower.

She turns her arms into wings due to magic, right?

That braggart lieutenant. Oy.




Posted by: SubRosa Aug 1 2020, 08:43 PM

Acadian: When I read Buffy's encounter with Count Pretentiousness, I immediately thought of this scene as well (since I wrote it last autumn). Unfortunately, Buffy behaved with much more grace and poise than January managed. This was in part meant to be a scene that showed that January is not perfect. She could have handled that better, and she knows it. This scene also went through a lot of edits by me to get just right. In the original January was much more hostile to the police. But I dialed it back some, because it just did not feel right, in spite of the issues she has with authority figures.

I did love the "I say thee nay!" line. It just sort of rolled off the keyboard without me even having to think about it. Jan was on a roll at that point.

January has been building toward creating real wings for a long time, and being able to really fly, rather than just glide. She still has a lot more to learn about her wings, and what she can do with them.


Renee: I am sorry you had to deal with that swat team. I bet it made you look at the police in a different light. I remember being in a Rite Aid in Detroit once and the police hit a car in the street outside. Everyone was walking around smiling and laughing behind their hands at the cops. None of these people were gang-bangers or professional criminals. They were just ordinary people. It was an eye-opener for me, because I realized that my experience with the police as a white suburbanite was a lot different from a that of a black city-dweller. The police were not there to protect them, or serve them. They were nothing less than an occupying force there to suppress them. When you look at the history of the American police, and how they started from either mercenaries for the rich in the north, or slave-catching patrols in the south, that is not surprising. It is one of the reasons why Blood Raven is so contemptuous of the police.

Besides showing that January is not perfect, this scene was just a slice of life. Swatting has been a fact of life for a long time. It only works because the police have no qualms about breaking into peoples houses and sticking guns in their faces, with absolutely no real evidence that anyone is in danger, or a crime is being committed. I not only wanted to show this because it is reality. But also because it is a reality that January has to face if she wants to work with the police.

January's wings are all magic. Eventually she will be able to form them without the need of her cape. She will just create them whole cloth, as it were. Not to mention being able to use them as shields, weapons, and more that just a means of travel.

Lieutenant Hunter is an example of how I said before that "the government" is not one, monolithic organization where everyone is like-minded and working toward the same goals. It is filled with individuals who all have their own agendas, and all do their own things. Lt Hunter is definitely not a Crow fan. While I never planned to use him beyond this chapter, I am now thinking of bringing him back for what I think of as Phase 2 of the Crowfic (after Nátthrafn is defeated). Things will be a lot less magical then, and focused on more mundane things like an election, and white supremacists. He could make for a good medium level antagonist then. Who knows, he might eventually become a real supervillain?










Book 5.12 - Crystal Death

"Sterling Heights PD is on the scene," Gadget said. January glanced out the window and saw one of the city's white police cars with blue lettering at the curb. Another pulled up behind it a moment later. Lieutenant Hunter filed out with the rest of his men, leaving January alone in the house with the Millses.

"Before the city cops come in, I need to ask you something Wayne," January turned to the young man. "You're a gamer right? What do you play?"

"Well World of Guncraft of course!" he proudly declared. "But I do some Sword Science Online too."

"Did you make any enemies online recently?" she asked, "anyone who is really, really mad at you."

"You mean like mad enough to call the cops?" Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. It was exactly the same tell that Gadget had when he was nervous. "Well…."

"Wayne Anthony Mills," his mother intoned gravely. January knew it was never good when your mother used your middle name. So far as January could tell, it had been invented just to be yelled at kids. "You had better not be responsible for all this!"

"It's not my fault!" he replied, sounding more than a little like a smuggler with a defective hyperdrive.

"Just please tell me about it," January said in as soothing a tone as possible.

"I was in his PC before the cops took it," Gadget said in her ear. "I like this kid already. His name on World of Guncraft is AfroSamurai2004. We'll have to see if he wants to game with us."

"There was this guy, ThunderRhino-something, he was kind of upset," Wayne explained.

"Why was he upset?" January asked gently.

"Well I might have killed him like ten times in a row," Wayne rubbed the back of his neck again. "And I may have allegedly tea-bagged him each time. And I might have put it on MeTube..."

"Tea bagged?" Mom asked, clearly perplexed. "What is that?"

"It's when you-" Dad began to explain, before January interceded.

"It's rude," she said simply.

"Ok, I'm in the game server. I got this guy." Gadget said in her ear. "ThunderRhino666. Wow, what a name. He's clearly got some deep-seated issues."

"Can you work with that?" January said. The Mills family all stared at her in consternation. January imagined that to them, it must have seemed like she was talking to thin air.

"Oh hell yeah!" Gadget crowed. "I've got his IP. From this I can backtrack to his ISP, and from them I can get his address. Probably what this guy did to Lil Wayne here in the first place. We are done, unless you want to stick around for the Sterling PD. Just give me some time to work."

"I'm sorry things got crazy." Now January spoke directly to the family. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. They just got my dander up. I called the city cops. You can file a report with them on what happened. Give them a copy of your home security footage. I don't know if they can do anything for you. But you can also talk to the Michigan Attorney General's office as well. That was part of the state Emergency Response Team, led by Lieutenant Paul Hunter."

"No, thank you, for being on our side," Mr. Mills said. "We don't forget something like that."

"You're always welcome here," Mrs. Mills continued. She glanced at the police outside. "Just don't bring your 'friends' with you next time."

"Yeah, you're badass!" Wayne exclaimed. "Come over and we can play World of Guncraft! And bring Blood Raven too, and Lighthammer!"

"I'm almost afraid to say I've never played it," January replied honestly. "I haven't played a video game since Skyrim. I just never have the time."

She waved goodbye and walked outside into the last drops of rain. The clouds began to part as she gazed up into the sky. Then she glanced down at herself. Her arms were still wings. She was still not exactly sure how she had done that. She had been exercising her mana as the time, and thinking of the need to deploy the wings. That must have done it, her energy, her visualization, and her will. Exactly as all magic worked.

She imagined that she could turn her arms back to normal by doing the same. No, she knew that she could. As Blood Raven had insisted, a magician's will had to be absolute. A conjure woman who doubted, was a conjure woman who failed.

With that certainty in her thoughts, she once more called up her mana. She spent a moment just basking in its cool, cleansing embrace. It was as relaxing as soaking in the tub after a long workout. Then she pictured her arms returning to normal once more, and her cape billowing out behind her. She willed that into reality, and the world literally reshaped itself according to her desire.

When she looked again she found that her arms had returned to normal. She could even hear her cape flapping dramatically in the air behind her, even though there was no breeze.

A pair of uniformed Sterling Heights officers stared at her, but said nothing as they walked past and knocked on fame of the open front door. January noted the distinct lack of body armor and other military gear on their persons. It was a sharp contrast to the commando attire - and attitude - of the Emergency Response Team.

January saw more of the Sterling Heights PD pulling up. One with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders was speaking with Lieutenant Hunter of the state police. Hunter looked frustrated at having to explain himself. That gave January a twinge of satisfaction.

She debated trying to talk to him again, let bygones and be bygones, and try to work with him. She would sooner put a foot through his kneecap. But she was not going to be Blood Raven. She needed to foster relationships, not animosities. That was so much easier said than done however.

So she swallowed her anger - and the adrenaline that still percolated through her blood - and strode over to the taller man. She tried to act as calm and confident as she could. The way Blood Raven projected strength and coolness, at least when she wasn't infuriating people.

"Lieutenant Hunter," she said in as measured a tone as she could muster. "I suggest that we work together on this. I believe that by pooling our resources, we will discover the real culprit all the sooner."

"Oh I think you've done enough," her state police counterpart replied haughtily. "Rest assured, I'll be making a full report on your obstruction in this case."

January ground her teeth, but did not say any of many things that sprang to her mind. Instead she fought to keep her cool, and remembered what she had said to Emilia when she had balked at working with Blood Raven.

"This is not about you or me, or whatever animosities we might share," January insisted. "This is about the innocent people whose lives are in danger from Crystal Death. I am offering you my help to put a stop to it. Will you take it?"

As much as it pained her, January even put her once again normal, human hand out to the state trooper.

He stared at it like it was a cobra. Without even a glance at the Sterling Heights lieutenant who stood beside them, he turned and walked back to his armored vehicle. The rest of his troopers were already filing inside. The sniper on the roof had stood up, and was in the process of slinging her massive rifle across her back.

"Be right back," she murmured to the Sterling Heights officer.

January was on top of the armored truck with a single leap. The sniper kept her cool, and looked her in the eye.

"This is going to sound odd, but I'd like your phone number," January said quietly. She hoped it was quiet enough that the troopers below could not hear.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" the sniper said loudly. That brought chuckles from the men filing into the back of the armored truck.

"No." January wanted to roll her eyes. Was this why Jane Jet had never came out as a lesbian? Because every woman would think she wanted to date them, and every man would try to fix her up with their sister?

She kept her voice low. "I am going to find the real Death Dealer. Give me your number and I will call you when I do. In spite of how it might look, I would rather do this with the police, than without you. Now will you work with me? Or are you as big a yotz as your boss?"

The sniper stared at her for long moments. January steeled herself to remain calm and impassive, at least outwardly so. A tremendous wave of relief washed over her when the other woman whispered her phone number back. January was glad that she was recording, because she knew she never would have remembered it on her own.

"I don't know what you think," the sniper loudly cried out, "but I am not like that!"

January smiled in spite of herself. Then she looked around and saw the people milling around on the sidewalks and staring. That was going to be viral. No doubt about it. But at least she had a contact, of sorts, in the Emergency Team.

She leaped back down from the MRAP as the sniper climbed down a ladder on the back. It pulled away a moment later with all the state cops within. January saw Lieutenant Hunter glare at her through the windows as it went by. She was about to leave as well, but more Sterling Heights police pulled up.

A man with captain's bars on his shoulder got out of one car. He seemed young for the rank, but the flecks of grey in his otherwise short and impeccably combed black hair hinted that he might be older than he first appeared. Like the other SHPD officers, he wore an ordinary uniform, rather than body armor and military gear. He strode directly to January, and offered his hand.

"Well there's a ruggedly handsome fella," Gadget noted in her ear.

"Dale Nowakowski, Chief of Police," he declared. January shook his hand. Her head practically spun at the radical change in behavior from one branch of law enforcement to the other. "I am glad to finally meet. I have followed you since you brought in that diamond smuggler."

"Well that was really a team effort," January now found herself squirming at the unexpected praise. "I just did one small part, and really, almost screwed up the entire thing."

The chief stopped short, and looked her up and down, as if only now seeing her for the first time.

"That kind of humility is not what I expected," he said. "Not after…"

"After fifty years of Blood Raven," January finished his sentence. "I am not her. Even she's not her, not the image you think she is. I've got a lot to learn from her. But I've also got a lot to learn from people like you sir. I hope we will have a better relationship than the one I just had with the Emergency Response Team."

"Well it looks like that might not be too difficult," the chief glanced back at the armored vehicle, which was just turning out of sight. January imagined that he had seen her be rebuffed by the sniper. "I take it you were the source of our anonymous phone call?"

"My partner was," January said. She had already talked to Gadget about it, and by now there was really no disguising the fact that she had an online compatriot. "They watch my virtual back. Just like you guys have your own computer specialists."

January found that Chief Nowakowski was indeed a much easier person to get along with than Lieutenant Hunter. As it turned out, he had no idea that the Emergency Response Team was making the raid. She told him everything that had happened, warts and all. That included the reality that Crystal Death was making temporary meta-humans, and how the attorney general was obfuscating that aspect of the drug. It also included January's own admission of antagonism on her part. The chief did not look pleased at any of it. But he kept a calm, professional face the entire time. January imagined there was something for her to learn from that alone.

"I hope this is not going to color our future relationship," January finished. "We need to be allies, for everyone's sake."

"I agree," the chief declared. He handed her a business card, which January glanced at before she tucked away into her utility belt. "This is my personal number. I don't have authorization from the mayor to make it official. Not yet at least. But you can call me any time, and my department will give you all the support we can."

In return January gave him her Stormcrow number, with the same assurance that she would always be there for him and his city.

She gave him a friendly nod and stepped away to create some space. She called up her mana once more, and concentrated upon her wings. They sprang into reality a moment later, once again an extension of her arms, rather than just her cape flattened out into a wing shape.

She catapulted herself into the sky with a great leap. She swept her wings up and down with force, just as a bird would. All the while she concentrated on flying, and willed herself to remain aloft, never mind what gravity or other laws of physics might decree. She would fly, and that was that.

As simple as that, she soared through the sky as easily as any other crow. She was no longer gliding, as she had always done before. Now she was truly free of the Earth's shackles. She gained altitude when she wished to, not just when the wind cooperated. She just as easily lost that height when she so desired. She was entirely free in the air, to do whatever she willed, for as long as she wished.

She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features. She not only had made a friendly alliance with a police chief, she had also finally learned to truly fly. At least some good things had come out of this.

That lasted for less than a minute before Gadget spoiled her mood.

"Uh oh, we might have problems Downtown," he said.

"The Conjurer?" January's stomach clenched. She had not felt the horrific disturbance of a summoning. But that might simply have been due to her being too far away.

"No," he replied. "You are not going to believe this. Or maybe you will. This is 2019 after all. It's Nazis, real Nazis, at Motor City Pride."

Posted by: Acadian Aug 1 2020, 09:24 PM

A good followup, tying up loose ends. Jan was gracious to offer an alliance with Lt Hunter. . . his loss though. Looks like Chief N-9 will be a valuable ally.

Her aerial departure opens a whole new era to her flying. Her magic is blending with and making her flying much more mystical. I like the approach that Blood Raven taught her that magic seems largely a matter of exerting her will over the laws of nature. It is no wonder that:
’She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features.’
- - So much better than a Teresaesue faint one. wink.gif

No rest for the weary though, as there appears to be more trouble brewing in Motor City.


Nit: 'January imagined there was something for her {to?} learn from that alone.'

Posted by: Renee Aug 5 2020, 06:39 PM

Ha ha World of Guncraft. laugh.gif I love how you change all these popular names around.

Uh oh. So Wayne Anthony Mills might have something to do with this.

QUOTE
I was in his PC before the cops took it," Gadget said in her ear. "I like this kid already. His name on World of Guncraft is AfroSamurai2004. We'll have to see if he wants to game with us."


Oh my gosh! laugh.gif Buncha nerds!

Yeah, my nephew would teabag downed enemies in Halo and Oblivion back when he was more of a gamer. Yuck.

I like that. She blurts something out loud to Gadget, forgetting that nobody else can hear him.

Awesome, she played Skyrim. And she's going behind the stupid lieutenant's back, and might have a sniper on her side. Yeah, because that's better for her. January is awesome, but she no lone fighter like her great aunt.

Uh oh. Nazis downtown. I'm actually looking forward to January maybe kicking them around. I hope that's okay to say. It's how I feel.

QUOTE
I am sorry you had to deal with that swat team. I bet it made you look at the police in a different light.


Oh it wasn't that bad, and not a SWAT team at all. It was regular police. My room got a little messed up. I was terrified at the time, but it wan't nearly as bad as what the Mills just went through. I was living in a big house with 7 people (2 of them weren't supposed to be living there) and one of them, this lady who'd just moved in literally a month before, actually offered to make coffee for everyone. She calmed everyone down. Maybe if the one guy hadn't fessed to growing things would have gotten worse. sad.gif In fact from what I understand, if he hadn't confessed, ALL of us would have been in trouble. Even though the 'operation' was obviously in his living space.

I was living in Portland Oregon at the time. Maybe if this had happened in Detroit... things might have been much different.

Finally, we are cool with seeing more of Lieutenant Hunter. He's a ass. But if you bring him back, you have the power to bring African Goddess back, right? wink.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 8 2020, 06:55 PM

Acadian: Jan did take her own advice, eventually. Even when her dander is up, her character shines through. Chief N-9 will appear in at least one future chapter. He will kick it off in fact, when supervillains make a nuisance of themselves in at the Lakeside Mall, and he calls in Stormcrow for an assist.

January's real wings are indeed a huge evolution in her super abilities. They really open up the world for her to travel and explore. We will even start seeing her beyond Michigan's borders in upcoming episodes.

Thanks for the nit. Proofreading is a value.


Renee: World of Guncraft and Sword Science Online were fun names to invent.

A giant bunch of nerds! Swatting began in nerd culture, so I leaned into that heavily.

When it is no longer ok to punch Nazis, we will be in really big trouble... But it won't be January doing the punching, at least not yet. Someone else is already Downtown.

There will be another African Goddess sighting later this chapter. Maybe in 4 or 5 more episodes.















https://i.imgur.com/e8RFso0.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/DJuC5aa.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/m53ETlu.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/5P04i2q.jpg




http://motorcitypride.org/#festival


https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jun/14/detroit-pride-festival-neo-nazi-police-protection-backlash


https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/extremist-files/group/national-socialist-movement


https://www.vikingrune.com/2009/07/norse-runic-third-reich-symbols/


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_Operations_Executive



Book 5.13 - Crystal Death

Blood Raven gazed down at the rainbow of celebrants that filled Hart Plaza, over 700 feet below. Like the many rainbow flags they waved, they came in every color of the spectrum. They were likewise every age, and every gender. Thanks to January, she had learned that there was more to the latter than the standard two options she had always been taught. Life was a spectrum, rather than a handful of rigid selections, and the throngs below exemplified that fact.

It was at once exhilarating and frightening to a person her age. How the world had changed since her birth. If anyone had told her while she had attended Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls that one day there would be bridges over every river on the eastern seaboard, she would have laughed in their face. Now there were not only bridges, but highways, and railroads, and airports - ports for air travel! - everywhere. Once upon a time a squirrel could have traveled from Maine to Florida by hopping from tree to tree, its feet never touching the ground. Now it would use one of the Wright Brother's aeroplanes to get there!

But the changes to the land were nothing compared to those of the people. To think that a white person could marry an African! Or was the term a person of color? She knew it definitely was not a colored person, and absolutely not a Negro, at least not anymore. Oh it was so difficult trying to keep up with the vagaries of modern language! It was even worse than technology.

Or that homosexuality could be so openly acknowledged! What a world. Of course she had read Sappho and giggled with the other girls, when Mrs. Gibson was safely out of earshot of course. But the thought of two women walking hand in hand in public, or kissing one another... Poor Mrs. Gibson would have surely died of apoplexy had such a subject even been broached in her puritanical presence!

Her life as Neo-Pagan writer Branwen Renner had certainly opened her eyes to the Queer community. That was the term January said she preferred. The only thing modern Pagans did not tolerate was intolerance, as oxymoronic as that sounded. But given the fact that at one time Branwen Renner would have been hanged for writing her books, it was a necessary oxymoron. January would have been hanged for merely existing back then.

Sometimes the world changed for the better.

Blood Raven spun on her heel and strode across the roof of the Renaissance Center's highest, central tower. The Ren Cen was not a single building, but rather a complex of seven glass and steel skyscrapers. The cylindrical central tower was the highest, stretching just over seventy floors tall. It was the highest building in the city in fact. This central spire was surrounded by four smaller, diamond-shaped towers. Finally, a pair of even lower structures rose up to one side of the complex.

The peak upon which she stood was crowded with antennas, satellite dishes, and gigantic cables that were clamped down to the rooftop. A small radio mast rose up several dozen feet from the center of the tower, surrounded by low clumps of machinery and venting. Only a technophile like Cray could imagine what all of it was for.

She idly recalled that when the complex had been built, it had been by the Ford Motor Company. Yet now the General Motors logo glowed from the electronic sign attached to the side of the central spire. However, that particular building was in fact a hotel. Only the six other towers were office space housing the administrative headquarters of the automotive giant, along with a prominent health insurance corporation.

She paused at the edge of the roof, and glanced down at the wider ring of another level a story below. This lower roof supported the window washing apparatuses, which appeared like nothing so much as giant tuning forks set into a trackway that ringed the building. Clustered around the center of the structure were even more mechanical devices, conduits, and satellite dishes. What would these people do without their satellites? They probably could not boil water without a computer to instruct them how.

Blood Raven looked beyond the rim of the lower level rooftop. Directly below her ran Jefferson Avenue, which was set back from the Detroit River, and ran parallel to it. Between the boulevard and the water stood the Ren Cen complex, Hart Plaza, and the entrance to the tunnel to Canada, among other sites. Behind the divided street rose the numerous skyscrapers of the Financial District. They were a chaotic mix of styles, from Art Deco artworks, to modern glass and chrome masterpieces. They reminded her of nothing so much as toys casually tossed aside by giants in a playground.

She let her eyes wander away from the Downtown core, and gazed across the flesh of the city that spread out far beyond the towering skyscrapers. Far smaller buildings lumped together in the manner of cells, while streets ran between them like veins and arteries. Only rather than carrying blood, they transported people to and fro. They were the real lifeblood of the city when it came down to it. The narrow belt of the Detroit River bounded the tissue of the city to her right. In every other direction, the metropolis seemed to spread out into a haze of infinity.

Nestled between the banks of the relatively narrow river was the hourglass shape of Belle Isle, connected to the American side by a single bridge. A winding roadway curled back and forth along its uneven coastline. Smaller roads crisscrossed the interior, leading to parks, memorials, an aquarium, sports fields, marinas, and more. A thick clump of woods nearly filled the far end of the island, where the remnants of the old zoo slowly crumbled into dissolution.

Last weekend the isle had been filled with people for the Grand Prix. She had waited there for most of the day. She had suspected that the Conjurer might make another conjuration attempt nearby. But she had miscalculated, and instead he had struck at Ferndale Pride.

Now the island was practically deserted. That would give the Conjurer plenty of privacy for the summoning ritual. Yet it was still near enough to Downtown for him to find some measure of cover in the steady flow of people traveling to and from the festival in Hart Plaza.

She turned her gaze north and west from Belle Isle and scanned the tiny rooftops that spread out near the riverbank. Her eyes eventually settled upon one in particular. It was a small, abandoned factory not very far from the Renaissance Center and the Downtown core. The Conjurer had struck there just two weeks earlier, during the Electronic Music Festival. It had been the nearest she had come to apprehending him so far. But by then he had learned the art of anchoring his summonings, so that a simple banishment could not dispel them. She had been obliged to deal with the monster the old-fashioned way. That had given the Conjurer ample time to escape.

Would he return to the scene of his past crime for another summoning? He had not done so yet. But he also seemed to enjoy crowds, the larger the better. Perhaps it was simply because it was all the easier to lose himself in the sea of faces? Motor City Pride was the largest event taking place over the weekend. If anything would draw him forth, this would be it.

"Something is going on," Cray said over their communications link. His voice was soft, yet gruff. It reminded her of the feeling of wool or fleece on her ears. Not an unpleasant sensation. "I see a crowd of police just off Jefferson, by the Scientology Church."

Blood Raven wheeled about and strode back across the roof to face southwest. She felt her cape spill out into the wind behind her, and whip up high into the air along with the brilliant red strands of her hair. She smelled nothing arcane in the air, not even the simple spells of a neophyte. She closed her eyes and trained her magical senses upon that spot, yet still, there was no feeling of magic actively working to alter reality.

She opened her eyes once more and stared down at the area her technical specialist had indicated: the corner of Jefferson Avenue and Griswold Street. The Church of Scientology did not look like a church at all. It was a small, white office building of the Neo-Classical style. Nestled between the massive skyscrapers of One Woodward and 150 West Jefferson, it was a dwarf among giants. Behind it along Griswold Street stretched out a four story parking structure. Standing in the driveway of the latter was a crowd of people.

She brought up her hands in front of her face, and swiped them to either side. At the same time she called up her aion - what January would call mana - and turned loose the tiniest drop of it. She willed the energy to display the location. A window rimmed with golden energy sprang up in the air before her. The street and parking garage leaped up in tight magnification within, as if she viewed the area through a spyglass.

Now that she had a close up view, she could see that a score of Detroit Police officers were gathered around the entrance to the parking structure. They appeared to be ordinary patrolmen, wearing blue uniforms and black armored vests. They did not sport riot gear, nor carry weapons beyond their sidearms and pepper spray. Some even wore rainbow colored hearts pinned to their uniforms.

"This can't be for a big shot," Cray said. "The festival has VIP parking right next to Hart Plaza. Not that they would have a police escort anyway. Not even the mayor has this many bodyguards."

"Not this mayor," Blood Raven breathed. "Yet the previous one…"

"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied. "I don't know what this could be, I don't have any-"

Cray's words stopped abruptly when a group of over a dozen men, and a few women, strode out of the parking structure. All were dressed in black, sporting red armbands emblazoned with swastikas. The men's heads were shaved bare, or nearly so, at least those not wearing black, coal scuttle helmets. All bore tattoos. Some were of swastikas and SS runes or skulls. Others were less obvious fascist markers such as solar crosses and the number 1488.

Many carried bright red shields, that curved inward like an old Roman scutum. All of these were decorated with a black, Norse Odal rune in the center. Written in Gothic script across the top of the design were the letters "NSL".

Blood Raven's eyes instantly narrowed in on the pistols openly hanging from the hips of many of the men. Some even carried rifles slung over their shoulders. She absentmindedly noted that none of the female Nazis were armed. She wondered if that meant they were less homicidally inclined than the others. Or if being women, they were not allowed to carry weapons? After all, white supremacists were as poisonous to women as they were to everyone else.

Blood Raven also noted something odd on their shoulders, some sort of rounded electronic devices. One of them carried neither a rifle or shield, but rather a large camera, the kind used by television crews. Several other ordinary cameras were slung from his neck as well.

Shouts in German ripped through the night air, intermingled with high-pitched screams. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled her nose, along with the disturbing aroma of burning human flesh. The latter was a distinctive stench, nauseatingly sweet, metallic, and savory at the same time. The boom of a 75mm cannon rang in her ears, along with the chatter of machine guns. She felt steel rip apart under her claws as she carved open another Panther tank. Then came the mouthwatering ambrosia of fresh blood, and the hot life force that jetted with it.

"Nazis," Cray's voice brought her back to the present. This was Detroit, not France, and it was no longer 1944. Then he explained the mystery of those strange devices on their shoulders. "Those are GoPros that they're wearing. They're recording all of this."

"The only thing Nazis love as much as murder is propaganda," Blood Raven growled. She could not stop herself from baring her teeth. At least she prevented them from transforming. Two and a half centuries had at least taught her to keep her fangs in check. No matter how great her bloodlust rose.

Now it was raging, as it usually did at the sight of a swastika. The beast deep inside of her rose up and howled for blood. Not for sustenance. She had fed well in preparation for this day's possible work. The monster within cried for vengeance. Selene, the Mother of Vampires, had gifted her progeny with many blessings. But the moon goddess had also passed on this curse in their blood, this passion for death, for its own sake. She could already imagine the sound of bones cracking under her hands, and the glorious feeling of blood spraying warm across her skin.

She clamped down hard on her fury. She was not an animal. She was not that monster, which threatened to overwhelm every vampire. That threatened to overwhelm every human. She was better than that, stronger than that, more disciplined than that.

In any case, it was broad daylight, and millions would be watching. This was not the time for killing swathes of fascists. France had taught her that was best done under the cover of darkness...

Blood Raven ended her viewing spell by swiping one hand left across the surface of the magical window. Then she stepped off the roof of the Renaissance Center. Out of reflex she warped reality around her, and reshaped it according to her will. Gravity no longer tugged at her feet. Instead she simply ignored the laws of physics, and moved through space as she desired. In only a matter of moments she arrowed down from her lofty perch to the street below, and held herself suspended above Jefferson Avenue.

She hovered there, and stared down Griswold Street. The Scientology building now rose at her left shoulder, with the parking garage beyond it. The massive tower of One Woodward shot up at her right side. Far in the distance straight ahead she could even see her own lair: the black and gold masterpiece of the Detroit Radiator Building. It loomed over the far end of Griswold like a Gothic sentinel, as she now did herself opposite it.

Walking directly toward her down the sidewalk were the Nazis, with the police officers forming a cordon about them. Pedestrians nearby stopped what they were doing and stared in shock. The Nazis ignored them. Instead they strode down the street as if they owned it. As if they were the masters of the Earth.

They had much to learn...

"Don't kill them!" Cray pleaded. "Not now, not like this."

"The SOE taught me how to deal with these creatures," Blood Raven replied evenly. She heard car horns blaring beneath her, and brakes screeching. She hoped there would be no collisions as drivers stopped their vehicles right in the middle of Jefferson to gawk.

"They want a show, to put on their website," Cray insisted. "They want people to overreact, and do something crazy, like start a fight. The more dramatic it is, the more money they make in donations."

"They seek another Charlottesville," Blood Raven considered. "Not in my city."

She gestured with one hand, and every camera strapped to a Nazi cracked. With another wave of a finger, so did the massive TV camera of the videographer, and all of the smaller cameras that hung from his neck.

She waved her other hand from side to side, and a field of golden force sprang up across Griswold, stretching from building to building on either side of the street. That completely blocked the road off from Jefferson Avenue, and Hart Plaza beyond. They would never reach the festival. Not while she existed.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 8 2020, 08:46 PM

Very neat for a change to have an episode from Blood Raven’s perspective. You have done such a nice job of showing us who she is that when we had the chance to travel inside her head here, her private thoughts were completely consistent with who you have shown her to be. That said, it was still nice to put more of a fine point on her history, attitudes and struggles she faces controlling the beast within.

Ripping open a German tank with her hands conjured images of Wonder Woman – another superhero I’ve come to enjoy. tongue.gif

Posted by: Renee Aug 13 2020, 06:22 PM

....Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls ... indifferent.gif My gosh... that name alone gives me shudders. indifferent.gif

I love the way this chapter starts. Flying 700 feet over Hart Plaza. Phew. That pic of the Renaissance Center buildings helps a lot.

Is Cray more of a mortal? Or is he similar to her? From an entirely different century?

Wow, she wears a wig. I didn't know that. Why does she wear a wig?


QUOTE
"Not this mayor," Blood Raven breathed. "Yet the previous one…"

"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied.


Sounds like Baltimore's recent mayor. Sentenced recently to 3 years, https://www.npr.org/2020/02/27/809929622/ex-baltimore-mayor-to-be-sentenced-for-healthy-holly-children-s-book-scheme, of all things. Basically, misappropriation of funds, tax evasion, but at the center of it all was the book she wrote. sad.gif

Wow, there are women skinheads? Never heard this before. Hey, at least they don't discriminate females. indifferent.gif


QUOTE
Don't kill them!" Cray pleaded. "Not now, not like this."


I love that line. He knows her well, it seems.

Okay. Edge of our seats time...

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 15 2020, 08:29 PM

Acadian: This was a scene that could only be written from Blood Raven's pov, so I embraced the opportunity to show the inner workings of her mind, and reveal a few more things about her life, such as her service in France with the SOE, or her youth at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls.

Wonder Woman is a great comparison to Blood Raven. They are comparable in many ways. Did you see the live action movie from a few years ago? That was excellent. Gal Gadot was the perfect WW. I still remember the TV show with Lynda Carter.



Renee: I did some research, and found that schools like Mrs. Gibson's were very common back in the 1700s and 1800s. They were basically finishing schools, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.

Cray is entirely mortal. We will meet him in the flesh in the beginning of chapter 6, and learn a bit of his history then.

Blood Raven's wig is inspired by Batwoman's. She wears it as a ruse, so that someone will try to grab her hair, and come away surprised and off-balance for a moment. She defeated Batman once that way. It is also a way to protect her secret identity. As Kate Kane she has short hair. As Batwoman she has long hair. So it's a piece of misdirection there as well. Finally, Blood Raven deliberately uses her presence as a weapon to overawe people. As January noted when they were in the hospital in chapter 3, when Blood Raven turns her gaze your way, it is feels like someone is walking over your grave. A great mane of blood red hair blowing in the wind behind her one component of that image she wants to create.

Wow, using a children's book to basically embezzle money. The lengths grifters will go to! The Detroit mayor in prison is https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/local/detroit-city/2020/05/26/ex-detroit-mayor-kwame-kilpatrick-not-released-prison-early/5259845002/

There are definitely female white supremacists, be they Nazis, KKK, skin heads, or other varieties of fascists. Though there are a few Greek organizations like the Proud Boys (who also swear a vow to never masturbate, these people are weird). But white supremacy is just as bigoted against women as they are against everyone else. They just need women to prove that they are heterosexual. And just like there is no shortage of Karens just itching to call the police whenever they see a black person, there is no shortage of female white supremacists. Because even as they are discriminated against, they see their opportunity to feel powerful by discriminating against someone else in turn. That is what being a Karen is all about after all.

Cray does know Blood Raven well. He has been her online backup for a long time, just like Avery is January's computer partner.








https://www.adl.org/education/references/hate-symbols/1488


https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/dec/13/how-us-law-enforcement-is-failing-to-police-itself



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tulle_massacre


https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/oradour-sur-glane


https://www.commondreams.org/views/2017/08/26/why-nazis-are-so-afraid-these-clowns



Book 5.14 - Crystal Death

Now a man wearing a black suit and sporting a shaven head and goatee came forward. He appeared to be a lawyer for the Nazis, as he was ranting about their rights, and demanding restitution for their broken cameras. Blood Raven ignored him. Instead she watched the armed men. So far none of them had drawn a handgun or unslung a rifle, yet.

Michigan state law made openly carrying firearms legal. That explained why they had not been arrested on the spot. Perhaps the Nazis hoped to provoke them, or others, with the mere sight of the weapons? That violence was their ultimate goal was a given. Nazis could not exist without it.

The police spread out, moving away from the Nazis. So far they too, had not drawn weapons. The officers made no move to approach her, or even address her. Most were stone-faced. But Blood Raven did note that several fought to conceal sneers or other looks of disgust. For once, these were not directed at her.

Apparently the Detroit Police were not happy with their assignment to protect the Nazis. She imagined the black officers, who made up at least three quarters of the complement, must have been especially displeased. How they could not shoot the Nazis on the spot was beyond her. Then again, she could have incinerated their blood and turned them into walking explosions of super-heated gore in a heartbeat. Yet she had not done so either.

For once, both she and the Detroit Police were not only united, but equally restrained. January would be so pleased at how they had found common ground.

Blood Raven took a moment to glance around, and saw that traffic had now come to a complete halt on both sides of Jefferson Avenue behind her. People had even gotten out of their cars to watch, and were raising their phones to record. Blood Raven fought back a frown. This was why January was always being shown on the internet and television. Everyone had to record every event on their phones, as if it was the only way to validate it had taken place.

She turned back to the Nazis, and saw that traffic had stopped behind them on Griswold as well. Naturally, since she had blocked it off with her force field. But people could have turned off it at the cross street just beyond the parking structure and gone either left or right from there. But again, they preferred to stop and watch. She noted that no cars remained in the street beside the Nazis. They had all backed up to get out of the way.

That was good. If things went badly, there would be no innocents in the middle of things.

Yet she was keenly aware that the Nazis were still getting their publicity, even if not from their own cameras. She could extend her spell to destroy all the phones in the area. But that would do nothing to aid her cause. Of course she could make herself invisible to all the cameras, but there were too many Nazis for her to extend the spell far enough to cloak them all as well. She would have to be content with destroying the white supremacist's own recording devices.

"We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children!"

A Nazi with a shaven head and thoroughly ordinary features had a bullhorn out. Since he had no real crowd around him, he had no one to harangue but his own followers. Still, he plunged ahead with a litany of racial, homophobic, religious, and nationalist epithets. It was really quite a feat of hate for a single sentence.

"These guys are the National Socialist League," Cray said in her ear. "According to the Southern Poverty Law Center they are currently the biggest neo-Nazi group in America. If you can keep up with how often they come and go. The guy with the bullhorn is their leader, Mikael Scheuer."

"Too many brave men and women died to give me the chance to fight now," Scheuer droned on. "I will honor their blood and fight for soil."

"Now I see the reason for the Odal rune on their shields," Blood Raven breathed quietly, so that only Cray could hear.

"You mean that thing that looks like an awareness ribbon?" Cray responded.

"Yes," Blood Raven explained. "It represents lineage, especially a noble or exclusive one. It also means inheritance of land or property."

"Blood and soil, at least these guys are consistent," Cray murmured, then his voice changed to become more certain. "Ok, I have some more info. Turns out the police chief knew about their demonstration in advance. That's why the police detail is here. But he didn't pass on the news to the mayor, press, or anyone else."

"He is more clever than I thought," Blood Raven hated to say the words. But they were earned. "It is called 'quarantine'. Solomon Fineberg - an American rabbi - developed it after the War to use against American Nazis. He understood that hate groups need the media to spread their message. Otherwise they wither and die. So instead of engaging with them in debates or even street fights, they do the opposite, and actively work to convince the news not to cover them. The fewer stories, the fewer donations and recruits they receive. Eventually they are strangled by the lack of sensationalism."

"So Chief Creighton kept this a secret, to keep Worldwide Network News from covering it nationwide?" Cray said. "You are right, that is clever."

"I have to say, you are handling this quite well," Cray continued. "Just looking at these… individuals... on the street cameras gets my blood boiling."

"I have years of experience with this particular strain of evil," Blood Raven said. "As I said, I know how to deal with them. Speaking of which, I want full work ups on every one of them. Names, addresses, families, everything."

"I'm running facial recognition right now," Cray said. "I've got three hits so far. They're already in the system. They're law enforcement. I'm also looking back at camera footage of all the cars that went into that lot, and getting their plates as a second line of inquiry."

"Good, I should like to know where to find them when the excitement is over," Blood Raven said.

"And then?"

"Then they shall meet Der Teufel von Bellac," Blood Raven breathed. It had been more than 70 years since she had slaughtered the 2nd SS Panzer division. She had thought she would never need to kill Nazis again. But history had a way of repeating itself.

"Isn't that a little overboard, even for neo-Nazis?" Cray argued. "I mean these people in particular haven't killed anyone, at least not yet."

"They will," Blood Raven contended. "Genocide is their sole reason for existing, they trumpet it openly. The Weimar Republic failed to excise this cancer. It destroyed their country, then the rest of Europe. I shall not allow the same to happen here."

"You know, you've gone five years without killing anyone," Cray continued to dissent. "That's a good streak to keep going."

"All things must end," Blood Raven growled. "These creatures sealed their fates when they came to my city."

"What would your great-granddaughter think of that?"

Blood Raven closed her eyes. She knew what January would think, even though she was one of those specifically targeted for murder by hate groups such as this. But what she did, she did for January, and everyone else like her.

She opened her eyes to see a new development. Now the Nazis had brought out a pair of flags. One was a gay rainbow flag, a plethora of which flew all about the Pride festival behind her in Hart Plaza. The other was a transgender flag, with its blue, pink, and white stripes.

A different white supremacist held each flag, while a third pulled out a lighter. At this point the Detroit Police interceded. A black officer with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders said something to the Nazis. The Nazis frowned, and put away the lighter.

"Looks like Detroit's finest advised them of our fire safety regulations," Cray noted dryly.

Instead the Nazi threw down the trans flag he was holding. He straddled it, and pretended to urinate on it. In the meantime the other Nazi took the rainbow flag he held and tried to rip it up in his hands. But whoever had made the flag had done their work well, for it resisted his most strident efforts.

That was enough for Blood Raven. She drew forth the tiniest amount of her power, and directed it with a finger. A strand of golden force snaked out from her hand, and flew across the street. It wrapped around the rainbow flag, and yanked it from the Nazi's paws with ease. A second tentacle of force leaped from her other hand, and likewise caught up the trans flag. With barely a twitch of her wrists, both emblems were snapped back to her side. She took up one in each hand, and held them both aloft. With only a thought the wind changed at her command, and blew both out behind her in their full glory, along with the crimson streaks of her hair and cape.

That brought a cheer from the people now clustered around her feet. It was no longer just the commuters that were looking on. People were streaming across Jefferson Avenue from the festival in Hart Plaza to join them. Like it or not, this had become a media sensation. The Nazis were going to be on the news. There had been no way to truly prevent that, given the proliferation of smart phones and the internet. Blood Raven knew that at this point the best she could do was to make certain that the Nazis would be viewed as a wretched, feeble lot.

"Wife Power!" the crowd beneath her began to chant at the Nazis, along with "White Flowers!" and "Wright Power!"

Blood Raven could not suppress a smile of vindication. She had no idea who Wright Power was however. She was tempted to ask Cray to Googol it.

"Wright Broward is a basketball player," his voice chimed in her ear a moment later, as if summoned by her thoughts.

The mocking of the crowd seemed to take the wind out of the Nazi's sails, what was left of it at least. They stared in disbelief at the crowd that laughed at them from the other side of Blood Raven's force field. Eventually they sullenly filed off the street, and back into the parking structure that they had emerged from.

Blood Raven did not fail to note that it had not been her withering gaze, or even her casual acts of power that had driven them off. No, it had been the people those Nazis had come to taunt and harangue, people who had responded not with violence, but with humor and irony.

Perhaps Cray had a point. Five years without killing was a good streak. It was a long way from Tulle and Oradour-sur-Glane.

"Seig Fail! Seig Fail! Seig Fail!" the crowd now chanted.

A twenty year old Impala came out of the parking structure. Blood Raven recognized several of the faces within as belonging to the Nazis. It drove away from her down Griswold, and took the first turn out of sight. Next came a van, then another car.

"I've got them on video," Cray said, "looks like they are headed for the hills."

"Keep watching them," Blood Raven said. "Make sure they don't double back. They might try to ram the crowd."

"Maybe you could do something about that?" he suggested. "There would be a lot less risk if they were off the street and back in Hart Plaza."

"Even my powers of mental manipulation do not extend so far young man," Blood Raven noted. "Unless you are suggesting I throw them?"

"I am suggesting you lead them," Cray said. "Why don't you come down from the heavens and rub shoulders with the Earthlings? Who knows, you might even have fun for once in your life, old lady. January will be so jealous that you are getting all the press."

"She would love this," Blood Raven sighed. January was so good at dealing with civilians, with people, so much better than she was. She still remembered what the young heroine had said to her in the hospital.

"You know if you were a little nicer to people, they might trust you more, and maybe even help you sometime."

Perhaps January had a point. Perhaps her public image would benefit from some positive effort.

Blood Raven pulled on the fabric of space, and descended gently to the street. With a single nod in its direction, her force field across Griswold vanished. She pulled at her energy, and made an effort to draw it in, and suppress the aura of dread that she habitually projected whenever she clad herself in armor. The wind around her died down, allowing the flags she carried, and her cape, to drape freely about her shoulders.

People crowded around her, smiling, cheering, slapping her on the back. She did her best to smile back. She told herself that it was no different from a Neo-Pagan convention. She attended those with regularity in her current alter ego as Branwen Renner. In fact, some of the faces she saw around her may well have been at ConVocation in February.

As Cray had suggested, she led them across Jefferson, and back to Hart Plaza. It was simple. All she had to do was walk that way, and the crowd automatically followed. Soon traffic lurched back into motion once more in the empty street behind her. She paused at the entrance of the festival, and made a point to pay the entrance fee. She handed off both the flags she had rescued from the Nazis, and did her best to act like a normal, happy person, whatever that was.

The Nazis did not return.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 16 2020, 02:39 PM

Yes, Gal Gadot’s portrayal of Wonder Woman was what I had in mind. Though I do remember the old Lynda Carter TV show, I never paid much attention to it. I agree with you that the more recent movie was fabulous, and Gal Gadot was a truly inspired choice to play Diana. There is ‘look’ she has that includes raising one eyebrow when someone pisses her off right before makes them wish they had never crossed her. I can quite imagine that look on Blood Raven.

Blood Raven handled herself well here and nobody got hurt – unusual for her ‘interventions’. tongue.gif

I was glad to see her take the advice of January and Cray to c’mon down and rub shoulders with folks on the ground.

Posted by: Renee Aug 17 2020, 04:00 PM

They were basically finishing schools, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.

The final phrase is what gives me shudders. I have no problem learning how to cook better, how to sew, and so on, but I would have failed that final part big time, and hard core! I think a lot of modern women would. Someone should make a videogame about that. I would buy it!

I didn't know Batwoman wears a wig! laugh.gif Maybe I knew this as a kid because I watched the original show. Okay I see the reasoning now. Women robbers often wear wigs as part of their disguises; in fact, they can get away with this in certain parts of our country where wigs are common. I just never thought of a superhero doing so.

Yikes your mayor in Detroit got 28 years! blink.gif Wow, racketeering. Bribery. Yeah, sounds like he was more involved in the criminal life for sure. I think our Catherine Pugh did not intend to be a criminal. She was thinking her book would make a lot of money perhaps (a mayor getting involved in writing a child's book is certainly unique), and then she could turn around and make things right. She never imagined the whole thing would blow up.

QUOTE
But white supremacy is just as bigoted against women as they are against everyone else. They just need women to prove that they are heterosexual.


Sure, I see now. I guess I never really thought about it, but this does make sense.

I like how Raven is puzzled about everyone using their phones. And also holds back incinerating all of them. That would be wicked! Too bad she can't do this. Well, maybe she could do this, then escape back into her tower unharmed. But everyone on the force would know it was her who did this.

I hear Cray's voice as sort of soothing. Sort of like an airline pilot. Doesn't matter if there's a storm or if they're about to arrive to Toledo with no incidents, his voice is always calm and soothing. Unflappable. Maybe I'm wrong. I always try to 'voice' characters as I am reading them speak.

Ha, he's debating with her about killing them, I like that. See, he knows she is in charge. He's merely throwing his opinions at her, as though trying to provide some perspective. But he knows she'll do as she pleases in the end. He is similar to Avery in a way, I think I remember Avery also getting into debates with Jan, trying to provide counter-thoughts. But he's also a heck of a lot more polished, probably due to age. That's my assumption, anyway.

Whoa, she captures their flags. Ha ha! You go!

Seig Fail!

QUOTE
A twenty year old Impala


Oh gosh. laugh.gif You and your beater cars!

Awesome chapter, hon. Or sub-chapter I guess.

Posted by: macole Aug 17 2020, 11:55 PM

QUOTE(SubRosa @ Aug 15 2020, 02:29 PM) *
, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.

I've heard a few jokes about going to finishing school and learning to say FANTASTIC instead of something else much less flattering.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 22 2020, 09:53 PM

Acadian: Blood Raven is keenly aware of the cameras, and of publicity in general. She may not like any of it, but she does know how to use it. She also learned in France that killing Nazis in broad daylight is not a good idea. It just makes things worse for everyone else when more come and start making reprisals. That sort of thng is best done quietly, with no witnesses.

January is definitely having an affect on Blood Raven, just as the reverse is true.


Renee: Basically the whole purpose of schools for girls in those days was to make them a better marriage prospect.

Kwame was the gangsta mayor. He was a very, very bad dude. A prostitute who allegedly danced on his lap in one of his parties at the governor's mansion conveniently ended up murdered. The state attorney general very publicly put two investigators on the case. Then quietly fired both of them a week later. He covered the entire thing up.

Blood Raven does not like all these phones and cameras everywhere. She remembers life before every step you took was being recorded and scrutinized.

You are imaging Cray exactly as I intended. He is inspired by James Remar's portrayal of Gambi in Black Lightning. https://youtu.be/t0KavnCQuqU

Cray knows that a frontal assault against Blood Raven's decision-making will never work. The harder he pushes her, the more stubborn it will make her. So instead he has learned to outflank her, and instead prompt her to look at other ideas, without trying to force it. You are right in that Avery is in the same boat, because January is just as stubborn as Blood Raven. It is in their blood after all.


macole: Oh bless your heart dear. smile.gif









https://i.imgur.com/4TkiC9q.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/LRy1aaI.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/PBY8eqx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/hY7dFec.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/gqfqJjg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/E7l5Vul.jpg


https://theconversation.com/what-the-satanic-temple-is-and-why-its-opening-a-debate-about-religion-131283 (The guy who wrote this https://youtu.be/d-M4FHE5klQ recently to talk about the Satanic Temple)




Book 5.15 - Crystal Death

"You're sure you don't need any help?" January stared at Blood Raven's face. Her red hair formed a scarlet halo about her features, which lit up Sága's screen on January's inner forearm. "I can be there in a few minutes."

"The Nazis have been dealt with, at least for now," Blood Raven replied. January could see a crowd of people behind the red and black-clad superheroine. It looked like she was not simply watching over the festival at Hart Plaza, but in it. "I shall remain here on my original mission. You should continue with your own investigation."

"Wow, is that Stormcrow?" one of the faces in the crowd behind Blood Raven gaped.

"That is Stormcrow!" another insisted. "Awesome! Are you dating?"

"They can see me?" January said, without even realizing it.

"I am in possession of a holographic display," Blood Raven noted. "Wait, I shall close it down to audio only."

"No, that's ok, let people see me," January insisted. As much as she loved her new wrist-mounted computer, a hologram would be really cool too. She was tempted to start reciting Princess Leia's lines from A New Hope. "Are you actually at the festival?"

"I am," Blood Raven declared. "I am having fun."

"Who are you?" January stifled the urge to laugh out loud, "and what have you done with the real Blood Raven?"

"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls," Blood Raven insisted. "I have also been reminded that I could be nicer to people."

January felt herself blush. She hoped her helmet would hide it. Instead she went on.

"Well, tell everyone that I wish I could be there!" she said perkily. "Maybe next year we can go without the added fuss of 'work'."

"I shall do so," Blood Raven said before signing off.

January turned off the link, and slid shut the armored plate that protected Sága's touchscreen when it was not in use. She lifted her eyes, and gazed about her. She was crouched atop the tall sign for the Oakland Mall, which rose up on the corner of 14 Mile and John R Road. Cars streamed past her on John R, while those waiting at the red light on 14 Mile had rolled down their windows to wave at her.

January took a moment to wave back. Then she leaped into the sky. She thrust her arms out to either side, and willed them to form into wings. With a series of powerful flaps, she rose higher into the sky, and circled around the parking lot of the mall.

The massive conglomeration of buildings and its surrounding parking lots took up nearly a quarter mile of real estate. It was nestled between John R Road to the east, I-75 to the west, and 14 Mile to the south. From above, January could see that the central structure was not a single building, but rather was several buildings all linked together. The Sears, Macy's, and JC Penny sections stood out most plainly from the central area.

Smaller businesses rose from the edges of the parking lot, including a donut shop, various restaurants, and of course a phone store. Even more shops and fast food places rose up across the street from it on the other side of John R. Likewise, a car lot spread out across the other side of 14 Mile, along with still more stores, and even a movie theater.

January imagined that in a thousand years, archaeologists might dig it all up and assume this was a massive temple complex dedicated to worshipping Capitalism. They would not be wrong.

"Did I hear what I thought I did?" Gadget said in her ear. "Is the Blood Raven actually chilling at Motor City Pride? You must be rubbing off on her."

"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."

"Not to mention being shot down in flames by the hot sniper," Gadget remarked dryly.

"Yeah well, at least that might still go somewhere," January mused. "I did get her number. Maybe we can work with her at least."

"That's not what the rest of the world thinks," Gadget noted. "It's all over social media already, 'Stormcrow burned so hard by cop!'"

"Well, I guess that's good. At least her boss won't know we have a line of communication, yet." January frowned anyway. She had to admit, even if just to herself, it still did sting to know that people thought she had been rejected in public. She knew that it had just been a sham, and a clever one at that. But no one liked looking like a loser. Even with a cape.

Of course it was nothing compared to steady stream of invective she had been receiving from certain parts of the internet since that gas station attendant had repeated her statement that she was a lesbian. But homophobia was like gravity, or taxes: an inescapable part of ordinary life. She did not mind people knowing she was a lesbian. She had been Out so long in her real life, that it was honestly strange not being so in her cape life. She was getting tired of people constantly asking about it. Maybe Avery did have a point, and she should come right out and say something publically?

"Ok, I've got an address for ThunderRhino666," Gadget said with some satisfaction. "I'm sending it to you now."

"Madison Heights," January ruminated, "must be near the dojo."

She banked to the south, and followed John R Road. More businesses and parking lots slid by under her stomach. She knew that she was in Madison Heights from the moment that she crossed 14 Mile Road, but where?

"Gadget, I was thinking…" she mused out loud.

"Uh oh, this can't be good," he remarked dryly.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then realized that he could not see the act of defiance. Instead she went on as if he had said nothing even slightly burning.

"Maybe in Sága 2.0 you could build in some sort of heads up display, that could put in an overlay of the street names. Maybe you could tie it into Googol Maps or something."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I could do that," Gadget replied seriously. "I could upgrade the lenses that snap over your eyes with the breath mask. That's totally doable."

"Good. But for now you are going to have to guide me in," she said. "Because I can barely tell what street is what from up here."

"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted. January imagined that he was looking through the video feed from her helmet now. What he had said was an understatement. Signs were impossible to read from hundreds of feet up. Even buildings looked completely different when you were staring down at their roofs. Thankfully this neighborhood was near home, one that she had driven through many times. If it had been on the West Side, she would have been completely lost.

Following Gadget's cues, she continued south for several miles, and in minutes crossed 11 Mile Road. She soared directly over Adin's martial arts dojo. After it came the Madison Heights Fire Department, a building January was able to pick out by its reddish-brown roof. On the other side of the street was Wilkinson Middle School. A large parking lot lay out in front of the school, and the wide expanse of a baseball diamond sprawled out to the south of it.

At Gadget's directions, she banked slightly left over the school and floated down to earth within the grassy expanse of its sports field. A subdivision of pedestrian homes sprawled out directly south of the field. The neighborhood was bordered by a small chain of businesses to the right, which lined John R Road.

The side street that was right in front of January dead-ended at January's feet. She easily hopped over the steel barrier that separated it from the field, and walked into the subdivision. She found the house Gadget had indicated with ease. It was the first one on her right, literally right next to the empty field.

She absentmindedly wondered if they suffered from many broken windows from strong-armed baseball players. She noted a large tree at the back of the house, which would have absorbed most home runs to right field. Then again, she really was not sure just how far a middle-schooler might be able to hit the ball. So maybe they were out of the reach of aspiring Babe Ruths.

With a single leap she landed gently on the roof. She paused to engage the new video camouflage unit that Gadget had built into Sága. Then she scampered across and dropped into the back yard. There was a small, detached garage set back from the house, and little else back there. She did not see any one looking out the windows of the house, so she immediately went to the garage. She found it locked, but Gadget's home-made electric lockpicker settled that. It buzzed as it vibrated the lock's pins open. She was inside in seconds, and shut the door behind her.

Snooping about within the garage yielded little. An aging Oldsmobile took up one side of the small structure. The rest was cluttered with the usual bric-a-brac: a lawnmower, snow-blower, some tools, and the like. Certainly nothing one might use to brew up a deadly meta-creating drug. Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.

"The garage is a bust," she told Gadget. "How are things on your end?"

"I'm in their router," Gadget said. "I didn't even have to hack it. Their Wi-Fi is unencrypted, and it's still set to the default login and password. I can see several MAC addresses attached to it. Looks like one's a phone, and three are PCs. One of the PCs is heavily encrypted. I can't get into it. The other computers are wide open, and guess who is playing World of Guncraft on one right now?"

"ThunderRhino," January said.

"666," Gadget added, "Don't forget that, it's the best part."

"Can you get into their security system?" January asked. She walked to the back door, and waited for Gadget.

"Nada," he replied. "They don't have one, nothing for me to snoop into."

"Ok, I guess we do this old school," January said. She fished out the lockpicker again, but was chagrined to discover that the back door was already unlocked. She crept inside as quietly as she could. Only to be betrayed by a loud squeak of the door hinges, She froze instantly, and listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps.

She heard nothing but the noise of a television somewhere deeper in the house. After waiting long moments, she shut the door behind her slowly, trying to avoid a repeat of the same noisy hinges. They still squawked, but not as loudly this time. She made a note to herself to start carrying spray grease for things like that in the future.

She found herself on a small landing between the basement and the kitchen. She chose the kitchen first, quickly darting her head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. It was empty. Taking her time, she slowly stepped through the small space, and its adjoining dining room. Peeking her head around the next corner, she found the living room.

It was dominated by a giant TV set, whose volume was really, really loud. That explained why no one had heard the back door. Ensconced in a soft lounge chair and a long couch were a pair of old white folks: silver hair, glasses, the works. Both stared in rapture at the rerun of NCIS that lit the television screen.

"Looks like this is Wanda and Bruce Greenwood," Gadget said. "Both retired. Bruce is a Vietnam War veteran. Props to the old guy. Wanda was an admin in the public school system. Nothing much else on them."

"Are you sure you got the right house?" January breathed. Given how loud the TV was, she doubted that she could be heard by the owners, especially given their seventy-year old ears. "This hardly looks like a pair of criminal masterminds, let alone someone who would call themselves ThunderRhino."

"666," Gadget reiterated.

"You need to slow your roll on that," January noted as she drifted back through the kitchen to the basement. "I don't think they're Satanists either. Some of the nicest people I know online are from the Satanic Temple."

"It's pretty sad when the Satanists are the ones who believe in benevolence and compassion…" Gadget said. "But I don't think our Rhino is one of those types."

January descended into the basement. She did not turn on the light. Instead she pushed a few buttons on her wrist-mounted computer, and a pair of lenses slid over her eyes. The darkened room immediately leaped into bright reality as the night vision turned on. She poked around, and again looked for secret panels. But as before, there was nothing to discover but ordinary suburban junk.

"Well, I can go back upstairs and try the bedrooms," January said.

She ascended the stairs and did just that. Rather than trying to sneak through the living room, she went back into the yard behind the house, and found a convenient window. Thankfully it was summer, so all of them were open. It was child's play to pop out the screen and hop through. Once again however, the rest of the house yielded no evidence of evil-doing. The most interesting find was a Compaq computer that looked older than she was, alongside a much newer wireless router. Just to be sure she started up the PC and looked through the hard drive. But there seemed to be little more than a bunch of recipes and pictures of grandkids on it.

"This is a bust," January said. "These people are no more Death Dealers than the last ones in Sterling Heights."

Posted by: Acadian Aug 23 2020, 01:17 AM

"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls," Blood Raven insisted. "I have also been reminded that I could be nicer to people."
- - Blood Raven is developing – or more likely, now displaying – a delightfully witty and tongue in cheek sense of humor. As wonderful as that above passage is, the one below is just as clever:
"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."

Looking straight down is something a superhero can do in flight. I used to have to roll inverted to do that. Seriously though, it helps to keep your vision out and down instead of mostly down – much easier to navigate and recognized landmarks. I do feel for Gadget though as there is not only the altitude but movement of Stromcrow’s head as she looks around.

‘Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.‘
- -Haha! She certainly came through with her night eye spell though. wink.gif

I think it would be a hoot if Gadget used his technomancy to change ThunderRhino666's callsign to something like RainbowThumperBunnyOne. tongue.gif

Wow, a second strike. Hopefully the next place they look will yield some answers.

Posted by: Renee Aug 24 2020, 06:46 PM

Yes, I was thinking of Princess Leia reciting her message from R2D2 (I think) as soon as that holograph was mentioned.

QUOTE
"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls,"


I agree with Acadian, this line is priceless. smile.gif

Wow, Jan is really soaking in the limelight this time. I thought this Oakland Mall sign was 50 feet in the air or something. But she's right above traffic.

Aw, she's upset about the social media stuff. About getting turned town by that sniper cop. Even though that's not what actually happened. Still feel bad for her, anyway.

QUOTE
Good. But for now you are going to have to guide me in," she said. "Because I can barely tell what street is what from up here."

"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted


laugh.gif Poor Gadget. laugh.gif His work is never done.

Un oh. Breaking 'n' entering... this is intense.
...and the back door is unlocked. Is this a trap?

Hmm.



Posted by: SubRosa Aug 29 2020, 09:56 AM

Acadian: Blood Raven is so firmly ensconced in my mind that her line about conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's school is one that just jumped off my keyboard. The same with January's Freaky Friday comment.

I have never understood how you people can land airplanes when you cannot see the ground you are landing on! I remember trying one of those WW2 flight sims a few years ago, and tried flying a Japanese Val attacking Pearl Harbor. It was insanely difficult, since the cockpit obscured everything beneath me. Like you said, I had to roll or at least bank to see what was beneath me. I literally could not even hit an anchored battleship.

I did not want the Death Dealer to be easy to find. Hence the red herrings. But real criminals are not masterminds, as much as the media loves to pretend they are to create drama and get ratings. Eventually the Death Dealer's fate will be sealed by the unreliability of his lackeys.


Renee: Jan is becoming more and more comfortable with being around people while she is caping. Next chapter will have several major evolutions in that. It is not accidental. She has a real motive to it, as will be explained near the end of this chapter.

It always hurts to be burned. Even when it was fake.

No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away.













Some repeat pics:
https://i.imgur.com/hY7dFec.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/gqfqJjg.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/E7l5Vul.jpg

Plus some new ones:

https://i.imgur.com/3aQa25r.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/SMdetG2.jpg



Book 5.16 - Crystal Death

"You have to be close," Gadget insisted. "That is definitely our guy's computer connected to the Wi-Fi. He must be stealing it from someplace close. The range is only a few hundred feet at best. Probably a lot less, since it must be going through walls."

January went back out the window and into the yard once more. She hopped up on the roof of the garage and took another look around. A line of houses stretched away to the south down either side of the suburban street. To the east were still more side streets and homes, while the empty baseball field lay to the north.

She turned around and looked west. There she saw the back of a strip mall that faced John R Road. A little wall blocked off the line of small businesses from the Greenwood's backyard. Straight ahead was what looked like an empty building. At least there were no signs up around it. But there was a black SUV parked in the very back corner of the lot.

There was nothing but the empty field of the middle school to the right of the building. To the left of it was a print shop with a single car parked behind it. Farther on there was a plumbing company with a dozen vans parked in its expansive lot, and beyond that a small used car lot.

"Maybe one of these…" January mused. She took a good look at the license plates of the cars in the back lot, so Gadget would have them on video. Then a single leap took her across the lot and onto the roof of the print shop. Her nose was immediately assaulted by a sharp odor, and she involuntarily made a face. It did not smell like hot ink on paper. Instead, it smelled more like urine, and things even less-savory.

"There's a smell here," January said. She stalked around the roof, trying to get a better sense of exactly where the odor emanated from. If only she had White Fell with her. Rumor had it that the werewolf from the Sentinels in Chicago had a sense of smell so heightened that she could track individual people from miles away. She could sniff out the source in no time at all.

But even though January was no lycanthrope, she gradually realized that the odor grew stronger the more she moved toward the empty baseball field. She stepped from the roof of the print shop to the empty building next door. There was no alley between them. They were literally so close together that there was barely an inch of space betwixt the two. She was looking at the field when Gadget asked her to stop, and look back.

She turned her gaze back to where it had been a moment before, at a patch of burned grass near the driveway that led behind the shops.

"Someone's been dumping chemicals," Gadget noted, "and that smell, those are classic signs of a drug lab."

She found an air vent leading down into the abandoned building and took a whiff. She immediately regretted it. The fumes spiked into her lungs like tiny icicles, and turned her stomach. She coughed as she turned away, and gasped for fresher air.

"This has got to be it," she wheezed.

She hopped down, and found that the windows in the back of the building were all covered over with blinds. There was a single pedestrian door, which she tried gently, and found locked. She held off using the pick on it. She was not sure if she really wanted to go in just yet. Instead she laid her ear to the door. She definitely heard something from within. Loud noises, like from a television show, or a video game.

"I think the Rhino is home," January said. "I'm not sure if I should go in there or not. If they are the bad guys, I'd rather go in with the cops. So there's no loopholes a defense attorney can use to get them off. But I don't want to bust in on more innocent people if I am wrong."

"Come back to the cave," Gadget said. "I've got some toys that can help us get the skinny on these mugs."

"Have you been watching those old Edward G Robinson movies again?"

"I plead the Fifth your honor," Gadget laughed.

Her flight back to the Gadget Cave took just a few minutes, given how close the Death Dealer's lair was. Sneaking into the back of the house was a little trickier. She made sure that her video camouflage was still on, just in case someone had a porch camera nearby. January had to dodge his mother as she went in the back door, and leap down the stairs and roll to one side to avoid being seen. She could have done her quick change and just walked in. But she had nothing to change into. She had left her street clothes behind at the Witch House.

She made another note to herself, to leave some clothes stashed in Gadget's backyard, or on the roof.

Once safely in the cave, Gadget gave her a handful of tools, which she secreted into her utility belt. He also had some more information for her, from his investigation of the plates of the cars in the lot, but nothing conclusive. He just had a list of names and home addresses. So far none had a criminal record that he could find.

January tried to sneak back upstairs and out the back door. But now his mother was firmly ensconced in the kitchen. She just had to pick this one day to actually be home. That obliged January to go back down the stairs, and sneak out of the little basement windows set down against the outside curb. She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.

Back in the sky once more, she prompted Sága to tune into Worldwide Network News to pass the time it would take for her to fly back to the suspected drug lab. Her ears were immediately assailed by Gilda Gadfly's fulsome voice.

"You saw it here first people," the reporter declared bombastically, "everyone's favorite maybe lesbian, maybe bi, superhero Stormcrow was totally shut down by a member of the Michigan State Police. Ouch! Do you feel the burn? The Crowgirl is going to need a fire engine to put out those flames!"

January shook her head. Only she could be rejected on national TV and radio, without even trying to hook up in the first place!

She turned it off and flew the rest of the way in silence. Once she had returned, she dropped down on top of the roof of the suspected super drug lair. She pulled out Gadget's new tools: a drill, a glasscutter with attached suction cup, and a fiber optic endoscope. She picked up the drill and considered the roof. Going through the ceiling was bound to make noise. But given the Rhino's gaming habit, would anyone hear it?

"You know, I'm not really made for this man-stuff," she mused. "Next you'll be wanting me to put up drywall, or retile your bathroom floor."

"Only if I want crowtiles," Gadget said.

January put down the drill, and instead thought about the glass cutter. A minute later she had tied her rappelling line around her waist, and anchored the other end to the roof via Gadget's handy molecular adhesion wave. She had not used the line since her first night as a cape, back at the hotel in Southfield. At least this way Gadget was getting his money's worth from it.

She suspended herself upside down from the roof, and hung in front of one of the small windows in the back wall. Using the cutter, she gingerly sliced a round hole through the pane of glass, and popped it out with the attached suction cup. She poked the fiber optic endoscope through the opening a moment later, and nudged the camera in the tip past the blinds. Its other end was already attached to Sága on January's wrist.

She brought up the video, and whistled softly at what she saw revealed before her. The large, cement-floored room within was dominated by numerous tables loaded with a plethora of bottles, flasks, jars, kegs, and jugs. But it was not the classic mad scientist lab from a horror movie. That would have been too neat and organized. This was a haphazard mess. There were pop bottles filled with mysterious fluids, cans and jugs of industrial cleaners, coffee makers, pvc tubes trailing into buckets, even a propane tank. It was a nightmare of chemical engineering.

"That sure looks like a meth lab to me," Gadget murmured.

Set to one side of the truly insane science mess was a plain desk with a computer that held three monitors. Sitting in front of it was a balding man with pasty skin and wearing glasses. The only hairs he possessed squatted upon his upper lip like a frightened caterpillar. He squinted at the screens, and cautiously clicked here and there. January could not see all of his monitors, but those that were visible were filled with graphs and tree-like chains of linked chemical symbols. Papers scattered both the desk and the floor all around him, and a printer loomed on a stand nearby.

To the other side of the room was a second desk. This one had a single PC and monitor. Sitting in front of it was another middle-aged man. This one sported a ponytail, and wore his glasses pushed up on his forehead. His skin was bronzed, as if from many hours in the sun. What looked like a two-day old stubble dirtied his chin, and gaudy gold jewelry graced his fingers and neck. She could not see his screen, but from the way he violently jerked his head and body this way and that, he was clearly getting much too involved in whatever he was doing.

"That has to be ThunderRhino," January noted, "666 and all."

"Ah, Ha!" Gadget crowed. "I've got a name for the bald guy. That's Joshua Bleaker, he owns the Lincoln Navigator in the lot. My guess is that he's the brains of the operation. Rhino must be his Igor."

January pulled her fiber optic camera out of the window, and climbed back up on to the roof. She put away her toys, and called up the sniper from the Emergency Response Team.

"Yeah, it's Nyah," the other woman answered.

"Hi Nyah," January reflexively said in her perky phone voice. She winced inwardly. She was supposed to be working on sounding more professional when she was in cape-mode. Clearly, she needed more work. "This is Stormcrow. How would you like to arrest the Death Dealer?"

"You should really be talking to my lieutenant instead of me," the sniper responded.

"Ok, I can just call the Madison Heights police instead," January said. "Maybe they won't mind making the arrest with me."

"Okay, okay, I'm on the way," Nyah relented. "Just slide me the deets, and I'll be there."

January texted her the address of the old folks house behind the drug lab. Given that the Death Dealer and his Rhino accomplice were stealing their Wi-Fi, it was only fair to coordinate their demise from the same place. Before she hung up, she also asked to have her boss start the work on a warrant.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 29 2020, 08:03 PM

Forgive me for not knowing or recalling but may I assume the Sentinel is another cape who has a werewolf named White Fell?

A utility belt to secret new and hopefully enchanted gizmos into! Sounds almost as handy as having a mage pouch at one’s waist. wink.gif

’She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.’
Being small is often a disadvantage but does sometimes have its perks. . . .

Gilda Gadfly – grrrr!

Some excellent, even Mission Impossible quality work there as Stormcrow and Gadget locate the smelly lair of the Death Dealer.

Oh this will be interesting to see how the take down goes!

Posted by: Renee Aug 30 2020, 04:01 PM

QUOTE
It always hurts to be burned. Even when it was fake.

No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away


Absolutely it hurts to be burned.

Who is Admiral Ackbar? I just google'd and that name is from Star Wars? Last SW movie I watched was Empire Strikes Back, and that was in the '80s. Maybe Ackbar was in this movie, but if so, I don't remember. I know what you're saying, though. No trap.

By the way, I get sort of worked up (excited) as I read these stories, and my comments can be over-the-top sometimes. It's like I'm watching some show or movie, and even my daughter tells me "Shut up!" sometimes. So I'll try to tone it down.

Bleagh. She smells cat urine. That's some old-school biker meth! I have heard modern meth (Walter White / Breaking Bad stuff) does not smell like this any more. Has something to do with the chemicals they use to distill the drug, or purify it, or whatever.

Man, these crystal death folks aren't being too discreet, are they? indifferent.gif Yes, I agree with not going in there by herself. Heck, they could have cameras. Maybe they already know she's out there. Then again, they don't seem to be that smart, if they're literally just dumping chemicals in their back yard. Sounds like a fly-by-night operation, and they're just in it for the quick cash.

She's using her perky phone voice again!

Looks like crystal death might soon die a quick death in Michigan. Is meth a big thing in MI? It is not in Maryland, at least I never hear bout it. Very popular on the west coast, though.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 5 2020, 08:25 PM

Acadian: The Sentinels are a superhero team based in Chicago. White Fell is one of their members. I went back and reworded that passage so it was less confusing.

January would love a purse of holding! She could keep her armor in it all the time. But she has other ways of getting what she needs.

While Gilda has been generally positive in her reporting, there is no way that a gossip columnist like her would miss out on covering so public of a failed romantic liaison.

The take down will take a few episodes, but it will not be the end of our story.



Renee: Admiral Ackbar was introduced in Return of the Jedi. He is famous in Star Wars fandom for a certain line of his in the movie, concerning traps.

Feel free to get worked up! I think that is great. It is like when I am watching a Horror movie and I yell at the TV because they are doing something stupid, like going in the basement, or splitting up, or leaving the gun on the windowsill.

The cat pee smell is from ammonia, which as far as I know is still an integral component to making meth.

It is definitely a fly by night operation. It is what happens when you don't have a company or wealthy investors backing you. But it is not for the quick cash. They are only releasing small amounts at a time, so they can observe the effects. They are making meta-humans. If they succeed, it would be world-changing.

January just cannot escape her perky phone voice. It is part of her nature.

Heroin seems to be the #1 illegal drug in Michigan. I guess the classics never do go out of style. Meth comes in second, and it seems to mainly in the rural areas, especially Up North. So far as I know, it is not in the inner city at all, or only just barely.






https://imgur.com/cx14V5X


Book 5.17 - Crystal Death

A red Buick Lacrosse came down the suburban street a half hour later. It rolled slowly along, paused at the end of the road, then turned and came to a full stop in front of the old people's house. January watched it the entire time from the branches of a tree high overhead. Once she was sure that it was the sniper driving the car, she dropped down to the ground and walked over.

She wanted to say something incredibly clever and witty when she stepped up to the car. Instead she could only blurt out a simple "Hi," when the woman opened the side door and motioned her to get inside. Now that she was not in her body armor and helmet, Nyah was not hard to look at. Not hard at all.

Her straightened hair was combed over to one side, with a line of thin braids crossing the other side of her head. Her face was heart shaped, her eyes soft amber, and her lips as inviting as rose petals. She wore a fitted top and skinny jeans that left little to the imagination, and right at that moment, January found that she could imagine quite a bit.

Another goddess, January mused as she tried to act professional. How many could there be!

She tried not to stare, and instead plunged into the full story of how she and Gadget had tracked down the Death Dealer to the lair behind the Greenwood's house. She even twisted her arm around and brought up Sága, to show her the video she had recorded of the chemical lab.

"You know, I want to help you," the sniper explained. "But I take the shots, I don't call them. Lieutenant Hunter is the one you really need to talk to."

"I tried that," January frowned, "and all I got were homophobic slurs for my trouble."

"Look, we aren't all like that," Nyah insisted. "Some of us, well, we appreciate a cape out there who is willing to talk to us, at least some times."

"I'm sorry about how things happened back at Mills house." January resisted biting her lip at the admission. "I let your boss get under my skin. I should be better than that. Goddess knows I should be used to it by now. I'm trying to play nice. The less I deal with him, the less likely I am to punch him in the face."

"So it's true then, you're a lesbian?" Nyah asked. Then she held up a hand. "You know what, that is no one's business. I did not say that."

"I am," January said anyway "and I'm transgender too."

The sniper's eyes goggled at the last. She made no pretense about staring down at January's crotch, then up to her chest, and finally set her gaze back to her eyes.

"Damn," she swore quietly as she glanced back down again, "what do you, like crank that thing back? I mean that outfit shows everything you got, and I mean everything. I never would have guessed you've got that!"

"I wear a gaff." January tried not to blush, and was glad for the mask that covered her features. When it was clear that the other woman did not know what that was, she went on. "It's a kind of underwear. It helps with tucking up."

"That sounds…. uncomfortable," Nyah said, "don't that hurt?"

January glanced down at the other woman's shoes, which were firmly ensconced atop five inch heels. "I could ask the same about those."

"Touché," Nyah laughed. "No one ever said being a girl was for the faint of heart."

"No kidding," January mused. "I never would have figured out the whole makeup thing without MeTube videos. I remember when I tried to dye my hair. Ugh."

"What happened, chemical burns on your scalp?" Nyah looked at the long blond ponytail that fell from the back of January's winged helmet. "Hair relaxer can be like napalm sometimes."

"No," January said. She had never even considered what using relaxer would do to African hair, aside from making it straight of course. Maybe being a goddess was not as easy as it looked. "It came out bright fuchsia! It did not help my popularity in high school…"

The other woman was still laughing when the rest of her team pulled up in their giant armored vehicle. They both got out of the car, and after the SWAT troopers filed out, Nyah went inside the armored monstrosity to change into her body armor. January made an effort to be nice as the rest of the troops milled around outside. She did not say a word to Lieutenant Hunter, and he returned the favor by doing no more than glare in her direction.

A Tesla pulled up a few minutes later. A tired-looking man in a blue suit got out. His head was shaved completely bare, and he wore a pair of large round glasses. His skin was a deep shade of umber, and January imagined he might be anywhere from 60 to 60,000 years old from the lines that creased his face and hands. His only forms of adornment were a class ring on one finger, and a US flag pin attached to his lapel. January noted that the state troopers all stood straighter the moment he arrived, and made an effort to look busy, even though there was nothing for them to do yet.

"This looks like some sort of boss man," Gadget voice rang out in her ear. "I'll bet bitcoin to bananas he's a lawyer."

"Good evening Ms. Stormcrow," the new arrival said as he stretched out a hand to January. She took it, and discovered that he had a handshake that was a lot firmer than his somewhat slack-looking frame would have suggested. She wondered if he might have been an athlete when he was younger.

"My name is William Duquesne, Special Assistant to the Attorney General of Michigan," he said. "Perhaps we could speak in private?"

Gadget whistled in her ear. January fought the urge to tense up. This could either be very good, or very bad. There was only one way to find out.

She followed him back to his car, and once again sat in a passenger's seat. Nyah's Lacrosse had been nice. She was surprised to find that the Tesla was much less grand inside. The interior was spacious, but had a very minimalist approach to everything. It was sleek, simple, and unobtrusive, except for the massive display screen in the center of the dashboard. That was practically a television set.

"I am hoping we can get off to a better start than I did with your lieutenant in Sterling Heights," January started. Once again, she repeated the apology she had made to Nyah. "I am sorry that things went badly there. I lost my temper. That shouldn't have happened. I should be better than that. It is not how I want my relationship with the police, or the state government, to be."

"First we too, would like to apologize for any comments Lieutenant Hunter may have made that might have been insensitive. They do not reflect the values of the State of Michigan, nor our legal community." The smooth tone that Duquesne used suggested that he had made such apologies before. Or at least that he was so professional a speaker that he could say anything and make it sound calm and sincere. January briefly wanted to hear him recite the lyrics to a K-Pop song…

"I should note as well that he is not my lieutenant," Duquesne said. "The Office of the Michigan Attorney General has no direct control over the actions of the state or local police. However, the Director of the Michigan State Police has spoken to Mr. Hunter about his behavior. Rest assured, it will not happen again."

January thought about that. The Special Assistant AG seemed genuine. She had to admit that a person in authority taking her seriously was certainly a new and pleasant sensation. Not to mention one treating her with a measure of respect and decency.

But then again, he was a lawyer. That immediately put her guard up. Still, she wondered if his title would shorten to SAAG. That was certainly an unfortunate acronym. One she reminded herself to never consider again.

"Ok, now that we've both established that we're really nice people, what can I do for you counselor?" January said plainly.

"Well that is the question," he replied. "The attorney general, and the governor, have been keenly interested in you ever since the encounter you had with Lighthammer in Southfield, and then with the diamond smuggler in Flint the next day. Estimates say you saved the lives of fifty people at the Flying Dutchman fire, and perhaps many more from that… giant spider… last week in Ferndale. Most impressive."

January could not help but to smile, and sit up a little straighter at the praise. She was not used to hearing that from an authority figure.

"But when they see you cavorting about the skies above the Packard Plant with Lighthammer, well that makes my superiors wonder. Your very close relationship with Blood Raven does not reassure them either."

January was not smiling any more. She chose her words carefully when she responded. Once again, she fell back to what she had learned about expressing herself in the years of therapy that had followed her attempted suicide.

"Lighthammer is not my enemy," January began. "That is not saying that he is my friend, or my partner. But the fact is we do have a relationship, one that benefits us both. He can help me, and I am willing to accept that help because I think in the long run, it is beneficial to everyone."

"I know you people don't like Blood Raven very much," January went on. "I know you have your reasons, and I am not saying they are all invalid. She likewise has her reasons for how she feels too. But the fact is, I have a lot to learn from her, and she is my friend, and that will never change."

"If that makes it impossible for you to work with me, then I accept that," January declared. "But I hope not. All of us picking sides and remaining entrenched in adversarial positions is not going to help anyone. I think that reaching out to people will. We need to forge alliances, and all work together, even with people we might not personally like. Because it isn't about making an arrest, or being first, or taking the credit. It is about helping people, about saving lives, and preventing tragedies. That is all I care about. That is my mission statement."

"This whole mess with Crystal Death never should have went this far," January insisted. "If you and Blood Raven had been working together, he would have been stopped weeks ago."

"Just how is it that you learned of this case," Duquesne probed. "There has been little about it in the news."

"Superpowers remember," January tapped a finger to her temple. "It isn't all about punching people, or shooting lightning bolts."

"So it doesn't have anything to do with Trooper Emilia Mercado?" he questioned. "She's not the one who tipped you off about this?"

January's heart almost stopped at the mention of Emilia's name. If Duquesne knew the truth, Emilia could go to prison. She could not let that happen.

"I wish she had," January said. She called upon Earth, to not only figuratively, but literally, set her face in stone. She was not going to give away any tells that she was obfuscating the truth. "This would have been over a lot sooner. We could have saved people's lives from this drug. This is what I mean, about reaching out. If I had someone like you, or like Mercado, that I could stay in close contact with, we could stop these threats before they spin out of control."

"But you and Mercado are friends?" Duquesne pressed.

"Ever since Flint, I found that we work well together," January said with complete honesty. "We have the same goals. We want to do what is right, and protect people. That's why I reached out to her for help on the Flying Dutchman case. I trust her, a whole lot more than I do Lieutenant Hunter over there. Like I said, if she and I had been working on this case together, it would have been over with a long time ago."

"That may well be so," Duquesne admitted. "The attorney general has begun to feel that way. So do I. I believe you could be a great help to our state. You have been already."

"So does that mean you are offering me full legal empowerment?" January practically held her breath waiting for his response. It was everything that she had hoped for since she had first put on her cape.

"No," Duquesne said, "not yet at least. That can only come from the AG, and she will not do it without the governor's support. For now, we would like to keep our relationship… unofficial."

"So you aren't going to give me a badge," January said, "but you are willing to let me go through that door first, and be the first one to get shot."

"That sums it up," the old man smiled.

"How can a girl say no to that?"

Posted by: Acadian Sep 6 2020, 05:07 PM

Learning how to put make up on watching MeTube videos! wink.gif

So what’d you and Nyah talk about? Oh, you know, the usual girl things. . . hair, shoes. . . crotches. laugh.gif

Duquesne is interesting. I like how you put some time into developing him. He comes across as smooth, experienced and with a welcome sense of dry humor. Whether he plays a bigger role in the story is not so important but he was fun to read in this scene.

I had to laugh at January's answer to Duquesne’s question about how she knew about the Crystal Death situation. ‘Superpowers, remember.’ The answer in another time/place would be ‘Magicka, silly.’ tongue.gif

It looks like Jan’s efforts to reach out to the police are paying off. She’s getting a small collection of folks she can deal with now and is building some mutual trust.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 7 2020, 04:37 AM

Forgot to put up a pic of William Duquesne (Bill Duke from his role in Black Lightning)

Posted by: Acadian Sep 7 2020, 11:57 AM

QUOTE(SubRosa @ Sep 6 2020, 08:37 PM) *
Forgot to put up a pic of William Duquesne (Bill Duke from his role in Black Lightning)

To the better that way I figure. I read the story and formed my own impression based only upon Jan's description. Very neat to see that the pic looks just like I imagined him!

Posted by: Renee Sep 8 2020, 03:29 PM

Phew, that's a relief. Sometimes I worry about being annoying, or something.

QUOTE
But it is not for the quick cash. They are only releasing small amounts at a time, so they can observe the effects. They are making metahumans. If they succeed, it would be world-changing.


Ah, I see. Interesting.

Yes, heroin is also popular in Baltimore, and its surrounding counties. Yuck. I have a couple acquaintances who struggle with smack. Cocaine and crack are probably #2. I am not including pot of course, that's halfway to being legal. I think the virus stuff has slowed the legal process down, there. Otherwise, marijuana would be easily #1.


I like that... she wants to say something witty or outstanding, but can only manage "Hi." smile.gif

Whoa, the sniper's in skinny jeans. *gulp* I hear her voice as Midwest accent. Not Moira Brown-ish, but maybe halfway there, and not as piercing as Moira's. I'm kinda hoping Jan will get hot under the collar at some point.

Off-topic here, but yesterday Linda Hand met a woman in Camp McCarran who is clearly lesbian. She said something about she 'wants to get in her pants' or something. Her name is ... damn. Can't remember. The moment surprised me (in a good way). No wonder people sometimes say New Vegas has some more complex undercurrents than FO3, these undercurrents aren't just with quests and consequences!

QUOTE
January briefly wanted to hear him recite the lyrics to a K-Pop song…


laugh.gif

I like Jan's 'mission statement' that is very well thought and worded.

Hmm. Duquesne is making me suspicious.




Posted by: SubRosa Sep 12 2020, 08:26 AM

Acadian: January is a Generation Z'er. She has never known life without the internet. So it is always her go-to for learning new things, like makeup and hair and clothes.

Duquesne is strongly inspired by Bill Duke from Black Lightning. More and more when I have a supporting character, I am picking a real person and using them as a base. Both for how the character looks, and often their voice, and how they behave. Duquesne's appearance, his smooth nature, his confidence and self-assurance, all come from his role in Black Lightning. However, he is not also an evil so-and-so in the Crowverse, as he is in Black Lightning.

It took her five chapters, but January is finally making some serious inroads into seriously connecting with the authorities. By chapter 7 she will be personally meeting the state attorney general. Though it won't all be smooth, or necessarily work out in the end. Jan has some serious issues with authority after all.


Renee: Pot is legal here in Michigan. Though only just recently. One of my neighbors smokes right out on the porch.

Jan can be at her most adorable when she is failing to act as cool and composed as she would like. It is one of the things I really enjoy writing about her. Her nature always shines through.

Jan will eventually get hot under the hagfish. But that will not be until about chapter 8, when she meets Hannah (who I wrote about in the Writing Process topic).

Just as Buffy has her Doctrine, Jan has her Mission Statement. It has been a long time coming, and steadily evolving all of this time. Ironically, it will also be her largest stumbling block in creating a lasting relationship with the police. Because she really does not care about arresting people or putting them in prison.

Duquesne is a lawyer, he should make you suspicious! laugh.gif









Book 5.18 - Crystal Death

The cluster of state police and now an ambulance began to attract attention from the neighbors. At January's suggestion they knocked on the door of the Greenwood's, who graciously let them use their home as a headquarters, or at least as a place to cool their heels while they waited for their warrant.

The Greenwoods were unimpressed with January, which was actually something of a relief for the superheroine. For once she did not have any preconceived notions to live up to. Mr. Greenwood even made a remark about Halloween coming early. That brought several chuckles from the Emergency Response Team, and one from January herself. If only they knew that her superhero career had begun cosplay…

The state troopers pulled their armored assault vehicle through the driveway of the Greenwood's house, and into their backyard, in order to be off the street. Their detached garage blocked it from view of the Death Dealer's lair, on the opposite side of the yard. An ambulance pulled up behind it. January hoped the EMTs within would not be needed.

Time dragged by on leaden feet. If no one else had been there, January would have opened up Sága and gone to work on her Artemis Argent story. But she did not want to look like she was taking events lightly. So instead she did her best to meditate, and practice her flow of energy. It turned out that may not have been much better at impressing people with her professional attitude.

Before she knew it, she has slipped into Tadasana, or the Mountain Pose. It was her usual starting position for Yoga. It was a simple standing position with her hands down, palms open and facing forward. She rocked back and forth, then side to side, until she felt limber and loose. Then she moved through more challenging positions, such as the Eight Angle Pose, and of course the Crow Pose, which now felt like something of a signature position.

Finally January opened her eyes feeling calm and refreshed. Everyone was staring at her.

"What, no one does Yoga?" she challenged police and retirees alike.

That brought some chuckles and much shaking of heads. Mr. Greenwood mumbled something about heroes in his day not needing namby-pamby stretches. On the other hand, Mrs. Greenwood brought out coffee, milk, and home-baked cookies for all. January had to admit, the latter two were quite enjoyable. Mrs. Greenwood asked about Yoga, and January spent the next fifteen minutes talking with her about it. She explained how it helped her stay limber and clear her mind, how easy the beginner poses were, and where to find classes. They even did a few of the most basic poses together.

Duquesne's phone rang, and everyone stopped to stare at him. He nodded a few times, said some noncommittal words, and hung up. Then he looked to January and the Emergency Response Team.

"We have the warrant," he declared. "Take them."

With that they all flew out of the house like bees. The state troopers split up. Half of them went around the front of the Greenwood's house, through the adjoining field, and approached the drug lab from the street. The other half went through the backyard of the Greenwoods, and began to scale the wall to the back of the strip mall.

The sniper Nyah slung her massive Hecate II rifle and climbed atop the roof of their MRAP. January saw her contemplating the leap between it and the roof of the detached garage next to the vehicle. It seemed a risky maneuver, given the weight of her body armor and the unwieldiness of the incredibly long gun. Before the other woman could move, January was on top of the armored truck beside her. She put an arm around Nyah's waist, and in another instant both of them were on top of the garage.

January had a nearly overwhelming urge to pull a Princess Leia and lean in to kiss the other woman for luck, nearly. But she contained herself, and instead squatted down behind the crown of the roof, as if she did that kind of thing every day. Which, well, she kind of did now.

"Next time, warn me before you do that," Nyah shook her head.

"Next time?" January said without thinking, "People are going to think we are dating if there's a next time."

"You should be so lucky sister."

'Sister', that sounded good to January. Better than she could ever expect in fact. It was not like she would ever ask the sniper out for real. That would be too complicated, in far too many ways. Still, it was nice to think that the other woman might actually like her. Just like her, and nothing more. That was a victory all on its own.

Nyah unlsung her rifle and went prone on the rooftop. She got set up with the Hecate II, pulling out the legs of its bipod, bracing it on the roof, loading a magazine, and chambering a round with the bolt action. She stared down the telescopic sight, and studied the abandoned business across the empty back parking lot. January glanced over her shoulder, and could see a colorful display of shapes through the thermographic sight.

"So what made you pick me to talk to?" Nyah asked while they waited. "Is it because I'm the only female member of my team?"

"No," January answered honestly. "It's because you're a sniper."

When it was clear that the other woman still did not understand what she meant, January went on.

"I have a friend who plays World of Guncraft." January's thoughts turned to Ryo. "While everyone else runs around like mad, shooting everything that moves, he finds a spot and just chills. He sits there and waits, and watches, and thinks, and measures. He waits until he finally has that one perfect moment. Then he takes one shot, and gets a kill from it. Every shot he takes is a kill. He doesn't miss, he doesn't misjudge, because he takes his time and thinks everything through patiently and dispassionately."

"I was hoping that those same qualities would carry over into real world snipers," January finished, "and that you would also be someone who doesn't prejudge, or let their emotions get the better of them."

Nyah nodded, but before she could say anything, Lieutenant Hunter came on the radio.

"Ready to move in," he said. "Stormcrow, you are up."

January leaped from the roof of the garage, executed a forward roll in mid air, and landed on both feet before the back door of the lab. She fished the lockpick from her utility belt and jabbed it into the lock. It hummed as it did its work. In moments the pins within slid out of the way, allowing the cylinder of the lock to swing open.

"Movement inside," Nyah said calmly. "Could be a suspect is reaching for a gun. Permission to engage?"

"Negative," Hunter's voice came over the link. "Let's see what our new ally can really do."

Then January was through the door. Nyah had been right, one of them had gone for a gun. The dark-haired man with the ponytail - doubtlessly ThunderRhino - pointed a revolver at her. It roared in the enclosed space. She was vaguely aware of the bullet disintegrating on her new cubic boron nitride breastplate. She was on top of him with a single bound, and crushed the weapon under her fingers.

She could hear the state troopers breaking down the front door at the opposite end of the building, and rushing into another room beyond the lab. At the same time more troopers streamed in behind January, and fanned out across the back wall. They leveled their rifles at the other man in the room.

It was the man Gadget had identified as Joshua Bleaker, the pasty one with the mustache and glasses. He lifted a syringe in his hand. January stared at the glowing red liquid that filled it with trepidation. Whatever that was, it could not be good.

"Put the syringe down!" Lieutenant Hunter exclaimed.

Naturally Bleaker did the opposite. He raised the syringe, and plunged the needle into his neck. January involuntarily flinched at the sight. Then she abandoned Rhino, and leapt onto Bleaker. But she was too slow, and his thumb shoved the plunger of the device all the way to its base before she could stop him.

That glowing red liquid vanished into his body. January was able to pull the empty syringe from his neck and toss it aside before he went into convulsions. The next thing she knew, he collapsed into her arms, white froth welling from his mouth. She eased him to the floor as gently as she could, while more of the state troopers rushed forward to help her.

January remembered what Emilia had said, when she had first explained the danger of Crystal Death: "Half the people who have taken it are dead, the lucky ones who survive end up in a persistent vegetative state. Some of them never even get the meta abilities. They just go straight into a coma."

"Put your hand in his mouth," Gadget's voice was calm in her ear, "so he doesn't bite his tongue off."

January did as she was told, and shoved her armored palm between his teeth. As always, Gadget was right. Bleaker bit down hard, but human teeth were no match for her hagfish armor. January was relieved that he would pose no greater danger. Apparently he had lost the roll of the dice with his own super drug. Instead of enjoying only temporary superpowers, he had gone straight to the consolation prize of overdosing.

Lieutenant Hunter called for the EMTs, while January knelt there and watched the man spasm uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his veins stood out like purple cords all across his exposed flesh. It looked like he was dying, in a most spectacular fashion. She tried to conjure up sympathy for him. But when she considered how many people his drug had killed in this same fashion, it just felt like karma.






Author's Note - This is not the end of the chapter. We are only about 2/3rds of the way through. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChekhovsGunman are still out there...

Posted by: Acadian Sep 12 2020, 07:35 PM

You are absolutely right that Jan is at her most adorable when trying be cool and having to settle (in her mind) for awkward instead. That said, I think her yoga was pretty cool – eccentric, mysterious and exotic. Perfect.

I’m also glad to see her getting along with Nyah. Having the sniper call her ‘Sister’ is an encouraging step. Whether anything pans out or not with Nyah, it looks like having somewhat of a reasonable ally is well underway.

A nice takedown, and the Stormcrow is well equipped to take down the door and intercept any initial resistance.

I shared Jan’s trepidation at Bleaker with that syringe. My concern was that she would quickly find herself in a fight with a drug-fueled temporary Super who could pose a serious threat to her and the SWAT team. It certainly appears he is simply going to convulse and die but I’m not ruling out my earlier concern. . . yet. I’m going to guess that is going to die without posing a threat, but also unable to provide info on tracking the source deeper toward the evil behind it. As you imply in your note, looks like it ain't over yet. . . .

Posted by: Renee Sep 14 2020, 06:56 PM

Smoking on the front porch sounds nice. Even if it gets legal here I would feel weird about that, but it does sound nice.

The Greenwoods have no idea who they are talking to, which is oddly a relief. Yes, I would think the constant stares and adulation would get distracting after awhile, though for Jan she also relishes this at times, right? Good for her well-being, I'd think. Of course, in Blood Raven's eyes, she doesn't want or need this so much. nono.gif And Lighthammer starts to deflate if he doesn't get it!

That is a question I had, but forgot earlier. When you game with the different Januaries in Fallout 3, Skyrim, etc., are you able to simulate her ability to draw from various elements like Earth, Water, and so on?

"What, nobody does yoga?" laugh.gif

I know how she feels. Going for a kiss at that moment is something we dream about.

Nice. Hunter says "you're up, Stormcrow." Letting her do the hard part I guess, but still...

Bam in they go. panic.gif Guess ThunderRhino did not allot any funds toward the purchase of an exterior camera system after all.

Now wait a minute though. That does strike me as odd they would want SC to take on the most dangerous part. Me and my suspicious mind, now I'm wondering if it's because the uppers (Hunter and the lawyer) want to use her, which makes the rest of their team not as liable to injury. Of course, maybe January (nor you) sees it this way. I mean, it's great she's going to get some glory, and all.

Hmm.

QUOTE
He raised the syringe, and plunged the needle into his neck. January involuntarily flinched at the sight


Yeah, me too. wink.gif

Oh man, I thought he injected some Crystal Death. That's what he should have done. At least he'd be able to Hulk out as he met his demise.


Posted by: SubRosa Sep 16 2020, 02:09 AM

Since there was a little confusion, I went back and tweaked the last few paragraphs to make it clear that yes, that was Crystal Death that Bleaker injected himself with. Also that people dying immediately upon taking it is not uncommon.

I have given a lot of thought since posting it, on whether it is too anti-climatic. I think the common route here would have been to have a big, knock-down, drag out boss battle. Instead I went this route for several reasons. Firstly was to show the different sides of Crystal Death. We were first introduced to the drug in the prologue with Chad, whose experience was standard. He takes it, gets powers, gets hella angry and a god-complex, then crashes and burns.

But as Emilia said at the beginning, some people take it and immediately die or fall into a brain-dead coma. I wanted a character to go that route as well, to show it to the readers.

But now I wonder if I ought to go back and add a fight here instead? A good story has a steady pace of action and exposition. I have been looking for other ways to provide conflict and action in this chapter, beyond simple fist-fights. Like January's misgivings about posting her own story on Crow Tales, or the showdown with the police, or the appearance of the Nazis downtown. I would like to think that we could go without an explosion every ten minutes (like in a James Cameron movie). But sometimes a big fight is just what the doctor ordered.

In the very least, fear not, because this chapter will end on the biggest super battle I have yet written.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 16 2020, 12:15 PM

The clarification you added was perfect.

Given what you just said, I'd leave things as they are now. I do thank you for the clarification we could indeed consider Bleaker dead. I wasn't looking for a fight here (lol), just didn't want to rule it out in case it was part of your plans. smile.gif

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 19 2020, 08:24 AM

Acadian: January is making inroads, and becoming a lot more at ease with the superhero life. She has come a long way mentally since her first encounters with Lighthammer and the Blood Diamond Trader. Even with all of her awkwardness, she is really growing into her role.


Renee: When I play January in computer games I do my best to work with what the games offer. A lot of them have classes, which can really restrict what she can do. Though sometimes I can use the console to add in lightning spells and the like even when she is a monk or a paladin. I also mod the game to add lightning effects to her weapons whenever I can. I do that in all the Bethesda games. I also eliminate falling damage in them, and when I can mod the jumping so she can make super leaps. Morrowind has the Levitate spell, which was perfect since January can fly.

January does like the fame, to a certain extent. But she has already found it invasive. There will be more on that later this chapter in fact. Blood Raven of course, has no use for it at all. She'd much rather lurk in the shadows of a gothic steeple than be live streamed.

Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.







https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/23/us/national-socialist-movement-james-hart-stern.html



Book 5.19 - Crystal Death

January remained for enough of the aftermath to confirm that the ponytailed gunman was indeed ThunderRhino666. His real name turned out to be Lonnie Maguire. His history came up very quickly in the police computer, thanks to his long record of drug arrests. He was also the brother-in-law of Joshua Bleaker - the Death Dealer himself - who had been recently fired from a chemical company for the vaguely disturbing reason of conducting 'unethical experiments'.

More warrants were in the works to search both their homes. But Mr. Duquesne assured January that she would not be needed for either. That was something that ordinary troopers - like Emilia Mercado - could handle, rather than her and the Emergency Response Team.

"It appears that after he was fired, our Death Dealer - Mr. Bleaker - decided to go into business for himself." Mr. Duquesne flipped through a stack of print outs that were covered in chemical symbols, and stained with coffee rings. "I will admit, I have no idea what any of this means. But the dates of these batches do match up with the incidents we have on file. He must have been experimenting, tweaking the formula each time."

"And his brother-in-law Lonnie was his man on the street, handing it out to the unwitting test subjects," January frowned.

"All that is left now is to get into his PC." Duquesne walked to Bleaker's desktop computer, and its array of three monitors. A young man in a state police uniform sat there with a frown etched across his features.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to take this back to the lab." The technician turned to the Special Assistant AG. "I can't make any headway against this encryption."

January said nothing. In truth, she was relieved. The last thing the world needed was more Crystal Death. She hoped that its secrets would die with its creator, assuming that the massive overdose he had given himself proved fatal.

The only thing that stopped her from ripping open the sky and calling down lightning on the entire lab was the fact that it would not go over well with the state police. She really did want to get off on a better foot with them. She also did not want to destroy the building and start a fire that would certainly spread to the neighboring print shop.

"That was good work." Duquesne turned back to January as the technician began disconnecting the computer's peripherals and packing it all up. "It was quick, and with no collateral damage."

"I just got lucky," January admitted. "I did not find them because I was smart. I only did because 'ThunderRhino' screwed up."

"Criminals rarely show discipline or good judgment," Duquesne noted. "That tends to be why they are criminals in the first place."

"I take it this means the Mills family's electronics will be returned to them?" January said pointedly.

"As we speak," Duquesne nodded, "along with an apology to the family. That is something that could have gone better. It would do no one any good if say, video of the incident were to leak to the internet."

"It won't come from me," January looked down at her feet. She did not much like the idea. But she had to admit, she was not exactly proud of her role in events either. She knew that it would certainly not endear her toward law enforcement officials. "But I cannot speak for Wayne or his parents."

"I believe the young Mr. Mills will cooperate with us in this matter," Duquesne said smoothly, "as well as his parents. The young squire has desires to become an attorney. I may be able to lend him some guidance in that endeavor."

* * *

"So where do you stand with your mission?" Blood Raven's voice intoned in January's ear, while her face filled Sága's screen.

January was perched on the roof of a black and white office building, across the street from the General Motors Technical Center. The sprawl of office and engineering buildings stretched for an entire square mile. But today only a handful of cars dotted the many parking lots and roads within. It was a Saturday, so only the most die-hard or unlucky of company men were working.

Between her and the massive automotive campus stretched out Van Dyke, a great seven lane thoroughfare that ran from north to south through Metro Detroit's East Side. Thanks to it being a weekend, the traffic below was likewise spotty, rather than its usual weekday roar. Instead it was only a muted hum in the background of their conversation.

"It's all wrapped up," January tried not to preen. She really did. "The Death Dealer is in a coma. The last I heard he was being taken to the Detroit Medical Center. The state police have his lackey, and they're sweating him for a confession."

"We were fortuitous that he did not seek a corporation or wealthy individual for a sponsor," Blood Raven considered, "elsewise he should not have been so easily apprehended."

"Yeah, I'm sure the Department of Defense would have thrown millions at the guy, just to get what had already produced." January noted. "But I guess he did not want to share. After all, if he had succeeded in making a stable drug that makes meta-humans, well, he'd be our next Emperor, wouldn't he? Why give that kind of power away to someone else?"

"Indeed," Blood Raven nodded over their link. "As I said before, ever since Tunguska there have been others who have sought this same grail. Any nation, or organization, or cult, who controlled such a thing, would literally control the world. At least until their own creations spun out of their control. Thankfully, no one has ever drawn even this near to success."

"What about Bleaker's lab notes," a gruff, yet soft voice came to January's ears. "Sorry, this is Cray. I work with Blood Raven."

"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?

"There were some hard copies, but nothing really definitive in them," January continued. "The real formula is locked up in his PC. It's got some serious encryption on it. Not even Gadget could crack it. I doubt the state cops ever will."

"It is a shame you were not able to destroy it," Blood Raven sighed. "This knowledge is too dangerous to leave in existence. But I realize the opportunity was not there."

"I dunno, couldn't something like this be used for good someday?" Gadget chimed in. "I mean, if it could be fixed, so it didn't drive people crazy, and kill them. I mean, someone without meta abilities might say that we are just hogging it all to ourselves, like some sort of superpowered elites. Oh, this is Gadget by the way."

"Everyone has that power already," Blood Raven insisted. "All they have to do is believe in themselves, and commit to an ideal. That is what January did. She is not special. Nor am I. The problem with drugs like Crystal Death is that they require no effort on the part of the recipient. They need no disciple, no sacrifice to attain. Because of that those who take it do not respect the power they were given, or take responsibility for the danger they even unwittingly pose to others. Even those born meta-human typically have to invest time and effort learning to master their abilities. That commitment engenders a healthy respect for those powers, at least most of the time."

"I guess you do have a point," Gadget grudgingly admitted. "It took me years to make my first invention actually work."

January smiled in spite of herself. She remembered that. It had been a drone that he had made from three hair-dryers, a toaster, and a skate board. He had indeed spent years fighting to make it work. But in the end his perseverance had won the day. At least until it crashed into a neighbor's swimming pool...

"Well maybe we can still get at the PC?" Gadget forged ahead. "All we need is for someone to walk in and put an electromagnet next to the hard drive."

"That is an excellent idea," Blood Raven agreed. "Yet I fear that task shall not be so easily accomplished. The state police evidence lockup is a highly secure location. It shall take time, a proper reconnaissance, and planning. Most of all it cannot look like we were responsible."

"So, before breakfast tomorrow then?" Gadget laughed. January grinned at the joke, and she even saw Blood Raven crack a smile over the video link.

"I admire your pluck young man!" Cray joined in. "But I am afraid that is a job for another day. Thankfully that encryption should keep them deadlocked until we can find a solution."

"You mean until we can recruit Danny Ocean," January murmured. For an instant her mind jumped to Ryo. He could practically disappear when he wanted to. It was too bad he wasn't a meta-human. He would be their perfect ninja for something like this.

"I believe Frank Sinatra is a trifle long in the tooth for that," Blood Raven actually made a pop culture reference. Albeit one that January did not understand.

"I think she meant Clooney," Cray explained.

"Who?" Blood Raven asked. Then she waved a hand in dismissal. "In any case, good work you two. That relieves us of one threat. Now we may concentrate all of our efforts upon the Conjurer once again."

"I'll be there Downtown tomorrow morning," January insisted, "I took the day off work. So I can be there all day."

"As long as we can avoid any Imperial entanglements," Gadget mused.

"Well that is the real trick, isn't it," Cray instantly responded. January thought it was adorable how they nerded off one another. "I have unearthed some arcana on today's Nazis: the National Socialist League. They have chapters across the country. They have their own social media platform, a podcast, even a record label. But they've been in freefall lately. It seems they're a little too Nazi to be popular. They even took the swastika off their logo a few years ago, and replaced it with that Norse rune, to be a little less overt."

"But they still can't compete with the other Alt-Right groups that pretend to be more mainstream, like the Proud Boys or Patriot Prayer. They show too much of what they really believe, and that scares off the run-of-the-mill racists before they can radicalize them even further. A few months ago their leader - Mikael Scheuer - lost power of attorney over the group to an African-American reverend. The reverend now officially owns all NSL property - their website, their social media, their podcast - everything legally owned by the organization, rather than by the individual people in it."

"What?" January was not the only one to betray shock.

"Way to go Rev!" Gadget was the first to exult.

"Yeah, he sounds like a pretty cool dude," January added.

Even Blood Raven looked impressed.

"I won't even pretend to understand how all of this works," Cray went on, "but it looks like instead of just disbanding the group, the reverend is trying to gradually tone them down. To reverse radicalize them. But they are still around, and Scheuer still has control on the ground, even if not legal power over the organization's assets."

"If he dissolved the group, they would all just move to other organizations, or even restart with the same name," Blood Raven observed. "These fascist gangs fracture, dissolve, poach each other's members, and start anew at a rate only a speedster can keep up with."

"So what were they doing here?" January asked.

"It looks like Scheuer is originally from Detroit," Cray said. "But I am guessing this was some last stab at regaining power in his own organization. Maybe he wants to show his own people that he's still in control? Or maybe he wants to use the publicity to convince other Nazi groups that he is? Or maybe he hopes to use the money he gathers from donations to take legal control back? In any case, he's hemorrhaging members to other groups, like the Church Militia and the Shieldwall Network. If this keeps up, there won't be an NSL for much longer."

"I smell desperation," Blood Raven observed. "Now I see why there were only fifteen demonstrators yesterday, from a group that stretches nationwide. The NSL is a dying beast. We must take care. This will make them reckless, dangerous. They may return to Motor City Pride tomorrow. If so, they will probably go to even greater lengths to provoke violence. Blood in the streets is the only thing that can save them now."

Posted by: Acadian Sep 19 2020, 05:29 PM

I’m with January and, as I learned later, Blood Raven in wishing this Crystal Death and its secrets could be simply destroyed instead of being learned –by anyone.

"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?’
- - This is an adorable paragraph! tongue.gif

Posted by: Renee Sep 21 2020, 08:34 PM

Yes, Morrowind has Levitate, and Fallout 4 has jet packs (or something such). Oblivion has that broom mod which I used in Sarah Phimm's game, just in case January / Cyrodiil wants to try that, I can provide a link. That's not on Nexus.

Oh okay, so that was crystal death the Death Dealer's brother ate. Well goodbye to you, loozer.

QUOTE
Blood Raven of course, has no use for it at all. She'd much rather lurk in the shadows of a gothic steeple than be live streamed.


I also imagine Blood Raven does not need or want that ego boost BUT she wants for the larger picture to be seen. She wants people to appreciate the final effects of her work, right? She herself doesn't need any accolades though. "The peoples of Detroit have been saved," not "The peoples of Detroit have been saved because of Blood Raven."

QUOTE

Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.


Yeah but.... biggrin.gif


QUOTE
The only thing that stopped her from ripping open the sky and calling down lightning on the entire lab was the fact that it would not go over well with the state police.


That would also destroy a lot of evidence, even though her intentions are thoughtful. The defense would easily jump all over that. sad.gif

Blood Raven uses the word elsewise. I like that. My computer just underlined it in red ink, but Dictionary.com does have a meaning. My computer's so-called modern software is therefore wrong. Ha ha.

I love her perky phone voice. hehe.gif

Erasing the hard drive would be useless, right? Surely the Death Dealer made some copy. Well, maybe not, if he's not even careful enough to hide his chemical output. There was a scene in Breaking Bad in which they tried to erase someone's computer drive, which was located IN police evidence locker. They had to use a really big electric magnet of course, in the back of a cargo van.

Still, that's Tampering with Evidence. Again, a good defense would jump all over that. "What do you mean his hard drive got erased while in the police evidence locker...?" It's funny to read them all nerding out. smile.gif Just.. be careful guys & gals.

QUOTE
"I believe Frank Sinatra is a trifle long in the tooth for that," Blood Raven actually made a pop culture reference. Albeit one that January did not understand.


Hey, at least she chose a celebrity from this century! Oh wait. Well, last century.

Yikes, the hate group is not done yet. Yeah, I imagine they're pretty pissed about Branwen ruining their parade. Ha!

Posted by: Renee Sep 22 2020, 03:52 PM

Actually, to revise, I am going to say that Blood Raven does not care if her ego gets stroked, but it seems that ideals are what's important to her. And in some cases these ideals are common, not always specifically hers. She wishes to see historical change, with peoples' rights and so forth. But it's not so important that she get recognized for these instances. Not specifically, anyways. She's more in the shadows. Seeing historical and political changes for the better are what pleases her.

How about that? In the ball park, or did I just get that wrong?


Posted by: SubRosa Sep 26 2020, 06:42 AM

Acadian: January is at her best when she is being awkwardly adorable.


Renee: It was the Death Dealer himself - Joshua Bleaker - who took the Crystal Death. His brother-in-law Lonnie is the gamer who shot at January.

You understand Blood Raven very well. In spite wearing a very gray hat, she is entirely driven by her sense of duty and morality. That is why she is so distrustful of Lighthammer. To her, he seems to be driven by passion, rather than principle. It is also why she is so trusting of January. She can see that Jan is motivated by a need to protect others from harm.

Elsewise was a late modification. I always have to work extra hard on Blood Raven's dialogue, to keep that sense of timelessness to her.

There maybe be hard copy backups of the Death Dealer's work, either in the lab, or at his home. Which the cops will find. He would not trust the web. That would be too easy for someone else to steal.

You are right that what they are talking about is destroying evidence. But if the police cannot crack the encryption, then it does not really matter as evidence, since there is nothing to use. Given that the Death Dealer suffered massive brain damage and is in a coma which no other Crystal Death user has ever recovered from, prosecution is kind of moot as well. But if the police can crack the encryption, that would mean the Pentagon would start manufacturing Crystal Death and passing it out to the troops. Or whoever else in the government got their hands on it first.

She did choose a celebrity from last century! biggrin.gif She has no idea who George Clooney is.

Those nazis are indeed mighty pissed that Blood Raven made them look bad...










Book 5.20 - Crystal Death

"The deputy attorney general told me that you wanted to be a lawyer," January said. She sat on the back porch of the Mills home with their son, Wayne. Both held tall glasses of ice cold lemonade, which were beaded with condensation in the warm June air.

"Yeah," Wayne declared. "I'm going to be a civil rights attorney, like Thurgood Marshall. Especially after what happened yesterday."

"About that," January frowned. "I'm sorry I lost my temper around those cops. I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Are you shi- um, kidding me?" the fifteen-year old replied. "That was awesome! I wanted to bust those… people up."

"There are a lot of times you want to do that," January said. "But that doesn't mean we should, any of us. Otherwise we're no different. Those cops, they're like the old saying: 'when you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail.' Day in and day out, they see the worst in people, until it's all they can see. We need to remind ourselves to see more than that, and show people more than that in ourselves. I guess I need to at least."

"So you mean like, be Swiss Army Knives instead?" Wayne nodded, and took a sip of his lemonade. "You sound like my mom. She's the Michelle Obama of Sterling Heights: 'when they go low, we go high'."

"That's exactly what my mom said to me a little while ago!" January laughed. She took a sip of her lemonade. It was sweet, really sweet. She knew she would have a headache if she drank too much. Sugar always did that to her. But it was good, and cool, and even though it was still morning, it was shaping up to be a hot day.

"What did your mom say to you?" Mrs. Mills - Tanisha - stepped through the sliding patio door and onto the back porch. Her husband Jefferson followed her.

"That it's important to be a better person, Mrs. Obama," January smiled.

"Oh he's going on about that Michelle Obama business again," Tanisha laughed. "He only does that when he wants to butter me up for something."

"Hey, if I'm married to Michelle Obama, doesn't that make me the president?" Mr. Mills - Jefferson - chortled.

"We should be so lucky," January murmured.

"I have to say," Tanisha smiled and sat down on a chair beside January. "You aren't at all what I expected from a superhero."

"Yeah, you're so chill," Wayne declared. "I mean when you're not being all…" He raised his arms in a pantomime of wings, and set his face into grim line. Then he began cawing like a crow.

"I do try to be chill," January said. "I work hard at it in fact. So I don't go all stormtrooper like those state cops."

"So you really do Yoga then?" Tanisha asked. "Like Gilda said you were doing with those cops, and that old lady?"

"Oh yes," January nodded. "I love Yoga. Well, what we call Yoga in America at least. Let's face it, it's hardly the same here as it is India. But it really helps me de-stress, as well as stay limber. I'm starting to combine it with my meditation and energy exercises. I think everyone else thought it was mildly amusing. I thought it would be good way to pass the time while we waited for the warrant. But you listen to Gilda Gadfly too?"

"Everyone watches Gilda on TV, or listens on the radio, or her podcast," Jefferson mused. "Whether they admit it or not."

"I noticed the cops were a lot nicer to the old white couple than us," Wayne interjected.

"Because all cops are racists?" January said. "I can understand why you would feel that way, for very good reasons. But I don't know that it was that simple yesterday at least. The Emergency Team didn't know what color you were before they came in the door. As far as I can tell they didn't do any research on you are all. If they had gotten a tip saying that the Greenwoods were manufacturing a deadly drug, it probably would have gone badly for them too. The whole reason Swatting works is because cops like them don't care whose door they are busting down. Thankfully I had already found the real dealer by then."

"Wow, you really are as nice as they say," Jefferson shook his head.

"I have to say, you have a lot of patience," Tanisha also said. "Working with those same cops after what happened. I don't think I could have been so beneficent."

"I'm whiter than white bread, so I honestly have no clue what racism is like," January admitted. "But being lesbian, and trans, I have some ideas. That's why I try to be a kinder person. I know what it's like when people aren't nice."

A look passed between all three of the Mills family members. January knew that look well. It was the 'OMG, it's a trans person!' realization.

"Oh, did I say the 'T' word?" January forced a smile. This was always the moment of truth.

Mr. Mills just shook his head.

"Damn woman, you really are a 21st century cape." January noted that he said 'woman', which was always a good sign. He was also smiling, in what she thought was a good way. "Yoga, meditation, 'let's be nice', lesbian, transgender. Are there any boxes you didn't check? I bet you eat kale and avocados too."

"Oh you leave her be Jefferson," Tanisha declared. "I think you are exactly the hero this city needs, this country needs. If we had more lesbian transgender police, then maybe we'd have less people getting their doors busted in."

"Amen to that sister," Jefferson nodded.

"Wow, you're just like that girl in my school then," Wayne whistled. "She transitioned last year. That was wild!"

January was about to ask how his schoolmate was doing. Her own school years had varied from miserable to horrific. But then a crow landed on the little glass table between them. It stared at January, and croaked loudly.

January rose to her feet. Something was wrong. She just knew it. The crow leapt up as well, flew around her in a circle, and landed on her shoulder. It croaked into her ear, as if trying to tell her something.

Sága chimed with an incoming call. This must be it what the crow was warning her about. January looked down at her armored wrist, and saw it was not being forwarded from her regular phone. This had been made directly to her Stormcrow number. Her heart jumped a beat when she saw the name on the caller ID.

"Mr. Duquesne," she answered. "I am here with the Mills family. What can I do for you?"

"It is more a question of what I can do for you Ms. Crow," the deputy attorney general said. "I am afraid this is not a social call, so if we could speak in private, it would be appreciated."

"Sorry," January silently mouthed to the family. She strode across the backyard, to where she would be alone. The crow leaped into the sky, and winged its way southward, croaking all the way. January did not like that. It was warning her about more than just a phone call…

"It's just the two us now," she said.

"I have some information," Duquesne said. "Mr. Maguire - ThunderRhino - finally realized the depth of the trouble he is in. So he has decided to cooperate. We learned that yesterday afternoon he sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death. He does not know who the buyer was. Just that he was a white man with a shaven head, and a tattoo that looked like an awareness ribbon. He was in a van, and had others with him inside."

"It's an Odal rune." January pinched her finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose. Why did Nazi's have to love perverting her Scandinavian heritage so much? It made her regret being born with blond hair and blue eyes. "Blood Raven told me there were fifteen neo-Nazis at Motor City Pride yesterday."

"Are you sure about that?" Duquesne sounded somewhat nonplussed, perhaps due to the source. "There must be thousands of men with shaved heads and tattoos."

"That's it," January declared. She just knew it was the same Nazis who had tried to interrupt the festival day before. "It's the National Socialist League. Get the response team Downtown. Call the Detroit PD. We have to stop them."

"You believe they will attack the festival?"

"I know it. The parade starts in… frell, fifteen minutes." January glanced down at Sága's display to see the time. She had spent too much time with the Mills.

She looked over to the suburbanites and waved. Then she leaped skyward, and poured her mana into the image of her flying. Her arms transformed into wings, and she made that idea a reality. She darted south like an arrow, toward Downtown. She had miles to go, and no time to waste.

"I'm on my way now," she insisted. "I'm going to alert Blood Raven. We'll be ready."

January was thankful for the voice activation that Gadget had worked into Sága. Without it, she never would have been able to hang up on Duquesne and call Gadget.

"Gadget you need to connect us to Blood Raven and Cray, right away," she said as soon as he picked up.

He blearily mumbled an assent, and January imagined that he might have been sleeping. It was Sunday morning after all. She heard his feet thumping on stairs, then fingers clacking on one of his keyboards.

"Cray here," a male voice that was both deep and soft at the same time responded. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."

"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."

"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"

"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.

"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."

Both Cray and Gadget swore at the same time. Blood Raven was silent however. January heard a whoosh of flame over the audio link, and then a thunderous crash!

Posted by: Renee Sep 26 2020, 03:11 PM

That's a good point, about the nail and the hammer. Never thought of it that way.

I'm with Jan on the lemonade. It has to be "brought down" for me to enjoy. I always cut lemonade with spring water.

Whoa the mother's name is Tanisha? blink.gif Has this been mentioned before? If so, I may have picked that up subconsciously. I was looking for a name for Vicious a couple weeks ago and was going for Taneequa or something such. But then I put that name into Google and some weird Urban Dictionary stuff came up. Taneequa has a double meaning which I didn't want connotated with my Vicious. But dang, I didn't mean to use the same name!

That is one thing I noticed right away about this story, she was doing yoga in public. I still remember that. One of those things which stands out.

That part with the T word is gripping. Phew. I thought she might be in trouble there. Phew.

Shoot, there's the crow. Always something going on in Detroit. Well, at least now she has an excuse not to finish that too-sweet lemonade.

Uh oh. That lawyer's calling. Well maybe he's got an agenda which is not so underhanded as I'm thinking. Nope, he does not. He seems like one of the Good Guys in fact.

I wonder what that crash is at the end. Goodbye sweet lemonade!


QUOTE
Elsewise was a late modification. I always have to work extra hard on Blood Raven's dialogue, to keep that sense of timelessness to her.


This is fine! Your hard work is appreciated! I love antiquated words like this, they immediately make me think of Raven as somebody from another time.

When I was writing Sarah Phimm's story a few years ago I'd constantly have Thesaurus.com up and ready. Especially any time she'd write one of her journals, I'd be looking for "modern" terminology, and then I'd squash this with terms from the past. Or words which aren't used anymore. Even sentence structure. I was looking to smash my usual sentence structure habits, and turn them into something which seemed more 'old-timey'.

Gah. I'll have to post an example later of what I mean.

I am glad I got Blood Raven's intentions down pat. smile.gif Have a nice day, Florens!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 26 2020, 06:11 PM

Jan’s magic continues to subtly grow as we see the familiar prescient crow that is acting rather like . . . well, a familiar. tongue.gif

Uh-oh, it’s the CrowPhone ringing with Mr Duquesne calling for Ms Crow.

Jan grows much more confident in smoothly transitioning to fully winged flight. Heh, she really does need hand free talking while flying and kudos to Gadget for crafting that into Saga.

The concept of fifteen drug-induced super-mutants on a binge is frightening indeed. ohmy.gif I wonder if they realize that buffing up on crystal death is a one way trip akin to that that of suicide bombers? I suspect not but who knows?

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 3 2020, 05:54 AM

Renee: I think it would have been cool if we had both used the same name for different characters! Talk about synergy.

Duquesne is about as a good a guy as a prosecutor can be.

We are going to see what that crash was this episode!

I usually have Thesaurus.com open while I am writing as well.


Acadian: Jan is getting better and better at this magic thing. We will see more evolutions of that later this chapter as well.

15 super mutants is indeed a frightening concept. Though of course as we saw with the Death Dealer himself, not everyone survives the initial use of the drug. So it won't be quite that many in the actual battle. But it will still be an awful lot of bad guys. They probably don't know that Crystal Death is a one way trip. But, it might not make a difference if they did.







https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

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https://youtu.be/WxlE7Z18qD8





Book 5.21 - Crystal Death

Blood Raven stood atop the tallest point of the Detroit Radiator Building. It was not often that she had the opportunity to use her own lair as a vantage point. Given that the parade for Motor City Pride was organizing directly below, it was the obvious choice however. Griswold Street ran from north to south directly west of her building. Beyond it was Capitol Park, which was really nothing but a small, triangular plaza. It was surrounded by tall buildings on every side. From titanic skyscrapers such as her own Radiator Building and the Westin Book Cadillac hotel, to office and apartment buildings which only stood a dozen or so stories tall, but were still nothing to sneeze at.

She allowed her eyes to wander over the crowd of people gathered within the park. Like those who had attended the festival the previous day, they were a cornucopia of every ethnicity, age, and gender expression on the spectrum. Her gaze shifted from them to follow the parade route south down Griswold. It was lined with even more throngs of people. She saw that every street that crossed it was blocked off, all the way to Jefferson Avenue and Hart Plaza in the distance. She could even spy the waters of the Detroit River flowing ever southward beyond that, and the shoreline of Canada farther still.

Blood Raven closed her eyes, and stretched out her magical senses to the utmost. The physical world slipped away entirely. She became a purely magical being, aware of nothing but the brilliant auras that bathed the city below, transforming it into a vibrant sea of light and warmth. She felt along those auras, and searched for any that were brighter, more vivid. This was the sure sign of a magician. She also felt for any disturbances. For the dark clouds of one resolved to do murder, or the first tugs on reality that bespoke of calling Beyond, to the Creatures of the Abyss.

She found nothing. Oh, there were certainly magical auras down there. Some were so slight their owners probably only thought of themselves as lucky, or determined. Others were must have been consciously using magic to improve their daily lives. Such as those who read her books on Wicca and Witchcraft, and whom she met regularly at Neo-Pagan events. But there were none like her, or her great-granddaughter, who blatantly reshaped reality with their Power.

Time went by, and she felt the pent up expectations rising in the crowd of auras in Capitol Park below. The parade would be starting soon. Clearly, they were all looking forward to it. Some of the energy signatures were nervous. Perhaps they were cases of stage fright within those taking part in the parade? But most were expressions of jubilation and revelry, as befitting a festive event.

Something intruded on that purity of spirit, something dark and clouded. Blood Raven involuntarily twitched her head at the foul taste it left in her mouth. It was not a magical working. Rather it was a familiar taste, that of all-too mundane anxiety, revulsion, and bitter hatred.

It was a feeling she was acquainted with all too well. She had felt it since her childhood. Ever since she had first heard people whispering of her father's doings in hushed tones, when they thought she could not hear. The same when they brought up her mother's Irish heritage, and thusly her own as well. At first she could not understand the animosity. But she quickly learned better, both about her father, and about the race prejudice.

It would seem that someone was not pleased about all of the Queer people gathering to celebrate, along with those who supported them.

Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building. She slowly turned about to face the coming darkness. It was not a single individual. Rather it was a group of at least a dozen, perhaps more. She floated across the width of the skyscraper below her, and faced in the opposite direction from where the parade formed up.

She opened her eyes, and gazed down across Woodward Avenue. Her quarry was there, in the sprawling parking lot behind the broad thoroughfare, just north of the Compuware building. The lot was jammed with vehicles, and people went to and from it in little trickles. But none of them carried that stain upon their auras. The threat was somewhere else, somewhere lower.

Blood Raven locked her eyes upon the concrete ramps in the center of the lot, which led down into the bowels of the earth. Some of the parking was underground, as well as at street level. That was where this darkness festered, hidden from the light of day.

She floated down in that direction. It might be nothing but discontented individuals who would never do any actual harm. Or it might be something more. She had not paid close enough attention to the spirit realm the previous day. She should have felt the neo-Nazis when they had arrived. She had simply been looking for a summoning. Now, however, she was on her guard. She would not be so easily taken at unawares again.

"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.

"Do you have something?" he rumbled in his mellow voice.

"Perhaps," Blood Raven mused, "Perhaps not."

"Wait a minute," Cray's raised voice betrayed momentary surprise. "Gadget is calling, with Stormcrow. I am putting them through."

"Cray here," he said after a fleeting clacking of keys. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."

"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."

"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"

"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.

"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."

But Blood Raven was no longer paying attention to the conversation. She was busy dodging the bolt of fire that lanced up into the sky at her. A moment later a blur of motion and force rocketed up from one of the ramps that led down beneath the parking lot. This time she was too slow, and it struck her full in the chest. It slammed into her like a locomotive, and drove her back into the side of the Radiator Building. Black bricks and gold leaf chewed up beneath her shoulders, as she and the mysterious force gouged a trench through the skin of the skyscraper.

It was a living force, Blood Raven realized. It had blood, and a heartbeat. That heart was racing wildly out of control. Too much for even one thrilled and terrified by the threat of sudden death in battle. His blood stank of chemicals, of a perversion of the natural energies of life. She could feel it eating away at him, like termites slowly but surely hollowing out a tree. This could only be the touch of that drug January had spent the last week endeavoring to stop.

Blood Raven was able to grab hold of her attacker. Using his own momentum, she spun him about in a mid-air belly to belly suplex. Now her enemy crunched into the wall of the building instead of her. Blood Raven added more force, and sent them both through the wall, and into a deserted office space inside. Her attacker stumbled and fell to the ground. Now that he was no longer moving at tremendous speed, she could see that he was just a man. He had closely-cropped brown hair, and was built thickly and strongly. She remembered his face from the day before, and he still wore the same black faux Nazi uniform.

He gathered himself up in an instant. Then he sprang back at her. His body became a blur, and he seemed to transform into a rocket of motion and force. He blasted directly at her. This time she was ready however. She side-stepped, and threw out an energy whip from one hand. It wrapped around his midsection. She immediately felt his momentum try to rip her from her feet. But a simple tweak of reality ensured that she did not move an inch. She reeled in her whip, and pulled the rocket of force into a tight turn, like a ball on a string.

That sent him crashing directly into the second figure that Blood Raven had felt rising up into the hole that gaped in the side of the building. The newcomer seemed to be a living being of fire. Yet she felt blood racing through his veins as well, and a heart shuddering in his chest. So clearly he had not transformed his entire body into elemental energy. Rather he must have been using it as a sheath.

Blood Raven released her hold on the first Nazi, and allowed the tendril of force she had created to dissipate into nothingness. Both Nazis went tumbling through the air outside, and plummeted back down toward Woodward. They halted in mid-air however, as if some invisible force held them aloft. Blood Raven would have taken the time to trace that power back to its source, but she had too many other things to worry about.

Now there were more of the Nazis in the street below. One was what could only be described as a werebear. It was a furred humanoid standing at least eight feet tall, bearing clawed hands and feet, and a muzzle filled with slavering fangs. There was also a man made of concrete. He truly was entirely comprised of that material, for Blood Raven smelled no blood within him at all. Another stretched out his hands, and the iron ripped out of the cars nearby and clanged together around his body. It created a jagged suit of armor that completely encased his frame, and formed into a giant, spiked mace in one of his fists A fourth raised his hand in the air, and a sword of brilliant fire sprouted there. An inwardly curved, rectangular shield of sparking flames likewise formed in his other hand.

These four charged across Woodward, and headed for State Street. The latter was really just an alley. A ten story parking structure and the much taller spire of the Radiator Building rose up on its south side. A ten story tall office building rose up on the north side of the street, across from the parking structure. Farther west stood the Art Deco masterpiece of the Albert Building, directly across State from the Radiator Building. Beyond them lay Griwsold Street and Capitol Park, and the crowd gathered there for the parade.

Most of the Nazis shouted a plethora of bigoted obscenities, aimed at everyone who was not white, male, Christian, heterosexual, or cisgendered. It really was a rainbow of hatred, as ironic as that was given the circumstances. Some of them shouted out more specific things, referring to 'Power Levels', 'Normies', and 'Red-Pilling', which Blood Raven did not understand. She had not kept abreast on modern fascist colloquialisms. One even began going on and on about how white people were the true descendants of Israel, while Jews were the literal children of the Devil. Blood Raven blocked out the inane rhetoric. She was here to fight, not trade barbs with worms.

Blood Raven felt Selene's Curse rise up within her. She knew that her eyes glowed with their own red light by now. Her teeth and claws ached to rend flesh, and bathe her in the sanguine fountain of life. For a moment, she was back in France once more, slaughtering the Das Reich division. She was losing herself to the frenzy of murder and feeding. She was becoming the monster that the moon goddess' malediction had passed on to her.

But she was not that monster. She was not a beast. Selene was the light that fell from the moon. She illuminated the darkness, so that all her children could see the way. Blood Raven turned her face to that light, let it fill her spirit, and suppressed the animal that wished for nothing but to rend and murder.

She centered herself. She breathed deeply, and surrounded herself with a circle of glowing symbols from her mother's Celtic heritage. She felt the aion flow cleanly through her, and wash away her bloodlust. She let the magic circle spin about her for a moment, and fall to her feet. Then she was ready to rejoin the fray with a clear head.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 3 2020, 07:57 PM

Another episode from the intriguing perspective of Blood Raven. I loved how, after she visually surveyed her city, she did so magically.

’Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building.’
- - Beautifully worded. You clearly spend much time crafting how to best display the differences and similarities between Blood Raven and her great granddaughter. That contrast the tone of your writing takes for each is skillful indeed.

"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.’
- - And another example of how differently this sentence would have been had you been writing it for Stormcrow and Gadget.

Fight’s on! Wow, these dudes are not just pumped up like on pcp or something; they are truly mutated into evil capes of their own.

A reminder that Blood Raven deals with her own demons bubbling below her surface and that her vast experience has taught her to control. I do note a delightful similarity here between Blood Raven and Stormcrow as each sometimes require a moment to center themselves. I can imagine one really must have their heart and mind properly focused to use potent magicks wisely.

This could be a real challenge with over a dozen supermutants to deal with. Hopefully, Blood Raven will get some help from Stormcrow and even from Crystal Death itself as it begins to eat and kill its own creations.

Edit: Oh, and Blood Raven's theme song is perfect for her! Haunting, with just the right aura of ancient about it. goodjob.gif

Posted by: Renee Oct 5 2020, 07:15 PM

That part is nice, when she senses 'lesser' auras, belonging to people who probably don't even know they're slightly more magically inclined than the rest. redwizardsmile.gif I knew this girl in college who proclaimed herself to have some powers. She was scrawny, and she got teased in high school. Anyway, she focused on three of her tormentors, caused all three of them to come down with mono. Maybe that was a one-time thing (we didn't stay in touch... ) but I don't think so. But maybe she is the type of witch Raven can sense with a slightly brighter aura.

Really beautiful .... she defies gravity. I like when she says "Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze..." that is something nobody modern would say. Because the word 'electronic' is assumed by most of us, when it comes to matters of electric-driven technology.

OH no, she got hit by a flying fire elemental! Good gosh... what is going on in Detroit? Each one of these guys is like an evil Transformer. More than meets the eye! Except Transformers are robots in disguise. And these are ordinary humans. Could the Crystal Death be causing all of this? But how?

Cripes.


Posted by: SubRosa Oct 10 2020, 06:26 AM

Acadian: I really got to delve into Blood Raven's mystical powers in the beginning of that episode. Even though she is a superhero, she is also a wizard, which makes her a lot of fun to write for me.

I always go back through Blood Raven's scenes with extra care, and specifically look for ways to change not only her dialogue, but also my own prose, to give her that sense of being a person outside of their own time.

As Qui-Gon said: "Your focus determines your reality." One of the limitations I put on both Stormcrow and Blood Raven is that as magicians, they have to focus their will and energy to use their powers. Sometimes that is simple. But other times it can be difficult, if not impossible. In many ways their discipline, or lack thereof, determines their limits.

The truth is that Blood Raven is a monster too. Or she would be, if she let out that side of herself. That is what separates her from the Nazis. The same with all of us. Do we allow our worst instincts and reflexes to rule us, or do we rule them?

The Raven does indeed have a serious fight on her hands. But as you noted, help is on the way, perhaps from some unexpected quarters...


Renee: I like writing Blood Raven's very un-modern way of speech, and viewing the world. It can be a lot of extra work to make it happen, but when it makes her sing as a unique person, it is worth all the effort.

The Nazis bought Crystal Death from ThunderRhino the day before. If you go back a little Dusquesne called January and told her about the sale, and she put it together that the Nazis were the customers by the tattoo one of them had.











https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1r4a_28i5PyZNR4hLJuxkb_IIN0cOdadl

https://i.imgur.com/jieMtN9.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/efJUqB5.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/MuT2u23.jpg


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chobham_armour

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boron_carbide

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_silk


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFQYaoiIFh8





Book 5.22 - Crystal Death

Blood Raven raced downward. Selene was not the only moon goddess who had bequeathed her with gifts. Hekate was the Queen of Witches, just as Selene was the Mother of Vampires. With Hekate's gift of magic, Blood Raven waved a hand from one side of State Street to the other. Aion rose from her fingers, and took form through her will. A wall of golden energy sprang forth to block the street. That would halt the earthbound Nazis until she could come to grips with them.

But before Blood Raven could even near the ground, a cloud of particles like sand or dust rushed in upon her. She smelled no blood, nor felt a living heartbeat in this one, so she had no advance warning of the attack. But clearly this was an individual, not a projectile of earth. It whirled and hissed and snapped, like a dust devil. It lashed out, and the fine grains of its body scored her armor deeply as they whipped through the air. It was like standing within a hurricane.

But she had defied hurricanes before. She could have contained the Dust Devil within walls of mystic force. But she had already deployed such a field to block off the street leading to the parade-goers. While there was no blood or heart within the fully-transformed body of the Nazi, it still possessed life force. She knew that she could take hold of that pneuma - that life energy - and devour it. But she had sworn that off decades ago. She had not consumed a human since France, not since she had ended the Das Reich... She was not going to start again.

Instead she gathered up a handful of aion and cast it forth in a bolt of searing power. It ripped through the swirling particles of her attacker's body, and incinerated great gobbets of it. Her attacker recoiled, and flew back. Blood Raven pushed forward, so that she hovered over her force field at the edge of Woodward Avenue. The earthbound Nazis were directly beneath her now, battering away at the barrier with no effect.

Blood Raven had no time to follow up with another attack upon the Dust Devil. More Nazis were coming up at her. The Fire Man was now roaring back through the sky, along with the Rocket. A female Nazi was literally running up on the air toward her as well. Her body was transparent, and it looked as if she was climbing an invisible stairway.

"Watch out, that new one looks like she can phase," Cray's mellow voice rumbled in her ear.

The Fire Man hurled balls of flame from his hands, at the same time that the Dust Devil snapped back at her with a long tendril of scouring grit. She dodged each, but that left her open to the attack of the third.

It was nothing but a simple punch. But it was far from ordinary. The transparent woman was indeed a phaser. Her ghostly fist passed effortlessly through the boron carbide Chobham armor of Blood Raven's chest plate, and the flexible dragon silk of her bodysuit underneath. It was as if she wore no armor at all. But the Nazi's fist was absolutely solid when it landed directly against her flesh, bursting blood vessels and snapping a rib. Blood Raven nearly doubled over from the shock.

"We will insure the future of the white race!" this Nazi cried exultantly.

Blood Raven's fingers transformed into long, jagged claws - Selene's Curse, now her Gift. She swiped at the other woman without form or balance. It was a purely reflexive move. Yet her magical talons slashed deep across the female Nazi's chest, sending that sweet, sweet blood splashing everywhere. Some of it dropped onto Blood Raven's lips.

If it had been clean, healthy blood it might have driven her back toward frenzy again. But the drug that polluted that divine flow had turned it to poison. Blood Raven spat it away in disgust. She could never feed upon any of the Nazis, even if she had been willing to do such a thing.

She briefly considered purifying their blood. That would purge the drug from their systems. It would also presumably deprive them of their newfound abilities. But the time and concentration that would require would leave her far too exposed to the attacks of the others. They would kill her before she had cleansed even one.

This would have to be settled through force of arms.

"She might be able to phase through solid matter, but she can't escape magic." Cray spoke in his gruff yet mellow tones. Then his voice rose several octaves, a sure sign of distress. "You've got new incoming from behind you. Looks like… Lighthammer?"

"He's a friendly," January's voice rang out in Blood Raven's ear now. "I asked him to keep an eye out, in case anything weird happened."

"I'm patching him into our comms now," January's friend Gadget said.

"Blood and Soil!" shouted the Nazi floating above the parking lot across the street. A car came flying through the air at Blood Raven. She dared not dodge it. If it missed her, it would sail right over her force field and into State Street. It might even reach the parade-goers, the next block over to the west. She could not allow that. So she met it with hands outstretched, and sunk her claws into its steel hide to get a firm grip on it. She briefly considered hurling it down atop the Nazis clustered at the base of her force field. But then she heard three wildly beating hearts within, and smelled the blood that flowed through their veins.

She pulled back, behind the force field, and prepared to lower the vehicle. But the Fire Man and Rocket were on her again. She spun around, and took a wash of fire down her back that clearly had been meant to set the vehicle alight. Agony seared through her. Fire was every vampire's worst enemy, Selene's one great bane. Yet she endured, and insured that the car, and its occupants, remained untouched. Her flesh however, was not so lucky. She could feel it wither away all along her spine.

She heard gunshots in the street below, and realized that several police officers had their weapons drawn and were firing upon the Nazis overhead. She was impressed. It was certainly more than she had come to expect from the Detroit Police. Yet their sudden zeal gave her cause for even greater concern. Gunfire in the center of a crowded city was a recipe for tragedy. She would have to find a way to dissuade them from more shooting.

But she had little time for ruminating on the issue of further civilian casualties. The Rocket was about to crash into her. Two beams of brilliant white light flashed by her and struck the Nazi full on. He went pin-wheeling away, no longer a blur of force, but now just a man again. His body crashed through one of the windows of the office building on the north side of State.

Lighthammer came roaring past an instant later, resplendent in his shining silver, white, and blue armor. An exultant "Hooah!" ripped from his lips, and he loosed another pair of solid light bolts from his palms. They took the Fire Man in the chest, but did not seem to harm him. A moment later Lighthammer crashed directly into the Nazi, and they both went careening through the air above the parking lot beyond Woodward.

Blood Raven moved down toward the ground, car still grasped in her arms. Something small flashed in her vision. She could not make it out, but she certainly felt it sting. Something hot and sharp lanced through the dragon silk of her mask, and plunged deeply into the flesh of her face. Again, she bit down a cry of anguish. Instead she concentrated on lowering the car to the street. She could not move too fast, or she would risk harming the innocent people within from the force of the impact.

She took another, and another of the stings. Cray's voice was in her ear, advising her that it appeared to be a Nazi shrunk down to the size of an insect, as Stinger from the Sentinels could do. She appeared to have the same armor-piercing quantum sting as well.

The first drops of rain came pattering down from above when the tires of the Impala touched the concrete. Blood Raven looked up for her tiny nemesis, and noted that the sky had turned solid gray with clouds. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled a low warning.

She smiled. January had such prodigious power, and still did not truly grasp its extent. It was power the likes of which Blood Raven had not felt in over half a century. Not since she had last faced her own father. She could only hope that January did not become as drunk upon it, or as corrupted by it, as him.

"You think this is funny libtard?" A female voice rang out from down the street. Cresting over the top of the force field was the transparent form of the Phaser. Coming up behind her was the Dust Devil, while the Shrinker continued to buzz around her.

"A storm is coming." Blood Raven grinned through her own blood.

Farther back in the parking lot, through the shimmering light of her force field, Blood Raven saw a male Nazi in black uniform rising up from the ground. "We are the warriors of the white race!" he cried exultantly, drunk on his newfound abilities. "Cultural Marxism ends here! Globalism ends here!"

The earthbound Nazis had given up on trying to batter through the force field. Instead they ran to the south, toward Campus Martius. They would have to be stopped. Cray's voice came over the comm a moment later, advising Lighthammer and Stormcrow of just that danger.

Blood Raven heard the racing heart of the Rocket above her. A moment later he came blasting out of the office building, and roared down through the air toward her back. She leapt skyward, spinning backward through the air, and he sailed impotently through the spot she had occupied just an instant before. That now put him in front of her, along with the rest of the Nazis.

She loosed her aion into a great wave of power. Not a single bolt of energy this time. Instead it radiated out from her in a massive, expanding cone, and roared down the street in front of her. It swept ahead like a tidal wave, filling the street from one side to the other. It struck the Rocket, Dust Devil, Shrinker, and Phaser, and burned through them even as it flung them back. All four of them were hammered against her force field, which her wave of energy washed up against and finally broke upon.

She allowed the barrier to fall after that, and dropped to the street. She strode forward toward her enemies. But she saw the Nazi floating above the parking lot beyond stretch out his hands. A tree uprooted itself from the sidewalk between the lot and Woodward. A moment later it came hurtling toward her.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 10 2020, 08:41 PM

What an intense fight this is as Blood Raven battles a superior number of foes imbued with powers she has not had time to fully assess. Thankfully, her foes have similarly not had the time to fully develop their own abilities.

Welcome help from Lighthammer!

’The first drops of rain came pattering down from above. . .’
With the first words of that sentence, I knew it heralded the coming of Stormcrow!

On the edge of my seat now and can’t wait to learn what happens next! Blood Raven certainly has her hands full at the moment.

I love your use of silk armor! In Buffy’s world, silk from spider daedra is tops for physical protection and the silk of ancestor moths is prized for both repelling magic and how beautifully it accepts color when dyed. The two silks can be interwoven to good effect. Like you, we started with a real concept and adjusted it to our purpose.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 10 2020, 10:04 PM

QUOTE(Acadian @ Oct 10 2020, 03:41 PM) *

I love your use of silk armor! In Buffy’s world, silk from spider daedra is tops for physical protection and the silk of ancestor moths is prized for both repelling magic and how beautifully it accepts color when dyed. The two silks can be interwoven to good effect. Like you, we started with a real concept and adjusted it to our purpose.

I want to get this out before I forget. Frostbite Spider silk might also be protective, and confer Frost Resistance. There might be some other creepy spiders in places like Argonia or Valenwood that are both strong, and offer other side effects, like perhaps a poison resistance, or even fire or lightning resistance.

And the giant silkworms from Summerset might have the strongest silk in the world, and confer magic resistance, or absorption.

Wow, you just sent me down a wormhole trap door spider hole full of spider-based armor and item ideas.

Posted by: Renee Oct 12 2020, 07:07 PM

Been quiet in the forums this weekend. indifferent.gif

OH my gosh, poor Raven. She's getting all beaten during this segment. Why won't she 'consume' the human behind the Dust Devil?

Cray's voice remains mellow during all of this! He really is detached, even more so than the average 911 operator.

Bleagh, yeah, don't feed upon Crystal Death-contaminated Nazi blood. Yicch. I mean, I guess feeding upon any sort of blood is yucky. But from one of those fiends, even Serana or Lestat might take a pass. nono.gif

Lighthammer says "Hooah!" laugh.gif

QUOTE
She could only hope that January did not become as drunk upon it, or as corrupted by it, as him.


I highly doubt this. Jan's heart is too pure. And she's too .. I don't know. Clueless is a bad word. I can't think of the word I'm thinking of. Innocent? That's closer, but not exact. Anyway, Jan is too *Insert missing Word here* to become 'corrupted' by her power.

Is aion similar to aeon? As in Aeon Flux?

I wonder where Jan is. She's missing all the fun today!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 17 2020, 08:29 AM

Acadian: While Blood Raven does not know what to expect from each individual Nazi, she does have the experience to know what to expect from various kinds of supers. (Not to mention being insanely high level). So she's actually doing pretty well, all things considered.

Blood Raven definitely has her hands full. Even with Lighthammer's timely assist (now that scene where Jan asked him to hang around town in case something weird happened pays off). But you may have noticed that Blood Raven is holding back. She usually does against humans. Look back to the battle with the djieien to see what I mean.

I absolutely love using the rain and thunder as a way of foretelling January's arrival. It is nice and dramatic. Blood Raven already knows what it means.

As with my other armors like hagfish and cubic boron nitride, the Dragon Silk came about because it is a real life form of body armor. The same with the main battle tank Chobham armor that Blood Raven wears. I imagine that she owns the company that produces Dragon Silk.


Renee: January's weekend has not been quiet! Come to think of it, her weekends are usually jam-packed with action.

Blood Raven stopped eating people a long time ago. There will be more about that later in this chapter, and in chapter 6. It is a moral decision that she made, for reasons...

Cray is definitely Mr. cool and collected through all of the chaos. It is one of the things that makes him such a good partner.

The various branches of the Armed Forces all have their own unique war cry. The Marines have Oorah, the Army has Hooah, etc... It probably all goes back to the Union Army in the Civil War, which used a "deep and manly Huzzah!". Everything I have read says that the Air Force uses Hooah, like the Army does. So that is Lighthammer's signature.

I think the word you are looking to use to describe January is idealistic, or perhaps compassionate. But sadly, those things are still not always enough to save one from the corruptive influence of power...

Aion is a Greek word, the Latin version of it is Aeon. It can mean a lot of things, like life, or vital force, or a sense of unbounded time, or ages. That latter is where we get the word Eon from. There is even a god named Aion. I (and Blood Raven) am using it as a term for magical energy, like mana.

Jan is about to join all the excitement. The rest of the chapter is all from her pov.










https://i.imgur.com/JTydJID.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/o0BfmHQ.jpg


https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Gott_mit_uns


Book 5.23 - Crystal Death

January's heart raced in time with her wings. She had found that she did not have to consciously think about the up and down-strokes any longer. It just came naturally now, like walking, or breathing. They beat furiously now as she willed herself to sweep faster and faster through the concrete and steel cliffs of the Downtown core. Her will carried her forward inexorably, and she banked and dove between buildings as she followed the streets to the scene of the battle.

She heard everything that had happened over the comms of course. Not being able to actually do anything drove her crazy. She wanted to reach out through the link and yank the Nazis off of Blood Raven. She could not imagine how Gadget could deal with being on this end of the communications, it felt so frustrating, so paralytic.

She soared over the crowd that had gathered in Capitol Park to form the parade. In spite of the grandiose name, it was just a small triangular plaza between Griswold and Shelby streets, with a few trees and long planters filled with greenery. The Art Deco stonework of the Albert Building rose up on its eastern edge, across Griswold Street. Just south of that, across State Street, rose the black and gold Neo Gothic majesty of Blood Raven's lair, the Detroit Radiator Building.

January banked tightly over the sea of people. She heard cheers and shouts rising from them. But she had no time to look down. It took all of her concentration to thread the narrow gap between the Albert and Radiator Buildings. One mistake would flatten her against the stone facade of either skyscraper.

She willed herself to turn into that narrow gap between the steel and stone titans at full speed. Her magic made it reality, and she banked steeply to make the turn. For a moment she tilted at a right angle to the ground. It felt like her belly was about to scrape against the black marble of the Radiator Building at any second. Then she straightened out, and soared through the artificial canyon with growing ease.

She darted the length of State Street, and saw Blood Raven facing down nearly half-a-dozen Nazis directly ahead of her. Worse yet, in the parking lot beyond where Woodward intersected with State, she could see another Nazi in black floating in the air. He raised his hands as if pantomiming lifting something. Then he thrust them forward.

An uprooted tree floated in the air before him, and shot forth at Blood Raven, and the crowd of Nazis around her. This apparent telekinetic seemed to have little regard for his own fellows. Somehow that did not surprise January. Thunder rumbled, seemingly in time with January's pounding heart, and lightning cracked overhead. She calculated the arc of the tree, and nosed down to meet it. At the last moment she disengaged her wings, and somersaulted forward into an airborne roll.

She felt first her legs, then the rest of her body, crash through leaves and branches of the flying tree. Then her boots hit the trunk hard. All of her forward momentum, all of her power, all of her will, transferred into the tree. It not only stopped dead in the air, but soared back a good ten feet, before crashing beyond the empty intersection.

January dropped to the earth with it, and landed with an ease garnered from years of gymnastics training. The parking lot and the telekinetic were ahead of her across Woodward and slightly to the left. The glass, granite, and limestone Compuware Building rose up high across the street to the right. Behind her right shoulder was the ten story parking structure that flanked the Radiator Building. A bakery and other shops within its lowest story lined the sidewalk. To her other side on State rose an office building, with an Under Armor store at street level.

"Lighthammer, deal with that telekinetic in the lot if you please," Cray rumbled over the comm. In spite of all the chaos, his voice was as calm and even as a sportscaster describing a golf game. "Blood Raven, stick with the ones you have on State. Stormcrow, head down Woodward and stop the foot-soldiers headed for Campus Martius."

"I kind of got my hands full with Burning Man here!" Lighthammer cried.

January saw flashes of white and red light out of the corners of her eyes, somewhere above the parking lot. But she had no time for that. She turned her gaze south, to the backs of the four Nazis running down Woodward. Campus Martius - Detroit's great downtown park - was just ahead of them. She could not let them reach the crowds of people gathered there.

"Lighthammer, I see a fire hydrant up by Woodward and Grand River…" Gadget's voice came over the comm.

"I read you," Lighthammer's voice turned sly. January heard metal tear, and a great roar of rushing water somewhere behind her.

"Hooah!" the vigilante crowed.

January had her mind on her own task however. She did not run down the street, so much as take a series of low, blindingly fast leaps along it. Her final jump arced herself higher into the air, above the four earthbound Nazis. She dipped one hand into her utility belt, and pulled forth a present for them as she sailed past overhead. The grenade dropped down to the street at their feet. An instant later it flared to life, and sent out a faint blue haze along the surface of the road in a roughly ten-foot circle.

The Nazis all came to a sudden halt within the energy field created by the grenade. They did not simply stop running. They stopped completely, feet glued to the ground. They all lurched forward, and would have fallen from the sudden stop, if not for the aforementioned adhesion of their feet. As it was they rocked violently in the air, and raised angry fists in January's direction once they regained their balance.

January performed a half-twist as she soared through the air and added a roll at the end. She dropped to her feet in the little triangular island in the road where Woodward split apart to make room for Campus Martius. Both sides of the road spread out widely behind her, creating a huge space in-between for the park. Within rose an expanse of trees and grass, along with a cafe and grand fountain. Back farther still was the tall Soldier's and Sailor's monument, topped by its sword and shield-armed Amazon statue. She could hear shouts and screams from at least a hundred people within the area, and the clatter of wildly running feet. Most of them, blessedly, moving away.

Before her now were the Nazis, all gathered in the middle of Woodward. The Iron Man: clad in metal that appeared to have been torn from various cars and streetlights. The Werebear: a towering bulk of fur and muscle. The Swordsman, who wielded a blade of blazing fire and carried a curved shield of the same material. Finally the Stone Man: whose body appeared to be literally made of concrete.

They snarled and spat impotently at her. A few strung together some truly florid examples of homophobia, along with accusations of racial treason, and dubious claims about her origins. But it was the Nazi floating above the street farther back, beyond the intersection of Woodward and State that caught January's attention.

This Nazi had noticed the plight of his brothers. He reached out with one hand, and made a motion like he was crushing an object in his fist. January's adhesive wave grenade crumpled into a shapeless mass, briefly sparking with energy before its final collapse. The blue haze that had blanketed the street vanished, and the four earthbound Nazis surged forward once more.

They bore down on her with huge grins on their faces. More slurs dripped from their mouths like poison. None were anything January had not heard a thousand times before of course. Outnumbering her four to one appeared to make them brave. Just as the anonymity of the internet made others of their ilk feel confident to spout their bile online.

January reached out with one hand and contemptuously curled her fingers inward, beckoning them closer.

"Valhalla Awaits," she growled.

She had noted that since no one else was near, that meant there was no one to get in her way.

January raised her other hand to the sky, and split it open with her will. Lightning spilled down in a tremendous gout of white fire and deafening thunder. It was an inferno of heat, and light, and sound. The cataclysm of power rent and blasted all within its blinding reach. Just like in Ferndale, the concrete of the road burst up in great chunks, showering them all with debris. The rain came pelting down afterward, and washed away the dust kicked up by the eruption.

Perhaps best of all, January was now bathed in electricity. It crackled and snapped all about her frame. It danced from the tips of her blonde hairs, ran down her arms, and leaped about her boots. She was wreathed in elemental fury, which hissed and snarled at every rain drop that fell upon it.

The Swordsman staggered away, clearly dazed by the lightning strike. The Iron Man too, had been driven to his knees by the elemental assault. The Werebear shook it off after just a moment however, and continued forward. The Stone Man seemed almost entirely unfazed, and was the first upon January.

"Globalists must die!" he rumbled in a literally gravelly voice.

She slipped aside as he lunged clumsily for her. She refrained from striking back just yet. She did not want to waste her gathered up electricity on someone who appeared to be relatively immune to it. She wanted to save it for when it would do the most good. She did not know if she could hit someone without discharging it all. She would have to practice that in the future.

Instead she reached back into her utility belt, and tossed out another party favor. She screwed her eyes shut, but even still, brilliant flares of light strobed against her eyelids as the flash grenade burst in front of her.

That caused the Stone Man to pause his assault as he rubbed his eyes. The Werebear sniffed the air, and continued on for her. She leapt over his head as his arms swept out to grasp her in a bear hug. The Stone Man leaned in, and swung blindly. He landed a solid hit as January dropped to her feet. His concrete fist struck the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate. His fist lost, and small chunks of his fingers literally shattered and fell away. He staggered back, clutching at his maimed hand.

But January noticed a strange shimmer pass through him, like a wave running through water. The concrete in his body vanished behind it, and instead his frame turned into silvery metal. She noted that it looked identical to the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate, before Gadget had painted it black…

The Iron Man came at her next, charging in with a gigantic, spiked mace that appeared to have once been a light post combined with the axles of several cars. He lumbered in a clumsy gait however, and had to pause several times to look around. Apparently he was still fighting the blinding effect of the flash grenade. January backed away, and he pursued, whooping with glee.

"Run while you can pervert!" he cried. "Gott Mit Uns!"

But January was not running. She was repositioning herself. The Stone Man looked up to see her just inches away. He punched at her with his good hand. She did the splits, and dropped to the earth with legs splayed out to either side along the pavement. His cubic boron fist met nothing but the memory of her. But it did land squarely on the Iron Man, who had been right behind January.

The Iron Man took the blow right in his chest plate, and staggered under the titanic blow. The Stone Man's fist sank deeply into his iron armor, dimpling it around his fist. But it did even more to the Stone Man. A shimmer ran through his body once again. As January had guessed it might, his body changed from cubic boron nitride to iron in its wake.

She had surmised right, he was absorbing the qualities of whatever he touched.

January punched up hard into the Iron Man, shattering the metal that girded his midsection. Her borrowed electricity blasted through his armor, turning him into cavalcade of energy. Better still, the Stone Man's fist was still buried in his chest armor, and that same lightning roared through his now ferrous, iron body. Both were hurled away, and landed at opposite sides of the street in unmoving, smoldering heaps.

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