Bran leaves Gae-Dearg pinning the tendril to the wall, digs in his heels and hauls at the tentacle wrapping around his leg. Still, the dreadful pressure remains as he inches closer to its toothy maw...
"There's no end to the freaks!"
"Light them up!"
A series of bullets start spraying out the guns hitting Thor Girl, or more accurately, bouncing off her divine armor. In a few seconds, the hail of bullets ceases, a mischievous Hashtag had flicked their ammo casuing them to drop to the ground. Reaching back, the enemy ops find that the rest of their regular ammo is missing.
Wingblade, under the mess of papers, books, and rotten wood can feel the aching of her wings. A thought crosses her mind in the haze of the shock and aching.
Is Wingblade nothing without her wings?
Bran get's pulled partially into the shadow's maw, and...and....he feels like its pulling him, draining him, as it bites down, it seems to be securing its hold on....her.
Bran was gone.
Bronwyn had arrived. And her mighty spear, glowing with her divine power, was on the other side of the room.
Oh shit! First thing's first, no armor anymore, means I should be flexible enough to do... THIS!
Bronwyn tucks her legs towards her chest and slowly shoves the creatures mouth back open with them, teeth still scraping at her back.
Okay, that settles it, definitely not switching my armor for- Nnngh -chiffon!
With the moment she's earned with her leverage, she stretches out and grabs the leg of a nearby desk.
Please.
And smashes it one-handed into what she's pretty sure is thing's head!
Mad science, dead bodies and gunfire. Dad's gonna have a fit about this, Eli thinks.
He's huddled behind a cubicle partition, hoping the thin metal of the filing cabinet he's leaning against will hold against a stray bullet. His heart is racing, and the gunfire has nearly blown his eardrums out. He's tempted to calm his nerves and slow his racing heart, but as he closes his eyes to try to shut out the world he feels the adrenaline crash over him like a wave. He'd learned by now that in times like these it was far more effective to ride the natural wave of his body's fight-or-flight response than to try to fight it.
And suddenly he really does go deaf. Wait, no... The gunshots have stopped! Not one to waste a moment, Bioshock supercharges his adrenaline and springs up, vaulting over the cubicle wall. In the air, gravity seems to lose its power and time slows, giving Bioshock the chance to look around. The guys with guns, looking confused. Hashtag behind them - the source of confusion, no doubt. A shadow - devouring somebody almost familiar. Thor Girl - a shining tower of defiance and turning her attentions on Evil.
And Wingblade -
Time returns to normal and Bioshock hits the ground, rolling to his feet. His heart racing, he charges toward the creature across the cluttered office space. Using a fallen cabinet as a step, he leaps, clearing the last of the distance, his fist wound back behind his head. Like an adreline-fueled cruise missile, he delivers his payload of a haymaker, his supercharged frame generating far more force than it should be capable of.
"I'm nothing without my wings!" Wingblade shouts at Whippoorwill during their training session. "I can barely move them, they hurt so bad! And without them, I'm worthless!"
She hangs her head, defeated, as her mentor lands lightly next to her. "Your wings don't define you. I understand how it feels, to lose what makes you special, but you can not give up. This is your opportunity to push beyond your limitations, by developing your other gifts."
"What gifts?" asks the girl, dejected.
"You're fast; faster than most. Your senses are sharp. You still heal quickly from injuries. You hit far above your weight class. I can count a dozen heroes who don't have those gifts," Whippoorwill says calmly.
She kneels down before her protégé. "You're only nothing if you give up."
* * *
The expected pounce and coup de grace did not come. With the brief moment allowing her to recover, she looks to see Bioshock engaging the thing. Wingblade pushes herself to her feet, popping her neck. Her remaining escrima stick twirls in her hand as she narrows her eyes. "My turn," she says menacingly. She charges the creature.
Bronwyn grabs the cubicle, the entire cubicle (with attached desk, computer equipment, etc), and smashes it against the shadow. The shadow loosen's its bite further than the small gap and Bronwyn hastily pulls herself out of its maw. However, in her haste, she catches her leg on one of its teeth and a long scratch stretches down the calf of her leg.
Bioshock delivers a punch that would shatter bones in most normal humans, and he delivers blow after blow immediately gaining the full attention of the creature. It opens its maw...
"This one is proving interesting."
A guttural growl emanates from the creature.
"Now if would stop killing the other test subjects in the trials, it'd be a perfect specimen."
Another growl.
"Or perhaps it is a perfect specimen."
The echoes of the past fade as it finds a fault in Bioshock's footing and it leaps.....
Only to be struck back by Wingblade's blows. It tries again, only to be hit back, harder. Again and again until, almost like a trained dog, it learns that leaping forward with this....predator... in its path was not the wisest idea...
The tactical invaders have drawn their secondary weapons, leaving their assault rifles to hang from the straps.
'Find that kid from earlier!" As for her...
The two on the side adjust the visors over their eyes, and you can see them flipping through a series of thermal, light spectrum, and other filters that could spot possibly invisible foes. The one in the middle, still holding his gun fires at Thor Girl. Bulletproof at default, Thor girl doesn't really see any reason to move, but the bullets begin to inflate rapidly as they connect with Thor girl.
As the first few bullets hit her and begin to expand, Skuld almost doesn't notice at first as she begins moving towards the creature. When she notices her movement being restricted, her eyes go wide as she begins to panic.
Skuld begins desperately trying to rip herself free from the blobs that are starting to contain her.
She manages to free herself from some of them, but not enough to completely be uninhibited. Also, she ends up using her super strength to do so, which has the side effect of causing her to pinball through the immediate area, at one point getting close to Bronwyn's battle with the shadow creature. As she does, Bronwyn can hear her muttering the same phrase to herself over and over again.
Jeez, when it rains it pours...
Bronwyn eyed Gae-Dearg, still stuck through a tendril of shadow. Not yet.
Despite having just escaped the strange creature's grasp, Bronwyn hurls herself back into the fray.
Bronwyn doesn't fight with a lot of technique. When she's Bran she knows what she's doing with her spear, mostly, but in hand-to-hand she mainly throws her weight and strength around, and tries not to do anything too damaging to the, well, mortals. It's very different from what she had learned before she had the slightest hint she'd be doing anything but running by herself:
Stay aware of your surroundings,
Avoid confrontations,
But if you can't... Don't hold anything back.
Well DUH! Soldiers, even big dumb bad guys, are going to carry sidearms! he thinks. Quit being a dumbass and figure out where you can do the most damage!
His eyes take in the whole situation, from the shadow things to the soldiers to... the f*ck, is that Bronwyn from school... and he takes a moment to Assess the Situation.
Wingblade quickly resorts to her training, finding a specific pattern in its attacks and countering each time with a hard strike from her weapon. The creature was ferocious, but not immune to pain. It finally stops its series of attacks that did nothing but earn a smack across the nose.
With the thing cowed for a moment, Wingblade's initial instinct was to move in to try to permanently disable it, but something about this whole place -- the thing that has had her on edge the whole time -- causes her to pause. This thing was an experiment, like she once was. Killer instincts developed and honed for the men in white coats' own purposes. While still ready to defend from another attack, she studies the creature. What was it, and did it have any mind besides that of a tortured animal?
Thor Girl rips off some of the strong restraining material, only to have more bullets take their place. It's a fierce process, and every rip takes an alarming amount of power.
Several tentacles shoot from the wall to grapple Bronwyn, they wrap around her arms and legs and begin to reel her in.
Then Bronwyn gets serious.
She jerks her arm back, and the tentacles are ripped from the wall with the sheer force. Gripping the faded black mass, she lashes at the shadows, dispersing them entirely. The fragments seem to race across the floor and integrate with the creature Wingblade is facing currently.
Hashtag surveys the scene. First things first. Yep, that is definitely Bronwyn from school. Whether it's some weird hologram or hallucination, you have no clue.
Secondly, against an unknown like the shadow beast, while teleportation could always give an edge, you know your wheelhouse is good-old chump soldiers. The tactical squad you've partially disarmed seem a bit better trained, but you've done pretty well regardless.
Wingblade gives up her current momentum and advantage to look for a connection. Sadly, it seems to only respect one thing most obviously.
Power.
Prove you have enough, and it will flee.
If it ever had a mind, it is most likely glad it cannot recall the terrible things it's done.
With its shadow form returned to it, the creature seems to grow faster, stronger, and slowly starts to fade into the darkness, it's echoing growling the only clue it is still stalking its prey.
Without warning, a large gash appears on Bioshock's leg, the streak of blood flying into the air.
"The beast is still active. We already copied the documents. I'm sending a purge command."
The leader of the squad pulls out a stick of some sort, flips the switch and presses the button. He throws it to the side, and the three of them begin retreating to the other side of the room where a medium sized hole (most likely their entry point) is. They all fire the restraining ammo at Thor Girl, Hashtag (if their equipment can see you, and Bronwyn.
Documents? I wanna see! Vick has a split second to react to the situation as they move to exit the way they came. He dives to the side, reaching out and tapping the backpack on the lead guy's person and thinking of the next place that popped up in his mind... Raccoon Buddy's place.
Seizing the opportunity to be concealed, Bronwyn slides towards Gae-Dearg on her good leg to rest her hand against the ancient spear's shaft, just as the first of the restraining bullets begins to spread across her form.
Wingblade shakes her head sadly when she realizes the creature is too far gone to be dealt with by anything but violence. The creature vanishes and a wound suddenly appears on Bioshock, causing Wingblade to launch back into action, attacking the space where the wound appeared.
Skuld continues to try and pull the goop off of her, growing more desperate (and destroying more scenery) as she does.
Hashtag reaches to try and secure additional intel, but before his hand contacts the backpack, he feels and painful grip on his wrist and twist it away.
"There you are, punk." the operative says, before pivoting his weight to chuck you against the nearby wall.
Bronwyn looks around frantically and realizes the cubicle she smashed has a small opening as its upside down. Her small frame can duck under quick, transform, and make a glorious reentrance as Bran.
Wingblade gets her head back into the fight, but the creature's fast movements are harder to keep up with. So she goes with reliable method.
She can feel the creature's teeth puncture her arm as she leaves it out in the open, and then smashes her other fist into what would have been its right eye. It cries out in what could only be its first original noise its made in this battle, and it hurriedly backs off, stalking you cautiously at the edges.
Thor Girl rips, and rips, and rips becoming almost a whirl of terrifying destructive and panicked force. Eventually she is able to successfully free herself of all the goopy bonds, just in time to see the three operatives wink out of existence. The small beeping transmitter blinking where they left it.
And then everyone with enhanced hearing catches a new element. The continuous exhaust of rocket fuel getting closer and closer, from far distance. You're not in immediate danger, but the clock is ticking.
The spec-ops have fighting experience, but Vick's been getting thrashed by tougher (and stronger) people than them for a long time now. Just before Vick strikes the wall he vanishes in a crack barely heard over the sounds of battle and Thor girl's rampage.
"Just a Punk? That's insulting!" Hashtag exclaims, standing in the middle of them. "I've been working hard for years to be more than just a punk."
Hashtag holds up the backpack before it goes away. This time to the correct safe spot to keep it until they're done there.
"I'm a Hero, jerks!" he crows as they disappear.
Noticing that she is free, Skuld is still very much afraid. As the enemies that covered her in goop disappeared, Skuld instead turns to the remaining enemy and with a massive burst of wind appears next to it. She screams at it in the hopes of drawing it's attention.
Predictable, Wingblade thinks as the creature chomps down on her arm. She twists and sends her hand reaching down its throat for her other escrima stick. When she clasps her hand around it, she brings the other one down hard on its head, then activates them both.
With the resources and tech available to Whippoorwill, she would not have sent her protégé into battle with a mundane pair of sticks. The batons each contain an array of features, including powerful magnets on each end to allow the two sticks to become one long staff.
Wingblade activates that feature and now has a staff lodged halfway down the thing's throat. She pries hard on it, causing it to open its mouth and free her arm, then spins, wrenching the creature's neck in a painful twist.
Once again sending the monster retreating, Wingblade's battlefield awareness catches up to her. Alarm bells ring in her mind as she realizes the human commandos were moments away from completing their mission. They could either try to stop them from scrubbing the data or get the backups from the operatives. And given they had no one that tech-savvy, she makes her decision.
"Look sharp! Soldier-boys have evac inbound! Do not let them leave!! We keep them here until we get the data that they've taken from this place! Got it?"
She races across the office building to engage the operatives, making a feint up as if she were going to use her wings to gain altitude but then drops into a slide to go through his legs. She comes up to make a grab for operative number two's pack.
9
Bran emerges from the shadows, with burst links in his chainmail serving as testament to his battle against the shadowy creatures.
He charged across the rooms, scattering various pieces of furniture in a bow wave before him as he goes, only to let out a curse as the mysterious operatives vanish, leaving only one of their packs behind in Wingblade's clutches. And of course the beeping transmitter.
If it goes off on a timer, it must be possible to deactivate!
He scoops up the small device and hastily looks for an off switch. Or should I just smash it?
Or perhaps it is a perfect specimen...
The words send a primal chill of fear up Bioshock's spine, and he recoils from the creature. The vision comes back to him unbidden - his shriveled body, floating in a vat of biofluids in another creepy lab. Maybe even this one. A bad future.
One that could still come to pass.
Bioshock's nightmare reverie is broken by the pain of very real teeth in his leg as his jeans are torn ragged. The pain cuts through his adrenal surge, and he can feel his system headed for a crash. It's all he can do to try to deaden the pain a little.
"F+~$!" As both the creature and the soldiers escape, Bioshock punches a nearby cubicle, but during his comedown the only things he's threatening are the bones in his hand.
He hadn't even wanted to come here. He'd had a bad feeling about it since the beginning, no matter how hard he'd tried to ignore it or explain it away. And what did they have to show for it? Nothing. Their only lead had escaped, and he was in no shape to go chasing after them. Another flare of anger burns through him when Wingblade starts barking orders. "Oh yes, brave and fearless leader. Brilliant tactical thinking. There's just one little problem - they're already gone!"
As Hashtag reaches for the bag, he finds that the operatives aren't just special equipment as the moment he tries to grab the pack, another operative lashes out at him with a knife.
In that moment, Wingblade vaults into the fray and makes bid for the bag as well. Another operative sees her in that fraction of the second and pulls the trigger on his sidearm. Between the two young heroes, the bag is successfully reclaimed just as the operatives wink out of existence. However, it wasn't a flawless execution.
Thor girl takes an aggressive stance against the creature as one problem disappears. It seems weary, but responds with a series of a distinct assortment of screams that seem to tie together, each from a different human it has recorded.
Bran picks up the device and starts to flip it around, trying to discern a way to shut it off.
There isn't one.
This is a transmitter, having already sent the coordinates to....something...something getting closer and closer with every passing second.
As Bioshock lashes out, the creature, still stalking the edges of the battered and broken cubicles, perks up, as if, to sense the danger. Then in a dash as fast as a hunting animal, it attempts to jump out of the hole in the roof, only to have its shadowy form break apart at some kind of invisible barrier. It reforms at the floor, as it desperately thrusts itself against the seemingly open hole.
The small humming you all hear, stops. The soft blue light outlining the building dissipates, and yet the creature still cannot get out.
Hashtag feels a moment of triumph as the bag disappears off the commander, followed by a shock of icy cold running through his gut. The men disappear, and Vick looks down to see something odd.
I... what's a handle doing there? he thinks, realizing after a pregnant pause that it's attached to a knife blade jutting into his gut. A stream of blood leaks from his mouth as he sinks to his knees with a wince.
"Shit." he mutters, looking at Wingblade with a pained look on his face. "They ruined my shirt..."
He falls to his side, unconscious.
Skuld screams at it again and then snatches one of it's tentacles, slowly drawing it towards her.
Bran's voice takes on a sharp note, Skuld, I fear a greater threat approaches. Thus far the beast cannot escape, we need to leave, now! Your winds may be our only path to safety.
He kneels down beside Hashtag, removing his helmet to get a better look at the wound.
We can't keep doing this. We can't keep barely escaping.
God, he's got powers, but he's just a kid too; this shouldn't happen to him. He's just trying to help people.
I don't know how to help him.
"No! Nononono," Wingblade says as she tries to staunch the bleeding.
She looks up to sense the incoming ordnance on their position.
"Get them out of here!" Wingblade says as she moves to the hole in the building facing the incoming missile.
She passes the backpack she grabbed from the soldier before he jumped out of there. Then she extends her senses and extends her wings. "This is going to hurt..." she mutters.
Bran looks up in horror as he hears the familiar sound of Shayera spreading her wings.
Is she crazy! What's wrong with her? Why does she always have to throw herself into the meatgrinder. Oh God, what if she can't heal this time, she could cripple her wings, she might even... No. That won't happen.
Not trusting himself with words for a moment, Bran locks eyes with Shayera, his broad face showing his fear, but his trust and his faith as well.
Before she takes off, he says simply, The sky is yours. Get back up there.
Please keep her safe.
As Bran begins to speak, Skuld starts to calm down. Seeing Wingblade standing with her wings furled in a protective posture, she will say in a shaky voice "What is the object that streaks towards us, and where did that pretty young girl go?" as she releases the creature as an afterthought.
Wingblade turns her head and smiles at Bran. "Thanks. It's where I belong. And Skuld, she'll be safe, don't worry."
She flies. There's pain, but she pushes it aside and focuses on measured, steady beats to intercept the missile.
She picks out the incoming projectile against the sky and angles her flight. She didn't have much of a plan, just spread her bladelike pinfeathers out and hope she shreds the missile as it flies past, sending it careening out of control and directly to the ground.
With her teammates below her, Wingblade pushes her body in a manner similar to Bioshock, straining every ounce of power as she hurtled upwards against gravity and towards what would mostly be imminent destruction.
She could see it above her, a missile hurtling towards the building, with what she could estimate, a payload with enough power to wipe the building out completely.
Options
1. Forgo the roll. Wingblade dies in a sacrifice to save her team, choosing to collide with the missile.
2. Roll a Directly engage a threat. Add +2 for each wing you decide to sacrifice to try and stop the missile.
3. Roll Unleash your powers. Add +2 for each wing you decide to sacrifice to try and deter the missile.
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Wingblade -- no, Shayera -- pushes herself into the sky. The missile became almost an afterthought. She was flying again, and it felt wonderful. The air rushes past her eyes, making them water. Tears streak across her cheeks as she puts her wings to use. They beat powerfully behind her, catching the wind and driving her upward to dizzying heights.
She stretches her arms out wide to feel the wind rushing through her fingers. Sound is lost to the air roaring in her ears. She sees the incoming missile bearing a massive payload and decides that wherever it strikes, people will die. If she misses it, her friends will die.
There was only one choice, really.
She angles her flight to meet it, spreading her wings in their broadest configuration.
Huh. My wings don't hurt anymo--
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The men in lab technicians stare at the screens which have gone to static. They exchange a look between them, then back to the screens. One begins fiddling with some controls, then shakes his head.
"We've lost the feed, sir."
"I can bloody well see that. Is there any sign it survived?"
"Negative, sir. All bio-readouts are gone."
"The Board is not going to like this."
"Yes, sir. But, we've received zettabytes of information from the subject. The combat protocols alone are--"
"Spare me. It learned self-sacrifice. That wasn't supposed to happen."
"It was far too early for introduction to the field, sir. But that was taken out of our hands. The number of variables it encountered were incalculable. There's no way we could've predicted this."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? We've barely begun to scrub the social interactions from the combat protocols, and now we've lost the asset! The Board will want to move ahead to Phase Three!"
"Sir, would they? That asset--"
"Is everything Project Wingblade isn't. And upgraded with combat instructions by Briana McClaine herself? It will be unstoppable."
"Yes, sir."
"I will prepare the report for the Board. Continue with the scrubbing; Phase Three will need to be ready for deployment in forty-eight hours."
"I-- yes, sir."
"Pull in Heppner if you need to. She'll take a special interest with this."
How does one face tomorrow, when their mind can't leave the present? Grief is that tremendous weight that demands one's attention at every waking moment, and perhaps, even in dreams as well.
The team returns to Halycon City, battered and broken in more ways than one.
When news of what has occurred comes to light, several changes occur in rapid haste.
The team is immediately and officially disbanded by the Defenders. Any and all acts from this point will no longer have their involvement and any discovery of vigilante work will be harshly reprimanded.
Eventually, news leaks to the media and politicians begin introducing legislation limiting the work of teen heroes without proper accreditation and supervision. The top two pieces that are to be voted on in the following months would be the SIDEKICK provision and the PERMIT allowance.
As for the team....
Well....
We all grieve in our own ways.
For her part, she hadn't known Wingblade that long, but she understood a warrior's sacrifice when she saw one. During her funeral, Skuld would recite the Battle Song of the Valkyries
During the ensuing days, Skuld would try to avert public sentiment away from blaming anyone in their group and towards the men who had fired the missile in the first place (although she likely was stymied in making inroads into learning who they were, or where they got a cruise missile).
Skuld also vehemently denied that Wingblade was anything but a hero and warrior who died saving others. This nearly brought her to blows with several established heroes when they suggest that investigating the lab was "reckless".
Discovering that she was not allowed to use her powers, Skuld instead enrolled in the school that Wingblade was attending.
Even when dressed as a Human girl however, she stood out, both in speech and behavior.
She didn't remember getting home.
The moment the missile hit Sh- The moment the missile hit, a cold spike of pain had rammed through her chest.
There was a tremendous shockwave, an explosion that shattered windows and sent shrapnel flying in all directions, but all she could hear was the terrible emptiness of a song silenced mid-note.
She didn't remember getting home.
Maybe Bran did it? I sure wasn't... I hadn't.. Maybe it was him.
She kept trying to figure it out. Poking at it like a missing tooth. Some days it even worked to keep her from thinking about what was really missing.
I need to get dressed. I can't just...
I can't just go later. I have to do this today, I have to-
"Get back up there."
***********
Her dad found her sobbing into her pillow a few minutes later when he came to check on her, Oh Bron, mi nina linda. I'm so sorry. He held her for a little bit, but after about a minute he put on his problem-solving-face, Now you don't have to go today. You can visit her later. But if you want to say goodbye with everyone else, you have to start now.
...I know.
So what's it gonna be? I'm here to help either way.
I'm getting dressed. He gave her one more squeeze, Probably you'll want a shower too. Dios te bendiga. I'll be downstairs with the car when you're ready.
************
The service was small. She didn't speak.
She knew that Shayera wasn't really religious; she didn't want to say a prayer for her that Shayera would have never asked for, and even if she could have stood up and gotten more than two words out...
What would she say?
She did it to save people. It's who she was.
The first day I met her, I saw her take a bullet she didn't have to, because she was afraid someone else would get hurt with a ricochet. The life she'd had, the place she'd come from... She cared so much about protecting people, protecting people so they didn't ever have to be hurt the way she was.
The service kept going. People said lovely things, true things about Shayera. It still didn't fit, still didn't make sense. She was the only one who'd walked away from Balor without a scratch. She couldn't just be gone! But that feeling she had when Shayera was hurt... There was nothing there now.
"She'll be safe, don't worry."
God, she kept me safe like she said. She went through hell on earth; hold her in your skies.
She had every right to be a monster, to be an animal instead of an... She realized she was staring at a winged statue in the cemetery.
Bronwyn smiled a little, tears welling up again as she did, She'd laugh at me - at best! - if she knew I just thought that. If she were here she'd... the smile broke, I'll never know what she would have said if I told her.
She looked over at Eli, I can do better. He deserves to know. I can't just wait until... I'll tell him.
When Vick awoke in a hospital room, he was frustrated. When he heard the news of Shayera's passing, his heart fell. Before he could even start to cope with her loss, he heard (from Eli) that the Defenders disbanded THEM, for doing a mission that they had given them. Hashtag was pushed to a new level of furious he had never even thought possible.
It was at that moment he understood how his mother killed two heroes in an instant. It would have been easy. So goddamn easy it would have been like breathing. Hell, he could have gotten away with it too. Break a thermometer, teleport the mercury into a certain a#!~~+& hero's brain. Vick considered it.
But he couldn't. He had raged to himself long enough that the hot edge of his fury cooled. He knew it would only further disappoint everyone else. But what was worse about ALL OF IT was that her sacrifice meant absolutely nothing. The data he had gotten knifed to secure... No one even cared about it anymore. She died for nothing.
He didn't even know what to do with the data, so it sat untouched in the credenza in his foster family's living room. It's not like he had TOLD anyone where it was or what happened to it, and after hearing about their disbanding he had held onto it out of spite.
Instead, he spent the night, every night, doing his thing. Shayera's picture was graffitied over any surface he could find within a 20 mile radius of her clocktower base. To the point where he had to start nicking cans of spraypaint to finish them.
Shayera is found all over the city, her wings outspread to shield the faceless suffering from harm, carry them from burned-out buildings, or hold the dark alleyways at bay. The pictures look almost religious, and obviously rendered with great care and affection. Each painting is photographed before anyone can remove them or paint over them, and soon social media is flooded with various shots.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hashtag may never forgive the Defenders for screwing them so badly.
The first time Bronwyn saw one of Vick's homages she put her fist through the brick wall it was painted on.
It happened before she could even think about it. One moment she was on a 3am sprint through the streets at top speed, practically daring someone to wake up and see her, the next, there was Shayera, carrying someone to safety like a guardian angel.
But she's not! She doesn't get to be there, reminding me she's gone when she's not - here!
***********
The second time she saw one, she was ready. She'd been staying away from the clocktower, but she had promised herself that she needed to get... something to remember Her by. She wasn't ready to have it yet, but she needed to get whatever it was going to be soon, while she still could. She could put it in a box or something until she was ready.
She thought about turning back, but Whippoorwill already knew that she was going to come by to help go through some of Shayera's things. She'd said that she would be there. And she was ready. She even knew where this picture was from some posts she'd seen of it. That helped.
This would be a lot easier if Hashtag sucked at this.
She couldn't help but tremble a little, but she stared wall-Shayera down. She didn't break anything; she didn't tear the scabs on her knuckles back open.
After a few long moments she walked away, her legs wooden and shaky. It's good he's not letting them forget her. It's good. Just gotta find the good.
"What punishments of Gods are not gifts?" That sounds good already, just have to make it true.
***********
The third time was a good bit later. She'd started helping people again.
No one thought it was too odd that she wanted to bury herself in projects and practice, so finding the time at the MakeSpace to repair Bran's armor was easy.
She still wasn't sleeping well, so finding the time at night to make a difference as Bran was even easier.
Thinking about what happened was still like forcing herself to grab a hot coal. It was easier to keep moving forward.
Keep throwing the javelin, keep helping people, keep running.
She'd cut her hair short, I was always having to put it up to get it out of my way anyways. With all the speed-of-traffic sprinting she'd been doing it kept coming loose no matter what she did. This is just more practical anyways. When it got loose like that it reminded her too much of some of the more hair-raising dives they'd taken on their flights through the city. Even Mom says she likes it now that she's used to it.
She still didn't like seeing Her everywhere. She'd almost gotten her tears to only go with her Sunday prayers, but whenever she came to this part of town, the pictures made it harder, made her lock her eyes forward so they wouldn't stop her cold. Keep moving.
She didn't look at the whole picture, but she let herself admire how evocative each of the parts were, how much of himself he'd poured into his one-man crusade for Shayera's legacy.
He's hurting too. I don't think I can help him as Bronwyn. But Bran can still let him know he's not alone in this. I can let him know we're still a team. I can make sure he knows that the Defenders don't get to decide what her sacrifice means.
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Eli seemed to be doing alright. Everything was pretty much normal for him, as far as anybody could tell. Maybe he was a little shook up from recent events, but who wouldn't be? When Vick woke up, Eli was smiling by his bedside, talking him through the aftermath. At Shayera's funeral, he was there to give Bronwyn a reassuring smile - everything was going to be alright. Everywhere he went, that goofy smile never left his face. After all, life goes on, doesn't it?
Doesn't it?
= = = = = = = = = =
It wasn't Eli's fault, really. Shayera - Wingblade - was gone, sure, and that was terrible. It stung, a little, when he thought about it. But he didn't think about it much. It was hard to think about something sad like that when the world was just so great! The sunshine was always warm on his skin and there seemed to be music in the air everywhere he went. When he bit into a piece of chocolate, or an ice cream cone, or sipped an eggcream, the flavor practically exploded on his tongue! Somebody must have turned up the color brightness knob on the world, and had Bronwyn's Tropical Passion ever smelled so sweet?
When Eli woke up in the morning, he was up. When he brushed his teeth, his mouth felt so clean his teeth must have had smiles! Breakfast fell upon him like so much manna and quail, gifts from Heaven, and it seemed like his whole life before was spent wandering in the desert and he'd finally come into the Promised Land.
After the team recovered the data on the power-enhancing drug, the Defenders had upgraded each of them to full members, spinning them off into a covert strike force operating out of the Clocktower. Wingblade was team captain, naturally. Missions kept rolling in, and before long they were trotting the globe to stop supervillains in their tracks. They fought off a mutant T-Rex in Tokyo, hunted down a shape-shifting alien parasite in Antarctica, and rescued the Holy Grail from some Nazis outside Istanbul! Meanwhile, Marco and Bronwyn drifted apart, but Eli was there for support. Graduation came too soon, and Eli scored a full ride to the Halcyon Institute of Science and Technology, and when he came home for Christmas Hannukah winter break, Mom was home. After a tearful reunion, they were a family again for the first time in over a decade.
= = = = = = = = = =
An untraceable anonymous tip patched through to the Clocktower and broadcast to the remaining comm units. Urgent help needed at 1400 Greenwood Avenue. Eli's house.
They found him in the lab. He was lying in his bioanalysis unit, that goofy grin still plastered on his face. He wasn't moving. The unit's display showed a chart of Eli's blood chemistry, gnarly sinusoids fluctuating dangerously before hitting a flatline. At the desk, the computer monitor flashed and angry red, blaring an emergency message: TOTAL ENDOCRINE SYSTEM FAILURE.
u up 4 an eggcream? i rly need 2 get out of the house. Something we should talk about too.
***************
Even though Eli'd offered to share, Bronwyn had pointedly ordered her own drink with an eyeroll and a smile, which she didn't notice was her first that day.
It seemed like he was doing well, pretty peppy in fact. She kept having to tune back into whatever it was he was talking about; she was still trying to figure out if there was a segue that existed that smoothly went from how beautiful the weather was today to So you know that Bran guy? Sometimes I'm him.
I guess it's been a little bit though. We're not even really supposed to keep helping people... No, stop it. You're just stalling! You got Gae-Dearg for a reason. You've gotta get back-
...you can't give up either.
She was wearing her favorite Marco-hoodie, so she had to shake her bracelet out of the sleeve before she could show Eli what she was talking about, Hey Eli? Eli! Sorry, just... she idly toyed with the shrunken down Spear, There's something that I need you to know...
Bronwyn had actually been making all her scheduled practices again, so she didn't need to do the early morning make-up runs or weight room conditioning. But it wasn't like she'd be sleeping anyways so there she was.
The weight room wasn't as much fun for her as it had been in the past. It was really important for javelin, which had always been her best event, but it was a lot harder than in running to hide how easy everything there was to lift. Is there a Curves for supers? 'Cause working on form is all well and good, but I'm never going to get anywhere pretending benching my weight is still noticeable.
Marco was still going to all the early practices with her, which helped a lot. I've gotta make more time for him. I feel like I've barely seen him since- barely seen him recently.
Not that he was doing anything to make her feel guilty! That had always been one of the things she liked about Marco, even before dating him even occurred to her.
When one of their friends was going through hard times he had a knack for knowing when they needed to be left alone, or if they needed to have someone there to be a cheer squad, a distraction, a shoulder to cry one, or just to be there so you weren't alone.
Thinking about the way she'd ghosted on the team since the funeral, she gloomed, I'm not always great at that.
Impulsively she went over to where he was doing leg presses and engulfed him in a rib-creaker of a hug. Normally she avoided PDAs at practice (a little more so than Marco would've preferred), but today she really needed that hug. Even if he did workout-stink more than a little.
****
A quick shower and change into a tanktop and cutoffs later (it was weirdly warm already today), she was just about ready to deal with the rest of the day. There was a new girl who was transferring in, but Bronwyn wasn't going to be her guide for the day. The folks at the office had correctly guessed that Bronwyn wasn't quite up to her normal level of enthusiasm, especially for that. Though from the sheer amount of gossip she heard by the end of first period, the new girl was certainly making a splash! Though Bronwyn was pretty sure some of those rumors weren't true - she didn't think Finland even had princesses...
****
At the first class break she met up with Marco and headed over to meet up with the rest of the group at their table, but there was a Huge knot of students right in the way.
It must be the New Girl, he opined, I don't know why people are so obsessed. She can't be that pretty.
The penny dropped.
A Finnish princess who sorta is that pretty? I mean I know I'm right, but I should really double check... Though what am I even gonna say if it is her?
She worked her way towards where the goddess stood in the middle of the small crowd, God look at her skin. I bet she's never even heard of concealer. It's okay to hate her just a little for that, right?
Hey!
With a grumpy hip-check she jostled Marco, who had definitely been gawking as he tried to introduce himself to Skuld. Hi there. How you doing.
Skuld seemed confused during her first day at this institution called school. Everyone was really nice to her, but they all seemed to insist that she was hot. Skuld did not know what to say to that, except that she felt fine, which elicited laughter from the boys who all seemed to want to help her.
When she looked down at her identity papers, the "id card" that told the world her name was Skuld Odsdottir, along with documentation saying that she was the daughter of a Finnish duke, she was unsure of what to do. She was indeed royalty, but it still felt like a deception, and her father had a very clear policy of always telling the truth, which he learned "in his younger days".
Really, it was sort of overwhelming. So many people wanted to just be near her and ask her about everything, and all she could do was make vague generalities.
This experiment was quickly turning tedious. It was clear after a few minutes that none of these people were warriors, nor did they have any interest in protecting the common man. They mostly talked about famous people and how good looking they are.
When she accidentally mentioned that she knew Nick, several of the girls around her gave her an evil look and then left, while several more asked her a great multitude of questions about him.
What was he like?
What kind of girl did he like?
Had they ever "Hooked up"?
Skuld was almost at the point of just flying away, just so she would not have to listen to them speak any further, when a young boy approached the circle of people around her, leading the prettiest girl she had seen in a while.
Maybe ever thought Skuld as she looked at her.
Dark hair cut short like her mother's, pouty lips, firm shape yet not without curves. She realized that boy had said something to her, but she took another look and then tried to think about what he had said.
"Ummm. Hello. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." she said politely. She did her best to look at the boy, but she kept stealing sidelong glances at...her.
Turning to the others, Skuld said quickly "If you'll excuse me, she has promised to show me around the school, and I would hate to refuse such a delightful offer. I would be happy to speak to you all at another time." and without a further word, she takes Bronwyn's hand and leads her away, so quickly that no one thinks to follow until they are out of sight.
Finding a safe place out of sight, Skuld turned to Bronwyn and studied her intently before leaning in to examine her more closely. Finally, she began to speak "First, thank you for saving me. I feared that there were only false people here, until I saw you. Please, what is your name, and tell me where I have seen you before? You are familiar to me."
Oh crap, she's looking at me. She saw me when- she saw me back at that hospital, and she remembered me, and since she's just here AS SKULD, she doesn't care about secret identities or people staring at her or anything, so who knows what she's gonna say next!
As Skuld took her hand and started walking off she quickly told Marco, Hey-sorry-I'll-talk-to-you-after-class! Okay, voice got a little high-pitched there, nothing to worry about.
Once they'd ducked behind a shed which held some athletic equipment, Bronwyn just stood there for a moment, tensed up to start explaining. I'm just glad no one was back here smoking or making out with each other.
Skuld leaned in, a little closer than Bronwyn had expected, after a moment, Bronwyn Is she doing some sort of god-thing? Like with the language?
When Skuld finally explained herself, Bronwyn narrowly avoided sighing in relief. With a smile she explained, Well I don't know about saving you, if I understand correctly, you can take care of yourself. I'm Bronwyn, uh, Bronwyn Pascal. I guess if you read the Halcyon Herald, my picture was in the sports section about a year ago, and... she swallowed, I was at Shayera's funeral. I really liked your song. I think she would have liked it too.
Blinking a little bit, she puts a smile back on her face and quickly moves on, I think you should give the rest of us here another chance. Right now you're new and shiny, and well, you're really really pretty, so I'm sure a lot of people are kinda overdoing it. They'll calm down, Skuld, you'll see.
At Bronwyn's compliment, Skuld chuckled and said "I am pretty, but you are beautiful. You also have a strong name, and one that is worthy of respect."
At the mention of Shayara, Skuld sighed and said "She was a warrior who stood against the forces of evil, trying to protect others. Surely she rides in the halls of Valhalla. She did not turn from her father's face."
"As for the others here, they seem only interested in the superficial, and they seem to be cruel to others without cause. Don't the strong protect the weak here?"
Skuld blushes for a moment, then pulls back and says "I apologize. I have pulled you away from your lover, and that was not my place to do. What is this man's name, that has stolen your heart so?"
A little color touched Bronwyn's cheeks as well, but she brushed off Skuld's compliment to defend her fellow Hornets. I'm just saying, don't write people off too early. You've gotta let 'em surprise you for the better some times. There are plenty of people who step up when there's a need.
Oh, and he's not my lover! He's my boyfriend! And his name is Marco, since you asked. She smiles, He's one of the good ones.
A thought seems to strike her, So... are you really from Asgard? Is Valhalla actually a place you can visit? Sha- she told me she didn't think you were just someone in a costume, but... is that stuff really real?
========================================================================
A month has passed since Shayera's passing, and our young are adrift in mess of emotion. Still, the city does not stay still, and it seems as the days go on, the city becomes more and more dangerous.
Earl Grey had died. He was found slain in his apartment his throat slit in his bathrobe, a kettle of water long overboiled on the stove. Even Foresight didn't see it coming, The old man has spent the last few days sitting at the local park, sitting at one of the stone chess tables. In his hand, a small cup of joe, on the seat across from him, a cup of earl grey.
Blink, Hashtag's mother, has been allowed out of parole to shore up the Defender's numbers. She wasn't hesitant at first, given what her son had told her (I'm assuming here...), but the freedom to use her powers and keep an eye on what seemed like a floundering hero organization led her to accept the offer. She stays there now, making sure to check in every night.
Deputy Atoms had sent word to both the Defenders and his old comrades that, the compression of the nova energy was almost completed. During his time up in space, he realized the usefulness of position and has begun planning a design for an orbiting base.
Ghost Dragon also sends word that he's been accepted into a pre-med at the local university. Included is a picture of him with his girlfriend, smiling as he holds up his acceptance letter.
Life moves on.
At least, it should.
Around 1 am, each one of you receives an emergency ping on the comm unit, something no one had the foresight to take from you. It's a summons to the clocktower.