Masks: A New Generation of Heroes

Game Master Cwethan

Bran grins fiercely at Shayera's bravado before realizing that she can't see me grin, idiot, and then nods along, hoping to radiate some kind of approval.

Once they arrive at the loading dock, he stays safely on the ground. Balance aside, he weighed over 400 pounds in his armor and the rail looked precarious enough!

By God, I guess. "Blessed was the son of Llyr in might, and the rule of the Isle of the Mighty fell to him." Or maybe it just means that I'm fortunate. There's a lot about being Bran the Blessed that I'm still figuring out.

He looks, chagrined, at her fading injuries, I'm glad that you're okay. I didn't know that you could heal, or if you were bulletproof, but it didn't seem like there was any other way to end that fight. Even with his face hidden, Bran is clearly distraught as he begins to pace back and forth. I- I was very afraid that my help would hurt you. I haven't been in many situations yet where innocents could be put in danger by my actions. As you say, I am new to this.

Shayera nods along with Bran's explanation of being Blessed, but it's clear she doesn't understand much of what he says. She shrugs nonchalantly when he mentions her healing.

Her face darkens when he talks about innocents being put in danger. "Well, don't worry your pretty little... helmet about me. I'm not innocent." She grows silent and her eyes look haunted for a moment.

Then in an instant it's gone and she smiles again. "Well, Bran, you can call me Wingblade instead of Shayera. That's my code name." She hops down lightly with a spread of her wings and sticks her hand out for a shake.

"I usually work with Whippoorwill. She trains me. And I know for a fact that she didn't send you to watch over me. So that means it was someone else who was worried about me taking the subway. And the only one who knew that was Bronwyn." She grins playfully, studying Bran's reaction.

She shakes her head reassuringly. "Hey, I'll keep her secret safe, don't worry. What are you, her brother or something? Her Dad? A guardian angel? You don't have to tell me if you don't want. And if you want to, you can even take all the credit for busting the Busted Flushes, too. She'd probably act all weird if she knew about me anyway."

She sighs at that last thought.

As the other kid relieves himself, the shakes begin to subside and Eli can actually start thinking again. What was that place?! Sheol? Not enough fire to be Gehenna.

Eli only half-listens as the guy exposits at him, not even bothering to wait until he finishes urinating. It was starting to make some kind of sense. This wasn't some random punk he had tried to take on, it was...

"No ambulance, thanks," Eli says, accepting the hand up. "It's mostly in my head. Besides, I heal pretty well. Hashtag, right? Blink's kid." Eli winces as he realizes his major faux-pas, but thankfully Hashtag doesn't seem too fazed. Doesn't make that earlier crack he'd made about his mother teaching him better look any better, either. "I'm El- Bioshock." Just his luck. Of all the people he had to run into, it had to be one of Halcyon City's most up-and-coming heroes. He was just lucky Hashtag didn't actually seem to want to continue that "fight". Curbstomp dodged, much? "Uh...sorry about all that. You seemed really in control of the situation, what with the falling and puking and everything." Smooth. Reeeeeal smooth. That's strike two, moron. You keep tossing off lines like that, he might make you need that hospital after all.

"Anyway...you're a 'porter, right? What was up with that...you know. That place?"

Condition(s): None

"I've caught up with the object," vibrates Atoms through his communicator. "It's a girl, and she appears to be falling. I should be able to get her down safely."

As they approached Earth's atmosphere, Atoms slows down and grabs onto her, causing them to spiral. An enormous amount of friction was going to be created when they hit the air, and that meant it was going to get really hot, really fast. Holding on tight, Atoms transfers his suit, the armor flowing off of him like sand, and onto the girl's body to protect her. Designed by a telepathic alien race from the future, the self-regenerating 'Theta Suit Mk II' responded to mental commands, and protected against all forms of radiation, including heat; it was also the only thing in the world that could withstand Atoms' touch, allowing him to interact with the world normally while wearing it.

Twisting as they fall through the upper atmosphere, Atoms puts himself on the bottom in order to take the brunt of the friction and heat. Together, they streak over the skyline of Halcyon City like a mid-day shooting star. It's here that the girl says something, in a language that Atoms doesn't understand or recognize, but thankfully the suit isn't all that got transferred over, the girl was also now wearing his communicator. Matrix immediately begins translating the foreign language, pairing it with every dialect in her database.

"[Greetings,]" comes Matrix's quick reply, speaking in Old Norse, but not yet answering any of the girl's questions. "[Who is this?]"

Atoms guides them through the air, steering them away from the city and towards the Halcyon City Nature Preserve, all the while carefully slowing them down. If he wanted, he could bring himself to a sudden and complete stop, but it would be like hitting a brick wall for the girl in his arms. However, with the ground fast approaching, it looked like Atoms would have to come up with a 'Plan B'.

Bran is in the middle of shaking Wingblade's hand when she calls out Bronwyn, and though his helmet hides his expression, the fact that he froze in the middle of a handshake is its own not particularly subtle tell.

Ah. Well. He sighs in embarrassment, You're right. Bronwyn didn't know that you were Wingblade, or she would have been much less concerned for your safety - you're certainly no innocent bystander. He smiles, then, after realizing that his helm has again hidden his face, he reaches up and removes it.

His face... doesn't look quite right. His brow and jaw are particularly heavy, the rest of his head is a little oversized, even considering the size of his body, all in all none of the proportions look quite human, more like some atavistic sculptor's impression of something more primal than man.

But there's still a lot of warmth in his smile.

How about we start over. He gives a short bow of his head and a vaguely courtly gesture, I'm Bran the Blessed, I'm a new hero in town, and I've heard that you're one of the best. It's a pleasure to meet you.

And I think you should reconsider talking to Bronwyn. I can't imagine how I'd do this without her, and she's pretty good at keeping secrets. Clearly better than me.

Wingblade tilts her head as she studies Bran's face. "Nice to meet you, too." She attempts a curtsy, but it's clear she has not practiced the motion.

Then she steps back and folds her arms, looking unsure about telling Bronwyn about her true self. "I don't know. I think I'm supposed to try to have a normal friendship, you know? Someone to talk about regular things, like track and field, or school work, or--" she pauses, looking away from the chiseled features of the man in front of her, "--boys."

She shifts her body slightly, turning away from Bran as she studies the gutted factories in the distance. After a silent moment, she glances back at him. "Sorry, I'm just having mixed feelings. My first normal friend, and she's like, got some warrior of God helping her out. It's not your fault. It's not even her fault."

She turns back toward him, pointing her finger at his chest. "And you know what? That's fine. I don't need a 'normal' life! What's normal, anyway? I can't be normal, so what's the point? I don't even want to be normal! I can fly, and flying is the best." She folds her arms across her chest with a harrumph.

A thought crosses her mind as she looks around at the empty and desolate industrial zone surrounding them. "Um, speaking of, can you fly? Or run real fast? 'Cause we're probably about two hours' walk to anywhere."

Bran's face turns mournful as he listens to what Shayera has to say.

Ohhh! I just wanna hug her and tell her it'll all be okay! But he limits himself to reaching out tentatively towards her shoulder, before withdrawing his hand.

Wingblade- Shayera, Bronwyn liked you without knowing you had wings or superpowers; she likes the normal you. I am here as a favor to her because she likes you.
Telling her will not change that, and I think she would be happy to know that you can fly free. But if you do not wish to tell her, I will respect that, as you have offered to respect the privacy I wish.

Now, as for today. If you can fly out, I should be able to find my own way home. I can keep up a 4-5-minute mile for several hours. It is not exactly inconspicuous, but I can make do.

Is there some way I can contact you in the future regardless of your decision regarding Bronwyn? Even the bravest warriors cannot stand alone against all foes.

As Atoms begins to flow his armor around her, he realizes that she is wearing armor, which looks like (but is not quite) gold. It seems to shine on it's own with a suffused white light. His helmet, however, does manage to cover her head, which allows her to communicate.

"I find myself capable of hearing thine words!"

"Mine name is Skuld, Daughter of Thor, and I am seeking the realm of Midgard, home of Man. Would'st though lend me thine knowledge..." She stops herself and then says "T'would seem that thine artifice is translating falsely."

She then raps on it with her hand and say "apologies. As I hath spake, I seek the lands of Midgard to rekindle my people's relations with Man. I am a... should the ground be coming near us that hastily? Fear not elemental, I shall save you."

Without missing a beat she gently grabs the front of Atoms' suit and lifts it up while summoning incredible winds to slow their descent. There is an impact, but it is nowhere near as bad as what would have happened had they impacted the Earth.

Looking around, however, it's clear that her miniature tornado cut a swath through a chunk of the city preserve, with trees being flung in multiple directions.

"Verily, is this entire realm made of Arden?"

While Hashtag's expression doesn't change, his body language gets a little defensive.

"Yeah that's right, Blink's kid." he says evenly. "Not like I've been working to make a name for myself or anything."

He smirks at the introduction. "El-Bioshock?" he asks. "Gotcha... Spanish."

He shrugs. "Well, who am I to judge. I'm Korean." he reasons. "And no, I didn't really have much control. Fortunately, there was enough time I could have cleared my head before we went splat, except you went and managed to hack that."

He shakes his head, scowling. "Don't do that again." He warns angrily, remembering what Bioshock did.

"I've the practice and experience to pass through there fast enough that no one can see anything. It's not good for you to observe that... place... very long. It's like some kind of interdimensional dumping ground. All kinds of woogy s@!% goes on there. Hell, even my mom hates spending too much time there."

He gestures at a nearby wall, where suddenly there's the gruesome scene of Bioshock partially fused with a wall in the most painful of ways. "You could have also come out the other side like this! Or this!" That image vanishes, replaced by what must have been Bioshock, but he's twisted up, partially inside-out, and pieces are missing. Hashtag drops the illusion before it really sets into the mind.
"Teleporting is hella dangerous if you aren't SUPER careful and have the mental safeguards. I normally make it look easy, but you scrambled those safeguards with your little trick. You seriously can't do that again. For everyone's sake."

Hashtag takes a moment to calm down. Pointing at the mural in spray paint, he sighs.
"Look. The graffiti is my thing. I spend some time painting over the crap left behind by gangs. I sometimes paint over a pretentious billboard. I'm a teenager. It's what I do to cope. I lost someone on my team a little while ago and this... doing this helps." He looks over at the spray paint, shrugging. "It's vandalism. Bottom of the ladder s%&@. I bust worse than that on the way home from school, but I gotta keep up my bad boy image, you know."

She raises her eyebrows when Bran says he can run at top speed for hours. His armor looked heavy. "Okay, that's good. I might be able to fly you back to civilization," Wingblade looks at his bulk and armor with trepidation, "but it'd be tough."

She smiles playfully when he asks about how he could contact her in the future. "So warriors of God aren't blessed with cell phones? Bronwyn has my number." Her eyes widen brightly as she remembers something. "Oh, but I've got something way better! Not here, but I can give one to Bronwyn at school tomorrow. I've got these cool earbud communicators that have all kinds of features. Police-band scanners, GPS location, emergency beacons, anti-theft stuff, they're really cool."

Mentioning school suddenly reminded her that it was a school night and she had a lot to study to keep pace in her classes. "Thanks again for the help, but I should probably get headed home. I gotta read a bunch of Shakespeare tonight."

She offers to shake his hand once more. "I'm sure we'll see each other around? Oh, and it's cool that Bronwyn lets you borrow her shampoo, but Tropical Passion is kinda girly. You might want to pick up your own."

"Jewish, actually. But no, it's just Bioshock."

Eli grimaces, appalled by the images Hashtag conjures up. "I get it, I get it. Still, never would have had to do it if you hadn't 'ported us up there in the first place."

Now that they were safely on the ground, Eli could process how royally stupid that move had been. He didn't know anything about how Hashtag's teleporting worked. Case in point, they were in a completely different part of the city than they started in. There were a lot of ways it could have gone bad. But it didn't. Doom's got me marked, but that's not how I go out. "You gotta admit, though, that was pretty cool. Didn't even know I could, really. There's still a lot about my powers I'm figuring out."

Taking a second look at the graffiti, Eli has to admit to himself that it's actually pretty impressive. Now that he thought about it, he's pretty sure he's seen some of this style before. "Hey, were you the one that tagged on that Sunset Splash billboard a while back? Who's the girl in that one? She's cute."

When Hashtag mentions someone he lost, Eli remembers the mural he'd interrupted. Remember Northstar. "Northstar was on your team, then. What happened? I saw him in- in that other place. He looked like some kind of future overlord. Did he go rogue?"

Hashtag seems to relax a little. "I was just trying to get away from hand to hand range. I'm not that tough compared to Atoms. Didn't mean to take you with me, though. Neat trick getting me to port us... You some kind of biomanipulator?"

He grins. "Yeah. That's me. She's... well, she's Wingblade. Typically less angry than I portrayed her, but... I think it was good art."

Mentioning Northstar causes Hashtag's face to turn downward. "Yeah, it was Northstar. He uh. He sacrificed himself so that future never came to pass." He lets out a long breath. "They're probably still fighting..."

He turns back to Bioshock. "So, Bioshock. Where we at now. You wanna go back to fighting, or are we done for now? I got like a third of the overpass left to do tonight and twenty minutes, tops, before Mister Stan starts his evening 'walk'. Guy's got no sense of safety." he says, adjusting his leather jacket.

Bran grins at the cellphone gibe Well, whoever Blessed me, they left out the owner's manual, so I am unsurprised that a cellphone plan did not come with the Spear. As for the Bard, study him closely, there is.. a rhythm to some of his verses. I suspect that some of the things he touches on in his works are not all for entertainment. His serious expression grows more solemn in slight mockery, Or tedious over-analysis.

He bids her farewell, and after Wingblade has left line of sight, discretely sniffs at himself.

Agh! Am I going to start having to carry around a can of Axe or something! Damned super-smell!

With that, he first shrinks down Gae-Dearg, considers running back home as the Prince of Power, then completes the transformation back to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn rolls her eyes at herself.

Well, that could've gone worse. Next time I hang out with Eli I should thank him - my bar for awkward meetings with other capes is pretty high.

She does a few stretches, more out of habit than for any other reason, and sets off at what would be an impressive sprint for most Olympians, but doesn't appear to tire her at all.

It's nice to have somewhere I can cut loose like this. I should remember this place.

She smiles, content.

I'll slow down a bit once I hear people.

Wingblade soars through the familiar gothic architecture of Old Town, arriving at the clock tower that is her home. She whips through the twisted entryway and lands hard in the common area, feeling much better after the cathartic act of flying.

Seeing that the tower was deserted, she relaxes a bit. She heats a frozen pizza as she boots up the computer and runs a quick search on "Bran the Blessed." "Huh," she vocalizes as she gets a crash course on Welsh legend. Bran the Blessed is a giant and king of Britain in Welsh mythology. He appears in several of the Welsh Triads, but his most significant role is in the Second Branch of the Mabinogi, Branwen ferch Llŷr. He is a son of Llŷr and Penarddun, and the brother of Brânwen, Manawydan, Nisien and Efnysien. The name "Brân" in Welsh is usually translated as crow or raven.

She digests that until the oven beeps, then switches over to Shakespeare while she eats her pizza.

She was puzzling out Hamlet's method to his madness when Whippoorwill arrives.

Her mentor glowers at her for an uncomfortable time. Shayera eventually cracks, and blurts out, "What?"

"You took the subway."

"Yeah, and stopped the Busted Flush Gang from robbing a whole bunch of people! You're welcome!" Wingblade says through a mouthful of pizza.

"So it would seem. And you made contact with the medieval man. Witnesses said you left with him. What did you find out about him?"

Wingblade leans back and folds her arms. "He called himself 'Bran the Blessed.' I looked him up. He's from an old Welsh legend. I'm not sure if he's the real thing, but I don't think so. He talks waaay too normal. I mean, I can barely understand Shakespeare, and he's, like, Fifteenth Century Welsh legend."

Whippoorwill nods, processing. "Reports said he carries a spear. Did you see him use it?"

Wingblade shakes her head. "Not really. He showed up as soon as the Flushes started their robbery. I didn't get a good look at his fighting style, either. He's strong, though."

"Any idea why he was there?"

She looks away.

Whippoorwill approaches Wingblade and puts her hand on her shoulder. "I have to assess these things. Just in case it was a setup. Why was he on that train?"

Wingblade pulls back from the touch. "Look, I don't know the details, but I know a few things that I promised I wouldn't tell. I'm pretty sure that he's a good guy. I'll ask tomorrow if it's all right to tell you more about him. Maybe he'll want to meet you."

Her mentor nods sagely. "All right. I'll let you take point on this. Listen to your instincts, though. If something doesn't feel right, you bring me in. Got it?"

Shayera nods dutifully. "Sure."

========================

The next morning, Shayera gets an even earlier start, hoping to find Bronwyn before the first bell. The crowded sky rail doesn't help matters, so she ends up arriving only roughly ten minutes earlier than the day before.

Her hair was tied back in a simple pony tail and she opted for a knee-length skirt -- both wildly deviating from her usual style, but she felt the urge to distance herself from her Wingblade persona. She did, however, shove some black tights into her pack and wore a backless tank top beneath her blouse.

She veers away from the main entrance to the running tracks at the rear of the school. She catches sight of Marco, and studies the way he moves as he finishes his run with a few stretches. No, she thinks. He's not Bran. Moves all different.

She wanders around a bit on the campus, trying to pick up a sign of Bronwyn. She catches a whiff of aerosol paint and her heart suddenly thuds in her chest. Completely unprepared to deal with seeing Vick, she ducks into the girls' locker rooms and retreats deep within.

What are you doing? she chides herself. It's just Vick. It's Hashtag. You know he goes here. Quit being stupid. Despite her self-admonishment, she doesn't budge for several minutes. When she finally builds up the courage -- or convinces herself that he's probably moved on -- she starts heading for the exit.

And almost bumps into a freshly-showered Bronwyn.

"Oh!" she steps back, face reddening. "I... I was looking for you." She digs into a pocket on her pack and pulls out a small but sleek-looking earbud style communicator. "For your friend."

Bronwyn wasn't in the habit of worrying too much about packing for super heroics.

As long as what she was wearing was at least vaguely appropriate to a variety of situations, she didn't have to worry about transforming back and being obviously out of place.

After all, whenever she transformed she ended up in whatever Bran or Bronwyn had last been dressed in. For Bran, that almost always meant his hauberk and surcoat.

Though, since Elsewhere didn't have a laundry service, there had been some awkward moments and some near-parental-misses while trying to subtly do some of Bran's laundry.

Still, what Shayera had noticed had her thinking about how to avoid being too obvious in the future, so after she'd woken up (earlier than normal to finish up her Chem chapter) she'd grabbed a few things to stash in her backpack: a spare top and running shorts for her, a dark hoodie and sweatpants for Bran, and with a grimace, a can of Axe body-spray.

Her run this morning hadn't been quite as fun as the day before. Damn Tropical Passion! Damn super-noses! Plus, Coach wasn't in a forgiving mood, so before she could Just Start Running, she had to listen to a lecture about not "falling into the trap" of believing that her "natural talent will somehow overcome hard work" and not "living up to the potential" that Coach saw in her.

She couldn't tell her the truth, she still had trouble even figuring out how to explain it. So she'd ended up just muttering Yes ma'am and No ma'am at the right parts.

Then Marco wanted to know what was bothering her, and she didn't want to talk about it, which made him feel like she was mad at him, and she wasn't, but then he was a little mad that she was mad, which now she was a little, and suddenly they were about to have a really stupid fight, so she just apologized, even though it wasn't her fault, and hit the showers. But it was her fault a little, so she wanted to catch him and apologize, for real this time, before class and narrowly dodged Shayera, wait Shayera?!

She slid slightly on the floor, clutching her towel tight as she concentrated on not falling 'Cause that's just how this day's going!, planted her feet, took a deep breath it's no one's fault. it's no one's fault and with all her might managed to find a genuine smile for her new friend.

You know, if you go looking for people in locker rooms you're a lot more likely to find them in a state of, she puts on a haughtily silly voice, undress!

As Shayera's face remains red, she almost drops her teasing expression, but can't resist needling her juust a little. Wow, he told you everything, huh? He must like you a lot.

Shayera steps back to give Bronwyn space, still looking embarrassed. "I'll let you change," she mutters and goes back outside.

She finds a bench and sits down, fussing with her skirt absently while she settles her racing thoughts. She wonders how much Bran told Bronwyn, but it's obvious she knew they actually met.

When Bronwyn appears, she hops up and walks into the building with her. Keeping her voice between the two of them, she decides to offer an apology for walking in on her, although her explanation ends up releasing a torrent of words that she just couldn't stop. "Sorry about barging in on you, though. I didn't know you'd be in there. I thought I saw Vick Zeng, who I don't know if you know, but I do, and I didn't really want him to see me, since he's pissed off at me right now for getting him into more trouble than he's used to. Although now that I think about it, of course you would have been in there since I didn't see you on the field.

"So I hope we're cool, since I know about your friend and I figure he's told you at least a little about me. He really didn't tell me much. I figured out you sent him to watch over me. That was thoughtful, by the way. So how much did he tell you about me?"

Eli grins again. "Biomanipulator... yeah, I guess you could call it that." It sounds way better than freaky genetic experiment. "I can generate electricity to stimulate my body's central nervous system. Nothing flashy like you. I mostly regulate my hormones and neurotransmitters, but I can create false sensations and mess with memory a little bit too. Not much power, but a whole lot of perks!"

This wasn't really going how Eli had planned, but he wasn't going to complain. Maybe he should pick fights with random punks more often? "That's Wingblade? I've heard of her, too. You were on the same team, back when the Defenders were trying to sponsor some teen heroes. Did that ever go anywhere?"

As Hashtag tells Northstar's story, Eli runs a hand through his hair. "So that was the future? So it can be changed." Which means if I'm not careful, I really will end up in that vat. "Northstar sounds like a true hero," he says, not sure if he should try to put a comforting hand on Hashtag's shoulder. He waits too long trying to decide, and the moment passes.

"Jeez, I guess I owe you an apology for interrupting. Sorry about that. I was just in a bad mood. See, there's this dance at school, and I asked this girl but- you don't care about any of that." Way to over-share, doofus. Maybe next you can tell him about your mommy issues and you can all go out for egg-creams? "I guess we're done for now. But hey, maybe we could swap digits and bust some heads sometime? I wouldn't mind getting into the hero business. Maybe you could give me some pointers?"

He shrugs. "We still are, but are on back-burner. A lot of our group moved on. Just me and Wingblade and Atoms."

Hashtag spreads his hands when futures are mentioned. "Man, I don't know. I'm just a punk teenager who decided to not look at the infinite kaleidoscope of the place beyond time and space because he didn't want to go down a path that's WAY too meta for him to handle without being as nutters as a Planter's can."

When Eli asks, he nods. "Yeah. Sounds good." Vick will rattle off a phone number without much hesitation. "School dance? Like, the one that's coming up at Halcyon High?" he asks. "You'll see me there. Just... call me Vick when we're off duty, a'ight?"
Okay, so the guy's not an idiot.

"Oh, and I'll talk to Wingblade and Atoms. Pretty sure we could use your help around here. We might need to put you through some training, but you're probably better at the brawling than I am."

He starts to walk away, waves a hand. "Later!" he says noncommittally, then Crack he's gone.

-----------
Hashtag arrives at the underpass again and scrounges around to try to find the dropped spraypaint cans. He smiles when he finally pulls one up, but it quickly fades when he finds it's been ruptured.

"Awww... man. That stuff's not cheap." he complains to himself. An alarm goes off from his phone. Muting it, he huffs. "Well, Mr. Stan, I hope your walk takes us by something interesting tonight..."

... It didn't.

Bronwyn emerges a couple minutes later in leggings and a long hoodie.

Shayera, it's fine. You're allowed in the locker room! Well, the girls' locker room anyways.

Now as for my Big Buddy, he didn't tell me much.
She begins listing on her fingers, He said:
That you knew I asked him to keep an eye out (though I figured he'd just done something dumb and let it slip), that something did happen, but that you didn't seem too shaken up by it.

She pauses and gives Shayera a searching glance And that you'd probably have something for him today. He was a little cagey with the whole thing though. Oh, now that I have a pocket I'll go ahead and take that for him. He'll know what it is, how to use it?

Shayera couldn't help but be a little crestfallen when it became apparent that Bran hadn't told Bronwyn that much about her and who she was. She had convinced herself that Bran would have blabbed about the whole train situation, since she hadn't exactly insisted he keep her secret.

Realizing she was back to being just "Shayera Kinney" in Bronwyn's eyes made her pause just a moment. She looks down at the high-tech earbud in her hand, wondering suddenly if she should be handing this off to her. Do I want to get her further involved? Except, I don't know how she knows him. He might be living in her basement, or he's her crazy uncle or something. I probably don't have much of a choice.

"Uh, yeah. It's pretty straightforward," she finally says, dropping it into her hand.

The warning bell sounds and she starts to hustle. "I have first period World History. Gotta go. See you at lunch?"

"Vick, got it. I'm Eli." Is Vick a Korean name? V-I-C? V-I-K? V-I-Q?

And just like that, he was gone. And Eli was...not really sure where he was. Can't be that far away, right?

The rest of the walk home gives Eli time with his thoughts. Without Vick there, Eli didn't have anything to distract him from obsessing over every detail of what he saw in that other place. Even the excitement of having just possibly, accidentally, joined a hero team pales in comparison to the sinking feeling in his stomach. That was me in the vat, right? Not a clone, not another experiment?

It was tempting to erase the whole memory and forget about it. But he couldn't let himself do it. Being there, seeing the scene, it was more than just watching. It was more like a dream, where you knew things you shouldn't be able to know. Like how he knew it really was him in the vat. And how his mother really was one of the lab coats, even if he couldn't see her face very well.

Were there logos on the lab coats? Yes, he could make out the no-frills MantiCorp logo on the breast pocket. How many lab coats? Four, maybe others behind the boundary. Wait, there's a boundary! Now that he recalled, the edges of the scene were dark and blurry, as if they were on a stage instead of in a laboratory. Anything to identify the year? The memory of his depleted body, floating in the vat, gave no hints. He had clearly aged, but that could mean anything. There were computers hooked up to the machinery, different charts and data outputs, but nothing that was identifiable as a date.

- - - - - -

The mental exercise lasted Eli all the way home, which he had somehow managed to find safely without any conscious thought. "Hey Dad, I'm home! Got in a fight, joined a hero team, saw my doomed future, Bronwyn's going to the dance with Marco, not hungry, lotsa homework, good night!"

To his credit, he'd made it almost halfway up the stairs before Dad stopped him.

I guess she doesn't want to tell me...
Bronwyn smiles, but she's not able to keep all the disappointment from her eyes. Yeah, see you then. Hope you're not brown-bagging it today, Taco Tuesday's a winner!

She waves at Mary-Beth and heads off to Latin with her, still stewing over secret identities.
God, I'm being such a hypocrite, but I really wish she felt comfortable enough to talk to me about it. I'm clearly "in the know" about Bran at least.

Oh crap! She fishes out her cellphone and starts furiously texting as Mary-Beth looks at her with a bemused smirk. Okay, Bronwyn, which plate did you forget to spin?

Marco... she admits, an embarrassed look on her face.

I'll apologize for real later.

Condition(s): None

Atoms takes a moment to regain his bearings after the particularly... 'violent' (to say the least) landing, while the girl talks excitedly. Extending his arm towards her, the Theta Suit slips off her and returns to Atoms, enveloping him once more. With his communicator back, Matrix and Atoms quickly exchange data about the current situation, rapidly vibrating back and forth.

"[Welcome to Midgard, Skuld, Daughter of Thor,]" says Atoms in Old Norse (with Matrix telling him what to say). "[I invite you to accompany me to our Hall of Heroes in the center of the city. My fellow warriors will be eager to hear of your arrival.]"

He flies over to her and offers his hand. Of course, by 'Hall of Heroes' and 'fellow warriors', he really means Defender HQ and some of the other Defenders.

Shayera drops in her seat as class begins. She takes attentive notes initially, but after the lecture progresses she finds her mind wandering to how hurt Bronwyn looked when she gave her the communicator. Oh, the curiosity is probably eating her up. If Bran didn't tell her what happened, she was probably hoping I'll tell her.

Her attention wavered between the fall of the Roman Empire and how to describe the Busted Flush Mob's defeat without her own involvement for the rest of the period. When the buzzer rang, she wasn't sure about either.

Her elective foreign language was Arabic, because she was already fluent in the offered languages of Spanish, Mandarin and French. Whippoorwill had already given her a passing knowledge in the tongue, so she was able to keep up easily.

From there, she again had to struggle through English Lit, but her efforts to understand the Bard paid off to some degree. She fielded a couple questions from the teacher and even got to read from the part of Ophelia.

Lunch finally arrived and she claimed her pair of chicken tacos before almost bumping into Vick. She veers away from him before making eye contact damn cumin throwing off my scent! and quickly fades into the crowd. She doubted he'd recognize her; she was in a skirt for once in her life, and there should be no reason for him to be looking for her.

She finds Bronwyn's table for refuge and refuses to look up from her tray until she was sure he wasn't nearby. "Hi, guys," she offers, slowly making eye contact.

Shayera walks in as Ronnie and Mary-Beth are having it out over Hamlet while Bronwyn, in a much better mood than this morning, strains to mediate from Marco's lap (he apologized).

I'm telling you, learn your floriography, Ophelia is calling Gertrude out!

Mary-Beth, why do you think anyone else knows that "floriography "even exists? No one, Shakespeare included, was looking at those lines and working through some kind of flower-language. Think about who was actually going to these plays. She's just crazy.

I dunno, Ronnie, I feel like trying to say Shakespeare didn't intend a double meaning where he gets to call someone a skank is not the hill you want to die on. I mean this is Hamlet of "get thee to a nunnery" fame, right? I'm with Mary-Beth on this one. Oh, hi Shayera! You okay? You don't look properly blissed out by tacos.

Shayera looks up and manages a weak smile. "Sorry. I like the Burrito Buggy that parks outside my home. But these are okay," she says as she sneaks a glance at the campus grounds, trying to spot Vick.

Unsuccessful, she turns back to the group. "I'm sorry, you were talking about Shakespeare? I don't really get it. I mean, why does Hamlet treat Ophelia like that? I thought he loved her?"

She finishes her tacos while simultaneously eating up high school theory on Shakespeare's Hamlet. As she gets up to bus her empty tray, she leans over to whisper to Bronwyn, "I'm sorry about this morning. I know it's probably driving you nuts about yesterday, but really, it wasn't that big a deal. If Bran didn't tell you, it's probably for a very good reason."

She gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile as she drops off her tray, then reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. "Besides, I'm planning on taking the sky rail. Your friend doesn't have to worry unless there's a robot invasion or something."

"Please lead me to your comrades. I wish to speak with your leaders."

Kyle cuts in with a quick explanation re: Hamlet, You know maybe he did, and maybe he didn't. If you ask me, Horatio seems more like his type.

KYLE - NOT EVERY CHARACTER IS GAY! Marco exclaims, eyes to the heavens.

The rest of the group explodes into that discussion, Ronnie looking on a little bored from just outside the fray, Jacob diving into a talk about Hamlet putting his head into Ophelia's lap, while Bronwyn has her quick aside with Shayera.

Nothing like a buncha us nerds arguing to allow for a private conversation surrounded by people...

She looks up at Shayera and gives her a half-smile, I'm not gonna pretend I can't tell there's more to whatever happened yesterday, but you don't have to tell me, and He won't unless you tell him to.
Just be safe, and promise you'll call him if there's robots or whatever.

And give me a call if you want to study or watch me try to do parkour, okay?!

Guilt eats at Shayera and her face shows it. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm trying to get a fresh start here. I don't want to unload a lot of baggage on the first person I've met. Okay?"

Damn. She'll probably never understand. And now she probably thinks I had something to do with the Busted Flush Mob or something.

Although she has her doubts if it's genuine, she accepts Bronwyn's offer to continue their new friendship. "Sure. Study, parkour. Both sound great."

The bell sounds the end of lunch, and Shayera heads into her afternoon block of classes. She absorbs the lessons while shunting her other worries aside.

When the day ends, she stops off at the restroom to swap her skirt for her tights. Just in case there really was a robot attack, it wouldn't do to go flying into battle worried about flashing everyone below.

When she exits and heads out to reach the rail station, a male student comes up to her.
"Hey, new girl, right? My name's Jeremy," he says as he extends his hand.

She juggles her tablet and pack to free a hand and shakes his. "Shayera."

"Cool name. Is that from your original country? Like, Japanese or something?"

"Thanks, but it's not Japanese. Neither am I," she explains, trying not to crinkle her nose at the sweat and anxiety coming off him.

The tall, lanky youth laughed nervously. "Oh, cool. Yeah, shoulda known that. I'm a fan of anime, so that was dumb. Uh, what do you like? You know, hobbies and stuff? You look like you work out."

Shayera bites her lip, feeling a little sorry for Jeremy's apparent unease. "Yeah, I exercise a lot," she confirms.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Shayera says, "OK, well I gotta get to the train. Nice meeting you." She moves around him and has to walk briskly to reach the station before her rail leaves.

She stares out the window mulling over Bran, Bronwyn, Vick and now Jeremy. Nothing revelatory strikes her during the two hours she spends on the train and in various stations. She enters her clock tower from the ground floor after picking up supper from the falafel food truck parked on the street.

She grabs up the master communicator from its stand and checks to see if the one she gave Bronwyn had been activated. She pops hers in her ear and pings the one for Bran.

"Hello? Who's hearing this? Bran or Bronwyn?"

Shayera, I get it. Don't unload unless you want to, just know I'm here if you do want to later.

But she doesn't seem convinced.

Bronwyn tries to drill down and focus for the rest of the day with somewhat mixed results.

Ugh. I don't think I handled things well with Shayera... I wish I knew what she was looking for.

Marco's actually busy after practice for a change, but that's okay. I get to spend some time with Mary-Beth.

So, securely shut away in Mary-Beth's room, after briefly going over dividing Gaul into three parts with Caesar together, talk turned to Bran.

I swear - someone asked! I didn't know what to say, so I just guessed that I-he was blessed by God! So I looked through the Mabinogion when I got home and I didn't see anything!

Welllll the word might not have actually been "Blessed" in the originals, there are some hints in some of the older manuscripts that it might have replaced Something Else. This is what I've been telling you, we're working with translations of things that are probably 3-4 generations removed from the original text, and who knows what parts even that got wrong! That's why I think we've gotta go deeper on the spear. That's where the magic's from. If we can figure out some sort of ritual or something to find out more- Mary-Beth has grown increasingly animated over the course of the discussion when Bronwyn's communicator goes off.

**Bzzz. Bzzz.**

Just a sec, Mary-Beth. Hi, this is, uh, Bronwyn. Haven't seen Bran since we talked. And I'm not sure what will happen to the communicator if he's wearing it when I transform back!

Mary-Beth perks up immediately: Are you on a Team?! But Bronwyn quickly shushes her. I don't know what the pickup on this thing is like.

Should I see if I can track him down for you?

When Bronwyn answers, reality slaps Wingblade across the face. Idiot! You're talking with her over a super high-tech communicator! What is she going to think?! Cell phones are totally a thing!

"Uh, yeah. That's... a good idea."

She rubs her temple as desperation sets in. She can either fess up, or completely end the friendship by staying evasive. It's not even like Bronwyn's completely normal herself, having a God warrior in her basement or something.

"Wait. I'm being stupid. I should just tell you, since you've got one of Whetstone's earbuds right now."

She swallows, and forges ahead. "I've got powers. I'm kind of a part-time super hero. I'm... Wingblade."

"Day Two, and you're already sharing. It better not be to impress a boy," comes a voice from behind her.

Wingblade jumps and spins around, amazed that Whippoorwill managed to sneak up on her. "It's not like that!" she shouts. "It's a girl!"

A beat of silence strikes as Wingblade's cheeks redden and the corner of Whippoorwill's mouth turns up.

"And not that, either. I mean, she's got her own secret that she shared. It wasn't right that I kept it from her."

"Is she still listening?"

The color on her face drains. "Damn. Um, Br-- I mean, hey, you still there? I don't suppose you and Bran would want to meet Whippoorwill?"

Oh wow. Sh- Just a second!

Bronwyn tilts the earpiece away from her mouth as much as she can.

Mary-Beth, I know this is horrible, but can I have the room for a moment? I promise I'll tell you whatever I can afterwards. Aaand I'll make sure you can take rubbings of some of the glyphs on Gae-Dearg, okay?

Fine! But Mom's gonna make fun of me for getting kicked out of my own room. Again. At least this time it's not for Marco.

Okay... uhh She eyes the door, wondering if Mary-Beth is listening at it, Wingblade. Wow. She gasps, Wait forget parkour. Can you take me flying? Her eyes twinkle with mischief, If you're looking for a way to impress a girl, I'd definitely start with that.

Though, wow, introducing her to Whippoorwill is up there too.

Do you mean tonight? Where should I meet you?

Wingblade looks at Whippoorwill, who raises an eyebrow expectantly. "You live around Northside, right? Can you get to Monument Park? How about we meet at the Fountain of Heroes? Great!"

She keys off the communicator and glares at Whippoorwill. ""What? You wanted to meet the knight guy. This'll be your chance."

The mentor pinches her brow. "I wanted to observe him first. This girl, is she involved somehow with him?"

Wingblade winces. "Yeah. I don't know the details. I think she's got him living in her basement or something."

"And she's a student at Halcyon?"

She nods. "Yeah."

Whippoorwill sighs. "All right. Why don't you fly on ahead. I'll stop by later."

====================

Wingblade pushed herself to her top speed, which was quite impressive for someone with self-powered flight. Her wings had a lot of power to them, and she could outmatch even Whippoorwill.

The sun had sank below the Halcyon City skyline and the sky was a dark indigo-purple when Wingblade circled around Monument Park. The tall statues of the departed icons like Whisper, the Cat, and Captain Lightness stood in heroic poses throughout the grounds. As darkness descended, the large center fountain's lights became muted and the jets of water slowed.

Wingblade drops out of the sky and lands with a bone-jarring thud on the concrete pad surrounding the Fountain of Heroes. Her metallic wings fold up behind her. She sits down on the rim of the fountain and waits for Bran and Bronwyn to arrive.

The trip to the Defenders headquarters had been an eye-opening experience for Skuld. She spent a great deal of it asking questions about what things are, with the occasional "How do you know about that?" style of questions.

******

Meanwhile, during the trip, most people who watched the duo that day noticed Atoms travelling with one of the most attractive women they had ever seen. She smiled politely at elders, made children giggle, and basically caused almost infectious cheer to spread amongst those who she interacted with.

Her white-gold hair tied neatly into a pair of long, pigtail braids that were eventually braided into each other; A perfectly symetrical face, with a smile that was infectious. Her body body did not lack body fat, but her curves only accentuated her natural beauty.

Also, given the way she wore her armor, it was clear that she was some sort of warrior.

******

Finally arriving at the massive structure, Skuld noticed a group statue of the core members of the Defenders: Haden, Whipporwill, Matrix, and Foresight. There were even smaller statues of both Tectonic and Nick.

"Are these your leaders?" she asked of Atoms, and then flew up to inspect the statues in detail.

Looking around, Atoms noticed that there were a great many people with cellphones out, taking pictures of the young woman.

Wow. That was dumb. I have got to get better with excuses. But maybe they'll let me join the team! Or, at least, let Bran join the team. S+*$.

She flings open the door, though to her slight disappointment, Mary-Beth wasn't literally leaning up against it and didn't fall over or anything.
Mary-Beth. I've gotta go, Bran stuff - Thank you for being the person I can say that to by the way. Love you - Also, the way Bran stuff is going, I miiight need to figure out some kind of clone, so how's that for homework? See you tomorrow!

She took off running.

Monument Park wasn't far, and it was even closer to her own house, so at least she didn't have to worry about explaining how she got there so fast.

And at least I didn't end up having to douse myself in body spray so I won't give Ms. Super-Nose yet another neon arrow.

Okay. You've got this. "Oh Bran? He's uh, running late?" No, stupid, then it's a whole mystery when he doesn't show. "Oh Bran? He's nervous about meeting you." Nope, stupid, we've already met. "Oh Bran? He's.... right behind you!" NO! "Oh Bran, he said he'd try to come tonight, but he sounded busy..." No, then I sound like a flake. "Oh Bran, I wasn't able to reach him, he can be pretty busy this time of night." ...Fine.

Bronwyn had all of her memories as Bran, and had all of his when she wasn't transformed. Or at least, the one's she'd made as Bran. Maybe I should let Mary-Beth see if there's anything to some of those weird "spell books" she found. Maybe there are more memories I could dig up?

Even so, the memories she made as her alter ego weren't quite... crisp. She remembered them all, but it was like watching a movie, or hearing a story. The direct connection to them wasn't quite there.

So seeing Shayera's wings for the first time was really something.

Wow, they're beautiful... No wonder you always look so claustrophobic at school - where do you even put them?

She smiles softly as Bronwyn admires her wings. She unfolds them from the blocky configuration when they're folded up tight, and stretches them out to their full wingspan. They glint silver-gray in the muted city lights, the long pinfeathers as lovely as swords and just as deadly.

She loosely folds her wings and turns her back so Bronwyn can see them better. "It's a device I have to wear. It makes them invisible and intangible, so it's like I don't have them at all." Her voice strains a bit -- it's pretty clear she doesn't like it.

Shayera's face brightens and breaks into a broad grin. "You said something about flying?"

She pulls out a bundle of straps and starts looping them around her waist and shoulders. "This'll put less stress on our arms. Better for longer flights." She steps closer to Bronwyn and buckles the harness around her as well.

She has Bronwyn step up on the rim of the fountain and gets ready to take flight. But just before she does, she looks around the park. "So, where's Bran? Weren't you going to get him to come?"

Oh Bran? I wasn't able to reach him; he can be pretty busy this time of night. And he might be too heavy to carry anyways. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll see him again, as far as I know you're the only superhero he's had a team up with.

As Shayera prepares to take off again, she can feel Bronwyn tense up in the harness.

Okay, confession time I have been on a plane once - okay, twice 'cause we flew back - so I'm really excited to do this, but don't judge me if I scream. Deal?

Condition(s): None

The sun had sank below the Halcyon City skyline

With all The Defenders out on different missions, some of them outside the city itself, there were really no 'warriors' to speak of back at Defender HQ. To stall for time until someone got back, Atoms slowly winded through the city with Skuld, taking the longest route possible. At most, Atoms figured, this would give them a couple of hours. In practice however, with Skuld's irrespressible curiosity, it was more like all day until they finally got to headquarters.

Throughout the journey, Atoms patiently answers Skuld's questions, but with growing irritation. Not because of her or the things she asked, but because of all the stares the two of them were getting. It was frustrating to Atoms that those with powers couldn't just go normally about their day, and it was one of the reasons he and a handful of other students at Halcyon High started Blueshift. This was the kind of oppression they fought and hoped to change someday, for freaks and mundanes to live peacefully together; their motto, "A better life for all".

The last straw came when they arrived at headquarters and got surrounded by a swarm of civilians with their cellphones, taking picture after picture, and bathing the two in cacophonous flashes of light. They couldn't be blamed, the two were certainly an odd sight, and at this time of night, using the flash on their cameras was necessary to get any picture at all. However, these considerations weren't enough to make Atoms any less angry at the situation. He wanted to blast the phones out of their hands... but that would be like aiming a loaded gun at them.

"SHE'S NOT SOMETHING TO BE GAPED AT!", snarls Atoms, yelling at the crowd. Infuriated, he reaches for his communicator and talks to Matrix once more, "Please tell me that at least one of The Defenders is back."

Only one, Whippoorwill. Atoms hastily switches channels to contact her.

"Whippoorwill, has Matrix briefed you on the Outsider situation? We've got a girl here at H.Q. who fell from space, and she claims to be the daughter of Thor. She wants to meet you and the other Defenders, but you're the only one in town." He glances back at Skuld. "We need you here now. She's already destroyed a good chunk of the city's nature preserve with some kind of hurricane."

Wingblade grins fiercely at Bronwyn. "Deal? I'd be insulted if you didn't scream."

Before Bronwyn could say anything else or protest, her wings begin to beat hard and fast. Taking off involved some effort, and Wingblade's face showed strain as her wings blurred behind them, slicing through the wind and forcing the air downward in a rush. Their feet leave the earth and the fountain drops away from them.

Wingblade finds a stronger breeze about a hundred feet up and adjusts her wings into it, catching the zephyr and letting it carry them even higher. The park recedes into the distance and she banks to face the brilliant city lights of the Tower District.

They level off once the features of the ground become tiny and indistinct. Wingblade's surprisingly strong arms hold Bronwyn secure, and the harness helps keep her from dangling awkwardly. Her wings spread wide and beat regularly to keep their altitude and speed. "You okay? Ready for fun?"

Wingblade dives suddenly, and they hurtle toward one of the sky rails zipping along the elevated tracks. She pulls out of the dive just as they match its speed, and she flies alongside the train to give Bronwyn a chance to wave at the passengers. They glide next to the train long enough to gather a small crowd of children pressing their faces against the glass, and then she banks and veers off.

They fly up and over a second rail coming the opposite way, followed by a short dive beneath the tracks. Wingblade pulls up and puts several hard beats of her wings to climb higher and higher, shooting past the rails and into the rising skyscrapers of downtown Halcyon City.

She swoops in and between the massive buildings of steel and glass, banking to narrowly avoid slicing the cellular towers and blinking lights with her wings. She picks the brilliantly lit Halcyon City Bank building and aims at it, climbing higher and higher until they stall just at the very top.

They experience a brief moment of weightlessness, and then as gravity begins pulling them back down Wingblade angles her wings and they alight on the uppermost level of one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city. With the solid roof beneath their feet, Wingblade holds tight onto Bronwyn to keep her steady.

She then turns her to face the brilliant sky view of the City of Heroes.

"Inbound," comes the reply to Atoms.

A shape materializes out of the sky amidst the spotlights and flashing billboards of the metropolitan area surrounding Defender headquarters. The winged woman drops fast, her feathers flaring out at the last possible moment to slow her descent. She lands surprisingly lightly for as fast as she appeared, her wings folding up behind her but still showing proudly above her shoulders and her long pinfeathers reaching almost to the ground.

She gives a brief smile and wave to the crowds arrayed around the three of them, the flashes of cameras not bothering her. Then she turns to the beautiful outsider and extends her hand. "Greetings Skuld, Daughter of Thor, of Asgard. I am Briana, called Whippoorwill, Defender of Midgard." She is tall for a woman of Midgard, and her wings frame her form and make her look even larger. She has a coiled whip hanging from her belt, and an array of feather-shaped throwing weapons on various points of her yellow-and-red costume. Her stance is the easy balanced one of a highly trained fighter, but she is showing no aggression in her posture.

She glances again at the crowd, specifically at the group of people closest to Atoms who are pulling back from him while simultaneously trying to get a better look at her. "Was there a problem, Atoms?"

She turns back to the visitor from a mythical realm. "Shall we go inside?"

Skuld watched the woman descend and did the same as well. As Whippoorwill began speaking, Skuld subconsciously fiddled with her armor, in what would clearly be a nervous gesture from a human teenager.

Assuming that Whippoorwill doesn't actually speak Asgardian:

Skuld looked to Atoms to translate what Whippoorwill said, then responds with "It is an honor to be invited into your longhouse. I swear on my father's name I will be a good guest, and trust you with my defense."

As Whippoorwill extends her hand, Skuld locks wrists with her, then says "I will follow your lead here, as this is your world."

Bronwyn manages to hold in everything but a startled laugh as Wingblade takes off, and the the brilliant lights of the Tower District get only a startled gasp.

The dive towards the sky rail is where Shayera earns her first delighted scream.

A part of her is worried about the people on the train, but seeing her own delight mirrored on the children's faces wipes that out as she focuses on how amazing flying with Shayera is and not the butterflies in her stomach.

Flying is so great! Anyone who thinks invisibility is the best power is CRAZY!

Still, it's good to have a moment to get her feet back on the "ground," though even with Shayera holding her the butterflies haven't stopped.

It's so beautiful up here. I'm really glad you- she swallows suddenly, Oh no. A sour taste fills her mouth as she frantically unbuckles her harness. Oh come on!

Her churning stomach overcomes her as she drops to the floor, leaving her after a few long moments, pale, shaky, and very embarrassed.

I think I might have gotten a liittle airsick.

Hey Shayera, I'm gonna pretend you're not right here or that I'm not right here for a moment, but do you happen to know if anyone else comes up here? I don't want to leave this for someone else to clean up, but, God, I am not going to leave it here to ruin this spot for the next time you come up here to see all this!

Bronwyn takes a pair of deep breaths, Well, I don't really like this hoodie anyways, peels off her sweatshirt, and begins using it to mop up her sick, saying lalalala I can't hear you 'cause you're not right here watching me do this! when Shayera starts to speak up.

Wingblade looks away uncomfortably while Bronwyn is sick. She feels bad, second-guessing her decision to take her on this flight. She winces even more when Bronwyn uses her hoodie to mop up her mess. "It's okay, the rain will wash--" she tries, but she was drowned out by Bronwyn's voice.

She takes a few steps away to let her finish with some privacy.

Her communicator beeps. "Hey. No, Bran was a no-show. No, she says he's usually busy this time of night. Uh-huh. All right. Okay, see you soon."

Wingblade goes back to Bronwyn. "Um, how you feeling? I gotta get you back, but on the way I need to stop and help Whippoorwill out with a hostage situation. Guy's barricaded himself in a house. Shouldn't take long; there's skylights." She smiles excitedly.

She reconnects the harness and without hesitation steps off the roof.

The sheer drop-off of the dizzying heights is panic inducing, but her wings catch the air and she pulls out of the freefall drop easily. They angle toward Northside and pick up speed. Wingblade doesn't pull any fancy flying tricks, she just reaches her top speed and hurtles straight for Bronwyn's home.

Before long, they're skimming the tops of trees and rooftops, in the residential district. She spots a ring of flashing blue and red lights around a moderate house and she slows up. Finding a soft lawn of a neighboring residence, she lands and disconnects the harness. "Be right back," she says, then takes off once more.

Whippoorwill taps her ear when she sees Skuld look to Atoms for translation. "Matrix, there's a problem with the real-time translation. Can you get it synced? Thanks."

She listens to the newcomer's acceptance of her hospitality, and hearing the translation in her earbud match up much faster.

She guides Skuld inside the headquarters and invites her into the conference room. Matrix signals that her translator should be ready.

"Let me begin by saying that I am not one of Midgard's rulers. As one of its defenders, I am responsible for meeting with visitors from other realms to assess any possible threats. I hope this is understandable and acceptable to you. Please, tell us again your purpose here?"

Condition(s): None

As Whippoowill lands, Defender security personnel make their way out the building and quickly form a perimeter, keeping the civilians back. Among them is the chief of security, handing Atoms his hood and scarf, which he dons in one smooth motion. He gives the chief an annoyed glare, wishing her team had come out before the yelling started, but since the only feature on his helmet is a mouth, it isn't obvious.

"Some people got too close. Had to tell them to back off," answers Atoms.

The three head inside and make their way to the conference room. Atoms stands by, leaning against a wall, listening as Whippoorwill and Skuld talk.

Bronwyn's voice is still a little shaky, but color has returned to her cheeks, at least until the sheer drop off. Still, she manages to keep it together.

Luck. she says in a bit of a croak as Wingblade flies off.

Okay, never want to see this hoodie again.

She quickly hops a nearby fence and tosses her sweatshirt in a trashcan, leaving her standing on some stranger's front lawn in leggings and a tank top.

Cold, but less smelly, good trade.

She waits around for just under a minute, before she decides that she should really get a closer look. Just in case

Bronwyn can't fly, but it doesn't take her long at all to find a nearby tree with a pretty good view of the situation, and hefts herself into it.

Just keeping an eye out, she's probably got this. Just watching her back.

Still, she makes certain to pick a branch that should bear Bran's weight.

Just in case.

Wingblade joins Whippoorwill on the roof, landing softly.

Her mentor crouches low, staying out of view from the skylights. "HCPD believes there are three hostages and one hostile. I've got the go-ahead, but I need to be certain," she whispers to her protege. "Focus. You've been distracted lately, but I can't have any mistakes."

Wingblade looks hurt. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Later. Just do it."

She pushes everything else aside and extends her senses into the house. She closes her eyes, since they would do no good at this point. Focusing on just the sounds coming from the rooms below her, she soon picks out soft whimpering, then agitated breathing. Some soft shushing comes next. Footsteps, then the click of the hammer of a gun being cocked. The whimpering ceases, and the footsteps move back to where they started.

"I've got them. Three. Two sound young, one's trying to keep them calm. It's just one with a gun," Wingblade says, still not opening her eyes. Then she hears another sound, the softest creak of a floorboard. "Wait. There's another. Sounds muffled. Maybe someone in a closet?" She points in the direction of the sound.

When she opens her eyes, she's pointing at one of the skylights. Whippoorwill nods. "All right; on three, you go in and shield the hostages. Do not engage. I'll be right behind you."

Wingblade nods dutifully. Whippoorwill holds up one finger, then takes to the air. One, two, she thinks, falling back to her training automatically, not needing a vocal count.

Three!! Wingblade jumps into the air and corkscrews once before she hits the skylight wings first. With a loud crash, she's through the opening in the roof and inside the main living room of the house. The room stinks of gunpowder and fear, the most powerful source coming from the trio of hostages huddled on a couch. She interposes herself between them and the gunman, turning her back to him and spreading her wings as wide as possible.

Two shots ring out, and she feels the impact on her wings but nothing more serious. A second crash behind her signals Whippoorwill's arrival. After the resounding crack of her whip sounds, Wingblade glances behind her to see that her mentor had come through one of the bay windows and had effortlessly disarmed him with her signature whip. A couple follow-up nerve strikes sends the man to the ground twitching, giving Wingblade the chance to get the woman and the two children moving toward the door.

A TV stand had been pushed up against the front door, but a quick slash and kick sends the pieces out of the way, letting the hostages flee to the safety of the police outside. While Whippoorwill secures the gun and makes sure the man stays down, Wingblade goes back inside the house and finds the closet. She knocks gently, then says, "It's all right. Would you like to come out? We're here to help."

SWAT officers are soon storming the home. Wingblade gestures and points to the closet, letting them pull the youth from his hiding spot.

Whippoorwill looks to Wingblade after the perpetrator is in custody. She gives her the thumbs up. "Tell me if you got hit. I don't want you leaving a bullet inside you."

She shakes her head vigorously. "No, he hit my wings. They're fine. It was low-caliber. I barely felt them."

Whippoorwill nods, satisfied. "All right. Good job. But it's a school night, so get your friend home and then go home yourself. It's secure enough here."

"Okay," she says, coming down from the action high. She steps outside onto the front lawn of the house, then takes off. In seconds she's back to where she dropped off Bronwyn. "Hey! Mission accomplished," she calls out. "Ready to head home?"

Man, how long have they been working together? That happened so fast, so precise!

Uh, yeah. she says, jogging up behind Shayera, rubbing at her arms to keep them warm as she comes to a stop. She offers a grin with a blend of sheepishness and mischief, I couldn't help wanting to see you at work. I mean, you and Whippoorwill are such an amazing team. You're so lucky to have gotten to train with her.

Anyways, we're actually pretty close to my house; I can hoof it from here if you're tired of carting me around tonight.

Her expression turns softly earnest, But you should know, it was pure magic to get to see the world from up just below the clouds, she smirks, and I will literally run to the drugstore to buy dramamine by the case tomorrow morning if I can convince you to go flying again some night.

A shadow falls over her expression. I hope Whippoorwill'd still like to meet Bran. I know he'd be really crushed if he didn't get the chance.

Are you patrolling or training or anything tomorrow night? I'll be busy, but I can make sure Bran gets the message by then, and the earbud-comms-thing.

"I'll check with her about tomorrow," Wingblade says. She walks with her a little to make sure Bronwyn reaches a well-lit street. "It depends on how much homework I have, if I'm going out patrolling. And if Whippoorwill needs me. So I'll buzz him if I'm out."

She gives Bronwyn a wave and takes to the sky again, flying back to her Clock Tower.

======================

The next morning, Shayera was almost late due to a skyrail delay that ate deep into her morning. As she sat in the station watching the minutes tick by, she felt her wings twitch anxiously despite their intra-dimensional existence.

Nearly being late despite having a much more efficient mode of travel available to her put her in a sour mood. She raced through the halls and dashed into her chemistry class just ahead of the bell, finding her seat as Mr. Knight eyes her with distaste at her near-tardiness.

The rest of the morning gets slowly better until her first foray into Physical Education begins. Some of the girls notice and ask about her harness, to which she replies it's a brace for her spine. She covers it quickly with her shirt and heads out to the high-tech gymnasium, but couldn't help feeling like the other girls were looking at her like some sort of invalid.

The coaches had a volleyball net set up, and divided the girls into teams. The boys came out shortly afterward and set up their own volleyball match. Shayera needed to be told the rules and how the game is scored, but she quickly picked it up.

Shayera held herself back. She realized she could have performed extremely well, but given that she'd never played before and needed a crash course in the game, showing a high level of ability would draw unwanted attention to her. So she slowed herself down considerably and let every other hit go off somewhere else.

Toward the end of the period, the coaches swapped out a number of the boys with some of the girls, and Shayera was chosen (she couldn't help but get a "lucky" hit when she dove for the ball during a pivotal moment).

"Hey! New girl!"

Shayera's position had rotated so she was in front of the net, and the boy opposite her was Jeremy. "Shayera."

"Right. Not Japanese," he joked. "Relax, I'll go easy on you."

Shayera arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. The volleyball bounced and bounced between the sides. It came to her, and she smacked at it to set it up for her teammate to spike it, but Jeremy had jumped up to block it. The youth on her team, Antwan, hit the ball hard but it managed to get deflected off Jeremy's hands and back down on their side.

Wingblade could have avoided it, and maybe even put it back into play, but Shayera decided not to. The ball bounced hard against the side of her head. She'd been hit sooo much harder in her life as a super hero, but she sank to the floor anyway. The coach's whistle sounded and she was escorted off the court.

Despite her protests that she would be fine, the coach gave her a bag of ice for her head and told her to hit the showers. When the period was over, she was dressed and dried off and waving away the concerns from the other girls in the class.

Jeremy was waiting for her when she stepped out of the locker rooms. "I am so sorry. I blocked Ant's shot, but I didn't mean for it--"

"It's all right," she waves him off and keeps walking to her next class. She was used to taking a beating and it not being made a big deal since she healed so fast. She didn't feel comfortable with all the concern over nothing.

But Jeremy persisted. "Let me make it up to you. This weekend, my brother's coming home from college, and there's going to be a big party at my place. Lots of people are gonna be there. You should come."

Shayera stops in the middle of the hall and stares at him. Truth be told, she'd never been invited to a party. "Really?"

"Sure! You can be my guest. Friday night at eight. Here's my address," he says as he pulls out a pen and jots it down on her arm. She blinks at it, scarcely believing she'd been invited to a party, and all it took was a volleyball to the face.

=====================

At lunch, Shayera claims her tray and sits down outside with Bronwyn, Marco and the others. "Hi." She smiles briefly at them, then looks down at her plate of teriyaki stir fry. "So, volleyball was fun," she ventures.