The Stormcrow, A Superhero's Tale Options

[SubRosa]

Acadian: I put that flashback in at the last minute. It has been a long time since the Electronic... music... festival, and I wanted to refresh the reader's minds on what January had seen and felt there concerning Blood Raven.

The war council was a long time coming, ever since the djieien at Pridefest. Which has only been about a week in story time. Like you said, it was a nice way of summarizing everything that has happened with the Summoner, and the steps the Blackbirds are taking to fight them.


Renee: I was delighted to find that flying heads are real monsters, and not just from Doom. I had to include them in the backstory.

Ultra-modern and ancient is a very Blood Raven and Cray specialty. They step back and forth between both constantly. At least Blood Raven does.

Here is Avery all fancied up for something formal

Avery just laid back

January getting fancy

January just being normal

Branwen

and of course Cray


Jan's brother has been away at college for the past seven years, only coming home on some weekends. So he might have been up to all sorts of things...

Mom is not a suspect because she is not a blood relation to Nátthrafn. January is descended from him and Blood Raven from her father's side of the family. So only she, her father, and her brother, share the Nátthrafn bloodline.








Great Scott

The 1967 Detroit Uprising

Gazogènes

Sympathetic Magic




Book 6.3 - Eloise

January waited atop the roof of Isaac's lair in the old Beatrice building, next to the Detroit Incinerator. She was tempted to fly over to one of the towers of the nearby church, and lurk atop it like a proper gothic avenger. But she fought down that desire. She did not want to draw too much attention to herself at the moment. With that in mind, she even activated her suit's video camouflage, so that she could not be recorded.

She passed the time working on the final touches to Artemis Argent and the Secret of Mystery Hill, the first arc in what she hoped would be her new comic. Or her next novel if Rus decided not to be her artist. Either way, she felt her blood pumping with excitement as the pieces of the setting and story fell into place one after another.

As usual, she felt Blood Raven's presence in the astral before she saw her. It reminded her of a hot, metallic taste, like that of blood from a split lip. January rose and turned in the direction of the sensation. A moment later she noted the other heroine's scarlet mane of hair, and red and black armor, soaring across the firmament.

It was a sharp contrast to when she was in her civilian identity of Branwen Renner. Then she reined in her power, so that January could barely sense it. But at times like now, when she was Blood Raven, she practically trumpeted her energy. As always, January wondered how much of that could be sensed by non-magical folk. Was it a strategic decision, meant to overawe others? Or was she just letting her hair down and allowing her true self to show through in times like this?

January saved her story notes and shut down Sága's word processor. She greeted Blood Raven as the other woman gently descended to the rooftop alongside her. Now that she was closer, she sensed another aura of magic around the other woman. It was carefully woven about her, like a cloak, or a shroud. Then January remembered when she had felt this before. It was the spell Blood Raven had cast in the parking structure, after their fight with the Nazis.

"Your senses grow by the day," Blood Raven responded. Clearly she had noted January's probing. Or just saw it on her face. "It is a magical version of your video camouflage. I did some exploration of the internet today, and found several sites that describe how one might develop such a spell. This feline has clearly been out of its bag for some time."

"How long have you been using it?" January wondered.

"For at least two decades. Ever since it became clear that video cameras would be as common as traffic signals," Blood Raven replied. "I had not imagined how many others had realized the same thing, and were actively promulgating the idea."

"So you never wrote about it in your other books?"

January led the other woman from the rooftop down into the empty floors of the building. Most often she leaped down through one hole in the floors after another until they reached ground level. While in the meantime Blood Raven gathered up reality into her magical fingers, and gently lowered herself to the earth.

"My books are not for so advanced an audience," Blood Raven explained. "They are more like the one which you have read. Meant to aid beginners in finding their power, or for intermediates to use their ability with ethics. As you have noted in the past, they are as much about self-help and improving the quality of one's life, as they are about gaining actual magical power. Training a generation of magical warriors has never been my intent."

January bit her lip before she could make a remark about keeping all of that power to herself instead. The fact was that Blood Raven was teaching her, which put the lie to that idea. Today's excursion was all about teaching in fact. While the reason she needed to learn enchanting was due to others who used their powers with less scruples. In that way magic was like guns. They could be useful tools, even positive in the right hands. Terrifying threats in the wrong ones. And who decided which were right, and which were wrong?

January stared down at her fist. She knew that she could literally take someone's head off with a single punch. She was a walking, talking weapon herself.

"Your friend's lair does not look like much." In spite of her words, Blood Raven's eyes looked up and down the empty halls of the abandoned building with approval. "This is good. Remaining on the… down-low… is much more effective than a volcano carved into the likeness of a skull."

"Those do stand out," January noted dryly.

She stopped in front of a steel door. A keypad jutted from the wall beside it, and a camera hung from the ceiling overhead. January took a moment to turn off her video camo. Then she knocked out the beat of Shave and a Haircut against the metal portal.

After long moments, a pair of beeps answered from within. The door yawned open a moment later. Hovering behind it was Archie. As Avery had said, he was no longer just a Face-Bot. Now a pair of multi-segmented arms dangled from his floating, streamlined head. He still bore the same glowing eyes, open mouth, and metal visor as before however. He reached out with one of his new appendages, and January stood perfectly still as a multi-fingered titanium hand gently drifted across her masked features.

"Don't mind Archie, he's still getting used to his new digits."

January smiled as the old man's voice floated from the dim interior of the building. Archie drew his arm back as if scolded, and spun around in the air. A series of beeps issued from the speaker set in his mouth. Then he spun back and regarded Blood Raven. He reached out for her next. But before he could touch her face, she met his hand with her own and grasped it in a friendly shake.

"I am pleased to have the honor of your acquaintance Archimedes," she said with smooth formality.

Archimedes eyes seemed to glow brighter, and he bobbed in what January took to be a joyful fashion. A series of beeps and whistles poured from his speaker.

"Why you rake!" Blood Raven replied with mock abashment.

"Archie!" Isaac's voice rang out once more. "Stop hitting on the ladies."

The robot whirled in place once more, and let out a string of expletive whistles that needed no translation. He zoomed off deeper into the building, and vanished behind a pile of spare parts.

"What did he say to you?" January whispered as she stepped inside with the other heroine.

"I have no idea," Blood Raven said just as quietly in reply. "But a woman should never allow herself to be rendered speechless."

They stepped into Isaac's mad inventor's lair. As before, the edges of the space were lined with the copper wires that formed his Faraday Cage, which cut off all wireless signals from entering or leaving. The giant scaffolding that had once held his Numidium in the making had now been pulled down and spread out into a series of smaller frames. Each now held a partially assembled vehicle suspended from its bars by straps and chains. All were clearly rehabilitated junks, and January was certain that many of the parts now in them originated from entirely different cars and trucks.

The rest of the headquarters remained much the same. There was Isaac's bedroom, located in the little box of an office that stood high up along one wall, with a wooden stair leading up to it. Directly beneath it was a small kitchenette and dining area. Another wall was taken up by his design lab, filled with drafting tables, hanging blueprints, and bins filled with even more rolled up plans snugged away in PVC tubes.

As ever, the rest of the space was literally filled with machinery. Engines, refrigerators, lawnmowers, bicycles, and assorted loose wires, pipes, hoses, levers, knobs, chairs, windshields, lamps, and literally everything else under the sun. Some of it was loaded into buckets, crates, or barrels. But most was simply piled up in a hoard of spare parts that would have made a dragon envious, if dragons lusted for junk that was.

"You're the same as I remember." Isaac stepped out from beneath one of the vehicle dry-docks, and wiped his hands with an already oil-stained cloth. As ever, he wore a simple pair of overalls, permanently marked with faded stains. His curly gray hair was cut short against his lined skin, and a pair of bifocals hovered over the tip of his nose.

"I fear you have me at the disadvantage young sir," Blood Raven said gently. "I meet so many people, that sometimes my brain cannot hold all the faces."

"Oh you wouldn't remember," Isaac said. "I was just a kid then. My mom and I were in the Great Scott on Grand Boulevard. The Iron Scorpion came bursting in, and took us hostage. He was demanding that the police release his partner. I have never been so scared in my life. I thought he was going to kill us both. Then you showed up, and that was that."

Blood Raven leaned closer to him, and audibly sniffed the air, like a bloodhound. A look of familiarity crested her features after a moment.

"I know your blood," she declared. "Now I remember. Your mother was wearing… a blue dress. And you were clad in a Wolfstone the Barbarian shirt. Your hair was much darker in those days, and in greater abundance. But your eyes remain the same."

Isaac actually looked abashed. January could not believe it, given the old man's usual prickly demeanor. Yet somehow, she could imagine him as that child, wearing a comic book character's t-shirt, and holding his mother's hand.

"That was shortly after I took up the cape," Blood Raven mused. "It must have been... September? I miss those Great Scott stores..."

"Yeah, it was just a few months after the Rebellion," Isaac mumbled.

January fought back the urge to blink. Then she remembered. The 1967 Riot was only a riot if you were white. It was a rebellion if you were black. Her writer's brain turned that over in her head. It was a clear example of how power structures affected not just language, but the very perception of reality.

She had seen videos of the riot - the rebellion - of course. But it had happened so long ago. To her it was as distant as the events of the Civil War. But looking at Isaac and Blood Raven, she realized that to them it was not an academic subject. A thing to discuss over coffee at Starbucks. For them it was a reality that had shaped their lives. How could it not? Fires raging everywhere, National Guardsmen and Army paratroopers roving around with guns, tanks rolling down city streets. It reminded January of just how young she was, and how sheltered her own life had been.

"It is my pleasure to renew our acquaintance young Master Isaac," Blood Raven went on. She extended her hand, and Isaac took it quietly.

"I also should like to extend our deepest gratitude for your assistance in this matter," Blood Raven went on when he did not reply. "Your ingredients shall prove most valuable in the task that awaits us."

"I'm not sure how my junk can help track down giant spiders," Isaac pushed his bifocals up to the bridge of his nose, "but help yourself to whatever you need. Mi casa es su casa."

"Why your reputation has preceded you sir," Blood Raven turned to take in the view of the piles of junk and the half-rebuilt cars in their scaffolded cradles. "This reminds me of the gazogènes we used in France during the war. Gasoline was too scarce. The Germans hoarded it all to themselves. So ingenious fellows like yourself converted cars to run on wood gas instead."

"Hmmm, I never thought of that," Isaac rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"My wood burning stove uses chips from wood scraps," January said. "Landscapers give it away for free. It saves them the money of paying for disposal."

"Maybe I'll experiment with that," Isaac said. "These cold fusion engines are finicky. They only seem to run on Aquafina."

"Gadget uses Evian," January said.

"Yeah, I know," Isaac nodded. "But it won't work for me. Lousy French swill…"

January shook her head with a smile. She knew from personal experience with Avery that meta-technology was an art rather than a science. It worked differently for every inventor, and no two of their creations were exactly alike.

Isaac wandered off, leaving January and Blood Raven to pick through the heaps of cast-off technology. At Blood Raven's prompting, they set aside things such as cameras, speakers, earbuds, even sunglasses. Anything you would see or hear things through. Added to that were bundles of wires and bits of wood or metal.

"This is sympathetic magic isn't it?" January asked, "like produces like?"

"Indeed," Blood Raven agreed with a smile. "You continue your studies, that is good. The first law of sympathetic magic is that of similarity. Objects that resemble one another share similar properties. As you said, like produces like. Hence we shall use these devices to extend our senses."

[Acadian]

The photos are spot on with how you have described these characters. Branwen’s is particularly fitting.

’But at times like now, when she was Blood Raven, she practically trumpeted her energy.’
Using the word ‘trumpeted’ as you did here renders this sentence wonderfully effective and evocative!

”This feline has clearly been out of its bag for some time."
This is adorable – Blood Raven almost got the idiom right. She tries, but her age and history betray her sometimes. The thought and care that you put into crafting her manner of speech consistently shows in every episode.

The first half of this episode does a great job of showing us how Jan’s ability to sense the unseen aspects of magic is growing.

The second half was a delightful reunion with Isaac. And Archimedes – great name. You managed to concisely display the bot’s heart-stealing personality. And wow, Blood Raven was both gracious and amazing in her ability to recall details of meeting child-Isaac so long ago.

Finally, you divulge the real purpose of visiting the Genius of Junk with the intriguing possibilities of sympathetic magic.

[Renee]

Very nice to see January (cute), Avery (sharp), and (wow) Blood Raven all pictured. I remember Jan and Gadget were shown at the very beginning. Who are those people in the pics, though? I assume models or actors? Sorry if I've asked this before... I can't keep track, if so. Jan looks similar to this girl in my daughter's class, especially those dimples.

Okay I see. So mom is not part of Branwen's father's lineage. She gets automatically excluded.

Archie reminds me of R2D2, with all those beeps and whistles. Ha ha she calls it a rake. Isaac's lair sounds like a Sanford & Son episode, with all the spare parts sitting around.

Whoa... she knows Isaac from the smell of his blood. That's pretty neat she saved him once before. Maybe this is part of what inspired him to become what he is today.

"Maybe I'll experiment with that," Isaac said. "These cold fusion engines are finicky

Finicky, not impossible, merely finicky. Something to tweak and monitor, perhaps. Not impossible though! Cool. I hope they find what they're looking for.

[SubRosa]

Acadian: Lately I find myself looking for words that can make a subtle impact, like "trumpeted" or "crowed".

That remark was going to be "the cat out of the bag", but I went back to change it to feline to make it seem slightly out of place.

A lot of people say that smells can trigger memories. For me it is sounds, especially songs. In Blood Raven's case, it is blood. She always remembers someone's blood.

This was a place where Blood Raven could have simply made the poppets with what she already has. But it gave me a chance to revist with the Prince of Parts, which was nice since it has been so long. And it gave me a chance to create a tie between him and Blood Raven, and show that it is a small world after all.



Renee: January is played by RL Georgie Stone
Avery is RL Shameik Moore

Archie is somewhat inspired by R2 and the other droids of the Star Wars universe. They are so iconic that it is hard to avoid it. Maybe one day he will get a regular voice box. I am not sure.

You got exactly what I was going for with finicky. For meta-inventors like Issac and Avery, doing the impossible is just finicky, not insurmountable.








As always, Eastern Market can be found on the Stormcrow Google Map


Eastern Market



Book 6.4 - Eloise

After they had loaded up several thick canvas bags with their technological treasures, the pair made their goodbyes to Isaac and his robotic companion. January transformed her cape into her great crows wings, and leaped into the sky after Blood Raven. The two flew south for a short distance, until they came to an area January came to realize was Eastern Market, with its many restaurants and market sheds. The latter were not the little structures a person might have in their backyard to store a lawnmower and fertilizer. Rather these sheds were often gigantic buildings, looking more like supermarkets or warehouses. Were it not for the large neon signs over each that proclaimed that they were Shed 2, or Shed 3, January would never have even imagined calling them such. Several were even decorated with truly imaginative murals and graffiti, bursting with cartoonish animals and welcoming messages to the market.

Since it was a weekday, and later in the morning, the area was not busy. January knew from her mother that on weekends the place would be packed with people coming to the local produce stands. With Ford Field right across I-75, she imagined that it would be a prime spot for tailgating before football games as well. It was also plain that many of the sheds were for commercial, rather than public business. Early in the morning those might be filled with workers loading trucks for deliveries to local restaurants and supermarkets. But at this time in the day they were practically empty.

Blood Raven led her to an abandoned building on the edge of the district. This one was decorated with a mural of a roaring lion's head across the crumbling bricks of one wall. January followed her down a stairwell into the interior of the empty structure. Their boots scuffed on the concrete steps, sounding deafening in the otherwise dead silent building. They went down into the basement, to what might have been a boiler room. But all of the mechanical equipment had long since been hauled away. All that remained were bare concrete floors stained red from rust, and decayed brick walls.

Blood Raven waved a hand in front of one wall. January felt power rise under the other heroine's fingers. Like in the parking structure next to the Detroit Radiator Building, a magic circle glowed to life, filled with Celtic knotwork symbols. It whispered to her blood, and January felt her life energy respond to it. She reached out to touch it, and was instantly transported to Blood Raven's lair.

Again, she found herself in the main loft. The soft gold marble of the floor blazed brightly with the mate of the magic circle she had stepped through. She could see the Ambassador Bridge out of the windows, rising high above the Detroit River miles downstream. Behind her was the great black marble block that rose to the ceiling. Its glossy surface was filled with her extended family's long and complex tree, all written out in Blood Raven's elegant script.

Blood Raven joined her a moment later, and the magic circle beneath their feet faded into nothingness. They stood within her lair, and the older heroine led them to the iron staircase that spiraled up to the floor above. January followed the older heroine up the steps, and into the next floor. She imagined that they must be near the roof by now.

"This is my alchemical and artificer's laboratory," Blood Raven declared.

It was exactly what January expected from years of movies and books. Alembics and retorts held court on long tables alongside mortars and pestles. Dried herbs hung in bundles from the ceiling. The walls were lined with bookshelves. But rather than storing tomes of arcane lore, they were bursting with sealed glass bottles, stone jugs, and even ancient Roman or Greek amphorae. What they all contained was beyond January's understanding. She simply put it down to magic stuff.

In addition to the alchemical equipment, there were several tables and shelves of what looked like carpentry tools. Saws, hole punches, files, carving knives, and the like. There were also bolts of cloth, and needles and boxes of thread and yarn. Open bins contained crafting supplies like scissors, sticks, twine, tape, bottles of glue and the like. There was even an old-fashioned pottery wheel and kiln, along with molds and wicks, and bags of wax for making candles. It was an entire do-it-yourself workshop.

"This is dope," January breathed softly.

"I recall when that word meant something else." Blood Raven set her bag of supplies down upon a relatively empty table in the crafting section of the room. She untied the mouth of the canvas sack and carefully fanned out its contents of junk across the surface.

"Sometimes you remind me of how old I really am," she sighed.

"I'm sorry," January said. She added her own bag full of junk to the growing hoard of mechanical loot. "I don't mean too."

"Do not be," Blood Raven shook her head. "It is good for me to be around you. Like going to Neo-Pagan conventions, you help remind me what century this is. I should be utterly at sea without someone to assist me in remaining abreast of the current state of affairs. Come to think of it, I do not even know who the current president is."

"Consider that a blessing," January murmured. "Seriously though, you should vote. It's important."

"I have not done so since that young lad Mr. Roosevelt ran for office," Blood Raven said. "Such a shame that he died before the war ended, and he never had the opportunity to witness the fruits of all his labors. But that is the way of the world. Always flowing onward like a river. While people like myself sit in the middle like a stone. The water rushes around us, and eventually passes us by."

"Maybe it is time to build a canoe?" January ventured.

"Those words are far easier put to breath than into action my young apprentice," Blood Raven sighed. "But we have other action to put into motion today."

She pulled up a pair of stools and motioned for January to join her at the table. Then she led January in constructing their first poppet. It turned out to be essentially a stick figure of a person, like something a child would draw. They used an old pop can for the torso, pieces of short copper pipe for the legs, and spatulas for the arms. All of it was lashed together with wire and glue. Then they added a camera lens and a speaker to the head, to simulate an eye and ear. Blood Raven made certain that they both worked on the effigy at the same time. Because of that their hands often touched, and they were always both handling it together.

"At one time I would have constructed these by carving them from wax, or sewing a doll from scraps of cloth and stuffing it with straw," Blood Raven explained. "But as I have been reminded, this is now the 21st Century. It would be propitious were I to join it."

January felt herself blush, but said nothing. She wondered if she would be saying the same thing to some young apprentice when the next century rolled around? The writer in her took mental notes. These concepts would be invaluable if she were to ever write a character who was immortal.

"We are imprinting ourselves on the poppets as we create them," Blood Raven said after the first was complete. "But I find that sort of link can be tenuous. The strongest bonds are those of blood."

One of her fingers grew into a long, jagged claw. With it she calmly pricked the palm of her other hand. She rubbed her skin along the length of the effigy, smearing it with her blood. She motioned for January to do the same. Gritting her teeth in anticipation, the younger woman held out her hand and allowed Blood Raven to pierce her flesh with her magical claw. Emulating her, she added her blood to the artifice by rubbing her hand along its cool metal surface.

"This is the Law of Contagion, or Contact, isn't it?" January asked.

"Yes," Blood Raven said. "We have imprinted ourselves onto this poppet. Magically speaking, it is us. Next we shall imbue it with power. Afterward we shall be able to cast our senses through it, no matter how great the physical distance it is from our bodies."

"How do we imbue it with power?" January asked the obvious question.

"We will enter a state of gnosis," Blood Raven said. "While ordinary sorcery can be achieved as simply as pulling up our aion - or mana - and directing it with our will, enchantment is a more complex art. So far as I know, none can achieve it without entering a trance state, even since Tunguska. Though I could be mistaken of course, the world is full of surprises."

Blood Raven guided her to put one hand on the poppet, and she laid one of her own over it as well. Then Blood Raven took her free hand with her own. So they both held one another, and the effigy. January closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing. She had practiced meditation for so many years that she quickly found herself drifting into an altered state of consciousness. She coaxed up her mana, and let it wash over her like a cool river of water.

She felt Blood Raven beside her, a brilliant glow of roseate light and power. She felt her breathing fall into line with the other woman's. Soon her heart gradually matched pace with the older heroine's as well. January began to chant in Old Norse, and heard Blood Raven sing in Gaelic in reply.

January allowed her eyes to open, and she saw that a magic circle had sprung up around the two of them. This one was filled with alternating runes of Old Norse, and Celtic symbols such as triquetras and triskeles.

She closed her eyes again, and felt Blood Raven's magic flowing from her body and into the poppet. January followed suit, and allowed her magic to wash gently into the little stick figure of metal and plastic.

"Now we are going to specify exactly what we shall be able to sense though our device," Blood Raven said quietly. "Otherwise we should be overwhelmed by the flow of sensations all of these would relay to us. Cast your thoughts back to the summoning you experienced in Ferndale. Remember how it felt. Remember how it tore at the laws of our realm. How it violated them, and ripped them asunder. Once you have that firmly in your mind, imprint that into the poppet."

There were few things January was less enthusiastic about remembering. But she had long since learned that being a superhero was not just about looking lit in a cape. So much of it was unpleasant, like reliving the summoning of a creature of the Abyss. At Blood Raven's direction, thought back to three weeks before, to the afternoon of Ferndale Pride.

She remembered the first sensations that something was wrong. Like a spider scratching at the corners of her ears. She leaned into the sensation, and felt it bloom into a deep sense of dread. Something was wrong with the world. It had stopped working, in some very basic and important way. Reality was being ripped, torn, and cast aside in bloody tatters.

All the while, she allowed her mana to flow with that feeling, into the poppet that she and Blood Raven cradled in their hands. She could feel the other woman's aion pour into the vessel as well, mix with hers, and fill it with power. When it seemed to be nearly bursting with energy, she felt Blood Raven grab hold of the raw energy, and wrap it up in those feelings that she and January had both been transmitting. Blood Raven's magical fingers shaped and solidified the magic, like a potter molding clay on a wheel. Finally a single word filled the working - Cassandra. January could sense that this was the final step in forming the enchantment, giving it a name, and with it a unique permanence in the world.

January was reminded of the role-playing game Earthdawn, where naming a thing set its pattern. It seemed that real magic was much the same.

Then Blood Raven pulled back, and ceased her outflow of magical energy. January did likewise, and opened her eyes once more. She stared down at the poppet. It looked ridiculous of course. A Faygo can with a bizarre menagerie of objects stuck into it and all bound up together in a mess of wires, twine, and glue. But she could feel it there. It hummed with energy like a power line.

She closed her eyes again, and that power leaped into sharper clarity in her mind's eye. It was as if without her meat eyes to distract her, she could "see" in the astral so much clearer. There in the spirit world, the enchantment on the poppet glowed brightly with energy. January could almost run imaginary hands across it, and feel not the physical contours of its construction, but rather the magical warp and weft of its design. She did not understand what every little whorl and line of power meant. But she could get the gist of it. That this was a device meant to sense into the magical realm, and relay the feelings of a summoning back to its owners.

January pulled her awareness back from the poppet, and noted lines of energy flowing from it. She traced those threads of mana back to her own spirit, and to that of Blood Raven. She looked over to the other woman, and saw her as an inferno of blazing power. She radiated such magical force, that it was practically like looking into the sun.

She could even feel that sun looking back into her. Blood Raven was sensing her in the astral, just as January was sensing her. She imagined that this was how you could tell that another person was magical. They radiated with this power, even if most would not be as overwhelming as Blood Raven. She wondered how she appeared to Blood Raven's magical eyes. If the other woman even processed it as sight, and not some other form of sensation? January imagined that every person must experience the astral in their own unique fashion, just as they did magic overall.

She let her awareness slip back into the physical world, and opened her meat eyes once more. She stifled a yawn, and stretched out her arms and legs.

"Congratulations, you have fashioned your first enchantment," Blood Raven declared with a certain measure of pride.

Then it sank into January's head. She had made this, with magic! She was really a magician! Not just someone who punched things, but a real, live, magician, just like Marie Laveau or Morgan Le Fey.

"I did, didn't I?'" she marveled.

Her elation was tempered when she glanced down at her phone. Over an hour had passed since they had begun the enchantment! That was not even counting the time it had taken to physically create the effigy.

"The artificer's art is a time-consuming one." Blood Raven's eyes followed January's gaze to the screen of her phone.

"I guess we probably will not be making too many of these," January imagined.

"Nay," Blood Raven agreed. "Aside from the time it requires, and energy, we must not create so many that we cannot keep track of which is which."

January nodded. Individual names certainly helped with that. She also had a sneaking suspicion that the next one would be like nothing like the first. She did not need Blood Raven to tell her that each must be unique, with its own name and pattern.

"I can feel the cord of energy that ties us to Cassandra here," January said. "I take it others can feel that as well? Can another magician use that to find us? Or cast magic through that link, and directly into us?"

"Yes," Blood Raven nodded. "That is why I have not done this sooner. Why few magicians ever bind their artifices so tightly to themselves. Thankfully, the number of magicians in Detroit who are capable of doing so is extremely small. But in any event, we must be careful where we place these, and be certain to gather them all up when we are finished."

"I need to use the restroom," January rose to her feet and looked to the door. "Then I'll be ready for the next one."

[Renee]

Very nice, I'm going to read about Georgie and Shameik more in detail, later this week. It says Shameik is Jamaican but I am hearing Gadget with an American accent, slightly urban perhaps.

Whoa, Celtic symbols. There's little stuff hidden all over Detroit, all kinds of little secrets. I agree, the lady's hidden alchemy lab is 'dope'.

"Do Not Be" Raven says. I am noticing that. She goes for all three words.

Oh wow. What is this poppet thing they are making? This is cool. I notice the constant touching back and forth. Yes, I also thought this is something magical, like they're adding their own essences.

Whoa, this is wicked. Overall I just realized something during this week's chapter which I enjoy about the relationship between these two ladies.

Let me finish this later. Stuff is a little chaotic here.

[Acadian]

This was simply enchanting! Forgive me, I couldn’t resist.

Seriously, a fascinating delve into the magical art of enchanting. Cassandra the Summon Scryer! The sensor web Blood Raven spoke of earlier now makes perfect sense.

I just noticed how Blood Raven does not use contractions – and that quirk imparts the aura of slightly out of place/out of time that haunts Blood Raven. Nice touch. January most certainly uses contractions, again, to good effect as it renders her more in touch with current culture and less formal.

[macole]

Nice description of the art of enchanting. It's obvious now that I've been going about it all wrong for all these years.

[SubRosa]

I found something interesting just now.

This video is of a walking tour of Downtown Detroit. It starts at Little Caesar's Arena (the brand new hockey arena), crosses the freeway, and goes down Woodward into Downtown proper.

17:10 This point right here is where Blood Raven put up her force field to block the Nazis in the previous chapter. Off the camera to the right is her lair in the Detroit Radiator Building (which is fictional). The Avalon Bakery is in the ground floor of the parking structure next to the Radiator building. The big building on the left is the Compuware building (its technically called something else now).

Straight ahead is Campus Martius, where January slugged it out with the Nazis. This is the exact spot, where Woodward splits in two, with the park in between. 18:43

In our next episode January will fly down this street (still Woodward) 22:29.

22:49 Here is the Michigan Soldier's and Sailors Monument in Campus Maritus. It has been mentioned before in previous episodes, and January will be flying directly over it.

Farther down Woodward, the orange-red brick building on the right is the Guardian Building. The elevated train track is for the People Mover. The building just past it and to the left is City Hall aka the Coleman Young Municipal Center, with the Spirit of Detroit statue out front. Just one block over to the right is where Blood Raven faced down the Nazis on the first day of Motor City Pride, the day before went meta and attacked the parade.You can see the parking structure they came out of for just a few seconds.

27:33 Those black towers across the street on the left are the Renaissance Center. Blood Raven was standing on top of the highest one the first day of Motor City Pride, the first day the Nazis showed up to protest. Across the street on the right is Hart Plaza. Motor City Pride took place there, and the Electronic Music Festival a few weeks earlier.

28:01 Again, just one block ahead of this shot - just past those trees on the right - is where Blood Raven faced off with the Nazis on day one Motor City Pride. You can see the Fist of Joe Louis hanging to the left, in the center of the divided road. Across the road on the left is Hart Plaza. Straight ahead in the distance is Cobo Center, with all the golden lights. Avery parked on the roof of it the night of the Electronic Music Festival. It is also where January changed into her armor, before flying to the Flying Dutchman fire later that night.



I also found a second video. Here we are looking down State Street from Woodward 17:27 This is the exact spot where Blood Raven put up her force field on the second day of Motor City Pride and fought the meta Nazis. Down the street on the left is a red building. That is where her fictional Detroit Radiator Building (which is black and gold in the story) is located. You can see the little alley just before it where a man is standing in dark blue. That is the alley to the loading dock entrance. Right before it is the entrance to the parking structure, and the vegan bakery is right before that.

Again, here is where January fought the Nazis 18:17, right at that grassy patch. The Compuware Building (it has a Microsoft sign, but I think it is officially the Quicken Loans building now?) is right across the street.

There is a better view of the Spirit of Detroit statue right here 27:35

Here is a better look at Hart Plaza 29:57 You can see the donut-shaped fountain right ahead, though there is no water going through it right now.

The Underground Railroad Monument in Hart Plaza is right here 32:58 This might be used in a future chapter, when I plan to have a treasure hunt throughout the city. The Detroit River is beyond. The camera will follow along it north-east toward the Ren Cen. January will fly over this exact route next episode, right up to the Ren Cen. There is a good look at Windsor right across the river.

This is the GM Promenade, at the base of the Ren Cen, right inside the green glass is the Wintergarden 39:21 This is where January will end the next episode.

[Renee]

I can still see the Nazi showdown areas in my head, and they are similar to what's shown. Especially the 'narrowness' of these streets. These streets aren't so wide like in New York. Not that all streets in Detroit are narrow... I wasn't picturing as much color and quaintness, that's the main difference. For some reason I always picture Detroit and other large, industrial cities as grey and rust. But maybe Detroit had its own Renaissance, similar to Baltimore in the '80s when we upgraded our downtown / Inner Harbor areas.

yeah, I can just picture some heroes flying down from the heights. Everybody standing around with their cameraphones!

I don't like the music, I'd rather hear ambient sounds of the street, so I had to mute sound. But it's fun watching the camera bop up and down slightly as whoever the cameraperson is walks.

It's good you posted this; it does enhance picturing your city.

This post has been edited by Renee: Dec 18 2020, 02:41 PM

[SubRosa]

Renee: I have not heard either Georgie or Shameik's real voices. But since they were born and raised in Warren, MI, January and Avery have Michigan accents, hard "A"s and all.

The whole poppet-making was a fun thing for me to write. As you noted, it was a nice way to show them together and bonding. It was also a nice way of showing them doing a very traditional form of magic. One day I might even work in Witch Bottles, or the color Haint Blue, to the Witch House.


Acadian: As I noted above, the poppet making was a nice walk down traditional magic lane. Along with citing Sympathetic Magic, I have been trying to weave in real world magical traditions into the story as much as possible.

It is interesting you and Renee both noted that Blood Raven does not use contractions. I had not really set about deliberately writing her that way. It is just a side effect from writing her as a person from another - more formal - time. There is another character we will seeing more of in future chapters who definitely never speaks in contractions, which is a bit of an effort for me sometimes, because he is January's age, which makes me lean toward writing him more modern and hip.


macole: Keep trying, and you will get it right. Try hanging out with some conjure women, or hexenmeisters, or other cunning folk.





Lafayette Greens


The Griswold


Detroit Coney Dogs

Pic of Lafayette Coney Island

Pic of Lafayette Coney Interior

Pic of Lafayette Coney Superpower






Book 6.5 - Eloise

January changed the angle of her wings, so that rather than slicing through the air like the edge of a knife, they met it underside straight on, like a parachute. Her momentum dropped to nearly nil, so that only gravity remained to pull her. She began to fall like a stone, and with only a thought her giant crow's wings vanished. In their place her armored cape snapped in the wind, and her arms - human again - reached out from her sides.

She dropped lightly to the sidewalk of Lafayette Greens below. The wedge of real estate between Michigan Avenue and Lafayette Boulevard was not very large. But it was packed with row upon row of greenery. A riot of flowers, fruits, and vegetables grew from waist-high, rectangular planters of recycled corrugated steel. In one stone-covered patch rose a fairy circle of round planters of the same shiny steel, along with brightly painted 55-gallon drums, all bursting with flowering life. Fanciful scarecrows made of recycled metals were painted blue and brown, and clad in animal prints.

The city rose up all about this placid island of life. Across Michigan Avenue to the north was Branwen's apartment building - The Griswold. It was a nine story parking structure of brown stone that looked to date back to the 30s. But an entirely new and modern glass and steel edifice rose atop that, making it look like a brand new building had somehow landed atop an old one. Rising up high in the sky beyond was Branwen's other building - the great black and gold Neo-Gothic masterpiece of the Detroit Radiator Building.

Beside it on Michigan towered the stately old limestone and brick edifice of the old Book Cadillac Hotel, now The Westin. Directly west rose a rather ordinary office building with a large parking lot, and the Federal Building loomed tall beyond it. To the south rose another parking structure. To the east rose a pair of black glass office towers set against each other to form an L.

It had only been four days since the battle with the Nazis just a few blocks north on Woodward. But you would never know it from looking at the city, which went on with life as usual. Cars rumbled past in all directions. Some honked their horns at January, and hands waved out their windows. On the sidewalks and in the gardens people stopped to stare, mouths dropping open in surprise. January smiled, nodded, and gave polite waves back to everyone.

She had heard that superheroes just dropping out of the sky was a relatively normal experience in cities like Chicago or New York. But it was not the kind of thing that Blood Raven usually did. Maybe it was time that changed. If she was going to do this, she had to be a part of the community. Unlike her great-grandmother, she was not content to remain the shadows for her entire super career. For better and for worse. Granted, she expected the 'worse' part to come sooner than the 'better', especially after today.

But, she was getting ahead of herself. She was also dwelling too much on the negative. She had to focus on the positive, if she was going to make that reality. So with head held high, she strode down the sidewalk to the plain black front of Lafayette Coney Island, which at street level was bisected by long, plate glass windows. Right next door was the bright red, white, and blue of American Coney Island. But it looked gaudy in comparison, and January ignored it while she went into Detroit's only real coney restaurant.

The interior was small, with a long white marble counter running the length of the building, all the way to the other side fronting Michigan Avenue. Across from it on the right wall was a line of small booths. Farther away in the building was a small island of larger tables. The walls were lined with plain white tiles, and along the border of the ceiling above was a sea of pictures of Detroit celebrities eating within the restaurant. The whole thing gave one the kind of cozy feeling you could only get from a small mom-and-pop business.

Even though it was mid-morning, too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, the place was still jumping with people. A thin man with balding white hair and glasses worked away at a mountain of hot dogs on the grill. A much younger, and wider, man slipped past January with his arms loaded down by plates of food. How he could hold them all aloft was a mystery to January, and she briefly wondered if that was his superpower?

She got in a short line at the counter, and waited her turn to order. There were enough people in the restaurant that not everyone paid attention to her. But those nearest to her certainly did give her that look. Not the "OMG it's a superhero" look, but the "what is that crazy person doing dressed like that" look. Well, only some of them. A few - perhaps LARPers or cosplayers, seemed impressed rather than shocked or amused.

When her turn came around she ordered a pair of coneys - one with no onions - and two pops. She fished into her utility belt for her wallet to pay for them. She stepped aside so the next person could order, and waited her turn at the counter.

"That outfit is popping," a female voice rang out above the background noise of chatter that buzzed through the building.

January turned to see a group of women at one of the tables. One of them had her phone out and was taking pictures. Most were dressed business casual, though one wore a suit with a skirt. January imagined they must have been from the many surrounding offices. Their faces were lit by smiles, and their eyes sparkled. Their camaraderie instantly reminded January of the Knights of Nerddom, just with fewer gaming manuals and dice.

"You like it?" January took a moment to preen, and lifted the cape with one hand to show it off. She let her voice take on a deeply snobbish affect. "Oh it is just all the rage in Paris this season!"

That brought a chorus of laughter from the table of women, and some eye-rolls from others.

"Hey, did you make that yourself?" another of the women asked. "That's the best cosplay I've ever seen."

"A friend of mine did it for me," January moved over to the table. "He's really good at this sort of thing."

"Gotta have the gay best friend," one of the women nodded. "I swear Raul knows more about fashion than I do."

"No, he doesn't really know a thing about fashion," January shook her head. "I still muddle through on my own for that. But he's really good at building things."

"Oooh, a real man's man, now that's what you need," said another of the women. "A man who can fix your pipes, put up drywall, and do all that welding and stuff. Now that's a man worth his weight in gold. Hold on to that one girl. My husband, the last time he tried to fix the bathtub... well we had to call a plumber after he was done wrecking it. And let me tell you, that ain't cheap."

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," January insisted. "He is gay though."

"Hey, do you think the real Stormcrow is a lesbian, like they say?" another woman asked.

"Naw," one of her friends replied before January could say anything. "Did you see that guy who said that? All scraggly and nasty. Probably living in his momma's basement that one. She just told him that so he'd leave her alone. That's what's going on there."

"He wasn't that bad," January shrugged. "I thought he looked fine. Well, as best I know about men. I did kind of tell him that to get him to stop hitting on me. But I also said I'm a lesbian because it's true."

"Wait, you mean you're a lesbian too?" one of the women said. She turned to one of her friends, and put a hand on the other woman's arm. "Let me introduce you to Priyanka. She's 24, single, doesn't do drugs, got a good job, and can so-so cook. But you can always get take out."

"Hi Priyanka, it's really nice to meet you," January put out a hand. Priyanka, who was turning beet red in spite of deep tones of her skin, reached out and gave her hand a gentle shake. She stared at January's hand, and slid her fingers across the hagfish fibers of her armor. She turned their hands to look at the cubic boron nitride plate that sheathed her forearm, and her eyes lit up in understanding.

"That's not foam and lycra, that's real!" she gasped. "I mean you really are real. You're her!"

The other women all stared from Priyanka to January. Then their faces all blossomed with comprehension.

"I am," January nodded. "I mean, I'm me. I mean, yes, I am really Stormcrow."

January wanted to kick herself. If she was going to be out in the public, part of the community and all, she was going to have to be better at talking to people than this!

The table erupted with a barrage of comments. More phones instantly appeared in hands and began clicking pictures. January leaned in and took some selfies with the group. Priyanka's friends pushed her in close to take a pic of just the two of them together. The rest of the restaurant stared at them, as if they had all gone crazy.

"Hey, Super Girl!" A man behind the counter cried out. "Your order's up."

January excused herself. One of Priyanka's friends scribbled a number on a napkin and slipped it to her. "Call her," she mouthed with finger and thumb to her cheeks pantomiming a phone. Poor Priyanka looked like she might wilt from embarrassment. January could relate. Well, no she could not really. Not even Avery had ever gone to such lengths to hook her up with someone. Now that she thought about it, that was a blessing.

January lifted the bag of her coneys and pop and went out the door with a nod to her admirers. Back in the street, she strode to the busy intersections of Michigan Avenue and Lafayette. She could walk all the way to the Renaissance Center. It would be quicker to fly however. But she had never tried to hold anything in her hands while she did so.

It was time to challenge herself, and grow as a person. She had already done that just by talking to that table-full of strangers. She could not imagine being so bold a year ago. If she could do that, then she could fly while holding a pair of hot dogs and drinks.

She closed her eyes and felt for her mana. As always, it was a river of energy shimmering just beneath the surface of her consciousness. She absentmindedly chanted to herself in Old Norse. Her mind eased of distractions, as she fell into the familiar words. The world slipped away for a moment, and her mana rose up to cocoon her in power.

She opened her eyes to see the words that she was chanting twisting and twining around her in the form of golden runes. They glowed in the air, like little pieces of sunlight, calling upon the power of Air. January poured her mana into that, and willed it to reshape reality.

Her cape instantly transformed into her now familiar pair of crow's wings, feathers and all. But this time they did not grow directly from her arms, subsuming them into the body of the wings. Now her wings sprouted directly from her back, entirely separate from her arms. They flapped gently, almost involuntarily, and she felt herself nearly pulled from the ground.

It was just like her flights had been recently, even with the new position of her wings. She did not have to think about how to do it. She just did it. It was like riding a bicycle, or walking. It was just natural. She smiled, and rose up into the air without even bothering to start with a leap to gain altitude. She did it all with just the power of her wings alone.

Still clutching the bag of chili dogs and drinks in her hands, she winged her way along Michigan Avenue. She was over Campus Martius in an instant, with the wedge-shaped Compuware building looming over her left shoulder. She banked in the opposite direction, and turned toward the river. The grand Michigan Soldiers and Sailors monument rose up beneath her, crowned by a statue of a sword and shield-armed Amazon.

Then the small city park vanished behind her, and she zoomed down Woodward. She found herself in a canyon of skyscrapers that rose up to either side of her. The great red-brick Guardian Building towered to her right, and the even taller Neo-Gothic-capped Comerica building rose to her left. She briefly thought of Beggar's Canyon, but there were no womp rats in sight. Several people did point to the sky and wave however. She could only smile and nod in reply as she flew past.

She soared over the elevated track of the People Mover, then winged past City Hall. She cast an appreciative glance at the Spirit of Detroit statue enshrined in the small plaza beside it. The green bronze statue held a golden sunburst in one hand, and an equally resplendent trio of a man, woman, and child in the other.

She winged out over Jefferson, and the Fist of Joe Louis, which hung suspended in the middle of the divided avenue. It was not the man's actual hand of course, but a great bronze statue of the legendary boxer's arm that hung suspended above the earth. Then she continued on over Hart Plaza, and its many monuments and statues, and of course the iconic donut-shaped fountain that rose up in its center.

She finally banked to the left when the wide emerald snake of the Detroit River wound its way beneath her. She dipped down a bit, traded altitude for speed, and raced above the waves. She felt the spray on her face, and pulled back up over the concrete steps of the GM Plaza Promenade at the water's edge.

[Acadian]

What a fun episode!

She starts in the air and shows us a nice improvement in her flight as she flares her arm-wings and gently lands.

And what a hoot in the hot dog shoppe! She really is pushing herself and quite successfully overcoming what she feels is awkward shyness. Her underlying gentle and good nature shines through though as she quickly clicks with that group of women who eventually realize she really is the Stormcrow.

Based on Jan's internal dialogue, she seems well-prepared for the downsides of her increased community involvement. For example, I wouldn't be surprised if that selfie of her and Priyanka ends up in the newspaper captioned by 'Stormcrow has new girlfriend!'

What a wonderful employment of 'necessity is the mother of invention' having a bag of chow in her hands made. By willing her wings to now grow from her back, she brought to reality a wonderfully elegant solution and takes another very large progress leap in her ability to fly. Now she can eat and fly at the same time!


Nits:
'It was time to challenge herself, and grow {as?} a person.'
'But this time they did {not?} grow directly from her arms, subsuming them into the body of the wings. Now her wings sprouted directly from her back, entirely separate from her arms.'

[Renee]

Okay, so in Michigan they use hard As as they speak. I'll remember that. Actually as I read this chapter, especially the Coney Island part, now I hear all their voices with 'ehs' instead of 'ahs'.

I did read about Georgie Stone. She's broken through quite some barriers, I had no idea.

This week's chapter, I am really noticing that it's still late spring / early summer in their world, with all the flowers and planters and stuff. Here in Maryland it's icy outside!

January waves to folks as they drive by. Accessible and congenial, she is. Despite this, those women at the table seem rather clueless about who she is.

Man, Chorrol.com really needs to upgrade its smileys. We need a superhero smiley, lol.

January wanted to kick herself. If she was going to be out in the public, part of the community and all, she was going to have to be better at talking to people than this!

She's trying, though. She's trying, and without any real sort of 'guideposts' to go by. How many others can put themselves in her situation, and can fight crime, and fly, and do all those other wonderful things, right? Raven can teach Jan about magic for instance, but who is teaching her about how to conduct herself in social situations? Nobody. She's on her own. I'd say she's doing pretty good.


About contractions: I mostly noticed it because years ago my dad gave me a book called The Year 1000 which explained that contractions were not used back then.

This post has been edited by Renee: Dec 22 2020, 02:11 PM

[Renee]

And Happy Winter Solstice to my two favorite storybook witches!

[SubRosa]

Acadian: That was a very fun episode to write. It was nice for January to just be having fun, and show that people looked up to her, for being her.

There will be some downsides to her fame coming. Not the pic of her and Priyanka. The events of today's episode will completely overshadow that, and have fallout that lasts through Season Two. In fact, the backlash against her will be one of the major driving forces of that story arc.

The need to carry those hot dogs was indeed my 'mother of invention' moment. I spent a lot of time hemming and hawing over how January's wings were going to work. Whether they would be part of her arms, or as entirely separate limbs sprouting from her back. In the end I realized that was a false dichotomy, and that there was no reason she could not have both. This is not the end of her winged development either. She will have some really big evolutions both later in this chapter, and in the next one.

And thanks for finding those nits. It is good to be able to fix those things.



Renee: Michiganders have a definite accent. The hard "a" is part of it. A bigger thing is how fast we speak. We are always in a hurry to spit out whatever we have to say, so we mush our words together, and leave out letters to make it faster. I am constantly censoring myself, so that rather than saying: "I'mgonnagotathastore", I slow down and say "I am going to go to the store." Then you get the Yoopers (from the UP, which is pronounced 'yoo-pee'), who speak more like Canadians, eh, then even the rest of us trolls (who live under the bridge. That being the Mackinac Bridge of course).

Today's episode is on June 11th. The entire First Season will take place in the summer, It might even wrap up by mid July.

Detroit is still getting used to superheros being a part of everyday life. Blood Raven stays out of the spotlight, and never just rubs shoulders with people. At least not without January or Cray prompting her to. January's openness is something brand new for the region. As she muses, she needs to be part of the community, not just a guardian lurking in the shadows.

As you noted, January does not really have any mentors to help her navigate the waters of being a celebrity. Which is just like real celebrities, when you think about it. They just have that fame thrust upon them. Which explains why they often fumble with it so badly at times. The nearest thing January has is her mom, who pushes her to engage more with the public in her regular life, like with that talk at the library.

And Happy Feast of Sol Invictus!











Octavia Butler (RL Octavia Spencer)


The Cadillac Cien is an example of a concept car

Renaissance Center Map

Ren Cen Wintergarden

Ren Cen Central Atrium

Ren Cen Elevator View

View from a suite




Book 6.6 - Eloise

Now January traded her speed for an increase in altitude. That swept her up the concrete stairs, but at a slower rate. She flared her wings, and that brought her to a complete stop. A moment later she gently set her feet down on a black inset of the continents laid into the concrete below. She absentmindedly noted that she had stepped on Italy, and hoped she did not crush the Colosseum beneath her armored feet.

She waited for traffic to clear on the street ahead of her, then walked calmly across to the green-glassed facade of the GM Wintergarden. She briefly craned her head up, to take in the tremendous view of the five main towers of the Renaissance Center. She had read the four smaller towers rose a mere 39 stories, while the great central spire rose 70 floors into the firmament. Gods, did she ever want to leap into the sky from that!

The interior of the Wintergarden itself held a sprawling dining area, decorated with actual palm trees that towered within the massive enclosed atrium. Glassed in terraces rose up one after another, and ringed the space with shops and restaurants. People walked everywhere, sat and ate, chatted, and shopped.

All of her life, January had been told that Detroit was a pit. It was a slum. It was the rust-beltiest dump in all of the rust-belt. Yet the opulence and grandeur that rose before her eyes could have come from any utopian science fiction film that she had ever seen. For a moment, she managed to forget the sprawling decay of the Packard Plant, and the overgrown lots and homeless shelters that dotted the Cass Corridor. Here in the Ren Cen, the jewel of the city, it was paradise on earth.

Yet some nagging part of her brain wondered if those other places were so bereft of prosperity because all of the money and resources in the city had been concentrated here, instead of in the neighborhoods. It was that same feeling she always had whenever she looked upon some grand palace filled with marble and gold. Could not have that money and time and effort have been used for some more tangible benefit, like healthcare, or schools?

She tried not to be impressed with it all. Not just because of the umbrage of her inner socialist. She was a superhero after all. She was supposed to look cool and composed at all times. Cape flapping heroically in the breeze and all that. Well, she tried at least. But she really, really wanted to fly around those palm trees. They would make for ideal pylons in a slalom course.

She reined in her aviating inclinations, along with her wings. She allowed them to transform back into her cape, and walked through the space to the even larger atrium at the center of all five towers. It was another wonderland of glass terraces and mezzanines that floated in the air. There were more shops, quiet little nooks that hung off suspended walkways, and even rows of cars set out for show. As if she needed anyone to remind her that this was the General Motors Renaissance Center, thank you very much.

A second glance at the latter made her realize that these were not the company's new cars. No, these were too wild and artistic to be production models. They were concept cars: hand-built, one-of-a-kind creations that showed off all the talent and genuine whimsy that engineers could flaunt, when they did not have to make money off their creations.

If only Avery was here. He could spend forever marveling over those beautiful machines. She turned on her video unit, and cast some long looks across the futuristic cars. That way he would at least have something to look at the next time she talked to him.

A single leap brought her up to the lobby of the Marriott. The hotel took up the entire central spire of the complex, the building that reached highest into the sky. She breezed past the check-in desk, and made her way to the elevators. She glanced down at Sága and looked over her most recent text. Then she took the next elevator up.

Half a dozen other people crowded into the elevator with her. No one spoke. It was an elevator after all. January stared out the window, and waited for her floor. The car hung within a glass tube that clung to the outer shell of the tower. This afforded them a truly spectacular view of the Detroit River and the Canadian shore beyond. The latter was dominated by the Caesars Windsor Hotel and Casino. Its two massive towers stood directly across the strait from her. Made of blue-green glass, white metal panels, and sail-shaped roofs, the complex definitely caught the eye.

Eventually the elevator rose above the four flanking towers of the Ren Cen. Then the view really opened up. Now January could see Belle Isle off in the distance to the north, and the Ambassador Bridge far to the south. She turned back in time to see the number 50 light up, and stepped off when the elevator stopped at that floor.

January strode though the corridor to the room indicated on her text. She paused a moment before she knocked at the door. Was she sure she wanted to do this? Was she really, really sure? So far this day had been wonderful, carefree, even fun. How many days like it would she ever have again if she stepped through that door? How many flame wars and vitriolic MeTube videos would be spawned in response to what she was about to say?

She knocked on the door before she could talk herself out of it.

It opened a few moments later. She was greeted by a rotund woman, whose brown skin practically glowed with warm undertones. This only heightened the congenial appearance created by her sparkling eyes, and what looked like a smile ingrained upon her lips. Her straight hair fell to her shoulders, and she wore a business-casual, orange collared shirt and jacket. The woman blinked a moment. It was a reaction January was used to when she wore her armor. Then the other woman opened the door wider to let her in.

"Hi, I'm Octavia Butler," she said, holding out her hand. "It is nice to finally met you."

"Hi Octavia." January took her hand and gave a gentle shake. "I'm, well, you know. I brought you a taste of Detroit."

She indicated the bag in her hands. Octavia shut the door behind her, and led her into a small suite. The central space possessed a window that ran from floor to ceiling, affording a magnificent view of Canada and Belle Isle below. A couch and chair sat the far end, in front of a small coffee table. A pair of small cameras were set up on tripods there, pointed toward the furniture. On the other side of the space was a round table with wheeled chairs. While a counter topped by juices and a sampler of cheeses and vegetables sat against the inner wall, underneath a flatscreen TV. A handful of doors branched off into other rooms, and January imagined that they must lead to a bathroom and bedrooms.

January set down her bag on the round table. She fished out the drinks, and then the little Styrofoam containers for each chili dog. She opened them up, and was gratified by the wide-eyed look of delight that crested Octavia's features.

"You were serious about bringing brunch!" she laughed. "But this is not what I expected."

"You said you liked coneys," January said. "I wanted to bring something that really says 'Detroit'. To me, that's Lafayette Coney Island."

They sat at the table, and January picked the hot dog without the onions. Octavia chided her for that, insisting that the onions were the best part. January made a face, but could not reply as her mouth was full of tangy hot dog goodness. When she could finally talk again, she explained that she never liked the way that onions crunched in her mouth. There was something in the texture that was just, wrong. Something Octavia insisted was one of their best features!

January was relieved to note that the other woman seemed to really enjoy the hot dog. She was keenly aware that Octavia was not a native of the city. So making a good impression for Detroit was foremost in her mind. Given all the bad press the city habitually received, she would be mortified if she inadvertently contributed to more. At least concerning food. Detroiters took eating seriously, something the Foodies across the country had finally begun to acknowledge.

They went on to debate the pros and cons of various foods while they ate. January noted several of the better places to eat in Detroit, such as Pizza Papalis in Greektown, Vinsetta Garage, Jose's Tacos, and the like. She even threw out a reference to her local mom and pop pizzeria by the Witch House, who quite honestly had the best deep dish she had ever eaten.

When they were finally done, January had to wash her gauntleted hands and wipe her mouth. She took a moment to look herself over with a small hand-mirror she kept in her utility belt. Chili and lipstick did not mix. Thinking of the cameras set up at the other end of the suite, she took a moment to primp and reapply her makeup. She was intensely aware that Octavia was watching, and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

It was the kind of thing that most women took for granted. But transitioning in junior high school had taught her that it was also practically begging for transphobic insults. She could still hear the jeers from her classmates. But she pushed those ugly memories down, and carried on. She was going to be on camera, so she had to look good. Welcome to being a woman.

"Take your time and make sure you're ready," Octavia said reassuringly. "We don't have to use the cameras if you don't want to. I typically only use them to make one or two short clips for the internet. Putting them on social media gives the network free advertising, and generates more traffic for the story on the website."

"That's ok," January nodded. She had expected something like that. Besides, visibility was the entire point to why she was there. Even if not for herself personally. "I'm a Gen Z'er. If it's not on the Gram, it didn't happen."

"I thought you were a Millennial?" Octavia wondered aloud. She led January to the other side of the room, and both women were obliged to carefully step over the power cords of the cameras. January sat on the couch where the other woman indicated, and tried not to look nervous while Octavia looked through one of the cameras to ensure that it was lined up on her.

"Technically no," January admitted. "I missed it by just a few years. I always thought it was strange that the cut off date for being a Millennial was years before the millennium."

"We normally have one or more camera people for this sort of thing," Octavia explained as she fiddled with the controls to the video recorder. "But I don't mind flying solo. I've done some of these with just my phone."

January's only demand had been for no one else to be in the room when they did their interview. She really could not explain why it mattered. After all, everyone in the world was going to see it soon enough. For not the first time, she wistfully recalled the halcyon days of fighting giant spiders and Whitewater Security. That was so much less stressful.

"I guess I'm just a little nervous," January finally admitted.

"Oh there's nothing to be worried about," Octavia waved a hand in dismissal and took a seat on the single chair. January noted that the second camera was pointed in the reporter's direction. "A lot of people get the jitters about being on camera. I know one of the anchors has to take Pepto every night before he does his show. But it's really no big deal. Just pretend the camera isn't there, and look at me instead."

"To be honest, it's nice to do this in person," Octavia went on. "Most of my interviews are over the phone, or the internet. The network usually isn't willing to fly me out somewhere to talk to someone one on one."

"So how do we do this?" January asked.

"These things go a hundred different ways," Octavia explained. "The better ones go like a conversation. You and I will just talk. I'll have some prepared questions to ask. You will have the opportunity to bring things up that you would like to discuss, and so on. After we're done I'll go over it all to actually write the piece later today and tomorrow. Then my editor and I will pick out one or two points to pull short clips of video to use on the website and television channel. The story will probably run in two or three days."

"Ok," January swallowed. Just a conversation. She could do that. She closed her eyes for a moment, and reached down for her mana. It was there as always, a pool of energy bubbling deep within her. She brought it up and let it wash through her body like a cleansing wave, only to fall back into that reservoir of power inside.

"You asked for me personally," Octavia started. "Gilda does most of Worldwide Network News' cape stories, and the anchors pick up the rest. I'm just a regular reporter. So why me?"

"I really liked the piece you wrote about the Nazis at Motor City Pride," January answered easily. "I mean the first one you wrote on Saturday, before they went meta. Most reporters were blasting the police chief for not informing anyone that the Nazis were planning to appear. But you noted that it was in keeping with the old strategy of fighting fascists by denying them news coverage, and strangling their propaganda. I did not know about that. You sent me down a whole internet rabbit hole about the history of American Nazis and their tactics. I learned a lot thanks to you being both a balanced and knowledgeable reporter."

"Well thank you." Octavia looked more than a little flattered, and eased back in her chair.

"So why are we here at all?" the reporter asked. "Many capes avoid the press, especially your counterpart here in Detroit. What made you reach out?"

"I have a partner, aside from Blood Raven," January said. She tried not to bite her lip. Or lick her lips. Or otherwise look as nervous as she felt. "His name is Gadget. He watches my back online. He gave me his permission to use his name in this interview. He wanted me to go on stage at Ferndale Pride, but I didn't, and not entirely for the reasons I gave him."

"All of my life I have felt different," she continued. "I've been different, from everyone else around me. Since I was a child I learned to hide it, to blend in, to act 'normal'. Even now, when I'm not wearing the cape, I usually dress as ordinary as possible so that no one notices me."

"Being noticed makes me afraid. It always makes my life worse. Because I am not only a lesbian, I am a trans woman as well. When people realize that, they treat me differently. I am a curiosity to be studied at best, like a strange new lifeform to be leered at through the safety of a microscope. Or a humorous anecdote to regale their friends with later. At worst, I am a sub-human monster who has to be destroyed, all the while denying my womanhood of course. I don't simply have to fight for the right to be treated the same as anyone else. I have to fight for the right to even exist at all."

"Wow," Octavia made an effort to conceal her surprise. But January could see the small cues that betrayed her, the slight widening of her eyes, the tiny turn of her lips. It was something she was used to reading on other's faces. "I had no idea. I am sure I am not the only one."

"That is what everyone says, which is flattering," January related. "It is what every T-girl prays for, though when I'm wearing the helmet and the armor it's easy. There is not much to see after all. So people see what they want to see."

"But it's also strangely confining. This is hard for me to put in words…"

January leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment and gathered her thoughts.

"All of my life I have wished that I had been born a regular, cisgendered girl. The same as anyone else. Since I became Stormcrow, that is how everyone has treated me. I should be happy. It is what most trans people dream about."

"But people keep asking me if I am really a lesbian," January continued. "It shouldn't matter. They even say it doesn't matter when they ask. But the fact is, it does matter, because no one who has ever worn a cape has ever come out and said they were."

"Every time they ask, it reminds me that most people think I am hetero and cis. That is what they want to see. Somehow I wound up back in the closet again. Without even trying, I was pretending again, to be something that I am not."

"I just cannot live that way," January insisted. "Not anymore. I cannot be what other people want me to be. I can only be myself. That is why I came out and transitioned in the first place. I will not apologize for existing. I will not feel ashamed of myself, for being myself, ever again."

"Do you think the way people treat you will change now that they know you are trans?" Octavia asked.

"Of course," January said. "It changes everything, always."

"So why come out, literally Come Out, and tell me?" Octavia asked.

"Because it needs to be said," January insisted. "I remember back when superhero movies were all the rage. Before everyone had broadband internet and smart phones to record the real ones and post them online. Fifty or sixty movies, and not one had a transgender protagonist, or even supporting character. Nor one with any kind of queer character anywhere at all."

"No one wants to acknowledge that we exist. Well we do exist. We always have, and always will. We aren't a dirty little secret that needs to be erased. We are people, just like everyone else. I have to come out, because no one else will acknowledge that truth."

"But most importantly, the people out there right now who feel different, and don't know why, need to know that they are not the only ones in the world to ever feel that way. They need to know that they are not freaks, or monsters, or mistakes. They need to know that they are not alone, and that there are other people who feel just like they do. Just as importantly, the people around them need to know the same. So that when someone says that they are trans, or gay, or non-binary, or intersex, or anything, they are taken seriously by their family and friends. Not brushed off as trying to get attention, or just 'going through a phase', nor treated like they are sick, or evil, or some kind of Other."

"I attempted suicide when I was younger." January looked down at her armored wrists, and thought of the scars that crisscrossed her skin underneath. "An awful lot of queer people do. If I can spare even one person that fate, that mistake, it will be worth all the trolling I receive for coming out."

"Do you expect a backlash?" Octavia asked.

"Have you ever seen the internet?" January responded.

"So why are you Stormcrow?" Octavia changed gears. "I mean, why the cape at all. Why not just sit back and live an ordinary life, without giant spiders and Nazis and other black hats."

"After I transitioned I was bullied, a lot," January frowned. "But there were some people who stood by me as well. I want to pay that forward. I need to. There are too many people who are outnumbered, isolated, and alone. We all need allies, even if it's just one other person. The fact is that we all have to stand up for one another, and help each other. That is my mission statement. I am here to help people. Not put them in prison."

[Acadian]

’No one spoke. It was an elevator after all.’

It was fun not really knowing what her plans at the Ren Cen were and letting her gradually show us why she was there.

Having this interview ranks right up among the bravest things Jan has ever done – and she acquitted herself very well. It seems to me she had three salient points to make and completely succeeded:
- Firstly, because folks generally assumed that as a superhero the Stormcrow was cisgender and heterosexual, she had found herself boxed into the proverbial closet – something she long ago refused to do. So ‘coming out’ publicly was important for her.
- Secondly, knowing firsthand how her sexuality had caused her to flirt with suicide was a strong incentive for her to try and help others avoid that.
- Finally, she made it clear enough to invoke pride in any paladin that she understood being weak and defenseless - and dutifully adopted the mantel of protecting those unable to protect themselves.


Nits:
"Hi Octavia." January took her {hand?} and gave a gentle shake.’
’. . .and tried not to look nervous while Octavia looked through one of the cameras to insure {ensure?} that it was lined up on her.’

[Renee]

Hello. I've been to Grand Rapids as a kid, but never Detroit, as far as I can remember. But that is also something I've heard before, how Detroit is the pits. Not as bad as Baltimore, but for a midwest city it is the scariest. All these pictures and videos have convinced me that it's not all like this! I've been reeducated.

That elevator ride is spectacular. Acrophobia kicking in, here.

Goodness. She even has a compact mirror in her utility belt.

How many flame wars and vitriolic MeTube videos

Shoot. She mentioned Gadget. I know he gave his permission, and 'Gadget' is not really his real name. Still. I can just imagine the shady hackers out there, all who will be trying to figure who this is. Should we be nervous? Hmm. Guess not. He knows what he's doing, being a hacker himself.

Ah, so she's revealing herself in this interview. Never mind about Gadget, then. This revelation is huge!

Phew. Deep breaths.... and Good Luck, hon.

[SubRosa]

Acadian: At first I thought being in an elevator with a bunch of other people might spark more interest in January's being a superhero. But then I remembered the cardinal rule of elevator rides. No talking, or eye contact, ever.

Coming out to the world was one of the bravest things January will ever do. She will be facing the repercussions from it for a long time, including the creation of a team of supervillains whose sole purpose is to murder her. OTOH, it will also kick off a lot of positive change as well, some of it very close to home for January. This is one of the examples of January's determination to do more than just fight with her fists. She needs to use her unique circumstances to make the world a better place.



Renee: When I was growing up Detroit was the Murder Capital. I think we have been trading that title back and forth with you folks in Baltimore and St. Louis lately. There is a lot of urban decay in Detroit, a lot of empty lots where abandoned homes have been torn down, a lot of rusting old factories, and a lot of simple blight in the neighborhoods. But even the poorest city has its rich people, and its bright spots. Downtown is like that. It is the showpiece part of Detroit, with all of its skyscrapers, hipster restaurants, and snob palaces. You are not going to get mugged or shot or carjacked down there. Other places, well, don't go there without a gun.

I used to make deliveries to the Ren Cen back when I was a courier. Those elevator rides were awesome. I loved seeing the whole city spread out under me.

This was Gadget's first real coming out too. He prefers to stay on the down low. He's learned in life that the tallest blade of grass is the first one to get cut down. But in spite of that, he is stepping up as well. He will be getting more and more involved in the future.

January will need that good luck. Her coming out will trigger a storm, some good, some bad. But we have not gotten there just yet.







* * *

Book 6.7 - Eloise

This is Nathaniel Creed from Worldwide Network News. In politics today, the trial of former US Senator Wade Harding took yet another bizarre turn. Harding - who has been found guilty of charges of wire-fraud, perjury, and money-laundering - formally abdicated his seat in the Senate, and bequeathed it to his son, Aaron.

Constitutional scholars have been quick to point out that while senators may resign, they do not abdicate. Furthermore, they cannot choose their successors. Rather the 17th Amendment to the Constitution clearly states that the governor of their home state is empowered to assign a temporary replacement, until a special election can be held to permanently fill the seat.

Furthermore, it is also important to note that the former senator did not in fact resign. Rather he was stripped of his position by the Senate Ethics Committee.

In related news Governor Gretchen Whitaker of Michigan has already appointed Carlin Galpin to temporarily fill the vacant senate position. Until today Galpin had served as Lieutenant Governor of Michigan. Governor Whitaker has announced that a special election will be slated for the fall to determine a permanent replacement, if not sooner.

January turned off the new radio that Avery had installed in her Victory, which was paired with her wireless earbuds. She pulled the motorcycle up into the driveway of a two-story, powder-puff blue home. It was just a block from Avery's house, not to mention her own former home. She would rather not think about the latter however. She locked down the Victory with Gadget's molecular adhesion wave. Then she stepped off it and pulled the helmet from her head. She used one of the bike's side mirrors to straighten her errant locks of hair. At least it was not too bad, thanks to the braid she had tied it back into.

With her scratched up, flowery pink helmet in one hand she walked up to the covered porch and knocked on the door. She kept her backpack on. A few moments later a middle-aged woman with dark hair answered. She took one look at January and frowned. Then she finally opened the door.

"He's upstairs in his room," she murmured. Then she turned away, as if January did not exist.

January nodded, and took the stairs up to the second floor. Rus' mother did not like her very much, at least not since she transitioned.

She turned right and walked to the last door in the back. She knocked a moment, and reached for the door knob. Then she remembered something Avery had once told her about not barging in on teenage boys. She might see things she would never be able to un-see, such as activities involving gym socks, hand cloths, or tissue paper. So she simply waited at the closed door rather than go in.

"What is it Ma?" Rus' voice drifted through the closed door.

"It's January," she said, "I came to talk to you about an idea I have."

The door opened a moment later, only to be filled with Rus' golden halo of wavy blond hair.

"Oh hey Morning Star." Naturally, he used her Knights of Nerddom nickname -a reference to the equivalent of January in the calendar of the Elder Scrolls universe.

The slender young man was dressed in a faded tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans, which immediately reminded January of how much he looked like Robert Plant. He stepped back to let her inside. As usual, his room was a cluttered mess of notebooks, colored pencils, and old clothes. Black and white sketches lined the walls, keeping company with a few watercolors. His computer hummed in one corner, with an art pad attached. January could see a half-finished drawing of an orc fighting a lizard-man on the screen.

"Were you thinking about a new Cthulhu character?" he said. "Sorry about the last one going insane. But that's how the game works sometimes. But we can totally work a new one up."

"No," January said. "This is something more capitalist, though just as nerdy."

She sat down on his bed, which was perpetually unmade, and pulled off her backpack. He sat at his computer desk, and spun the chair around to face her. He stared back expectantly.

"I want to make a comic book," January plunged straight into it. "I have the characters worked out, ideas for the setting, and the first six or seven issues plotted out. I'd like you to draw it."

"What?" Rus looked confused. "You mean like that time when we were kids, and we did that project for school?"

"No," January explained. She pulled her tablet out of her pack and turned it on. "I mean a real comic book, in both digital and hard copy formats. I have it all here. The story, my notes, pictures of real world places I want to use, everything."

"You're serious?" he looked even more surprised.

"Absolutely," she said. "Look, I know it might sound crazy, but we can do this. People self-publish all the time now. We'll crowd source it to raise money for our cost of living, and for printing. I've worked out the tier levels for backing. The base tier will just get an electronic copy. The higher levels will get hard copies, autographed versions, things like that. I have it all written down. I have seen other writers do this. We can do it too."

"I don't know, this sounds…"

"Crazy?" January shook her head. "It's not. It's just business. Our business. I already did this with This Spell for Hire. This is no different. We do not need to wait for our chance to make something of ourselves. We can make our own chances."

"My father will hate it," Rus ruminated. "He'll say it's stupid, and a waste of my time."

"Do you want to spend your life working in his tool and die shop?"

"You know the answer to that!" he grinned. "Ok, you got yourself an artist. Now show me what you have in mind."

January pulled up her tablet with a smile, and started bringing up file after file.

"Welcome to Artemis Argent and the Secret of Mystery Hill. I was originally going to go with a steampunk setting. But then I looked back at your art. You have an ethereal quality to your work. Like it is not quite in the real world. So I changed it to magic-punk."

"Sometime in the 1820s or 30s, the Yellowstone volcano erupted. It sent alchemical ingredients all over the planet, bringing magic back to the world. Artificers can use these reagents to create magic items. Things like aircraft, or weapons, or ground vehicles. The United States broke up into a bunch of different nations and free cities. The Apache, Crow, Lakota, etc... are still in the West, the Spanish are back in California, a resurgent Mayan empire rules Mexico, and so on."

"The main story is set about 50 years later. It is after things have simmered down slightly, and people have gotten used to magic and the new world. But every nation is looking for an edge against every other one. Sort of like the Successor Kingdoms after Alexander. The main character is Artemis Argent. She has an arm made of alchemical silver, hence her argency. She's a secret agent for the Empire State - New York - with the cover as an aviatrix, entrepreneur, and how shall we say... obtainer of rare antiquities."

* * *

January left Rus' house with a real spring in her step, and her head held high. This was going to work. She was going to make a comic! Her career was finally taking off. This Spell for Hire was selling briskly online, thanks to the exposure she had gotten from Crow Tales and Gilda Gadfly. Now her next project had moved from mere conjecture to the actual nuts and bolts of creation. She even had people wanting to have her as a guest on a literary podcast. She had a real career now, not just hopes and dreams of one.

But that left one thing undone, one last piece of unhappy work.

Her Victory hummed down the street. Like all electric motorcycles, the only sound it made was the metallic whine of the drive chain, and the hum of the tires on the street. She pulled onto Dequindre and took it north to Nine Mile. She turned west again, and followed it to the Burger Baron right before I-75. She turned again, and took John R north once more.

She realized that this was almost the exact same route she and Avery had taken to reach the Flint Airport. That had been the beginning of her career as a superhero. It was a career that never would have happened without years of martial arts training.

Then she passed by the abandoned shop where she and the Emergency Response Team had captured the Death Dealer. She had not needed her years of experience with karate, muay thai, or krav maga then. But she certainly had the following day when the Neo-Nazis used the last of the Crystal Death to attack Motor City Pride.

Just a few moments later she pulled up to the dojo where she had gained that training. No, earned it, though sweat and bruises and determination.

The Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts was just one of several small businesses in a strip mall on the western side of the street. She pulled up into the lot and found a free space. She took her time shutting off her bike and pulling her flowery pink helmet from her head. Those feelings of unbridled pride and joy which had sang through her heart just minutes before ebbed and drained away like dirty bathwater. She brushed her hair out, and swept it all to one side with a flip of her head. That maneuver had taken nearly as much training and hard work as the Split-S that Lighthammer had taught her.

Finally she quit procrastinating and locked down the Victory with the adhesive wave emitter that Avery had built into the tires. With her worn Sedici Strada helmet in one hand, she strode into the dojo. Her eyes scanned across the afternoon muay thai class, who went through a series of elbows under the tutelage of Barry - a slender Chinese man in his mid-forties. The older man nodded to January as their eyes met from across the room, but he did not interrupt his coaching of the class.

She walked around behind the lines of both young and old students, and made her way into the short hall behind the main practice space. An office and janitor's closet branched off from one side of the corridor, across from a pair of bathrooms. She went to the office and knocked on the door. After a grunt from within, she went inside and shut the door behind her.

The office was as cramped as the tiny corridor outside. It was dominated by a large, battered desk piled high with paperwork. The walls were decorated with promotional posters from various MMA tournaments throughout the years. They competed with photos of instructors, students, and competitors. A scratched boom box teetered precariously atop an equally worn file cabinet. The soft patter of raindrops ghosted from its speakers, and filled the space with a feeling of calm and tranquility.

A curly-haired man sat behind the desk. He scribbled away at a ledger with one hand, and stacked up paper checks with another. All he needed was a green visor to complete the picture of a banker hard at work, rather than a martial artist trying to balance his budget. A wide grin crested his tan features when he looked up to see January standing before him. But that grin faded when he saw the dour look that marred her own features.

"Something wrong January?"

"Ahh," January breathed. Her chest felt tight, as it always did before a fight. The dryness in the back of her throat choked off the words she knew that she had to say. She rubbed her fingers across the damp surface of her palms, and fought to keep herself from licking her lips.

"I don't know how to say this Adin, so I'll just say it," she forced the words from her mouth with an effort. Why was this harder than facing half-a-dozen super-powered Nazis in the street? "I have to quit. I'm sorry, I just don't have the time anymore, and something has to give."

Adin blinked in surprise. Then a look of understanding gradually crested his features. "Your writing is finally taking off then?"

"Yeah," January stared down at her shoes. "School too, and other things."

"Well that's good then," he said placidly. Perhaps even with encouragement? His old wooden chair creaked loudly as he rose to his feet and stepped around the desk. "I've always known that sooner or later it would be time for you to move on. I'm glad that you are."

"You are?" January looked up, feeling a lump form in her throat.

"You have always been my best student, and my best instructor," Adin explained. "I knew you would move on to something bigger than my little dojo. To the Olympics, or the UFC, or the library. Looks like you chose the library. I can't blame you. Just don't get carpal tunnel fighting with your keyboard!"

January forced herself to smile at the joke.

"I'm sorry," she fought back the tears that threatened her eyes. "You've done so much for me. You taught me so much. You gave me the chance to be so much. I wouldn't be the person I am without you."

Adin smiled warmly, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You have always risen to life's challenges. It's been my pleasure, no, my honor, to have been there to help you do that. You need to keep rising, keep fighting. Never give up, no matter what."

January recognized the last as one of her own Viking Virtues. Even though clearly Adin was not a Viking, he was a fighter. That made him a Viking after all, in the same way that January was.

"I can keep working for a few weeks, until you can find someone else," January offered. She had no idea how quitting a job worked. It was not like she had ever done so before. But she knew that the whole two week's notice was common courtesy.

"No need," Adin shook his head. "Barry's been pestering me for more hours. He has another kid on the way, and he needs the money. I can make up whatever classes he can't take."

"Do I need to sign something then?"

"Yeah, there's some paperwork I suppose," Adin turned to look back at his desk. "I never was very good at this side of the business. He dug through some of the doors in his filing cabinet, and eventually withdrew some papers, which January signed robotically. Afterward he shook her hand with pride, and promised to have her last paycheck deposited into her bank account in the next few days.

"Remember, just because you don't work here anymore, doesn't mean you can't still come by and keep your skills up. Sundays are always open mat day. Come in any time and we'll spar, just like that first time we met at your school. I can show you off to my students, and say 'this is what you could be someday'."

January nodded, and this time her smile was genuine.

"I will," she promised.

[Acadian]

"Oh hey Morning Star." Naturally, he used her Knights of Nerddom nickname - a reference to the equivalent of January in the calendar of the Elder Scrolls universe.’
I love everything about this!

A bold step along her comic book career and a willing partner. Jan has certainly done her homework, from both a business and creative perspective.

As she left Rus’ house, Jan’s ruminations during her Victory ride nicely set the stage for what came next. Adin sounds like a fabulous mentor and, like any wise instructor, undoubtedly felt some bittersweet satisfaction as the apprentice eclipses the master. Very nicely done.


Nits:
- - ’Thankfully it was not too bad, thanks to the braid she had tied it back into.’ Not actually a nit but did you want to use 'thankfully' and its derivative twice in such close proximity? Perhaps substitute something like ‘due’ for ‘thanks’?
- - ’But then I looked back {at?} your art.’
- - ’Then a look of understand{ing?} gradually crested his features.’

[Renee]

SR, you mentioned at some point that this story will continue into COVID times, does this mean it'll eventually be winter? I'm wanting to read about some lake-effect snow, at some point!

Downtown is like that. It is the showpiece part of Detroit, with all of its skyscrapers, hipster restaurants, and snob palaces. You are not going to get mugged or shot or carjacked down there

Difference is, in Baltimore it is still possible to get mugged or carjacked in our downtown / Inner Harbor area. I had a friend back who got carjacked once back in the '90s, and I'm talking at gunpoint, and all that. Happened on Charles Street, which is supposed to be as safe as it gets.

I think Gadget will become something like a Marcus Hutchins-type character. Marcus was outed by a former schoolmate of his, who recognized the obscure avatar Marcus used for his online persona (as he posted his online blog about being a former hacker). Somebody from Gadget's past will know this name 'Gadget' and the rest will be history. I mean, who else knows this name 'Gadget'? Do any of their close friends know?

Rus looks like Robert "I'm a Golden God!" Plant.

Oh no, she's quitting martial arts! Well, not everybody has a budding career as a writer, and is in school, and .. oh I don't know... is saving Detroit from all sorts of menaces. Yeah, that, too. Something had to give.

I take it Adin does not know she is also Stormcrow?

This post has been edited by Renee: Jan 5 2021, 04:26 PM

[SubRosa]

Acadian: It took me a while to figure out Jan's Knights of Nerddom nickname. I needed something appropriately nerdy. In the end the Elder Scrolls came through for the win.

Jan's career is finally getting off the ground, which has been nice to write. I had never originally intended her to become a comic book writer. But that scene I did with her talking to her mother about comics, and later the presentation she did, really cemented it in my head. Though I still do not see her becoming a full time comic writer, and definitely not for a regular comic book company like Marvel or DC. She will probably be writing normal prose fiction most of the time.

Adin is one of those characters who I had in mind right from the start. But he never really took off. I just could not find places to use him. The same has been happening with Emilia Mercado of late. She was originally going to be the Jim Gordon to January's Batman. But it just has not been coming together. I have noticed this happens in writing. Things take a life of their own, and characters you thought were going to be important sort of fade into the background. While others you thought were just window-dressing step up and take a central role instead.

I am trying to rethink Emilia in the future, and might try doing more with her in Season Two. Maybe have her leave the police or be fired, and become a private detective, or even a bodyguard for January's mom.

Again, thanks for picking those nits.


Renee: I can see the end of Season One. It will probably wrap up in mid to late July. There will be a skip of a few months between it and when Season Two begins. That will probably be Octoberish through November December, maybe even longer. I have not really thought about Season Three at all. If so, that would probably be in true winter.

I am not sure if I want to use Covid in the Crow fic yet. I might, or I might not. I have to think about how super powered individuals would affect it, among other things. I also want to keep the story somewhat light. IMHO, one of the most important components to the superhero genre is the fact that it is supposed to be fun. It is the purest form of wish-fulfillment in writing. I think when people like Zack Snyder go the really dark and gritty route they lose the magic at the heart of it. That is why the DC movies in general have not met the same kind of success that the Marvel ones have. At least the DC movies Snyder made.

I am sorry to hear about your friend. The only violence I have ever faced was in the suburbs. Normal school bully type stuff. My car was stolen from in front of my (now ex) girlfriend's house in Detroit though. OTOH, one of my neighbors in the 'burbs shot a metal bb through my bedroom window back when I was young. Naturally the police did nothing about it, even though you could trace the origin of it through the double panes of glass. Same when my bike was stolen out of my garage. Come to think of it, the same when a woman was murdered in the parking lot in front of my apartment a few years ago.

I did spend months thinking a great deal about what you are saying about Avery being Gadget. I was originally thinking he might take a third super name to keep it separate from his earlier hacking life. But I decided that would just be too confusing. So instead I tweaked the beginning of the very first chapter to show that only Jan knows he is Gadget. Not even the other Knights of Nerddom know that. They just think he is good at tinkering with stuff. Not that he is a meta-inventor or hacker. Avery prefers to keep his life on the down-low. He is out with his parents and everyone else about being gay. Which is kind of ironic. But not when it comes to being a meta. I think his father being in prison has a lot to do with his desire to avoid notice. Along with Warren not being a very black-friendly city. Though I have not worked it all out.

Like you said, something had to give. There was no way Jan was going to be able to keep doing all those things, on top of being a superhero. Granted, she never intended to remain a martial arts instructor forever. Her dream has always been to be a writer. She has always wanted to do that full-time. Or be a gymnast.

Adin does not know Jan is Stormcrow. Only Avery, Blood Raven, and Cray know. So far.






I found a short clip of Georgie Stone, the physical inspiration for January. Georgie is Australian, so Jan would not have the same accent. But this is exactly what Jan would say.


Roasted Broccoli Pasta with Lemon and Feta

The Goat

I added a new feature to the Stormcrow Map. I included a layer showing the route of January's flight today. You can turn the layers on and off by clicking on the arrow to the left of where it says Stormcrow Map



* * *

Book 6.8 - Eloise

"Have you seen the news today?" January's mother asked. She filled her plate with January's latest culinary discovery: roasted broccoli pasta with lemon and feta. It had been much easier to make than January had expected. She could only hope it would be as good as it looked.

January reached out and added a piece of garlic bread to her own pasta-laden dish. She sprinkled the latter with a liberal amount of Parmesan cheese. Then she considered what to attack first, the pasta or the bread?

"Stormcrow came out," her mother declared. "I mean literally came out, and not only said that she really was a lesbian, but trans as well! Worldwide Network News only showed a few sound bites of the interview at first. But it was so lit - that's what you young people say now right - that they eventually ran the entire thing. Mark it down - June 14th - this is a day people will remember for a long time."

"Umm, hmmm," January nodded through a mouthful of zesty Italian goodness. The food was good after all. Still, it was hard to get excited. She had to fight to contain a frown as she washed it down with a swig of her watermelon-flavored sparkling water.

"She's just like you," her mother beamed. "Who would have imagined it? I still can't believe it. Our very own Stormcrow, and she is a trailblazer."

January nodded noncommittally again. She had seen plenty of comments on the internet already. Being the internet, there was no shortage of trolls blaming her for everything from the never-ending war in Afghanistan to Millennials destroying the economy. Even the awful finale to Contest of Crowns was God's punishment for her existing.

Then there were the direct insults from conservative pundits and individuals alike. These were the usual gamut of declarations that she was sick, depraved, and evil. Naturally they all insisted on referring to her as a man. Nothing terrified those people more than her gender identity. Capping it all off were white supremacists, who burned an effigy of her on the steps of an Alabama courthouse. They did the same with a cross of course. Apparently the classics really never did go out of style.

Even Gilda Gadfly had pondered over why she had suddenly gotten "political". Because the very existence of trans people was not a given after all. It was a subject that people who were not trans felt they had the right to debate. January wondered what privilege like that felt like?

"I thought you would be happier," her mother frowned. "This is a big step forward, for everyone. I thought you'd be excited."

"It's hard to get excited, living in this country," January mumbled. "Detroit failers bigly."

"Don't listen to what people like the president and his lackeys say," her mother insisted. "That isn't even a sentence. That is fear talking. They are afraid, of her, of you, of me, of anyone who isn't exactly like them. Every insult they hurl is a declaration of their insecurity."

"Look at what other people are saying," her mother glanced down at her phone and tapped its screen. "The Veil said: 'This is a historic moment for all of our sisters.'" Or this one from Thunderbolt: 'She's got balls'."

"Well, I guess that was positive, I think," her mother made a perplexed face before moving on. "Even Lighthammer twitted out that Stormcrow is the Goat. I had to look that up on the Urban Dictionary, apparently it has nothing to do with barnyard animals."

That at least gave January a smile. She had to admit, that since they had first traded blows, Lighthammer had always been an ally. Even when they had gone out the window in that first battle, he had tried to reach out to grab her. Maybe she had not been giving him enough credit all this time?

"I am surprised that Blood Raven has not come out to say anything," her mother went on. "But then again, it is not like she ever does. Still, I can't imagine her being anything other than supportive. She was in the Pride parade after all."

In fact Blood Raven had been absolutely supportive. If only her mother knew just how much. January had been expecting a lecture after she had told the older superheroine about her interview. But her seven times great-grandmother had simply nodded and said that she understood that January had to do it. That had been a surprise. But then again, January had come to find that Blood Raven was full of surprises. At least as much as January was herself.

"But look at what our last real president had to say." Her mother put down her fork and tapped on her phone a few times. "I know there are many young people out there who are transgender, or gay, or lesbian, or anything really, who are struggling. For them to see a role model like this who is unafraid, well that is a great thing. I think America should be proud of this step in the ongoing recognition that we treat everybody fairly. That everybody is part of the American family, and we judge people on the basis of their character, and not their gender identity. She gives me hope that we are still moving forward to create a better tomorrow."

"I just wish Stormcrow had been around sooner," her mother went on. "Then maybe when you told me you were a girl, I would have reacted better. At least now people are talking about it more. Maybe thanks to her coming out, today's mothers will do better than I did."

January stared at her pasta and broccoli. Her mother had reacted better than her father when she came out on her 12th birthday. But that was not saying much. Her father had accused her of trying to shock them to get attention. While her mother had said she was just confused, and insisted that she would feel different when she got older.

January looked down at the puckered white scars that crisscrossed her wrists. She did not say anything.

"So how has Artemis Argent been coming along?"

"Good," January lifted her eyes as her mother changed conversational gears. "Rus has given me the first pages already. I've put them up on our crowdfunding site as a sample. We're getting donations already too. So I think this is going to work."

"I can't wait to see it all in print," her mother gushed. "We could do a book signing with you and Rusty at the library."

Only her mother ever called him "Rusty", to the rest of the Knights of Nerddom he was always Rus of course. While his parents always referred to him as "Russell".

"Have you written any more issues yet?"

"I just finished the fifth, and I'll start on the sixth one tomorrow. It goes pretty quickly for me. Rus has to do all the real work of drawing it all out."

"So are you going to go back to writing prose fiction at any time then?"

"Six issues is our commitment for the funding," January said. "So I'm going to stop with that, then get to my next This Spell for Hire book. The way I see it, I can alternate between the two, even if Artemis takes off."

"Well I should hope so, with that airship she flies..." her mother noted dryly. It took January a few moments to note the pun, and groan appropriately.

January washed her plate after dinner, and headed back up to her room to get back to work on the conclusion of Artemis Argent and the Secret of Mystery Hill. Time disappeared as she slowly translated her outline into a page by page, panel by panel, series of events that she could give to Rus. She was finding that dialogue was one of the hardest things. There was only so much space on a page for word balloons, so she had to pick and choose what characters said very carefully.

Her phone chimed. It was not the normal tones of an incoming text. It was the sound tied to her Stormcrow number, forwarded to her regular phone. She swiped her phone screen, and saw a message from Gadget. Something was going on at one of the old asylums, something that could be related to the Summoner.

The sight of the Summoner's name caused January's heart to double its pace. So she took a moment to stop and just breathe. She forced herself to relax, and called upon her magic. She ran her elemental mantra through her head, and concentrated upon Spirit, the element that tied all the others together and elevated them. She reached out with her mana, and felt for the poppets that she and Blood Raven had enchanted and spread throughout the city. She felt nothing untoward from any of them. There were no disturbances warning of the fabric of reality being breached, and of a creature from the Abyss entering the world. Everything seemed normal.

Granted, the effigies were specifically designed to only detect Abyssal summonings. So anything else might be taking place right next to one, without her being able to sense it through the magical device.

It did not seem to be an extreme emergency, so January nonchalantly went back downstairs and told her mom that she was going to Avery's. She went to the garage behind the house, and took off with her Victory. She did not go far. Just a mile down the road to Dodge Park. She locked down her bike there, and took off into the nature trails. Once she was alone, she called on her mana once more.

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

She was clad in her armor, and her clothing had taken its place in the fake gas tank bump of the nuclear-powered motorcycle. She willed her wings into reality, and rose into the sky purely under their own power. She pulled up through the trees, and began to make her way south across the city.

"What do we have Gadget?" she asked once she no longer had to concentrate on navigating through the oaks and elms.

"Something funny at Eloise," he replied. "There's a paranormal tour inside. They say they're being hunted by a ghost."

"A ghost?" Even in spite of everything she had seen lately, her own magical abilities included, January could not help but be incredulous. There were a dozen so-called paranormal, ghost hunting shows on television. All of them filled with frat boy wannabes shouting "Come at me demon-bro!" down empty hallways.

"I know, sounds like someone just wants generate a story," Gadget acknowledged. "It's bad timing though, since he picked the same day that a certain cape came out to the entire world on Worldwide Network News. Btw, you have officially broken the internet. #stormcrowisout is the number one tag in the world, followed closely by #yeahidstillsmashthat. Even bro-culture still thinks you are hot."

"Did you see how many people are asking about who this Gadget fella is that she is partnered with?" #whosthegadget is not lacking for retwits either. Maybe you'll be coming out some day soon too."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Gadget insisted. "I'm just a ghost in the machine. You can keep all those werebears and spiders to yourself."

"Of course," January said. But she could not help from smiling. If he was not wearing a suit of powered armor by Christmas, she would eat her yoga pants.

"Okay, here's the skinny on these mugs," Gadget said. "The Eloise Psychiatric Hospital is in Westland. It opened in the 1800s. It was a poorhouse, an asylum, and a regular hospital. Once upon a time it was the largest psychiatric hospital in the United States. That's something for us locals to be proud of. Ooh and look at this, they were known for their progressive treatments, like electroshock therapy, sensory deprivation, and lobotomies."

"Can't imagine why any spirits in a place like that might be angry..." January had to nod. She turned westward, and poured on the speed. "You're going to have to guide me in again, or I'll never find this place. It's way out on the West Side, and I only get out there to see my grandma Sarah in Livonia."

"Ok, you can take the same route to get to her house," Gadget noted. "Westland is just a few miles south of Livonia. Or better yet, just head south-west from where you are until you get to Michigan Ave. You can take that straight to Eloise."

January did as he suggested, and reoriented her flight once more. She was thankful that it was summer, so it was still daylight outside. She might never find it in the dark. Given how low the sun was sinking into the horizon, that would soon be the case.

January pushed more mana into her flight, and raced even faster through the sky. Even if this was just a publicity stunt, she could at least get some good exercise with her wings. She passed over the zoo and the sunken I-696 highway that flanked it. Then she turned due south once more, and continued on across miles of older suburbs with their small homes and yards. Ferndale passed by a moment later. January remembered her battle with the djieien there, just a few weeks before. It was strange, how so many landmarks were now becoming places she associated with her battles.

Then it was more suburbs, and more suburbs. Soon a freeway passed by under her tummy, but Gadget identified it as the Lodge. A few miles later she passed over I-96, but continued ever onward. Finally she came to I-94, which Gadget guided her along to where it crossed over Michigan Avenue. The wide, six-lane boulevard was easy to find. Aside from the freeways, it was one of the biggest streets in the entire city, and the only one like it in this area.

She chased the street into the setting sun, squinting at the blood red hemisphere as it squatted over the edge of the world. The curved, black glass tower of the old Hyatt Regency passed by on her right, along with the sprawling complex of the Fairlane Mall. To her left, the gigantic Ford Motor Company test track stretched out across the River Rouge. She threaded between the two, following the road ever onward.

Soon a golf course, and then a nature trail flanked her path. More and more suburban homes spread out around her, along with factories and businesses. Yet in spite of all the concrete, green was the most predominant color she could see from the sky. It was green grass, green trees, and well, the green water of the River Rouge.