You set the stage here with Jan’s racing heart. Indeed, this was a heart-poundingly paced episode and perfect for such an epic battle.

"Lighthammer, deal with that telekinetic in the lot if you please," Cray rumbled over the comm. In spite of all the chaos, his voice was as calm and even as a sportscaster describing a golf game. "Blood Raven, stick with the ones you have on State. Stormcrow, head down Woodward and stop the foot-soldiers headed for Campus Martius."
- - Not only do I love Cray’s ‘if you please’ calm, sophisticated tone, this passage really highlights the need for some degree of command and control among the trio of superheros.

"Valhalla Awaits," she growled.’
- - Jan’s been listening to Blood Raven and I’m ever so glad she used such an appropriate line instead a perky ‘Fight’s on, dudes!’

"Gott Mit Uns!"
- - Thanks for the translation here; otherwise I surely would have envisioned some mother admonishing her children before sending them out to play in the snow – Got mittens?

'His cubic boron fist met nothing but the memory of her. But it did land squarely on the Iron Man, who had been right behind January.'
- - Wow, lots to love in this little passage. First, I love the elegance of your wording of fist meeting memory. Secondly, it was resourceful of Jan to use one foe against another. Lastly, it was simply brilliant to employ her recent experience with Stoneman to literally turn him into another shock-vulnerable Ironman.

Oh, I knew about Oorah & Marines, but not Hooah. Lighthammer's cry is not original, which in a way is sort of funny!

Interesting how Lighthammer is also part of their comm now. I don't recall if he was in the past or not, but if Cray is speaking to him directly, then it is so.



Idealistic is closer, yes. It's like she's so new at all of this. But her heart is purer, and I think it will remain so. She's got a positive outlook despite all the troubles she had growing up, with family and I assume with school bullies. If we could look five or ten years into her future, she's going to be more experienced, yes. Maybe somewhat jaded (after dealing with procedure especially), and not as perky. But that other, purer / idealistic side of her will remain.

Oh gosh, that poor tree. Poor Detroit.

Cool, I like that, when she uses Call Storm on those idiots. Just like that shout my toon occasionally uses Skyrim. See, these Nazis seem as though they think they're big and bad because they've got some local power, but most of it has not been honed yet, right? It's like, they go into battle because they've got some new abilities. They really thought they'd succeed, too.



Okay.

I can see the Ironman getting messed up by lightning. Metal transmits electricity. Stoneman isn't fazed, since his energy is more of a grounding one. Too bad the Furman didn't get his fur all burned up.



He tries to give her a bear hug. I love how these guys use their monikered powers so literally. I mentioned Transformers before, but actually they're more like evil X-men. Like, Wolverine has his claws. Magneto has the ability to attract, and so on. Each Nazi has his own powers. Too bad they don't let any girls fight, instead they allow them to only march, apparently. I'd be curious what her power(s) would be.

That was clever, getting Stone to pummel Iron. It's like a high-paced, real-life game if rock, paper, scissors.

Acadian: I try to remind myself to make sure I include some references to January's natural fear about entering a super battle. Usually simply noting the bad weather is enough. But I like to also include something like a mention of a tightness in her chest, or her racing heart, so the reader knows that this is not her idea of fun and games. Because she would never show any physical trepidation, especially not in the face of the enemy. She is stone after all. But she is still human.

I have been mulling over how the new team dynamic of team Blood Raven and team Stormcrow joining forces. Cray quite naturally falls into that role of being the cool voice on the other end of the radio who can see everything and offer calm direction.

I spent a long, long time working on those two words: "Vallhalla Awaits." But I am very happy with how it worked out. That is going to be one of Stormcrow's most popular hashtags.

Likewise, I wanted a somewhat more subtle nod to the Nazi's, well, Nazi background. The Wermacht's belt buckle saying seemed ideal.

I worked hard on the fight choreography too of course. I don't want Jan to win simply because she overpowers her enemies. She is a thinker, so I want her to find creative and clever ways to take advantage of her opponent's weaknesses, or simply predilections.


Renee: Lighthammer's Hooah is from old habits. He has spent years saying it. There will be more on that in Chapter 7 - Hammer Down.

Blood Raven will have her own way of describing January at the end of the next chapter.

Evil X-Men is a good way of looking at the Nazis. Or the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants (one of the X-Men's perennial enemies). It was tough to work out the powers and attitudes of all 10 super powered Nazis. So I embraced the idea of making their powers fit their personalities.

They do let the girls fight though. In fact, the most dangerous Nazis are all female: The Dust Devil, The Phaser, and The Shrinker.

One thing I learned reading comics for years, and playing superhero rpgs, is that it is very much a rock, paper, scissors game. Fighting an electric projector? Douse them with water. Fighting someone invisible? Throw flour or dust in the air, and look for footprints. Etc...










Just A Flesh Wound


Book 5.24 - Crystal Death

January tucked into a roll and came up on her feet. She did not see the Werebear coming. One moment she was standing there, and the next a crushing blow smashed down upon the top of her head. She was driven to her knees, and the concrete of the street literally crumbled into dust underneath her as she sank into the earth. But her helmet - or simply her stubbornness - had saved her skull. January had long since learned how to take a hit.

She pushed back up to her feet, and called upon the strength and resilience of Earth. She turned to see the Werebear holding one half of a street lamp in one fist. The lamp's other end lay bent and shattered in the street at January's feet, and tortured remnants of steel and glass were scattered all about. The Nazi scowled as he stared at what remained of his broken weapon, and tossed it aside.

He came forward with bare paws, and raked his claws across her armored chest. She replied with a power punch that rocked his jaw. He followed with a blow to the midsection, beneath the protection of her armored chest plate. She winced inwardly, but did not double over. She hammered back with a side kick to his ribs. She slipped aside from a shot aimed at taking off her head, and followed with a front kick that split open his lower lip.

By then the Swordsman was back in action. January did not know what that fiery blade of his might do. She concentrated more on Water now. She flowed around that sword, and his first strike missed her. But it hacked effortlessly through the steel frame of the traffic signal behind her. The entire post and mast arm came crashing down a moment later, and the Werebear was obliged to leap back out of the way to avoid being squashed beneath it.

That gave January a few moments to concentrate upon the Swordsman alone. She eyed that fiery blade of his with trepidation. For all she knew, it might go through her armor - and magical defenses - like they were both butter. So rather than stand and take his strikes, she slipped and dodged each, waiting for him to lower his guard.

Finally she saw her chance, and danced under his questing blade. She swept out a leg for one of his knees. Removing that from the equation would take him from his feet, and ought to allow her to move away to fight the Werebear one on one.

But the Nazi ground his flaming shield down, and January's foot glanced harmlessly off its impermeable surface. Apparently it was just as powerful a defense as the sword was an offense. She somersaulted back and sprang to her feet, while the Nazi chopped down and gouged a great trench into the concrete of the street.

"Your sick gay agenda dies today freak!" the Swordsman cried. "The white man will-"

His words were cut short by a serpent of golden light that cracked out from somewhere behind him, and wrapped around his neck. It jerked back an instant later, and yanked him off his feet. The tendril of power hauled him through the air up Woodward, toward the intersection with State. Blood Raven stood at the other end of the energy whip, and she met the Swordsman with a front kick that sent him to the pavement.

January turned to give the Werebear her full attention, just in time to take a slash from his claws across her face. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant. His talons screeched ineffectually across both her helmet and bare skin alike.

Then white hot pain lanced through her leg. She gasped in spite of herself. The world spun, and she collapsed to one knee. She saw a tiny blur race past her in the air. A brilliant sting of light blossomed from the insect, and lanced through her arm. Again, pain seared through her flesh, and January had to bite back a scream.

"Stormcrow, use your lightning!" Gadget's voice was in her ear.

She did not think. She just did what her best friend said. She pulled the sky down, and it ravened with calamitous delight. The world turned white hot, and exploded around her in electrical fury. Thunder rang in her ears, and she felt herself propelled up into the air, only to hit hard upon the concrete. Once, twice, and a third time, she pulverized the earth with elemental power.

When it was done, she found herself lying in the street. She rolled her head just in time to see the Shrinker grow back to full size. It was a blonde woman, dressed in black faux-SS gear. The female Nazi fell face-first to the ground, and did not move an inch.

"Sweet Freyja, what did she hit me with?" January groaned as she clawed her way to her feet. Her leg felt unsteady beneath her, and her arm ached. But she would allow neither to slow her down. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant.

"My guess would be quantum blasts, really nasty stuff." Cray's soft, yet gruff tones rumbled in her ear. "They ignore all known forms of armor by literally slipping between the atoms of even the densest material. Or they bypass them entirely by changing their quantum states. It depends on who you ask. Either way it is pretty common with Shrinkers."

"Wonderful," January murmured. Borrowed electricity hissed and snapped around her frame once more. She clenched her hands into fists, and felt the storm raven between her fingertips, aching for release.

The Werebear rose to his feet at the same time January did. His fur was a blackened, smoldering mess. His mouth bled from where January had split his lip. Aside from his mussed fur, that one cut appeared to be the only harm she had inflicted upon him. Clearly, he was not a modern, video-game Nazi, whose boasts were as grand as his belt size. He was hard-core, like the old school SS types from WWII who chewed on T-34s and gargled Sherman tanks.

January willed herself to continue. All the punches and slashes she had taken had not fazed her. But those quantum stings were really under-named. They felt more like quantum infernos. For her leg and arm blazed with agony where they had sliced through flesh and bone. She knew that she was limping, but could not help it, no more than she could help favoring her injured arm.

But she remembered her code. Never give up, no matter what. She would never give a bully or a bigot the satisfaction of seeing her quit.

His amber eyes locked with hers, and seemed to glow hotter and brighter with rage. He snarled with a mouth full of his own blood, and actually tried to bite her head off. January called upon Water, and flowed out of the reach of his jaws. His teeth snapped shut just inches from her nose, and his rank breath assaulted her nostrils.

She literally clapped back before he could recover from his failed lunge. Using both hands, she slapped either side of his neck with all the force she could muster. Twin bolts of lightning leaped from her fingers, and ground down through his flesh. That would have decapitated a normal human. But by now it was clear that she did not have to hold back against this creature. The electrified Carotid Slap struck the arteries on either side of his neck, instantly interrupting the flow of blood to his brain.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the Werebear immediately collapsed at January's feet. A few remaining sparks of lightning trailed away into the earth beneath his supine form. The rain that had begun with January's first blast of lighting ceased the moment he hit the ground.

She looked beyond him. Blood Raven stood within the intersection of Woodward and State, flanked by the police, who had their guns drawn. For once they were not eyeing the scarlet-maned heroine with trepidation. Instead they almost perched under her metaphorical skirts for protection as they all moved up to the uprooted tree that lay in the middle of the road. Farther up Woodward a geyser of water gushed up from the broken fire hydrant.

Then Lighthammer came flying down to January, legs and hands glowing with blue-white light. He touched ground just in front of her, and grinned with joy.

"Hooah!" he exulted. "You guys sure know how to party in the D!"

He put out a raised palm to high five her. January tried to raise her hand to meet his own. But agony lanced through her arm, and she stopped with a wince. Lighthammer's expression fell, and he put out a hand to steady her. But January gritted her teeth, and raised her other hand for the high five, which Lighthammer returned much more gently that he normally would have.

"Looks like you took some serious hits Weather Witch." He spoke in a low tone, one that the crowds of onlookers who now began to creep in could not overhear. "You need me to get you to a doctor? I know a guy down in Cleveland."

"I'll be alright," January insisted.

A Monty Python routine that Blackjack loved flashed through her head, and she forced herself to grin. "It's just a flesh wound," she quipped in an incredibly lame English accent.

Several policemen were now edging up from Campus Martius. All of them had their eyes locked upon Lighthammer. January was not exactly sure where he stood with the police. But she was sure that they would in the very least like to ask him a lot of questions about dead drug lords.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome." Apparently he had noticed the same thing. He bunched up his legs to leap into the sky, when Blood Raven's voice came to their ears.

"Your arrival was most fortuitous Lighthammer," she admitted. January imagined that had not been easy for her to say. "Without your presence, victory would have proven a more elusive prize."

Lighthammer straightened up for a moment, turned in her direction, and snapped off a quick salute. Then he roared into the sky in a flash of his signature light.

And this epic battle draws to a satisfying conclusion.

That flaming sword and shield were intimidating indeed! Thank the Nine for Blood Raven’s ‘Lasso of Truth’ and timely assist.

‘Weather Witch’ is it? An appropriate nickname from the Hammer of Light.

Loved the ‘It’s just a flesh wound’ joke. Though I do recall that bit from the Monty Python movie, to me it more recalls an equally appropriate phrase in the toolbox of every cowboy hero.

Nice to see Blood Raven warming up a bit to Lighthammer. Being the poseur that he is, Lighthammer makes an appropriately flashy exit.

Ohhh... I see. So Dust Devil and the Shirnker are ladies. Yikes.

I am glad you can see the X-men connection. I don't know much about them, but that is one thing about them.... each on has his/her own specialty. I had a real-life friend whose daughter was really into them back in the '90s. I remember she had an X-men game. Ha.

Monty Python, woo hoo! I showed Lopov some Monty Python awhile back... I was showing him the Spanish Inquisition skit, but he didn't really get it. Not everybody does.

Compared to the Nazis, January and Blood Raven are multi-talented, right? They can pretty much do one thing, whereas the two ladies the skinheads are up against can do many things.

Man, the Nazis are getting their asses kicked. What did they expect though, really? Well, I suppose they expected they'd cream the heroes, partially because they outnumber the heroes. It's like 7 or 8 against 3 (if we include Lighthammer). Also, I think the Hitlerites assumed crystal death would upset the final results, in their favor. But they haven't really much experience with the stuff. Blood Raven has been perfecting her craft for centuries. January, not nearly as long with the magic, but at least over a decade if we include her martial arts training and gymnastics. It seems like the Nazis literally jumped into the new roles overnight? Or have they had more experience than that?

The werebear is smoldering!

Oh goodness. Poor Detroit!







I love the way she speaks.

Congrats, heroes.

Acadian: I really enjoy Blood Raven's energy whips. They work into her force fields quite nicely, and not only provide some fun Indiana Jones moments, but can even work like telekinesis in some ways - allowing her to grab people or things and move them around. Something like that alone would be a fun concept to build an entire character around, without all of Blood Raven's vampirism and magical mastery.

The Weather Witch of Warren goes back to the very first chapter. It is what the local meteorologists call her, when January causes it to rain there while the rest of Metro Detroit has nice sunshine.

There is a lot more to Lighthammer than meets the eye, as we will see in a few chapters. But he is definitely flashy...


Renee: I started reading the X-Men back in the 80s, but eventually stopped with comics in the 90s or so. I picked up again with some a few years ago though. The original X-Men were mostly one power apiece. Though some like Iceman got really good at using that one power in numerous ways, like to form body armor, to move around on slides, to use as a weapon, etc... The later generations of X-Men became more multi-talented. Like Wolverine: who had his regeneration, heightened senses, claws, adamantium skeleton, etc...

January and Blood Raven definitely fall into that category, though their powers do eventually stem from a single source: magic. In Blood Raven's case, magic and vampirism. Their magic is all defined by their personalities, and how their focus shaped their reality. January was always athletic, and going to school forced her to become a fighter. So her magic mostly revolves around fighting, strength, invulnerability, dexterity, leaping, etc... Flying is a new thing, but even it stems from her identity, not just as Stormcrow, but her blood. As someone will point out in a few more episodes - Nátthrafn (Night Raven), Blood Raven, Stormcrow. When her family picks a lane, they really stick to it. January cannot escape her blood.

Fascists are always brave when they have overwhelming numbers. Not to much when people stand up to them. The 15-1 odds they started out with made them really brave. Even the 4-1 odds the ones who attacked January had. But as they learned, having super powers does not make you a god, nor are they a replacement for skill, ingenuity, and resolve. While the Nazis had some experience in beating up people who could not fight back. They were in completely over their heads against Blood Raven. If it had not been so public, she probably would have super-heated their blood into vapor, and literally exploded them all from the inside out. The whole thing would have been over in a few seconds. But even as hard-core as Blood Raven is, she does not go for the killing attacks very quickly.











Book 5.25 - Crystal Death

Paramedics rushed up, the police with them. January waved them off, and told them to see to the fallen Nazis instead. Her opponents no longer lay quietly in the street. Instead they had begun to thrash and spasm. Foam poured from their mouths, and their eyes rolled back in their skulls. It was just like what she had seen the overdose do to the Death Dealer. They were now paying for the deal they had made with the devil.

"Pay heed," Blood Raven declared, not just to January, but to everyone in earshot. "True Power cannot be given, or bought, or bartered for. It can only be created from within. So these creatures have learned."

"I count five more Nazis in the underground parking," Cray's voice came over the comms. "The Detroit PD are there now. All are down. From looking back at the video before the fight, all five overdosed as soon as they took the drug."

"Good, that accounts for all of them," Blood Raven said. "We are finished here."

January's foot felt wet. She looked down and saw that her injured leg was awash with blood. More crimson flowed from her arm. She put a hand out to try to staunch the bleeding, and winced with pain. She was starting to regret sending the paramedics away. Those quantum stings really cut deep!

Blood Raven stood before her now. January's stomach flopped when she saw the other woman. Her back was a literal charred mess, and she was sure that she could see the white bones of several vertebrae poking out from the ruined flesh. More deep cuts lacerated her armor, revealing torn muscle and sliced bones underneath. She could not even imagine how the other heroine could stand, let alone walk or talk. Yet Blood Raven acted as if nothing was amiss.

The scarlet-haired superhero casually waved one hand at January's wounds. The blood immediately stopped flowing from them. January knew from the night of the Flying Dutchman fire that Blood Raven could have sent the blood back up into her body if she had wanted to, or even absorbed all of her injuries into herself. But apparently that was not her intent. January tried not to feel disappointed at that. After all, she could not spend her entire life running to Blood Raven whenever she skinned her knees.

"I think this shall make for an excellent teaching moment," Blood Raven whispered in her ear. "When we have the moment, I shall instruct you in the art of entering a healing trance. For now, let them see what you have endured upon their behalf."

January found herself wishing that she had that teaching moment sooner. But then, she had never been so grievously injured before. So far the djieien had been the worst of her enemies, and it had only given her some bruises and sore ribs.

The taller woman wrapped January's good arm around her shoulders for support, and helped her limp down the street. January was not sure where they were going. Now that the adrenaline had begun to wear off, her body ached, and every step was agony. She simply concentrated on walking, and tried not distract herself with too much else.

But try as she might, January could not ignore the multitudes all around her. Not just the authorities, but throngs of ordinary people here for the parade. As at Ferndale Pride, they were dressed in a rainbow of colors, and were themselves a veritable rainbow of human diversity. They shouted to January and Blood Raven, and chattered amongst themselves with raucous abandon.

Several civilians tried to push their way closer, phone cameras held aloft with shining lights. But the police held them all back, out of the way. Still, they flung numerous questions the pair's way, along with words of gratitude and support. Keenly aware that she had to present a certain image, January smiled for the cameras and did her best to look both friendly and unperturbed by her injuries.

She was coming to find that this was what she liked the least of being a superhero: putting on a brave face, sometimes a false face, for the sake of everyone watching her. It was so much like her life before she came out, when she had to pretend to be a boy. Only now she was pretending to be an ordinary straight, cisgender, girl in a cape. All her life she had dreamed of being the last two. So why did it feel so confining?

She thought she had been through all of this soul-searching about her identity as a child. It turned out that throwing a cape and cowl in the mix just added a whole new layer of issues on top of those she already struggled with. No one had ever mentioned that in those old superhero movies.

In any event January straightened her back and bit back the pain. She waved to the people, and walked tall and proud. She was the perfect image of a superhero from every old movie and comic book. She was stone, she was adamant, she was the mountain. She would never waver.

She followed Blood Raven off the street and into the tall parking structure on the south-west corner of Woodward and State. They went down rather than up, and the police did not follow them. Instead they continued to hold the crowds back. Blood Raven waved a hand in the air, and January felt power flow from her fingertips. It impregnated the air around them, but January could not glean its intent.

"We are now concealed from electronic eyes," Blood Raven explained. She paused a moment, and January felt magic build up within the other woman once more. This time it was much more powerful. She tasted blood, coppery and thick in her mouth. But she knew that it was not from a cut. By now she had come to recognize the difference between the other heroine's use of ordinary magic, and the blood-infused powers of her vampiric nature.

January imagined that she heard popping and sizzling, like fat on a frying pan. The scarlet-maned heroine's blood seemed to bubble up through her wounds, and vaporize into thin air. Her injuries vanished behind it, as if the blood had literally healed it. January could sense that it was not the blood itself. That was just tissue after all. It was the life which the blood carried within it. That was what had regenerated the wounds.

That made January wonder where that life had come from in the first place? Blood Raven had said that hundreds of homeless people lived in the Detroit Radiator Building - her lair. Did she use them like a herd?

While January ruminated, Blood Raven nodded to her. Just like that, all of the blood that had soaked her arm and leg raced back up her garments and slid back into her body. January noted that the wounds remained open however, and still stabbed with pain. Though now her blood appeared entirely unwilling to leave her body, in spite of gravity's pull.

"So is that where you get your blood then?" January asked impulsively. She nodded in the direction of the Radiator Building next door. "The homeless people?"

Normally she would not intrude into the secrets of others. Being trans had taught her to value privacy. Maybe it was the pain from her injuries, or just an abundance of curiosity.

"The homeless people?" Blood Raven appeared to be genuinely surprised. She contained her bewilderment after just a moment however, and her face returned to its normal, sphinx-like mask of cool and calmness. "No, I have not taken blood in nearly eighty years, not since the war."

"It is not the blood you see, but the life," Blood Raven continued. "Blood is merely a symbol. Those of us with experience need take none at all. We take the vital force directly, from any living thing. After the war I learned to live off of plants. There are even whispers of ancients who sustain themselves from the planet itself."

"You mean you're a Vegan vampire?" January thought aloud. "I never imagined such a thing."

"The world is a wider, and stranger, place than any of us ever imagine," Blood Raven said. "But even when I did partake of the energy of others. I made a point to only take a little at a time from any one person - or beast - and only from those healthy enough to bear it. I never killed anyone from feeding, if that is what you mean to imply. Except during the war, things were different then."

"You mean World War Two right?" January asked. "What happened then?"

"I did what I had to," Blood Raven frowned. "I did more than I had to. That was the last time I lost control of myself. But it is a long way from Bellac, and no one likes hearing old war stories."

January would definitely like to hear some of those old war stories. But Blood Raven's face made it plain that she was not willing to say more. Still, she made a mental note to look up what had happened in Bellac during the Second World War.

"I suppose there is a lot about you - and Selene's Heirs - that I don't understand," she finally said.

"Does that frighten you?"

"No," January replied honestly. "It is just different is all. I learned a long time ago not to be afraid of people who are different. After all, I am different."

"It took me much longer than nineteen years to learn that lesson," Blood Raven admitted, "even with being Irish in 18th Century America. It wasn't until after I received Selene's Gift that I truly began to open my eyes to the world. It is not an easy thing to do. We humans are such petty creatures."

"If it helps you to know, the vast majority of us are restrained, when it comes to sustenance," Blood Raven continued. "Legends say that once upon a time we ruled openly, as gods and monsters, and in those days we drank deeply of the cup. But now, Selene's Heirs cannot afford to be so dramatic. It attracts too much attention."

"Just like gay people through most of history," January noted, "living a double life, always blending into the crowd, never standing out. Or like superheroes when we take off our capes."

"I never thought of it that way," Blood Raven smiled. She led them into a stairwell, and they descended down its rubber-rimmed steps. "But you are right. It is much the same."

"You didn't know that Superious is a gay icon?" January laughed. She paused to wince, when that made her arm move the wrong way. Then she went on. "He's a hot, swole, studly man, living a double life. He runs into a phone booth as Ken Clark, and then leaps back out a moment later in his brightly-colored costume. You cannot get more gay than coming out of the closet like that!"

Blood Raven laughed out loud. "You challenge me to look at the world in an entirely new fashion, great-granddaughter."

Given the hazards of her profession, I was hoping Stormcrow would eventually learn some healing. She has the compassion to use it and takes enough hits to need it herself. I suspect she will overall remain more of a fighter-mage, whereas I view Blood Raven more as a mage-fighter.

"You mean you're a Vegan vampire?" January thought aloud.’
This was truly a spit and sputter one’s tea line!

I continue to carefully read, even study, how adeptly you move between the two very different ‘voices’ of Blood Raven and her great-granddaughter. You make it look easy but I’m sure it takes lots of attention and editing to so consistently nail it as you do.

I will have to inform Superian that she is a gay icon – who knew?

Yes, I remember Wolverine, he's wicked. And they had a lady named Jean Grey? *googles* Yup, sure did.

That makes sense, that their magic is so personal. They aren't just slinging generic fireballs, for instance.

Raven can't super-heat their blood perhaps, but maybe in some other chapter, against some other enemy outside of civilization....

"Pay heed!" she says. I love that. I am grinning.

I knew Raven would take care of Jan's wounds, just like that. I am getting to know these two heroes well.

January really does have a hard time, figuring her identity. She's got what she wants, yet feels confined on occasion by this. Wish I could say something to help her. All I can think of is to just let herself "be" which is sort of lame I guess. It's what I'd do in her position. Well, I hope she figures herself out as time goes on.

Oh yes, a vegan vampire.

Okay, what did happen at Bellac? There's no links this week. Let me see, though. Wikipedia says nothing about the war part, but I'm sure you'll fill us in, in story form.

If Superman is gay, what about Superwoman and Supergirl? Kidding.

Acadian: Some kind of self-healing was going to be a necessity for January, given the frequency of her battles, and the increasing scale of danger each poses. Thankfully as a magic-user, she has the versatility to learn new abilities, where they fit into her personality.

Blood Raven was originally not going to be a vegan vamp. She was just going to tell Jan that some advanced vampires had reached that point, along with the even higher tier of living off the planet itself. But as I was writing other chapters, and looking back at this one, I realized that she should have reached that vegan point herself by now. Especially given events in world war 2.

As ever, I spend a lot of extra time whenever Blood Raven is in a scene. She is really high-maintenance that way, but worth it. Her interactions with January are almost always priceless, for many different reasons.

Superman is a huge icon for gay men. He spends his days pretending to be a boring, ordinary man, holding back the truth of who and what he really is. Then he runs into that phone both, and flies out in all those bright colors, and shows the world who he really is, in absolutely fabulous fashion.


Renee: Wolvie is wicked, in Boston at least...

In the final, big battle of the first story arc, Season One if you will, Blood Raven will pull out all the stops. It will be, dramatic...

She did not exactly take care of Jan's wounds. She only stopped her blood from spilling all over the place. As she told January, it is time for her to learn how to take care of herself.

It is not her own identity that January has trouble with. She dealt with that after her attempted suicide. It is the identity that others have thrust upon her since she became a super, one that is more about their presuppositions and assumptions, and what they want her to be, rather than what January really is. This will come to a head in the next chapter, when January takes a big step.

There will be a more full explanation of Bellac next chapter. But if you look back a page or two to the first day that Blood Raven faced the Nazis at Motor City Pride, you will find both her musings on being named Der Teufel von Bellac (German for "The Devil of Bellac"), as well as links to Tulle and Oradour sur Glane. Bellac is the next town up the road from Tulle and Oradour, where Blood Raven caught up with 2nd SS Panzer a day after they had committed the Oradour massacre.

I wish Supergirl was gay. She would be a lot more fun. But at least she has a gay sister in the TV show. She's one of the coolest characters in it.






As ever the places mentioned are on the Stormcrow Google Map


Book 5.26 - Crystal Death

They came to the bottom of the stairwell. There was nothing down there. No doors to exit from. It was just blank concrete walls all around. The only thing of note was a fire hose coiled up in a case on one wall, and the hydrant beside it. Blood Raven took them to a blank wall adjacent to the latter, and passed a hand over the concrete. Again, January felt magic stir from Blood Raven's fingers. This time, the wall responded with magic of its own.

The concrete dissolved away, like ice melting from the windshield of a car. Underneath January saw a magic circle cut into the masonry. It was a standard set of double lines, filled with glowing Celtic symbols between them. Within the center of the circle was a large pentagram, making the entire thing truly a pentacle rimmed with Celtic imagery.

The magic pentacle sprang to life with a warm, roseate glow. It reminded January of a sunset. The red light bathed the little landing, and January felt her fingers reach out toward it. Somehow it reminded January of the sanctum in the Witch House, with its dizzying array of lines and symbols, that appeared, disappeared, and reformed depending on how you looked at them. It was not the writing. Rather it was the intent behind it. This power was wrapped up in space and time, the fabric of the universe.

January also detected that familiar, coppery scent of blood. It was not as strong as what she sensed when Blood Raven performed outright blood magic, such as when she had healed herself just minutes before. But when January stared at the magical design, she could feel blood in there. It was like an imprint, or a watermark, and it called out to her.

January sensed something of herself in the pentacle. It was her blood in there. She glanced to Blood Raven, and understood. It was her blood. The magic was keyed to the older heroine. January imagined that only she could activate it, or those of her bloodline.

Blood Raven nodded to her, and January touched the pentacle. She felt her blood - her lifeforce - interact with the pentacle. She felt reality warp and shift around her, like a blanket being pulled across her body. Her surroundings became a blur of smeared colors and light. She felt her stomach drop, as if she was falling, and shut her eyes to fight the wave of dizziness and disorientation that threatened to overwhelm her.

Then she was standing in the main room of Blood Raven's lair. She could see the great green bulk of the Ambassador Bridge out of the window in front of her, miles away down the Detroit River. Beside the French doors that let out to the balcony outside was a gleaming black, baby grand piano.

Within the soft gold marble of the floor beneath her feet glowed a pentacle identical to the one she had touched in the parking structure. It was clearly cut into the floor, though it had just as plainly not been there during her last visit.

A moment later space and time blurred and warped in the spot beside her. It was like someone had stretched out reality and crumpled the slack up into a ball. Yet after an instant it snapped back to normal once more. Remaining in the wake of the temporary vortex stood Blood Raven.

January turned to face the great black, marble block that took up the center of the three-story loft. She was on the side that was decorated with the long genealogical charts. They crawled up and down the length of the marble surface, like hordes of army ants. One of those ants bore her name of course, down at the bottom, after her brother's.

The roseate glow faded with Blood Raven's arrival. January glanced down again, and found that the pentacle was gone from the floor. There was no sign that it had ever been there at all. Just as there had been no sign of the magic circle existing in the stairwell of the parking structure, until Blood Raven had awoken it. She had the sense that these were not temporary enchantments, created by the other heroine in the spot. Rather they struck January as being permanent workings, merely lying dormant until wakened by the other woman's power.

"That is a neat trick," January nodded. "But definitely not sick."

Laughter danced in the older woman's eyes. Apparently she still remembered her rebuke of January for using the term 'sick'.

"Perhaps at least awesomesauce," Blood Raven noted, "or even cool beans?"

"Cool beans?" January said. "I remember that from when I was little. You need to step up your game."

"Well it is not 'on fleek'." Blood Raven waved a hand dismissively. "I shall never have anything of mine be associated with such nonsense."

"Well you are on point there," January said. "No one even wanted to say that for the five seconds it was popular."

"You are growing more at ease with this life," Blood Raven noted more seriously. "You never would have been so gay in the past."

"I was always this gay in the past," January laughed. Blood Raven made a face, but January continued to smile. "Yes, I know what you meant. But I still love reading old fiction where writers talk about 'queer events' or 'feeling gay'. It makes me think of something much more entertaining than what they intended."

"This is why language is so difficult to remain abreast of," Blood Raven shook her head. "It is constantly in motion."

"To answer your question, well your observation, the weird stuff, like magic, is easy," January said. "It's just a teleporter, or gateway, to get into and out of your secret base without betraying your identity. It's really standard stuff in sci-fi or fantasy fiction. I can also sense the similarities to the sanctum in the Witch House. I am guessing you learned it there? You said Keziah went Beyond after she built it. Now I can see how. It's all about bending and reshaping space-time, and riding the folds you make in the fabric of reality. I bet you have several of these around the city."

"I do," Blood Raven admitted, "I have one from here to the Witch House in fact. There is another to my official residence. I shall take you there sometime. It is literally just around the corner. Cray lives in the building next door. In fact, you can see his apartment out the window. It is there, across Capitol Park."

January followed her pointed finger, and gazed down across the grassy plaza west of the Radiator Building. There along the south side of the square rose up a mere eleven story edifice of glass and stone, a dwarf compared to the massive Radiator Building. She did notice that the roof had been turned into a patio, with what looked like a grill surrounded by tables and chairs.

"My own apartment is in the Griswold, that rectangular building south of it, facing Michigan Ave," Blood Raven explained.

"Wow, Lafayette Coney Island is just across the street!" January exclaimed. "If I lived there, I'd be eating hot dogs every day."

Blood Raven made a disgusted face. "I thought you young people ate kale and avocados, and other healthy things. Not those… lips and rectums."

"Everything that is good for you tastes bad," January replied. "Sometimes you just have to enjoy life, and work off the fat with two extra hours in the gym afterward."

January eased herself onto a leather-stuffed bench that sat next to the piano. Her leg throbbed. Now that she really had a chance to look down, she did not like what she saw. Her hagfish armor had been sliced open as neatly as if it had been paper under a razorblade. The skin and muscle of her leg looked the same underneath. She noted with clinical detachment that she was lucky the cut had not gone through any tendons. She still remembered the long and painful process of rehabilitating those after she had slashed her wrists.

"Did I cause this, by telling people I am gay?" she frowned. "Even unofficially? Were those Nazis reacting to that? Or is it because you stood up to them yesterday, and made them look bad? Will today's fight inspire some other fascist into a kneejerk reaction to shoot up a temple or a mosque, like in Christchurch? Or like that one here in the Ren Cen that you stopped years ago?"

"We must always stand up to fascists and other bullies." Blood Raven sat down beside her. She reached out in a motherly fashion, and brushed the errant locks of January's long hair back into her ponytail. "Not doing so only encourages them to greater violence. Likewise, your honesty about your identity is not a call for others to do harm to you or others. It is their failings as human beings that incites them to commit acts of evil. You did not create that, nor are you responsible for it."

"I am so proud of you," Blood Raven went on, "as is your mother. You are not simply brave. You stop to think about other people, and how your actions affect them. Sometimes I forget to do that. Often times I forget that. You challenge me, simply by being who you are."

"So, does that mean you don't think I'm the one summoning Abyssals anymore?" January only half smiled. It was a joke. But it wasn't.

"I pray that you are not, elsewise we are all doomed." Blood Raven put an arm around January and pulled her close.

Jan’s whole discovery of the teleportation device was cool beans! I felt like I was sharing in her wonder at what the mysterious runes were about and gradually began to realize it was what I or Buffy would call a wayshrine. It was neat to have Blood Raven eventually confirm that. Very well done.

"I am so proud of you," Blood Raven went on, "as is your mother. You are not simply brave. You stop to think about other people, and how your actions affect them. Sometimes I forget to do that. Often times I forget that. You challenge me, simply by being who you are."
- - Aww, this was beautiful. It absolutely stands on its own in this story but, for me, is reinforced by invoking memories of how Daenlen felt as he realized his dream of having an archery apprentice who would one day eclipse his own skill had come true at the Tournament of Archers. Or how Acadian feels about Buffy.


Nits:
’Blood Raven took them {to?} a blank wall adjacent to the latter, and passed a hand over the concrete.’
’Or is it because you stood up {to?} them yesterday, and made them look bad?’
’It was like someone had balled up reality and crumpled it into a ball.’
- - Not a nit but a style observation. Did you intend to recycle the word ‘ball’ in such close proximity? Would you want to consider something like ‘It was like someone had rolled up reality and crumpled it into a ball?’ or perhaps simply ‘It was like someone had crumpled reality up into a ball?’

Whoa that's wicked awesome. She's using those pentagrams to teleport. Did Raven zero-out that wall because it can be removed, or can she zero out any wall? Probably the former. In Elder Scrolls 1: Arena there is a Destroy Wall / Create Wall spell, which was really neat. We could take some shortcuts occasionally through that game's gynormous maze-like dungeons. But I suspect this was because these dungeons were all in one huge grid. The void did not exist between all these walls.



True. Even in the last 5 years, I lose count of all the new terms and sayings we've got nowadays.

Nice, so she has another residence. I suppose the Radiator Building is like her work zone.



Oh I see. Good thing Raven was able to influence things in World War II, my gosh.

I didn't know Supergirl has a les sister. I need to get into that series someday.

EDIT: Supergirl is on Netflix! I'm gonna watch it some time this week, for sure.

Acadian: The Blood Raven wayshrine is a solution to a problem I ran into, namely how does she get into and out of her lair without everyone seeing? Thankfully it works really well with the multi-dimensional nature of the sanctum in the Witch House, where she learned how to make those wayshrines.

Next chapter will have more on Blood Raven's dawning realization that January might be the right person to take up her mantle.

Thanks for the nits. A lot of that stuff was late additions, so did not get the usual rigor of proofreading.


Renee: I don't know what you mean by zero-out? Blood Raven did enchant the gateways into those specific spots, and they vanish from perception when she is not actively using them. Basically, they fade from existence until she powers them up with magic.

It would look strange if her alter-ego of Branwen Renner was listed as owning an entire skyscraper downtown. An apartment OTOH, is exactly how it should look on paper. Plus, it is hard to entertain guests as Branwen Renner when you bring them to a superhero's lair. So she needs a place for her secret identity.

I plan to give the whole Supergirl series another go around soon.







Cray



Book 5.27 - Crystal Death

"Well, I hate to break up a touching great-grandmother and daughter moment, but aren't you going to heal her?"

A familiar gruff voice sounded out from across the Gothic loft apartment. January looked up to see an old man, perhaps in his fifties or sixties from his graying hair. He wore a pair of large glasses with reddish-brown frames, and a mustache dominated his handsome features. He could have been a statue of a fatherly Greek god. Except for the dress shirt, tie, and sweater-vest he wore. Slacks and a pair of black tennis shoes rounded out his attire, along with a class ring on one finger.

"You didn't tell me that Mr. Rogers was your boyfriend," January murmured.

The newcomer laughed, and strode around the loft while January forced herself to her feet. Pain shot down her leg when she put her weight upon it. Now she felt sympathy for everyone who ever had the misfortune to fight a Shrinker. The Werebear had been much less painful.

"He is not my consort," Blood Raven said dryly.

"That would be robbing the cradle for your grandma," the not-boyfriend declared. He put out a hand, which January took gently. One thing she liked about being a girl was that she did not have to get into handshake battles over who had the stronger grip. "I'm Cray, well Frank, Frank Wigand. It is nice to finally meet you in the flesh. How are you doing?"

"Those quantum blasts really hurt," January noted. "I'm not sure how I'm going to go to work like this tomorrow."

"Never fear," Blood Raven declared. "We shall have you as fit as a fiddle in no time whatsoever. Or I should say you will have yourself that way."

Blood Raven led January to the elevator, and took them down several floors. That brought them to a new area of the building, or at least one new to January. This floor below the Gothic loft was a comfy, modern home. There was a living room with a view of the Detroit River and Canada beyond. That morphed into a kitchen and dining area toward the center of the building. Radiating out from this central space were numerous bedrooms, as well as a bathroom and laundry. It was like a dorm, but with much nicer furniture.

None of it looked lived in however. There were no little knick-knacks scattered around, like in a normal home. No family pictures. No phone charger plugged into a wall socket. No dog or cat toys scattered around. No trash in the wastebaskets. No post-it notes on the fridge. It was more like a hotel suite, than a home.

"You don't live here?" January asked.

"This is for work only," Blood Raven answered. "The legalities of how I own the Radiator Building are complicated. Suffice to say, I do not want it listed as the mailing address for Branwen Renner. It is best that the world think this building remains abandoned, and lost in a shuffle of holding companies. Instead I use it as a safe house for those in danger. I can deny them access to the other floors where sensitive things are kept, but still provide them with a secure haven. When the danger has passed and they return to their normal lives, all they know is that they stayed in an abandoned building for a time."

She led January into one of the bedrooms. It was simple, with a twin bed, dresser, end table, and closet. But it was naturally bare of any personalization. Again, it reminded her of a hotel room. But it did have a breathtaking view of Belle Isle and the Detroit River. January drank that in for a moment, before she allowed Blood Raven to guide her to the bed.

"Let us get you out of your armor, so you may relax," she insisted. Cray vanished, and Blood Raven helped January with her boots and gloves. The chest piece and tunic were especially difficult, given her injured arm, and January was grateful for the assistance. She was less enthusiastic when the other woman moved to her armored legs.

"I can do this myself," she said.

"Your leg is injured, you need help," Blood Raven insisted.

"I can do it myself," January repeated.

"I am not attempting to - what is it called - hit on you my dear," Blood Raven stood back, and rested her hands on her hips. "You are my great-granddaughter after all."

"I know," January said. It felt more than a little gross to even consider that. "I just, can do it myself."

"You know, I changed your diapers when you were a baby," Blood Raven declared. "You are not going to shock my delicate sensibilities."

"Well maybe I have sensibilities!" January snapped. "Now just leave me alone!"

"Oh, this is because you are…" Blood Raven was taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly enough. "I see. Well, I have seen that too."

"Well maybe I don't want you to," January insisted. She felt her cheeks burn, and turned her eyes away from Blood Raven's. "I don't want anyone to see that. I don't want to see it myself, or think about it."

"Oh," Blood Raven said again. But her voice did soften. "I suppose I shall never understand this part of you. But I do not have to. I am sorry. I never thought about what it must feel like, to be you."

She moved to the door, and paused before leaving. "I shall bring some spare clothing," she said on the way out. She shut the door behind her.

January pulled off the rest of her armor by herself. Her torn leg protested angrily. But in the end, she won the argument. That left her in just her bra and the gaff she wore to tuck up her genitals. As always, she pointedly ignored the latter. The less she thought about that part of her body, the better. She was covered in dried sweat, including her underwear. She knew she should just take it all off, but did not want to be completely naked.

Instead she slid under the covers. Hopefully she would not bleed all over the white sheets. But so far, Blood Raven's magic had held, and not a drop of her blood had left her body. A moment later the other woman knocked, and came in with a small pile of what looked like sweatpants and a tee. Workout clothes, or lazy day attire. She stepped back out once more, and waited for January to change before returning.

"Now lay back and close your eyes," Blood Raven prompted her. But January held up a hand.

"Wait, before we start, I want you to promise me you'll do something," she insisted. When the other woman nodded, January went on. "I want you to go back out there and let people see you. It's not enough for us to simply fight evil. We have to create the alternative, so people don't get radicalized in the first place, and turned into black hats. We need to create good in the world."

"You need to go out and show people that you aren't here just to punch Nazis," January continued. "You need to show them that you are there for them. That you stand for them, not just against others. You need to be a symbol of hope, that everyone can look up to."

"I do not think I can be the person you want me to," Blood Raven sighed.

"I think you are wrong," January argued. "I think there is more to you than blood and darkness. I think there can be. You told me that magic is the power to reshape reality. Well, reshape it. You are a straight, cisgender, white woman. You can reach people in a way few others can. In a way I never can."

"Very well," Blood Raven breathed, "I shall try."

"Don't try, do" January insisted. "A conjure woman who doubts, is a conjure woman who fails."

Blood Raven smiled at her own words being repeated back to her.

"You are so very stubborn," she noted. "That clearly comes from me. I shall do as you ask. I shall be their symbol, at least for today."

"That's all I ask," January said, "at least for today."

"Now, we shall begin with meditation." Blood Raven leaned over and smoothed back January's hair. "Relax, feel your power, let it wash through you, and cleanse your spirit. In and out, just breathe, and feel your energy move."

They went on like that, and slowly, gradually, January felt herself drift. She followed the other woman's instructions, guided her mana into the injured parts of her body, and visualized them as healthy and whole. She thought of the element of Spirit, and how it bound together the other magical elements, and elevated them to a higher form. She used that to guide her magic, just as she used Earth to make her stronger, or Air to make her faster.

Her world devolved into that, everything else just vanished, even Blood Raven's voice. It reminded January of that state when she was not yet awake, but not really asleep anymore either. She was suspended between worlds, in that place where her imagination tended to be at its most active, and her best ideas for stories blossomed. Time disappeared, and she fell deeper into the trance.

* * *

Move over Betty Smith, because a tree grows in Detroit. This is Gilda Gadfly and do I have the dish for you. By now you all must have seen the #1 meme on the internet tonight: 'Valhalla Awaits'. Our favorite Crow said it to that giant spider last week, and she laid it down again to a panzer division full of meta-human Nazis today. Then she laid them out in true Stormcrow style. Detroit wasn't called the Arsenal of Democracy for nothing folks. And did you see those splits that she did? Ouch! That hurts just to look at. Is that a superpower? Because there is no way I could walk after doing that. This bird is full of surprises.

Which brings us to our next surprise - Lighthammer! I mean really? This guy is rumored to have carried out a one-hammer war on drugs from Lake Erie to the Ohio River. Police have yet to bring charges against him, but word has it they would really, really like to talk to this guy, know what I'm saying? And our loveable Stormcrow is buddy-buddy with this fella? Maybe she's not as much of a lesbian as some people claim she is? Does she have a thing for the bad boys? Or is this just a flash in the pan?

But wait, there is more gentle subscribers. Blood Raven and the Crowgirl took some pretty heavy hits in that fight. Both were seen walking off, bleeding from multiple wounds. Less than a half hour later the Raven returned, good as new. Then she proceeded to clean up the damage from the brawl. Watch this video of her replanting a tree that had been uprooted by the nefarious Nazis. In another vid we can see her sealing up a fire hydrant that Lighthammer had broken open to literally extinguish a fiery black hat.

The normally reclusive Raven even took the time to join the delayed, but not cancelled, Motor City Pride parade. Here we can see her in the middle of the pack, carrying a rainbow flag. Rumor has it that it was the same flag she had rescued from these self-same Nazis the day before. Afterward she hung out in Hart Plaza and took selfies with fans.

Ok, I will be the first to ask. Who is this, and what has she done with the real Blood Raven? For fifty years, yes folks, fifty years, I did the research, Blood Raven has been lurking in the shadows of the City of the Straits. She has never been so forthcoming and open with the public. Nor has anyone ever accused her of being nice. Especially not to the Detroit PD, whom rumor has it she has a very frosty relationship with. Enough so that some have claimed it should be harnessed to combat Global Warming. Yet here we even see her standing side by side with half-a-dozen of Detroit's finest, as they fought off the Nazis together.

Can we thank our adorable Stormcrow for this nearly heel-face turn? Is she transforming the fearsome raven into a beloved songbird? Speaking of the Crowgirl, she did turn up a few hours later, also looking good as new. Detroit's second Blackbird joined in the festivities, and chilled with the crowd until sunset. I will be the first to admit that I was skeptical at first, but this Crow has really won over this reporter's heart. Way to go Stormcrow!

Your picture of Cray is a good fit for the image your prose has created for us.

Wait! January knows what a Mr Rogers is?!? Oh that’s right, she does read some ancient history. I wonder if she knows who Fred Flintstone, Mr. Ed and Captain Kangaroo are – from the same ancient era.

I think Blood Raven was brilliant to not heal Jan directly, but to teach the younger cape to heal herself. Self-healing will no doubt prove essential as Stormcrow continues her hazardous career.

Jan’s comments to Blood Raven continue to build on what a powerful influence Jan has on those around her. It is a wonderfully woven familial and circular irony that Blood Raven taught Jan the tools of magic that Jan used to coax Blood Raven into a change that the older woman could not accomplish by herself. Though Blood Raven is grooming Stormcrow, the young crow already is able to challenge her great grandmother – in a good way.

I love how you used Gilda not only for that fun update, but to ‘show’ us the effectiveness of the healing done/taught by Blood Raven and the results of Jan’s words to encourage Blood Raven to be more. . . involved in the lives of those she helps.

Right? He is almost exactly what I was picturing, especially the frames and sweater-vest. I was seeing him as pudgier though.



Yes, that is what I mean by zero-out. I just didn't know any more technical terms for this.

I have a friend in the music business who's told me when all of a soundboard's sliders and knobs are turned to zero, this is called zeroing out (or Z out, as in... "Z out that board, would ya?" )

That's very clever that she owns so much property which isn't in her own name. See, this is an advantage to living such a long life. Perhaps she's lived so long that Holding Company A's records aren't properly handed down to Holding Company B's records. Like, maybe somebody owned portions of her floors in the year 1972, but by 2019, those records have been shuffled around so much. Not everything is clear to the City.

I get January's reluctance to have her great x16 aunt change her clothes. Not even because she is trans. It's just something a family member shouldn't do, unless they are in the medical profession and here's an emergency. Still though...

Uh oh.

What happened to the remaining Nazis by the way? Did any of them live / escape?

I like the Gilda Gladfly update. That's pretty cool she did some research on Raven, and has traced her back 50 years. Meanwhile... Branwen goes back even further than this. So there's some mystery there.

Blood Raven allowed some selfies??? Nooo!!!

Acadian: January does know some ancient history. The Flintstones are a cereal, so she definitely knows them. Scooby Doo is still around (amazingly), so she knows that too. Mr. Ed and Captain Kangaroo are probably lost in the misty dawn of prehistory to her however...

That last scene once again showed why I enjoy writing January and Blood Raven together. Both influence the other in powerful ways, precisely because of their differences. I also really loved how that scene brought things around full-circle with Blood Raven's teaching.

Gilda is becoming an effective way for me to relay little blurbs of information in an entertaining fashion, that would otherwise come off as being anti-climatic. It is also a nice way to show how an outsider views events.


Renee: If you look back to the end of the battle, Cray announces that the final five Nazis overdosed as soon as they took the crystal death. After that Blood Raven declares that they are done.

In spite of her tabloid demeanor, Gilda is a real reporter. I even have some backstory on her, although I do not know if or when I will be able to put it to use. Suffice to say, she knows how to do her research.

Maybe next Blood Raven will start her own Instantgram account, and start influencing people?












Lindsey Stirling - Assassin's Creed 3 Theme

24th Michigan at Gettysburg

Catfishing



Book 6.1 - Eloise

June 10-14, 2019

January rode her Victory down State Street. The only sign of the previous day's battle with the neo-Nazis was the particleboard that filled one of the broken out windows of the office building on the north side of the street. If not for that, a passerby would never guess that anything untoward had happened at all. Even the tree the Nazi telekinetic had thrown had been replanted, and the fire hydrant broken open by Lighthammer had been repaired, both thanks to Blood Raven.

January turned left into the alley between the tall parking structure on the south side of the street, and the massive black and gold spire of the Detroit Radiator Building beyond it. She glanced back, and saw that Avery was still behind her in his yellow Geo. She rode to the end of the narrow cut between the two buildings, and stopped at a large rollup door.

As Blood Raven had done on her first visit to the Radiator Building, January got off her nuclear-powered bike and opened the lockbox beside the entrance. She punched a code into its number pad. Then she flipped up the face shield of her motorcycle helmet and leaned down so that the retinal scanner could confirm her identity. A moment later the steel door rolled up with a clatter.

January got back on her motorcycle and led the way in. She parked at the loading dock inside, and Avery pulled up beside her. The young inventor got out of his car and looked around. It was clear that he was not impressed by the dusty concrete and steel of the abandoned skyscraper.

"This is the lair of Detroit's most infamous superhero?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "I was expecting a throne of skulls at least."

"Just wait, it gets better," January assured him with a smile. The door clanged shut behind them. Now that they were completely out of sight, she pulled her helmet off and hung it off one of the handlebars of her Victory. Then she took a moment to smooth down her hair, and undo the braid she had tied it into for the ride.

"I hope so," Avery breathed. "At this rate, Isaac's junk castle is way ahead in the lair department."

"I haven't seen him in a while," January mused as she led the way up the concrete steps to the top of the loading dock. "How's he doing?"

"Well Cyber-Cab has just blown up," Avery replied. "He can't keep up with the demand for more cars. He's building them all as fast as he can. Thank god he's got all that junk laying around. He's been upgrading Archie too. You'd hardly recognize him. He's got arms now, so he can help build."

"He's a Mr. Handy then?" Now it was January's turn to arch an eyebrow. She led the way to the freight elevator, and pressed the button to call it down.

"Closer to a probe droid," Avery said. "If Isaac keeps it up, he's going to end up a mecha."

"A Timber Wolf would be cool," January noted.

"Or maybe a Stormcrow?" Avery ventured.

January made a face as the elevator car clanked down in front of them, and the twin doors slid up and down to allow them in. Like all freight elevators, it was a plain steel box with a corrugated metal floor. January pulled down the strap that hung from the top door, and pulled it back down once they had stepped within.

"That's my dad's favorite mech," she breathed sourly.

"You seen him lately?" Avery said as cautiously as a man navigating a minefield.

"Not since we moved out." January stared at the double doors.

"Yeah, I get it," Avery sighed. "I haven't seen my dad in years either. After a while, it just gets easier not to."

January frowned. At least Avery's father never blamed him for everything that was wrong in the world. Or regretted having him in the first place. Then again, Avery's father was in prison. Neither one of their fathers were going to win the world's best dad award.

She pushed aside the thoughts of her father, and the things he had said that night after her first battle with Archie at Source One Metals. Instead she looked down at her arm, and experimentally rotated it around. She felt no pain, no stiffness. It had literally been good as new since she had awoken from her healing trance the previous afternoon. It was the same with her leg. There was no sign that the Nazi Shrinker's quantum blasts had ever sliced through her flesh.

If only she had learned to heal herself sooner, she could have spared herself a set of sore ribs from where the djieien had stabbed through her armor with its fangs. That had bothered her for nearly a week, and she still wondered if she might have broken a bone or two.

Her trance had only taken a few hours. But it was long enough for her to have missed the parade. Still, she had been able to join Blood Raven in Hart Plaza before the festival had officially ended. The older heroine had clearly been grateful for that, as playing nice with the public did not seem to be her forte.

Not that it really was January's either. But she knew that they had to be more than just fists planted into evildoer's faces. A violent thug fighting for what was right was just one step away from a violent thug fighting for what was not. Giving that comic book presentation at the library had done more than just show January that she could speak in public after all. It showed her why she should be doing it in the first place. She had to influence the world, and the people in it, for the better.

Eventually the elevator came to a stop, and the doors rolled open with a clatter of metal and wood. The sound of a violin immediately came to January's ears. It rang out in a tune that overflowed with energy, yet was underscored with a deeply haunting quality at the same time. It was bittersweet, like saying goodbye to an old friend.

"Is that… Assassin's Creed?" Avery cocked his head to one side, and listened intently.

"I sent Blood Raven some links to Lindsey Stirling's videos." January explained. "I guess she really did like them."

"She plays the violin?" Avery's words trailed away as he took the time to stare about the great three story loft that the elevator dropped them off into. A great block of black marble took up the center of the space, and stretched all the way to the ceiling high above. The walls were pierced by tall windows and French doors, revealing a glittering landscape of city lights in all directions. A winding iron staircase curved up to the left, vanishing into the ceiling high overhead. Directly ahead of them was what January thought of as the old wizard's study, with its ancient books and insanely elegant queen's desk.

"Piano too," January said, "and she has a harpsichord stashed away downstairs. But I've never heard her play it."

But Avery was too busy staring at the library of ancient books and stone tablets that took up the quarter of the loft that was just off the elevator. She led him around the first corner of the giant marble block that walled off the center of the room. That brought them into the contemporary collection of books, containing everything from modern Pagan works to role playing games. The display case holding Branwen's Civil War uniform and rifle stood against the windows looking over the city outside. The furniture became ultra modern, dominated by a black stone desk, and its attendant table computer, which stood on a wheeled stand. Avery paused by the latter, and ran envious fingers across its surface.

"Wow, is this what I think it is?" he breathed in undisguised amazement.

"It's an old one," A gruff, yet soft voice sounded out. January smiled to see Cray step out from around the next corner. As the last time they had met, he was dressed like Mr. Rogers, in slacks, a sweater vest, and neatly done up tie. He paused to push his glasses up on his face, as if for added effect, then went on.

"The real computers are on the other side, that's where I do most of my work."

"Hey, you're Cray!" Avery beamed again. He held out his hand, which the much older man shook enthusiastically. "I heard about you when I was a kid. Your hack of the DoD is still legendary. You're one of the reasons I became a hacker."

Now it was January's turn to be taken aback. Avery only had to take one look at the confusion on her face to continue.

"He's a legend in the community," the young inventor explained. "Back in the 90s he blew the whistle on the military hospital scandal. Sent a lot of generals and politicians to prison who were skimming money off the VA, and denying health care to veterans."

"That was a long time ago," the older man stared at his shoes, "and I spent fifteen years in prison for that."

"What?" January could not conceal her shock. "But how could…"

"I publicly revealed classified information," Cray explained, "that's treason. Never mind that when I first tried to go through channels I was transferred to Guam, and told to keep my mouth shut or else."

"Since he was released from prison, he has been working with me."

The music had stopped, and now Blood Raven - well Branwen - stepped out from beyond the next corner of the great black wall in the center of the massive loft. She was dressed in ordinary clothes, the same as everyone else, and held a violin and its bow in one hand.

"Welcome to our headquarters," she said, "this is where we plan, and work."

"I like to call it the Raven's Nest," Cray added, "though some people think that is a little melodramatic."

"It is exceedingly melodramatic," Branwen shook her head.

"Says the woman who wears a cape," Cray noted dryly.

"I like it," January said. "I mean, I live in a Witch House, and Avery has his Gadget Cave. So the Raven's Nest, yeah, it works."

More introductions were made all around. Branwen led them around the loft, pausing to put her violin away in its case. While she did Avery stared at the great waterfall of family trees that scaled the black center wall in the third quadrant of the room. January pointed out her own name at the bottom. Then she moved her finger much higher up the chain of names to Branwen's, who had been Anne at the time she had been born in 1763.

"My aunt Harriet is into genealogy," Avery said, "but she's got nothing on this."

"This is not a hobby," Branwen explained. "Rather it is a necessity, given our current circumstances. In all likelihood the Summoner who besets us traces his lineage somewhere back to this list. Somewhere there is a link. We must find it."

"How do we do that?" Avery wondered.

"Good old-fashioned detective work," Cray insisted. "The way I see it, we have multiple avenues of investigation. Branwen has been working on the genealogy, trying to find lost family members. But there are too many centuries, too many places her father has been, to find every scion he may have fathered. Much less trace their lines down to the present. So we need to study the evidence, look for suspects, the same as any cop."

"Young Mr. Wigand is ever the materialist," Branwen observed, "he is always teaching an old dog like me new tricks."

"Young…" Avery said what January was thinking. Branwen looked half Cray's age. But one glance at the family tree sprawled out overhead reminded them that the auburn-haired woman was two and a half centuries old.

"C'mon, and step into my office," Cray nodded, and walked around to the final quadrant of the loft. This side of the black marble block that took up center of the space was a futuristic command center. A large tabletop computer took up the center of the space. A bank of monitors and workstations lined the black central wall, along with a sealed glass cabinet that was packed with servers and networking gear.

"Nice cabling work," Avery nodded his approval at the neatly velcroed bundles of Cat6 and fiber cables in the back of the cabinet. "How do you keep it so quiet?"

"A simple silence enchantment," Branwen said off-handedly. "Otherwise we would be deafened by the roar. It is nearly as bad as the cannons were at Gettysburg."

"Wait, you were at Gettysburg?" Avery look stunned.

"Yes," the auburn-haired woman replied easily. "I served in the 24th Michigan, Iron Brigade. We took the Western Woods on the first morning, and we held the line while the rest of the army came up and dug in on the hills behind us. Eventually we were forced back, and many a promising young soul never walked out of those woods..."

Avery whistled solemnly. January turned her head back toward where she knew Branwen's Civil War uniform and rifle stood in their place of honor, on the other side the massive black stone that took up the center of the loft. She remembered the picture of her regiment's flag there, literally shot to pieces. Valhalla awaited indeed.

Cray stepped up to the table computer in the center of the space, and the entire surface lit up at his touch. Its massive screen filled with individual windows showing videos, maps, and a dizzying array of reports and data. He touched one, and a video from a black and white camera leapt up into the air above the table, and glowed to life in a hologram.

"Impressive, most impressive," Avery said as he looked over the three-dimensional display that glowed to life in the air between them. "I haven't figured out holographic displays yet."

"Oh, I didn't make it," Cray admitted. "The Laughing Man built our holographic emitters. I'm not a meta-inventor like you guys. I'm strictly a keyboard commando."

The hazy, blurry image was of a person in a hoodie walking briskly down an empty alley. Their head was down, invisible from the camera's view. There was little the camera really could see. It looked like a video from the Dark Ages, or the 90s, January was not sure which came first.

"This is our best image of the Summoner," Cray insisted. "It was taken from a gas station security camera the day of the first Abyssal attack. Since then, we have had no video evidence at all."

"Funny how in the movies and on TV, security camera video is always crystal clear, 4k quality," Avery noted.

"Unfortunately for us, the real world is a lot different," Cray murmured.

"There's nothing else?" Avery rubbed his chin with his fist, deep in thought. "No fingerprints, no hair fibers?"

"Nothing," Cray frowned. "Every site is sterile. I've even tried tracing down license plates of all the cars caught on camera within a half mile of the summonings. But no joy there either."

"He may have started using some kind of video camo, like Avery made for me," January offered.

"Yes," Branwen agreed. "We have come to suspect as much. He may also be flying, or teleporting, to the sites."

"Or maybe he's just taking an Urbur, or some other ride-share," Avery mused. "He could use a fake profile each time. There would be nothing to trace back to him personally."

"Damn," Cray sighed, "we hadn't thought of that."

"Young eyes see from a new perspective," Branwen murmured.

"But wouldn't he have to use his face for his profile pic?" January wondered. "Can't we just look for the same face showing up on ride share trips nearby every summoning?"

"Maybe," Cray ran his fingers through his graying hair. "But it's the internet, and even a dinosaur like me knows what catfishing is. He might be using a fake picture every time."

"We can still try," Avery looked to Cray. "Between the two of us, we can sift through every ride, every summoning day."

Nice little update on Isaac, and smoothly worked right into the always comfortable chatter between Jan and Avery.

Branwen’s musical skills come as no surprise; after all, she’s had centuries to learn many things. In fact, her age was nicely punctuated a few paragraphs later as she mentioned Gettysburg.

’It looked like a video from the Dark Ages, or the 90s, January was not sure which came first.’

Determining their next investigative move was the product of some nice collaboration and the idea that sometimes, four heads are better than one or two.


Nit: ’He paused to push his glassed {glasses} up on his face,’

That's neat to have some pieces of side info. Isaac is busy. And dad is sour, I suppose, wondering where it all went wrong. Why is Avery's father in jail?

Raven's lair is really incredible. I hope I go there in a dream some night.

Whoa, Cray went to prison for hacking!

Branwen put an everlasting Silence spell on Cray's computer department. Goodness gosh!



He's so casual about this. He says "I haven't figured out holographic displays yet" like I might say "I haven't figured out how not to burn an omelette yet."

Maybe he's taking an Urbur.

Cool. I'm looking forward to whatever comes next.

Acadian: Isaac and Archie will be making a personal appearance very soon. They also have a part to play in the long run.

I could not resist the comparison of the networking gear to cannons. I have heard both. Wow, lound!

Much more investigative work this chapter, along with new revelations.

Thanks for catching Cray's glasses. He would not be able to see without the help...


Renee: I have not worked out the details on Avery's father yet. My intention is to make it a subplot sometime in the future. Maybe in Season Two, or Three.

The Raven's Nest is a cool place. I would love to live there. It is even cooler than Gadget's basement!

A lot of whistle-blowers go to prison or end up sued, in spite of the fact that they are revealing criminal acts. I wanted some representation of that with Cray.

I would have loved a silence spell when I worked in the data centers. You would not believe just how loud one switch or server is, let alone a room filled with hundreds.

Gadget's remark was meant to sound casual, because to him it is. One day when he takes the time to really try, he'll get the holograms working.








As always the locations of the Abyssal Summonings can be found on the Stormcrow Google Map

Flying Heads

Buggane



Book 6.2 - Eloise

"So just how many of these summonings have there been?" January asked. "I mean, until Ferndale Pride, I had no idea any of this was even happening."

"We do not truly know," Branwen admitted sourly. "The first instance we are aware of took place during the Nain Rouge parade, in late March. It was a minor creature - a goblin - which I easily banished."

As she spoke, Cray tapped the table computer, and brought up a hologram showing a map of the metro area. Each event was marked on the map, and linked to an adjacent window that revealed its pertinent details.

"The second summoning was a month later, on May 5th," Branwen went on. "It took place in Mexicantown during Cinco De Mayo. He must have witnessed me banishing the goblin. Because this time he anchored the flying head he had summoned with alchemical reagents - symbols of fire, earth, water, and sky. I was unable to simply banish the creature. Instead I was forced to slay it through force of arms."

January had seen that force of arms up close and personal twice now. She could not imagine anything lasting against the older heroine for long.

"A flying head?" Avery made a face. "That sounds like something from a Doom game."

"It is properly known as a kanontsistonties," Branwen explained. "If I am even pronouncing that correctly. The ancient Iroquois and Wyandot peoples encountered them. They are very dangerous to one not versed in magic, as they are invulnerable to mundane weapons."

"Three weeks later he struck again during the Electronic Music Festival. Once again, he had anchored his summoning. This time he sacrificed a dog, and used its flesh and blood to bind the Abyssal to our realm. Again, it was a more powerful creature, this time a buggane."

January frowned. She knew that her priorities were off. But for some reason the thought of a dog dying bothered her more than that of a human. Perhaps it was because dogs were in general just such kinder beings.

"That's what you were doing when we saw you at the Technofest," Avery noted. "I was wondering about that."

Avery's mention of the Electronic Music Festival took January's mind back to that night.

The lowering sun splashed bloody fire across the sky as Amelie Lens kicked out her beats. That was when January was pulled from her musical rapture by a sudden feeling of heat. It felt like something warm, wet, and thick had poured across her body. She smelled copper, and tasted salt in her mouth. She stopped dancing, and dabbed one finger to her lips. She took care not to smear her lipstick, and feared that she had cut herself. But there was no sign of blood. Yet she could definitely taste it now, and smell it, and feel it, all around her.

Thousands of hands pointed skyward. January's gaze followed them across the street, high up to the roof of 150 West Jefferson. There loomed a figure in black and red, cape spilled out alongside her in the wind. The mysterious woman scanned the crowd for long moments. Then she lifted her head to the sky, and turned it this way and that, like a bloodhound sniffing the air.

"Let's give it up for Blood Raven!" Amelie Len's voice rose up over her music, and the crowd roared behind her. Even Avery pointed and grinned, and slapped January on the back.

But January could not feel the excitement of the crowd. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. The hairs rose up on the back of her neck, and her stomach began to flip and flop around. The smell of blood was overpowering. She turned her head this way and that, trying to discern where it was coming from. Finally she turned her gaze to the east, toward the massive glass spires of the Renaissance Center.

Now January understood. That taste of coppery blood in her mouth had been her astral senses, warning her of Blood Raven's presence. Perhaps she had been able to sense her then because Blood Raven had been exerting herself magically. January had since come to discover that active magic was much easier to detect then spells or enchantments that lay dormant.

She had often wondered at that second thing she had sensed that night, which had caused that terrible wrongness somewhere beyond the Renaissance Center. Now she understood. It had been the summoning of an Abyssal. That had been what Branwen had been hunting that night.

All of this time, Blood Raven had been fighting this war in the shadows, with no one else even aware of it. How many other battles had been waged, that she knew nothing about? That no one would ever know had taken place?

Even though she was not wearing her cape, she suddenly felt the terrible weight of responsibility that came with it.

"Yes," Branwen said. "At that point we had begun a regular program of guarding every large gathering, in case the Summoner struck. That was Memorial Day weekend, so unfortunately there were many such events across the metro area."

"Then finally the Summoner called up the djieien during Ferndale Pride the following weekend. I was waiting for him on Belle Isle, as the Grand Prix was taking place there. His previous summoning had taken place in an abandoned building nearby. I hoped that he might be tempted to try the same location twice."

"But he came to Ferndale instead," January noted, "and this time he killed a human."

"Yes," Blood Raven frowned. "Edward Pressman, and his dog Loki. Thankfully his mother was not at home at the time, or he would have surely been slain as well."

"Each time he ups his game," Cray declared, "and every time it is a more powerful creature."

"So what is his endgame?" Avery asked. "Is this just to create terror? Or is he using these creatures as a distraction, so he can rob a bank nearby? Or kill a rival drug lord or wizard?"

"I suspect it is practice," Branwen said. "He began by following the methods laid down in the Rauðskinna."

The older heroine drew forth the eponymous book, and plopped it down on the table computer. The binding was of blood red leather, cracked and worn with age, and its title written in gold. It was bound shut with a simple strip of rawhide. Because of that all January could see of the book's brown and decaying pages were their uneven spaced edges, lurking between the covers like a troll beneath a bridge.

The table computer instantly reacted to the presence of the book, and opened a holographic image above it. Apparently Branwen had scanned its contents at some earlier date, because the computer brought up an electronic book reader. Image after image of what must have been the pages spilled forth. They were handwritten in Latin, and interspersed with numerous symbols and diagrams. January could not contain a scowl when she recognized fragments of the summoning circle she had seen in Ferndale on one.

The book radiated power in the astral. Even without trying to sense it, January felt it there. It perched like a hungry spider in its web, and January could not escape the feeling that it was staring back at her. It was almost as if the book could smell her blood, and slavered for it.

She deliberately suppressed her magical abilities, to push it from her awareness. Branwen must have noticed, for she hastily picked the grimoire back up. A moment later it vanished into a fold in her clothing. Just like that, it disappeared from January's senses, as if it no longer existed in the world.

"What was that?" Avery stared at her, as did Cray. January imagined that her face must have betrayed the crawling horror that the grimoire had engendered within her. She did now know how to answer them. She was simply relieved that the thing was gone.

"It is the curse of our blood," Branwen intoned. Then she went back to what she had been saying before.

"The Summoner has now diverged from the Rauðskinna's teachings. He has begun to incorporate the techniques of other traditions into his working. The magic circles he uses have become more complex and varied in nature. He is flexing his muscles, teaching himself, becoming more powerful."

"I think he has a genuine taste for it too," Cray added. "When most people learn that Blood Raven is hunting them, they run as far and fast as they can. Or they go to ground and hide, and hope to never be found. This guy, he knows we are after him, and he's not even slowing down. It's like he's taunting us."

"This has all happened before," Branwen said. "The last time it was January's great-grandfather Jack. Eventually this Summoner will grow powerful enough to call my father from the Abyss, as Jack did. Woe to the world if he does!"

"So how did you stop this Jack the last time?" Avery asked.

"I didn't," Branwen explained. "I was in Belgium when it started, working as a nurse for the Red Cross. I saw the stories of strange sightings in the newspapers, and realized what was taking place. I returned in time to find my father standing in what remained of my great-grandson's corpse."

"Her father Nátthrafn is the real enemy here," January explained. "He's the one who created that book. We can give you all the deets later. But to keep it simple, he's a thousand year old lich who commands an army of Lovecraftian horrors. Branwen banished him to the Abyss. But he's itching to get back. This Summoner is just a tool, who he's manipulating from beyond the grave."

"Nátthrafn?" Avery questioned aloud. "That's Nátt-raven something?"

"Night Raven, in Old Norse," January explained.

"Right, so Night Raven, Blood Raven, and Stormcrow," Avery looked from Branwen to January. "When you people pick a lane, you really stick to it don't you?"

While his voice sounded flip, January could see that he was worried. He was rubbing the back of his head, and that was the sure tell of his distress.

"We cannot escape our blood," Branwen intoned gravely.

"So how do we fight these Abyssals?" Avery went on. "Are they all like that djieien at Pridefest, or that flying head thing? I mean, can they only be hurt with magic?"

"Thankfully no," Branwen said. "Most are absolutely vulnerable to earthly measures, especially elemental forces such as fire, or lightning. It is difficult to make any general statements about them at all. I expect there are as many different breeds of them as there are species of life here on Earth. Indeed, they are the denizens of a world of their own, from a universe of their own."

"To that end, I have compiled a list of all the known varieties of Abyssals, and placed it on the share drive. Study it carefully! We will be facing them in the future. I have also included a list of many magical beings of earthly origin. These creatures have slumbered for millennia. They have been stirring since Tunguska, and awakening one by one. The magical activities of the Summoner may hasten this process."

"Are these other magical beings all bad guys too?" Avery asked. He pulled out his phone, and slapped it on his forearm. It stuck there like glue. With a tap of one finger, a full-sized computer screen folded out in front of him, along with a keyboard. He typed furiously, and his eyes lit up as he scanned his mobile display. January stepped up and looked over his shoulder at the encyclopedia of monsters that spilled forth.

"Most of these earthly creatures are no more good or evil than a lion or a shark," Branwen said as he scanned the files. "They can be dangerous if provoked, and often humans do so through sheer ignorance. But otherwise they will leave us in peace, if we treat them with respect and refrain from behaving like prey. The Abyssals themselves can only be described as altogether evil. They are utterly inimical to all life on Earth. I have included as many of both as I can within the compendium, and will add more as time allows."

"It's a Monster Manual!" Avery cried as he tapped on the entry to the raven mocker. "Does it have the Cthulhu Mythos and Fafhrd and Gray Mouser gods too?"

"That was Deities and Demigods," Cray corrected him with a casual display of nerdcore erudition. "I have a first edition copy. The one before they had to take those out because of copyrights."

"So let's call it something else, so we don't get sued too," January remarked.

"I think of it as a Bestiarum Vocabulum, as such things were known in the Middle Ages," Branwen said.

"Right, the Bestiary it is then!" January smiled, and Branwen shook her head.

"So back on point, while Cray and I start digging for suspects through rideshares, what other options do we have?"

"I believe we should look back at our previous suspects," Branwen said with a frown. "As it has been pointed out, the Summoner may be using video camouflage. That means those we have exonerated in the past may yet be guilty."

"You mean me," January scowled.

"No," Cray insisted. "I have you on multiple cameras all through Ferndale Pride and the Technofest. Some of it could be deep fakes, but not all of it. It would have taken months to insert you into all that footage, even by someone as good as Avery. Besides, I studied the video. It isn't faked."

"But that still leaves your father and your brother," Branwen declared. "We exonerated them before because they were indoors, and were not recorded leaving before the summonings. But given that they might be using camouflage and alternate transportation, they may have left without us knowing it."

January did not know how to feel about that. The amount of good will she could conjure for either of her male family members could not have filled a thimble. But on the other hand, could either truly be the Summoner of a nightmare like the djieien? Could either have killed that homeowner in Ferndale, or their dog?

"My father would faint if he was ever face to face with a djieien," January spat. "Julian, he'd kill people, I'm sure of it. But he's a coward. The last thing I saw of him was his back, as he ran away from me and hid. He's a troll - the internet kind - not the Norse kind. He's brave when he can hide behind a computer screen, gutless when a fist is in range of his face."

January noted the raised eyebrows and other looks all around. That made her realize that she had loosed more invective than she had intended. Even so, she did not feel any need to temporize, or make excuses for her spite. She simply stared back at everyone else.

"I will make an effort to speak with them." Branwen broke the awkward moment with her statement. "If possible, I will search their abodes while they are away."

"Can you tell if they are magic users?" January asked. "Like how you knew I was?"

"Yes," Branwen said. "Given more time and practice, you will be able to sense magical auras as well. I have never detected a trace of magical ability in either however."

"Couldn't they mask their auras?" Avery offered. "In some RPGs you can do that, to make yourself look like a mundane."

"Yes, that is entirely possible," Branwen admitted. "It was a technique developed millennia ago. Some say by spies and assassins. It became more widespread when the Christians conquered Rome, and Pagan magicians were forced to hide to escape the purges that followed. The same was true during the Witch Hunts later."

"Like any military or communication technology, every advance engenders a counter to block it," Cray noted.

"And it might not be one of them in the first place," Avery said. "That family tree goes back a long way. It's more like a family jungle. Even if it's a relative, it could be anyone."

"Well, at least we can sense when the summonings take place," January said. "With two of us, that gives us a better chance to stop him, or her, the next time. Whoever it is."

"Yes, but our ability to sense the dimensional rifts is limited," Branwen noted. "All the Summoner needs to do is perform their workings out of our range of our sensing, and we shall never know it."

"What is our range of our sensing?" January asked.

"I know not with any certainty," Branwen shrugged her shoulders. "Within a few miles at least. I was not able to sense the summoning in Ferndale from Belle Isle. I only learned of it because Cray detected it on the internet and police channels."

"It's too bad we don't have a summoning radar system, like the old Distant Early Warning Line across the Arctic," Cray thought aloud.

Branwen turned to face the elder hacker, and her eyes lit with a crimson glow.

"Brilliant!" she crowed. "That is exactly what we require, and we shall have it!"

"What?" Avery rubbed the back of his head. "I can build a lot of things, but I don't have a clue how to make magical radar."

"I do," Branwen insisted. "January and I shall enchant a series of poppets, and spread them in a net across the Metro area. We shall link our essences to them, and thusly extend our awareness through them, just as a spider can feel the vibrations of its web."

"We can?" January wondered. "We will?"

"Oh yes indeed," Branwen told her. "This shall also form another excellent teaching opportunity. It is time you learn the skills of the artificer."

’January had seen that force of arms up close and personal twice now. She could not imagine anything lasting against the older heroine for long.’
- - I agree!

Very neat flashback to when we were first introduced to Blood Raven, given that we now know so much more about her.

This episode really gave us some rich detail on the danger they face.

So the Raven gang will lay out a magical web to snare their foe. Well, to enhance their detection of the Summoner’s magicks at any rate.

A flying head.. yicch. mirocu would have yet another DOOM nightmare.

I can just picture all of them standing around that ultra-modern table computer, and Branwen brings in this ancient tome. Back when that tome was made, book binding and calligraphy were actual arts in the way writing code with C++ and knowledge of germs is common in our times!

... Cray dressed like he's off to give a lecture at some university. Avery is looking hip in something more fashionable of our times. All of them brought together through this crisis to Michigan's populaces.

Cray knows what Demons and Demigods is. One of these days all of these folks are going to have an all-nighter around Jan's gaming table. Ironically, Blood Raven will already know a lot of the rules, but from real-life experiences





Wow, they're looking at Jan's family as possible suspects. Goodness. I agree that neither of the males strikes me as magic-users. Hmm. Especially her brother. He'd show some magical ability, especially through early early possible blunders.

Uh oh, Mom is not mentioned. Could it be mom?

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."

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.

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.




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

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."

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.'

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.



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.

And Happy Winter Solstice to my two favorite storybook witches!

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."

’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.’

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.





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.

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.

"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.’

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!



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?

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.

Roasted broccoli pasta is absolutely something I’d love. I often make up similar dishes.

Stormcrow rising out of the forest was very cool – and shows the significant progression of the young aviatrix.

Being ‘single piloted’ and lacking any cockpit instrumentation (or any cockpit at all for that matter), having Gadget as a talking gps nav system is wonderful.

If there's something strange
In your neighborhood
Who ya gonna call?
(Why do I have this song in my head?)

’It was green grass, green trees, and well, the green water of the River Rouge.’

Just an update. I am looking ahead, both in this Season and in Season Two, and it gets more into the law enforcement and court side of things. I have been doing some research on how the whole law enforcement bureaucracy works in Michigan. Unfortunately I have not uncovered much. I just sent an email to the Michigan Attorney General's office asking them some questions. Hopefully they will respond and not just blow me off.

But in any case, what I have inferred from my googling does change the suppositions I originally had. Starting with the idea that the AG is the "top cop". They clearly are not. They are the top lawyer. But I have found nothing to suggest that they can actually give direct orders to the state or local police. So I will be going back and tweaking Assistant Attorney General Duquesne's role a bit in the Crystal Death chapter. I am also going to be tweaking the police's motivations for keeping their investigation a secret as well. I want to make it sound less about keeping Blood Raven out, and more about keeping the agents of hostile foreign powers away from a potential source of world domination.

You don't have to write about COVID. There's so much about it in real-life, my gosh, it's enough already! I was just remembering you mentioned it once.

And I'm sorry to hear about your experiences with crime. Yikes.

Bullying nowadays is nothing like it was when we were coming up, right? Nowadays most bullies are online. That's the thing.... at least in our pre-Internet days, somebody might bully us at school (happened to me too) but once we were out of class / or home we could maybe forget about it. Nowadays, the kids carry can carry it with them all day. They obsess over comments made, or photoshopped pictures which are cruel. And so on. I'd rather have it in my face, where i could deal with it immediately (or attempt to), and then come home and cry to my mom, or whatever.

Of course, I'm not trans, so I know you had it worse than me. But I'm just sayin'. I think it's worse nowadays, but in a different way. If we're talking about actual schools, at least the ones my daughter has gone to, bullying is just about non-existent. Calling someone names and so on it taken much more seriously. But online.... there's only so much we can do. Parental controls online only go so far.

Okay, so not even the KoN know about Avery or Jan's true identities. Interesting.

Roasted pasta + broccoli. Yum! Pass the oregano, pass the Parmesan, please. And the basil. No basil? Okay, I'll live.

Wow, mom does not even know who her daughter is. Phew. Mom is aware of the Urban Dictionary though. Mom is therefore kind of hip. B )

Cool, I like that she's making her story into a comic. That must be fun to watch that unfold, especially since she's working with an illustrator.

Eloise is mentioned. I wonder what this is? I know it's the name of this set of chapters,

"Come at me demon bro!"

Okay I have to finish this later.

I can help you on a lot of government-related function if you need it. Political science is my field, after all. Not necessarily well-versed in Michigan specifically, but I know a lot about how state governments in general work. (I do know that Michigan's AG is Dana Nessel, first elected in 2019).

You are correct that AGs are not cops. They are lawyers. Just look at the first word in the title. That's why they need a lot of legal, not law enforcement, experience to be AG. Theoretically, they can have both. They prosecute on behalf of the state and are the state's main defender in court if need be. The exact amount of authority and power they wield differs from state to state, but the basic responsibilities are the same wherever you go.

I can pull up some more info and references for you in a bit, but not right at the moment.

Here's some general info about attorneys general (note that when it is pluralized, you add the s to 'attorney,' not 'general'):https://ballotpedia.org/Attorney_General_(s...ecutive_office)
[*]A bit more info on the office for Michigan specifically: https://ballotpedia.org/Attorney_General_of_Michigan
[*]I'm guessing you are fictionalizing who the attorney general is for your story, so I won't link to the real one.
[*]Most, if not all, general state government offices have a national association for each respective one. For example, the NGA is the National Governors Association. In this case, we have the National Association of Attorneys General: https://www.naag.org/
[*]And, finally, here is the office website for Michigan's Attorney General: https://www.michigan.gov/ag/
[/list]

If you have other inquiries related to state government, just give me a shout. I can't and won't guarantee that I can answer them all, at least sufficiently, but I can point you in the direction of where to go if it's something I can't answer.



EDIT: I should also add that there is typically (I would imagine every state, but I don't want to be off-base just in case) a particular statewide agency that handles law enforcement, like how you've probably heard of state troopers. Here in Florida, for example, it is the FDLE--the Florida Department of Law Enforcement--and it is headed by a commissioner. And then each county has their own police department as well as certain cities and towns.

I haven't gotten to read much of your story, unfortunately, but depending on what the case is you might want to consider whether it should be handled by local law enforcement vs. state law enforcement. Each state varies in how much jurisdiction is divided between the statewide and local governments, and that extends to law enforcement agencies. But hey, if that's getting too much in the weeds, it's your story. Nothing says you can't tweak it a bit, or that in your version of Michigan law enforcement operates a bit differently.

This is what I had already been able to gather in my research, both specifically on the AG and in general by reading up on high profile Michigan cases, like that of Kwame Kilpatrick. Plus some non-Michigan sources like the OJ Simpson trial. My original thought was that the state AG was in charge of the state police. Here in Michigan that is the Michigan State Police. While in Ohio it is the Ohio State Highway Patrol (they make an appearance later as well). Interesting note, Dana Nessel represented one of the couples whose legal challenge led to the Supreme Court overturning laws against gay marriage. She herself is married to another woman, has two kids, and is Jewish. I am using her in the story, but am changing her name. I have already written her first appearance. Eventually the Governor will probably make an appearance as well. Though I have changed her name as well. I have researched her too. That is easy. It's shark week...

My first question is what control the AG has over the state and local police? I believe I have already figured out that it is none. She cannot tell the police at any level who to investigate, who to arrest, who to release, etc... She is just an attorney, either defending the state in cases where Michigan in the defendant, or acting on behalf of the state to prosecute criminals. A lot of the latter seems to be white collar, grifter scammers.

I am also wondering just who in civilian government does have control over state and even local police? I know that the MSP is run by a Director who is appointed by the Governor. So that implies to me that if the Governor says do this thing, the State Police do it. If for no other reason she can sack the Director at any time and replace them with someone else. I did dig up that then Governor Granholm ordered the MSP to investigate Kwame Kilpatrick. So that seems to bear out that thought.

However, so far as I can tell the Governor has no control over local city or county police. Those fall under city or county government, and are often elected officials. The county sheriffs are elected in Michigan. City cops are different in that they are usually appointed by the elected city government. For example, the Detroit Chief of Police is appointed by the Detroit Mayor. In Sterling Heights, the City Council votes to appoint the police chief, and they report to the City Manager (not the Mayor).

I have also been interested in the AG's control over county prosecutors. Namely can they order a county prosecutor to drop a case, or pursue one? Again, so far as I can tell they cannot. However, I have found that the state AG can start the process of dismissing a county prosecutor if they can prove that the prosecutor falsified or suppressed evidence that would have directly led the exoneration of the person they were prosecuting. I also found that in certain situations the AG can prosecute a case that the county prosecutor decided to ignore. But that is very limited.

So really what I have gathered is that while there are state level offices for law enforcement and prosecution, there seems to be no real direct line of authority that leads from them down to the local level. Instead it is a very complex web of bureaucracy, with each strand being answerable to its own separate masters.

Acadian: I dug around to find just the right recipe from Jan's culinary endeavors. It could not be something too complicated. But it had to more than just hamburger helper as well. Pasta + Extras fit the bill nicely.

Using Google Maps and Earth helps me imagine what flying without any instruments at all looks like, without even a compass. I know the landscape from living here. But it still looks very different from a few hundred feet up.

Ghostbusting is coming up.


Renee: Social media does add a whole new element to bullying. One I am glad I missed. I don't use Twitter, Instatgram, or Facebook. They are all just too toxic, not to mention the breeding ground for Neo-Nazis.

Jan's mom is kind of hip. She tries.

Avery does give a really simple rundown of Eloise... It is a real place. It usually ends up on the lists for most haunted places in Michigan.

I do not watch ghost hunting shows. But I have heard plenty about them from some of the podcasts I listen to. Bros yelling "Come at me demon-bro!" down empty hallways seems to be the gist of all of them.







The Eloise Psychiatric Hospital

Eloise Grounds

Eloise main building (The Kay Beard Building)

Eloise hallway



Book 6.9 - Eloise

"That's it!" Gadget finally exclaimed. There was not much to see. The 'burbs and factories both had thinned out. Now the land was mostly just empty fields of low brush. A small police station stood at the intersection of Michigan Avenue and a small two lane road. Farther down Michigan was a wide empty space. It looked like a large swathe of buildings had been torn down there, leaving only bare dirt and struggling plant life behind. Of the hospital itself there only seemed to be one large building left, with few smaller ones clustered around it.

She braked with her wings, and brought herself down in the parking lot of the police station. There were just a few buildings, with a large sign pronouncing it at as the home of the Wayne County Sheriff's Road Patrol. The main building looked like it had been made in the 70s, with two stories, a flat roof, and floor to ceiling glass windows along the front wall. She strode through the nearest pair of glass double-doors, and into an office space beyond.

Every eye turned to her, as they always did when she was in her armor. Everyone stopped what they were doing. For once, no one appeared to think she was a cosplayer. But most of them still stared at her as if she had just stepped off the moon. Of the half-dozen people present, only two seemed to be actual deputies. The others were clearly office workers.

January sized up the oldest, and widest of the cops, whose shoulders were graced with sergeant's stripes. A mustache that Wyatt Earp would have been envious of exploded from his upper lip, and threatened to overwhelm his entire face if it was allowed to grow unchecked. The plastic nameplate clipped to his uniform identified him as "Shula".

"Sergeant." She walked to the man and extended her hand in greeting. "I'm Stormcrow. Have you had any calls about Eloise, next door?"

The middle-aged man looked dumbfounded. Then a lightbulb clearly went off behind his eyes. "Oh yeah, the ghost squad. They've been doing tours of the old place for months now. Some kook bought it and is going to develop the whole place. But he's getting his spook show in before they tear the last of it down," he explained. "We got a call from there a little while ago. Probably just a prank. We sent two deputies to take a look just to be sure. They didn't see anything."

"May I speak with them?" January asked.

Sergeant Shula looked put out, as if January was tearing him away from a box of donuts, or a football game. Still, he reached for the handset attached to his shoulder and keyed the mic.

"Landry, Vermeil, you there?"

"From what I am reading, Eloise shut down for good in 1982," Gadget's voice blossomed inside her helmet. "Most of the buildings have been torn down since then. The main one left is the Kay Beard building. That big red brick one. Looks like there's a few smaller buildings behind it."

"The deputy's right, a developer did buy it up," he continued. "The same guy is running the ghost tours. He says he's going to build a paranormal-themed hotel, and make it all look like it was in the 1930s."

January could not help but roll her eyes. "Aren't there enough haunted hotels?" she breathed.

By now all the staff members had managed to hover close by, and several shot confused looks her way. She noted two of them giving her that icy cold stare that she knew so well. But the rest barely contained their excitement.

"Deputy Landry, Deputy Vermeil, are you receiving me, over?" the portly deputy said into his radio once more.

"They might not be getting a signal," the other officer explained. "There's a lot of brick and concrete in that old building. Especially down in the basement."

"When is the last time you heard from them?" January asked.

"When they went into the building, oh about ten minutes ago," the older man explained. "They said they didn't see anything outside. No lights, no sounds, just the cars from the tour."

"I'm going in," January strode for the door. She paused at the exit and glanced back. "It might be nothing. It probably is nothing. But just in case it isn't, don't come in after me. That will just endanger more people. Maybe put some people around the building instead."

"It's not another giant spider is it?" the younger deputy said. From his tone and the way his eyes widened, he was clearly not joking.

"I don't think so," January said honestly. "But I don't know. One way or another, I will deal with it."

"Valhalla awaits..." she heard one of the office workers mumble behind her.

January spread her wings the moment she stepped outside. She rose into the sky with a great downward thrust of the hagfish fiber feathers, and headed for the tall, red-brick building next door. She absentmindedly noted a paddock behind the Sheriff's station below her, and even saw several horses. She put them from her mind, and pushed on. It wasn't My Little Police Pony time after all.

A wide field separated the small police station from the psychiatric hospital. Large swathes of broken concrete showed where other buildings or parking lots might have stood. A few trees rose here and there. She noted a little fenced off area in the center of the field, with what appeared to be a children's play house with ladders and a slide within a small plot of sand.

Then the five story edifice of the Kay Beard building rose before her. The side facing her was not straight, but indented twice, making it look like a capital I with an extra bar across the center. A dome of green bronze rose up behind the front face of the building. But it only took up a small part of the otherwise flat roof. A searchlight rose farther back on the roof, as well as several smaller structures and even skylights. January headed for them. One of those was bound to provide her with a way into the building.

Off to her right, behind the main building from the street, was another, smaller structure. Also of red brick, it was rectangular, and was shaped like several steps, each floor rising up from farther back in the building. A partially demolished structure seemed to lurk behind it.

January landed on the roof of the main building, and felt the gravel that coated it crunch beneath her boots. She noted several aerials rising from the roof, along with air vents and a bank of skylights. She stepped to the latter, and gazed down into inky blackness within.

"Sága, night vision," she said clearly. A pair of lenses snapped down over her eyes. Suddenly the world lit up into bright clarity. She gazed down into the building, but saw nothing except a crumbling room whose floor was scattered with chips of peeled paint.

"Should I call Blood Raven?" Gadget asked.

"I don't know," January replied honestly. "This really might be nothing. I don't want to waste her time on a PR stunt. It's not an Abyssal, I'm sure of that."

"But she did say that the Summoner's, well, summonings, might be awakening other magical creatures. There could be a real ghost in there that just woke up on the wrong side of the electroshock machine."

"That is true," January admitted.

January reached for the skylight, and pulled on one of the panes. Rusty metal screeched in protest. But the strength of Earth filled her arms. A few old hinges were not going to stand in her way. She had the skylight open in seconds, and dropped down to the floor below.

Her wings spread out above her like a parachute, slowing her fall. She had forgotten about them. She allowed them to transform back into her cape, so that they would not get in the way. Her boots crunched on the tiny bits of rubble scattered across the floor. The room she was in was bare of all but dust and peeling paint.

The door from the room was missing, and she walked through the empty frame and into a long hallway beyond. She saw it was lined with more yawning doorways, all missing their doors as well. The walls were plain cinderblocks covered with paint. She could not tell what color. The white phosphor night vision turned everything blue-white.

"So what do we have really?" she asked as she went from one empty room to another. Like the first room, all of them were completely stripped of furnishings.

"I've got a video the developer live-streamed about ten minutes ago. Here, let me play it back for you.

Sága lit up, and January lifted her wrist so that she could see her screen better. Her digital assistant's main window filled with a jumpy video clearly shot from a phone. It revealed a shadowy hallway inhabited by several darkened shapes. One resolved itself into a slender woman with long, dark hair that spilled down from her shoulders in an onyx waterfall. Her face was statuesque, with high cheekbones and sloe eyes. A scream tore from her throat. She stabbed one finger out, and covered her mouth with the other hand, cutting her cry into a muffled whimper.

The camera swung around to the direction that the woman pointed to. It took a moment for January's eyes to make sense of the blurred walls and ceiling. But once they did, a figure resolved itself at the end of the hallway. It was cast in shadow, making it impossible to discern any details beyond the general shape of the thing. It stood like a human, but its legs were jointed wrong. They seemed to possess two knees, like an animal's. The head too, was clearly not human. Instead it was dramatically elongated, and its mouth seemed more like a beak. Finally what looked like wings sprouted from its back, independent from its arms, which were nearly long enough to reach the floor.

Someone in the video swore loudly. Someone else began reciting the Lord's Prayer in a shaky voice.

The misshapen figure stood there for a long moment. It seemed to stare directly into the camera. Then it slouched off through a doorway, and vanished from sight.

"Tell me that's a prank!" a female voice demanded. The camera swerved again, and landed upon the dark-haired woman. "That's someone you paid, to wear a costume and scare us right?"

"God no!" A man replied in a voice that cracked and wavered. "That's not me. That's... that's... I don't know! We've never seen anything like that!"

Then the camera turned to reveal the man holding it. He was a deeply tanned man with glasses. He looked young, but the flecks of gray in his short, neatly trimmed beard suggested that he might be older than January's first glance would suggest. He was clearly not at his best. His hair was disheveled, snot dripped from his nose, and his eyes were wild and darting to and fro.

"This is Diego Islas from Motor City Paranormality. If anyone out there can see this, we are trapped in Eloise, and we can't get out. The doors, they're, they're just gone. The windows won't open. We can't get out, and there's something in here wi-"

The video feed stopped abruptly with that.

"If that's a stunt, it's a good one," Gadget noted. "It's good enough to be a movie."

"It might be a movie," January said. "You can't have a haunted hotel without a haunting after all. Can you get him on the phone? Or the two cops?"

"I've been trying," Gadget said. "They all just go to voice mail, like they're in a dead zone."

"Great choice of words..." January murmured.

She came to a stairwell and made her way down. Rounded handrails angled down along either side of the steps. She could see rusty brackets built into the inner sides of the steps, and imagined that a metal mesh or fence might have once been bolted onto them. That would have blocked off the otherwise open space in the center of the stairwell, and prevented one from falling through.

January looked down that open space. It was wide enough for her to fit. Without a second thought she leaped over the handrail and let gravity take her. Her cape streamed out above her, and she hoped it did not get caught on one of the rails that surrounded her. One floor after another raced past her, until the ground came up to meet her.

She came to a sudden stop on the concrete floor. Her knees bent slightly from the impact, but only slightly. She looked around the bottom of the empty stairwell, and found nothing of interest. She went out the only door, and found herself in a wide room filled with pipes and valves and gauges. Rust ate away at the decayed machinery, and the stink of oil and grease stained the air.

"Well, I found the basement," she breathed.

"You know, this is the point in the horror movie that I normally start yelling at the people to not do what they are doing," Gadget noted dryly.

"This isn't a horror movie," January insisted, "it's a superhero movie."

"If it was a superhero movie, neither one of us would even be in it," Gadget countered.

"We will in my movie," January resolved.

She looked back up through the stairwell, and briefly considered going back to at least the ground floor. But she quickly changed her mind. If there was a monster, it probably would be down here in the basement. After all, where else would an eldritch horror make its lair? Unless of course, it was busy chasing its victims somewhere above...

She found several more corridors and rooms branching from the first large chamber. These were filled with more machinery. Trays hung from the ceiling overhead, and carried bundles of pipes and wires throughout the maze of tunnels. The floor was stained with what January hoped was only dried oil and grease. She poked her head into one room and then another, but found nothing at all.

She was about to head back up the stairs when she saw a pair of feet sticking out from behind a gigantic generator. With a single bound, she was standing in front of them, and found a police officer stretched out on the concrete. His gun lay on the floor nearby, along with several empty shell casings. His flashlight lay nearby as well, one of those giant affairs that was truncheon first, illumination source second.

January knelt beside the man, and laid a hand on his neck, just like in all the movies. She felt around, and was relieved when she felt blood pulsing through his arteries.

"I found Landry," she breathed, "he's alive, but out."

"Got it," Gadget said. "I'll get ahold of the cop station, and tell them to send an ambulance."

"Make sure they stay outside," January warned. "Whatever did this must still be in here. I'll bring him out to them."

A very spooky setting for an equally spooky episode! It did feel a bit like a horror movie and I’m glad you let Jan and Avery embrace the dark humor of that.

So I think we’ve ruled out the publicity stunt angle. There is definitely something amiss here. Can’t wait to find out what happens next!

Nits:
- ’We sent two deputies to take a look just {to?} be sure.’
- ’She had the skylight open in seconds, and dropped down {to?} the floor beneath.’
- ’She stabbed out one finger out {an extra ‘out’}, and . . . ‘

Acadian: I have definitely been going for a horror movie vibe here. Though I could not resist poking fun at the modern trend of "paranormal television", which really does seem to be a bunch of bros shouting "Come at me!" down empty hallways at night.

As ever, thanks for nits.



Book 6.10 - Eloise

She stood back up, and took a better look at the man. She saw no obvious injuries on his body. It was like he had simply fallen asleep. She felt something though, something tugging at the edge of her awareness.

She looked around her quickly, to make sure that nothing was sneaking up on her. But the mechanical rooms were empty. Or at least they looked that way in her night vision. Her night vision... That reminded January that she had other ways of sensing beyond normal - or even technologically enhanced - sight.

She closed her eyes and felt the mana as it flowed through her body, cool as a mountain stream. She breathed deep, in and out, and forced herself to relax. She stilled her racing thoughts by running her elemental mantra through her head. Once she was calm and still, she reached out with her senses. Not the physical ones, but the metaphysical.

The room sprang into her awareness, a dim gray world of lifeless stone and iron. Within that empty expanse the form of the Sheriff's deputy glowed, like a watercolor of ever shifting paints. She felt around that bright aura, and sensed something else. It was a worm of power that burrowed through where she imagined his physical head would be. This string of energy wound its way deeply into his aura, and darkened whatever it touched, turning his being black all around it.

January was tempted to reach out and grab it. But she was not really sure how. Worse, she was not sure if it might inadvertently harm the deputy. The last thing she wanted to do was add one more lobotomy to the list of horrors perpetrated in this place.

"There's a spell on him," January explained. "I think it's keeping him asleep."

"Well that's good then," Gadget noted.

"Good?" January wondered. She picked up the deputy's gun and put the safety back on. Thankfully Emilia had taken the time to teach her a few things about safely handling firearms. She stuffed the weapon back into the holster on his hip. She lifted him with ease, and slung him over one shoulder. "We know there is someone, or something, magical at work here."

"Yeah, but they only put him to sleep. They could have killed him," her partner reasoned.

"I guess that is something." January took one last look around, in case the other deputy might be nearby. But she discovered nothing but dust and detritus. She headed back to the stairs, and bounded up them with easy leaps. She swept through the open doorway at the first landing, and found herself in a long hallway that trailed off into the distance. She glanced in the other direction, and found that it quickly opened up into what looked like a lobby.

"Think I've found an exit," she said. She strode down into the large open area. A small desk took up the center of the space. A pair of wide staircases curled up to either side of it. An open doorway led deeper into the building behind it, and another long hallway stretched off opposite the one she had come from. She turned away from the reception area, to where the doors should be. But she stopped herself when she found nothing but a cinderblock wall.

January blinked. It was really just a plain wall. She glanced around again. The way the room was laid out, this was clearly an entrance of some kind. Only there was no actual way in or out.

"That's weird," she said.

"What's weird?" Gadget asked.

"Well, that wall," she explained. "Does it look strange to you, like it shouldn't be there?"

"What wall?" Gadget replied. "That's the side door."

"Door?" January argued. "That is a solid wall!"

"Have you been smoking the devil's lettuce?" Gadget retorted. "That's the door, what are you waiting for? I can see a cop car outside. The lights are still on."

January moved forward cautiously, as if the wall might snap out and attack her at any moment. She laid her free hand on the smooth, painted blocks of cement. It felt no different than any other wall. She even tapped on it, and it was solid as ever.

"You don't see the door do you?" Gadget said. "Your hand is on the glass right now."

"That's not what it looks like to me," she insisted. "Guide my hand, help me find the knob."

She moved her hand down, to where she imagined a handle or knob should be. Gadget coached her to one side, then further down. Finally he told her to stop.

"Your hand is on the handle right now," he declared.

"I don't feel anything but solid brick," January insisted. She tried to form her hand around what she imagined might be a handle. She pushed. But she just ran into the wall.

"Oh frag this." She backed up and gently laid the deputy down across the receptionist's desk. She turned back to the blank wall, and squared her shoulders. She dug in with her back heel, and sprang forward. Her mana rose up and engulfed her. She was Air. She was a hurricane. She was unstoppable.

She crashed through the wall as easily as if it had been made of balsa wood. Glass, plywood, and metal rained around her in a storm of debris. She turned her momentum into a forward roll and vaulted up into the air with a handspring. She added a twist, and dropped to her feet facing the direction she had come from, and settled her fingers into fists. She was ready for anything that might come after her.

A blank wall stared back at her, looking as strong and solid as the day it had been built. Yet the ground was littered with debris. She could clearly see the bent and battered frame of a metal door that she had ripped from its hinges. Just as she could see the broken glass sprayed all about it. Yet when she looked back at the wall, there was no sign of where it had originated from.

"Whoa," she murmured under her breath. Something was playing tricks with her eyes.

She strode forward, directly to the blank wall. She screwed her eyes shut as it neared, and braced herself for the shock of impact when she struck it. But she felt nothing. A moment later she was back inside the asylum. She turned around, and once more saw nothing but the plain wall.

She ignored that for now. Instead she hoisted the sleeping deputy into her arms, and turned to march back out again. She fought down the instinct to stop, and walked right into the wall instead. She felt the solid brick against her skin, just as solid as the floor under her boots. But she pushed on nonetheless, and in a moment she was back outside again.

"Someone's casting illusions," January said out loud. "Good ones too. I can feel them, not just see them."

She laid the deputy down outside, beyond the field of broken glass. Then she took a moment to shift her perceptions into the astral once more. She closed her meat eyes so they did not distract her. That allowed her to see only what existed in the magical realm that coexisted right beside the physical world. She cast her gaze down at his head once more, at that snake of mystic energy that wormed its way into the man's head.

It was smaller now, she was sure of it. It had also faded, and with it the darkness that had spread from it through the deputy's aura. She looked for any links from the spell to its caster. The poppets that she and Blood Raven had enchanted were all magically tied back to them. But this spell was nothing like that. She found no tell-tale threads of energy to link it to anyone. It stood completely alone.

On the other hand, it was also plainly temporary. She could not tell when it would wear off entirely, but given that its energy was clearly fading, it could not last very long, perhaps an hour, if even that.

She reached down and keyed the radio mic attached to the man's chest.

"Sergeant Shula, this is Stormcrow. I found Landry. He's alive, but there's a sleep spell on him. Don't worry, it will wear off. I put him outside one of the side entrances. I'm going back in to look for the others."

"A sleep spell?" she heard the older man say incredulously through the radio. "What is this, Dungeons and Dragons?"

"It might be," January admitted. "There's definitely a magic user in here. This is no hoax. Don't come inside. Whoever this is, they can make you see things that aren't really there."

January dropped the mic to the ground beside the deputy, and strode back into the building. This time she continued sensing into the astral. It was disorienting. She could see the dull grays of the floor, walls, and ceiling. But over that, and somewhat transparent, swirled a world of color, and sound, and smell. She could even taste and touch the energies that surrounded her.

She could not tell what most of it even was that she sensed. But she did understand that it was all roiled up. As if someone had dunked their hand into a tub and swirled the water all about. She was still seeing the ripples moving through the astral. From what, she could not be sure. Perhaps it was simply from the heightened emotions of the terrified paranormal investigators? Perhaps it was something more?

She found the second deputy almost instantly. He was in the hallway behind the desk. Like the first, he was laid out on the ground, flashlight by his side. Unlike the first, he had not even drawn his pistol. He must have never seen his stalker coming. January took a moment to inspect his aura, and found the twin of the same sleep spell that had incapacitated the other deputy.

"Is he..." Gadget let his words trail off as January stared down at the man.

"No, he's fine," January observed as she cast her astral senses across his aura. "He's just asleep, same as the other one."

She hoisted him into her arms, and headed back for the doorway. Once more, she found a solid wall facing her. This time she felt along the wall in the astral. But there was nothing there to suggest a spell had been laid upon the building. It looked the same as the rest of astral space. She shrugged it off for now, and once again willed herself to stride through the false wall, and set down the unconscious man beside his partner.

I love how Jan used her magic to sense what her normal eyes and NVGs could not. Wonderfully described.

"Oh frag this."
- - You have developed January so fully and consistently that I knew exactly what was coming next in terms of how she would react to being blocked by a cinderblock wall. We do now know how those who preceded Jan were channeled and their escape prevented.

Lot of mystery here! Why did the unknown illusionist leave the two policemen alive? Is the force not as malevolent as we suspect? Or perhaps did it have a darker purpose for the two captives?

6.09 I love all the banter between Gadg and Jan as she goes into the haunted hotel. Uh oh. So she DOES find the one cop inside of Eloise. Cripes.

6.10 Whoa, she's got metaphysical senses. See, that's one thing I don't think any of the standard Marvel Comics type of superheroes can boast about right? They can fly, they stay underwater indefinitely, but can they use metaphysical senses to sense outside our 3 dimensional world? I don't know of any who can. Then again, I'm no expert on superheros.

'devil's lettuce' ! That's a new one I haven't heard before. That door / wall is weird, right Wyrd? Wonder what's that about. Of all people, you'd think Jan would be able to see that it's a door, and Avery would not. Strange.