Acadian: The old man certainly does not seem like an arch nemesis does he? We will learn more about him this episode, and January will unconsciously begin defining her Stormcrow Doctrine.


Renee: January and Lighthammer are not part of an official team or anything. They are just training with each other, each for their own agenda. In fact, LH did try to recruit January for a mission, and she turned him down.

We will see a lot more of the old man this episode, and find out if he is smooth, or just does not give a damn anymore.

I really do not have any plans for using the African Goddess again. But hey, you never know.


treydog: Wow, thank you for that info on Beatrice. When I was writing the chapter I did a search and could not find anything about the building. There are just too many Beatrices in the world. But once I realized it was a food company, then it came right up on Google. I even found an urban explorer's blog post about the building.

I see you caught all the things I had floating in my mind when I was writing. Numidium, Archie and Jughead, etc...


Darkness Eternal: Like I said to Renee, I did not really have any plans on using the African Goddess again after that one scene. But given that she is so popular, who knows?

I am glad the battered but enduring spirit of Detroit is showing through in the story. This city has character, a lot of it not good, but character nonetheless.

Avery has all the cool that January lacks. He is a lot of fun to write. He is that friend you wish you had IRL. But as the scene with his Nana shows, his life is not all that great either.






Faraday Cage

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Roman Pugio




Book 2.12 - Stormcrow Recycled

"Are you getting all of this Gadget?" January said under her breath. Her friend had been strangely silent ever since she had entered the lair. Her eyes travelled back to the copper lattice that surrounded the room, and suddenly she understood why.

"Yes, it's a Faraday Cage," the old man crowed. "No signals go in or out, except those I want to."

"That's pretty clever old timer," January said. She kept one eye on the Face-Bot - Archimedes. He floated in the air behind the old man now, still throwing out sparks from his face and the top of his head. The deadly robot looked like nothing so much as a scared puppy now. January was not sure if that should make her feel proud, or ashamed?

"What are you, the Fred Sanford of supervillains?" January looked at the mountain of junk around the old man.

"I am no joke!" The old man exploded. He hurled the wrench he was holding down to the concrete for emphasis. Then he kicked at a pile of junk, and his face screwed up in pain. He reached down to massage his toes, and plopped down on a long bench car seat that was draped with wiring.

That brought a pang of sympathy to January's heart. Even when he tried to make an impassioned declaration, it just turned out to make him look the fool. She could relate.

"Oh who am I kidding," he sighed. "My whole life is nothing but a joke. The wife left me and moved to Connecticut. My kids grew up and they left too, for California. Everyone just can't wait to get as far away from me as possible. Everything I've ever done, all I have ever been, it's all garbage. All I've ever done is take old junk and turn it into new junk."

"For once in my life I just wanted to make something that wasn't junk," he lamented. "Something that people would respect. Something that was real."

"I'm sorry to hear that old timer."

He hardly looked like a master criminal at all. Now that she was up close and personal, he was just a man. Just a frail, old, ordinary man whom life had apparently taken a giant dump all over. January realized that she might be allowing her own past to cloud her judgment. But she could not sense any menace or subterfuge in the old man. He just looked sad and alone, something she could relate with all too well.

January sat down beside him on the long car seat. Maybe she could resolve this without any more punching? She hoped so. Once again, she wished she had invested more experience points in her Speech skill.

"I know what it's like to feel that you are nothing but garbage," she related. All she could do was be honest, and hope for the best. "That your entire life is just a bad joke."

"You don't look like no one to complain, cute little white girl like you." The old man's eyebrows drew together like twin beetles perched above his tired eyes.

"I wish." January reached into one of the pouches on her utility belt and pulled out her Hamsung J1. "I can't even afford a real phone. See this? $50, and that was years ago. My tablet was half that, and I had to wait for it to go on sale. My book reader is freeware. I couldn't even afford to buy the books I have to do reports on. I have to download them from open-source sites."

January turned on her phone and swiped it open. She opened her book reader app, and showed him her copy of Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus.

"Mary Shelley died two hundred years ago, so it's completely legal," January explained.

Now it was time for some real honesty. January pretended she was twelve, and back in the psychiatrist's office.

"Sometimes I feel like she was writing this book about me. She just didn't know it."

"Is that how you feel?" he said softly. "Like Frankenstein?"

"Like his monster." January said. "Frankenstein was the doctor who created him. Everyone mixes that up. But yeah, that's who I relate to. Not the protagonist, but the villain. That's what everyone says I am."

"Are you kidding?" the old man scoffed. "Even in here I've heard of the Stormcrow. You stopped that blood diamond guy. I heard he went up for twenty years. Plus all those other guys he was bribing."

"That's not what I mean." January shook her head. "This armor, it's not the real me. Underneath, I don't know what I am. I just know I wasn't born right. This body of mine, it feels like garbage. Someone else's cast off. It feels like some thief sneaked in one night and stole my real body, and left me this crap instead. It's not who I'm supposed to be. I don't know if I'll ever be the real me."

"Sounds like you got some serious issues missy, for someone so young," the old man said.

"You have no idea old man... A life does not have to be long to be filled with horror and loathing," January mourned. "But look at you. Why are you so down? I can't believe the things you can do with this stuff."

"With this junk!" he slapped a hand down on the car seat, and pile of screws and pipes clattered to the floor. "My whole life has been garbage."

"I think it looks great," January admitted. "Sure, people threw this stuff out. But what you've done with it, this is magic. You know that you're a meta, don't you? These things you've done, they're beyond everyday science and engineering. You built what, two new trucks out of scrap. You remote controlled them across town. Or did they drive themselves? You built that flying Archimedes thing. No, you birthed it, because it's alive. It thinks, it feels. He thinks, and feels."

"I think you're great," January said, still being honest. "And I think taking old junk, and turning it into something new again, something useful, that works, is nothing to sneeze at. Not to get preachy and all, but have you heard of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch? It's bigger than Texas now. We - as in we as a people - need to do something about all this garbage we create. You are already there!"

"Shit, I ain't doing nothing," the old man said. "I've seen your type. You're just another naive little idealist. Wait 'till you get a breath of the real world."

January pulled down the sleeve of her armor, and revealed the upraised scars that crossed her wrist. Then she switched hands, and did the same with the other arm.

"This real enough for you," January frowned. "My dad had a Roman dagger. This big, thick beast called pugio. He used to be a reenactor. I did that on my twelfth birthday, because I could not live with the world I was trapped in. Idealism isn't something I suffer from. It's realism. I am trapped by the horror of reality. I see it every day when I look in the mirror."

"What's so bad it made you do that?" the old man stared at the scars.

"Life," January replied. "I see a lot of doctors claim that women who attempt suicide are just crying out for help. I want to smash their teeth in. People attempt suicide because the pain of living has become too much to bear."

"So how did you go from that, to this?" the old man gestured to the cape and cowl that she wore.

"You mean besides all the head doctors?" January said. "I had to do physical therapy afterward, because I had cut some of the tendons in my left wrist. That was the side I started cutting into first, so those were the deepest wounds. I could barely hold the knife after I switched hands, so I didn't cut as deep into my right wrist. But for the left, I spent months learning to move some of my fingers again. It taught me that no matter how painful it was, I could change my life after all. I could face the pain, and the ugliness. That's what I've been doing ever since."

"That's why I think you can do something with this gift you have. You could go into business. You can take this junk and build things. I mean real, working things. Cars, trucks, tractors, you name it. You could sell it. It's meta-tech, so you can't churn it on an assembly line, and no one else can replicate it. You have to do it all by hand, yourself, like an artist. Because you are an artist really. It works because you make it work. But you can do it. You don't need to steal stuff. You can change your life."

"Is this the part where you are trying to convince me to use my powers for good?" the old man sneered.

"Well, yeah. In spite of the obvious age, and gender, and racial differences between us, I thought we were having a moment here," January said. "If that's not enough, look at it this way. If I tracked you here, it is only a matter of time before the police do too. It takes a while, but they do eventually get off their fundamental support structures and do their jobs. You stole a ton of titanium back there. That must cost... I dunno, a lot. That company's insurance is going to be looking for it, which means the police are going to be looking for it. That much money, they will find you. What is your master plan, build a giant mecha and stomp on the cops when they finally do show up?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," the old man crossed his arms.

"Then what?" January said. "I mean, pretend I am not here at all to stop you. What's your endgame? Take on Blood Raven next? The Sentinels? In no world does this turn out a win for Fred Sanford in the end."

"I just want some respect!" he leaped to his feet and paced across the room. "For once in my life, I want to be somebody, even if just for a few minutes."

"Going out in a blaze of glory is not going to earn anyone's respect," January contended. She showed him her scars again. "Learn from my mistakes. A suicide run is not the answer. It is never the answer."

"What you are doing here already, this is the answer," January waved to Archimedes and the man-bots for emphasis. "Not Mechagodzilla, but what you did to create it. You have been so focused on your endgame, that you don't see what it took to get you there. That's the real accomplishment, and that is worthy of anyone's respect."

"I've a got a friend who I know is just dying to meet you. He's got a basement that's not even half, not even a tenth, of what you've got here. Look at this, you've turned junk into awesome. You know what, you give me hope. If you can do this with a few old pipes and wires, maybe I can turn the junk of my life into something good too."

"My name is Isaac," he grumbled.

"Well ok then Isaac," January said. "A different friend of mine tells me that I remind him of a Tarot card: the Five of Cups. It's a picture of a man looking at three knocked over cups. But standing behind him are two more cups, still upright, and filled to the brim. It's someone that can only see the bad things in life, what he has lost. But he does not see the good things, because he's turned his back on them."

"I think you're the same way Isaac," January rose to her feet. She gestured to Archimedes once more, who still bobbed nervously in the air near the old inventor. "I think you have done plenty of good in your life. You have created amazing things. It's time you turned and looked at it all. Not as a means to an end, but as the end itself. You don't need to go on a giant robot rampage to make your mark on the world, or have a life worth living. You've made it already."

"Hmmm," the old man seemed to chew on his lip, like a cow chewing its cud. "Maybe I did."

"Our lives are all subjective," January said. "We see them though a glass that distorts everything, according to our own unconscious hopes and fears and desires and agonies. That's why some people see only the empty cups, and some see the full ones instead."

"We all learn different lessons from the same events," January went on. "Where rehabbing my hand taught me that I could persevere though anything, someone else might just have easily saw that as proof that they could never change anything in life. That they were helpless under the inexorable tide of fate. I was stupid for letting myself wallow in my misery for so long that it took something like that to finally wake me up and get my rear into gear. I should have been taking action and turning my life around a lot sooner. My friend Gadget says that sometimes I can be as stubborn as a Mountain Dwarf."

"Now I'm trying to imagine you with a beard and an axe, like Gimli." Isaac smiled wanly. "What? Don't look at me that way. The Lord of the Rings is the same age I am. I read it when I was little."

January tried to imagine the old man as a child. She suspected that it must have been difficult growing up, with all the dinosaurs roaming the earth in that antediluvian epoch.

"Anyway," she said. "What I am trying to say is that we control our own emotions. They come from us. No one can make us happy or sad, or angry or afraid. We conjure these things up in ourselves."

"Try reading any comments section on the internet," Isaac breathed. "That'll make you angry and sad real quick."

"Only if you let it," January contended. "There will always be trolls. We don't have to fall to their level. Remember Frankenstein. Well, the creature. See, now I'm doing it too. He started out pure, compassionate, loving. But he allowed the evils of the world to bring him down to their level. By the end of the book, he really was the monster people treated him as. He even says to Victor: 'I ought to be thy Adam, I am rather the fallen angel'. Don't let that happen to you. Rise above everyone else."

"Besides, the best revenge is living well," January added with a smile. "If you want to get back at your ex, go out and bang someone who is hotter, and put it all over social media."

"Ha!" Isaac chuckled. It was a real, honest sound that rose up from deep in the belly, and shook loose from his throat like a cat leaping free of the hapless owner who tried to pick it up. "My banging days are long over missy."

"You never know until you try," January said. "If nothing else, you can whip up some self-driving cars, or start a robot lawn-care service, or sell some of those video jammers. My friend Gadget can point you in the right direction. There's a whole community of people online who build meta-tech and sell it. I bet in a year or two's time, you'll be living in a palace. Snap out some pics of you sitting on your golden toilet and see who's jealous then."

"Golden toilet?" Isaac rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You might be on to something girlie. Tell me about this friend of yours."

"Open up your Faraday firewall and you can talk to him yourself." January nodded to the garbage truck. "But first how about we take that titanium - and the other metals - back before the cops get off their doughnut break?"

’…she wished she had invested more experience points in her Speech skill.’
- - Based on Janurary’s performance in talking Fred Sanford of Supervillains – I mean Isaac – down from his garbotech-fueled plans of mayhem, I’d say her speechcraft is just fine! All without a single additional punch.

Nice job of bringing out the fears, feelings and concerns of both Isaac and January here.

I can certainly imagine some long conversations between Isaac and Gadget. Holy recycled tin can, Batman Stormcrow!

Oh, and I am only, with this episode, cluing in on the significance of the chapter's title.

Oh, I don't want to influence your story, hon. African Goddess has her own life.

Hey, Jan's Galaxy 11 blows away my Nokia flip-phone. I won't give it up though. 8 years old, damn thing still works.

Jan explaining how she feels to Fred Sanford brought a tear to my eye, for real. Because if people just sat down and talked more often... you know?

I wonder if he's related to Avery at all?

Yes, Five of Cups. Been awhile since I've read cards, but I know that one well. The typical version, at least. Somebody who's given up, basically, and doesn't want to continue because of disappointment, even if there could be good things still to seek.

Chapter 2.4:Honestly if I had a super-silent Gadget-modified bike, I'd be stoked to get out of class just to ride it, too. And probably get pop-quizzed by the teacher along the way like Jan was. And boy, she delivers. I'd give her an A++ just for that. Shelley's work was enough to give us an understanding of both monster and creator, with Jan relating more to Frakenstein's creation. In a nasty world where people are judged by their many differences, Jan fits among among those disliked and otherwise judged by society. I was glad she shared this with her class.

I LOVE flashbacks. Jan's memories were of her martial arts class were great. This was one of my favorite chapters so far!

Chapter 2.5: I got a kick out of Jan trying to get her phone while changing.

"So you didn't crash the bike?"
Ha, the way he assumed she somehow wrecked it

The exchange between Avery/Gadget and Jan/Stormcrow is superb, as always. Ah, some detective work. Missing rare metals are always a cause for concern, and it looks like titanium might be next on that list.

Stakeouts aren't as fun as the movies make it seem. I'm sure there's time skips all the time, heh, otherwise we'd be bored out of our minds like Jan.

"That is a really cool costume," the clerk said as he rang her up. "That's Stormcrow right, the new hero? You make that yourself?"
This part had me laughing. I totally thought about Spiderman 2 when Peter/Spidey is in the elevator, and tells the man next to him that it rides up on the crotch a little bit


2.6: Ah, so after a lengthy wait we finally see who's behind this mess: some new mechanical menace? These robo-minions do not play, do they? They made it plainly obvious they're the baddies here.

"Well hello there."
Ewan McGregor would approve!

A tense fight between Jan and the Robandits. By their fighting style alone, Jan was able to discern what caste these guys were. No doubt Face-Bot was the prize.

He's a capable and dangerous fighter, and his laser beams can do some damage. Her gymnastics and of course Lighthammer's instructions served her well here as she took to flight in hot pursuit.

While he may have made a run for it, she still saved the day and foiled the robbery. Jan's kicking some real ass lately

This was intense!

Acadian: I really liked that last episode for a lot of reasons. As you pointed out, it was an opportunity to get deep into what drives both Fred Sanford Isaac and January, in a way that is showing, not telling.

Isaac and Gadget will be collaborating in the very near future. I also see Isaac and Archie turning up in true garbotech style when January faces down the Big Bad in the overall story arc I have envisioned. Along with other supers whom January co-opts to her cause. She is not just talking down villains. She is making valuable allies.

We are finally really seeing the Recycling are we not? Though January's Crowbike is another example of the theme of turning junk into awesome as well.


Renee: A flip phone! Now you having me thinking of those Nokia phones that Mulder and Scully use in the X-Files. But I think those were before flip-phones even existed.

I liked this chapter because it ends with January solving the problem of a supervillain on the loose without a big fight. Instead she talks him down and helps him see that he has things to live for, rather than going on a suicidal mecha rampage. We don't see enough of that in any form of fiction.

Isaac is no relation to Avery. I have not gotten into Avery's father yet. But I eventually will when I find the right place for it. But then again, I suppose Isaac is old enough to be his grandfather. But I don't think so on that score either.


Darkness Eternal: I wish I had a Gadget-infused superbike! The silence is actually a RL effect of an electric engine. I watched some vids of electric bikes like the Victory and was blown away at how quiet they are. The only sound is that of the chain turning and the road under the tires. Much nicer than the gasoline versions!

I watched all the Toby McGuire Spider movies recently, so I remember that elevator scene. It is always funny when a writer takes a superhero out of their natural element (punching things), and puts them in ordinary life. I was just reading a Batgirl yesterday where she had to take the Subway, and while she was sitting there waiting for the train people thought she was homeless and gave her money.

I am glad someone caught the Star Wars reference! I seeded a few easter eggs like that in the story.

I liked writing that first battle between the Crow and the Face-Bot. I live a mile away from the metal shop and gas station it takes place at. I pass it all the time coming and going to work.






Plus ça change


Book 2.13 - Stormcrow Recycled


"This is Trooper Mercado."

"Um, hi trooper," January found herself fumbling for words. She had rehearsed this call in her head for nearly an hour. So naturally her mind went completely blank as soon as she heard the Puerto Rican woman's voice on the phone. "Um, Mercado, Emilia. It's Stormcrow."

"I guess that explains why my caller ID is suddenly not working," the State Trooper said. January could not tell if her voice sounded amused, or angry, or just resigned. "If you're asking me out, I'm afraid I'm a little old for you."

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that!" January exclaimed. A thirty year old? Yeeech! That would be like dating a mummy! Then she realized what she had said. "I mean, because it would be very unprofessional, and I am a very professional person."

"Yes, a very professional lesbian superhero." Now the other woman's voice did sound amused. "I read it all over Twitt and Instantgram. Did you really tell that gas station attendant you were gay?"

"Well it might have slipped out," January closed her eyes. Why was her sexual orientation bigger news than Middle Eastern countries at war? Reddot had practically melted over it. "He was hitting on me, and it got him to leave me alone. Never mind the fact that it's true."

"Well, a lot of people admire you for that," the state trooper said.

"And a lot of people hate me for that too," January replied. "Plus ça change…"

"…The more they stay the same," Emilia finished the saying, "don't I know it. So if you are not calling me for a hook-up, and not for PR advice..."

"Oh, I have a present for you," January said. "Well, not exactly a present. I recovered some stolen goods that I thought an officer of the law might be interested in taking charge of."

"Stolen goods?"

"Oh, some iridium, some zirconium, and about a ton of titanium," January said. "It's in an abandoned lot by the Packard Plant. Bring a truck."

* * *

January knocked twice on Avery's back door, then opened it and let herself in. His mother was gone, as usual. That left only him and his grandmother at home. Still, January was surprised to find her in the kitchen drinking a strawberry Ensure and doing a crossword puzzle. Usually she was in the living room watching TV, or sleeping in her bedroom.

"Nana Green!" she cried, "it's good to see you." January held her motorcycle helmet in one hand, and smoothed her hair down with the other.

"Gatsby's neighbor," the old woman's voice creaked out, "eight letters."

"Carraway," January answered easily, "Nick Carraway, he's the point of view character in the book."

The old woman harumphed, and wrote that down in her puzzle. January smiled, and made her way down the basement stairs. She found Avery rising from his computer palace. The taller black man grinned as she approached, and gave her an actual high-five in celebration.

"You did good today January," he breathed, "real good. I think you saved Isaac's life. And who knows how many other people's, if he had really gone through with his rampage plan."

"So is everything taken care of?" January allowed herself a moment to smile. Then her brain was all cape again. "The cops won't be a problem?"

"It seems what little evidence they had gathered vanished from their network," Avery crowed. "Looks like corrupted data from a few bad disk sectors, terrible shame. But that happens."

"They just don't make hard drives like they used to." January made a show of shaking her head. "Tell me we are doing the right thing, covering for Isaac? This won't come back to bite us in the future?"

"Well, no one can see the future," Avery shrugged. "Well, except Tick Tock. But even he can only see a few seconds ahead. But after talking to Isaac, I believe him. I don't think he was ever a bad guy. I think he was just in a bad patch, and there was no one there to help him when he needed it."

January looked down at the scars that crisscrossed her wrists. She knew all about bad patches, and bad decisions. She looked back up, to the practically angelic face of Avery. Thank Freyja he had been there when she needed it.

"But just in case, I did set up a couple of drones to keep an eye on his place," Avery said. "I have some bots set up to scan for tech robberies committed by robots as well. I'm not Stupid Good after all."

"Hopefully we won't need either," January said.

"Hopefully," Avery said. "In the meantime I'm going over there tomorrow. Isaac had an idea about building some cars, and I'm going to show him how I did that cold fusion reactor for the Geo."

Yes, People look at me funny sometimes irl. I'm not into smartphones. All I need are talk & text. I can actually type messages to people without looking at the keys!



She used her Speechcraft skill. It also helped that Isaac told his FaceBot to stand down too.

Nice. I hope Stormcrow can pull this off without (1) getting Isaac in trouble, and (2) keeping herself out of trouble. Because I assume, well.... I assume Isaac won't be around pretty soon, nor will all his bots? Guess we'll find out, next week, on The Stormcrow!!!

2.7: Great episode!

Oh, wow. I had no idea about the bottle bills. Interesting.

Jan discomfort continues as she struggled to get into contact with Gadget. I liked her thoughts and concerns about law enforcement showing up. Typically they turn a blind eye to Supers beating up the baddies, but as far as property and, well, homicide, that's a no-no. Makes sense why the officer was a bit on edge talking to her.

Nit:
"hard way of standing that always made her think of the Army(.)
There's a period missing in this part

"And I sold her a Pepsi..." the clerk added.

Heh. No doubt she was exhausted after repeating herself a million times to those officers.

January wondered if the reinforcements made him feel safer around her, or if he just finally trusted her.
I LOVED this small detail here. Great observation by her.

One asked if she was single. The clerk told the questioner that she was a lesbian. Obviously they did not know she was trans.


This was a great and fun chapter as she and the cops and fire-fighters clean up the mess from the battle.


2.8: There's plenty to be said about this chapter, from Avery being glad Jan is alright, to her good sneak skills. But the family issues here hit home. We discover her father's terrible secret and way of making such an income. I truly felt sorry for Jan as she had to hear her father's toxic words about her, and blatant favoritism toward her brother. Using her former name must set her over the edge. I would be livid in her shoes.

That last part of the argument was so terrible.

I'm happy Avery was there for her, and I sympathize in her desire to move out of her house. The atmosphere being so uncomfortable that she was willing to set back her plans for her surgery.

2.9:
I'd be getting the names confused too. They're eerily similar. Far easier to remember Willy Wonka, too.

I'm eager to meet BloodRaven. Can't wait to officially see her. Here stands the test of every student hero that goes beyond pen and paper: fighting off crime, or staying in class? Jan aced this one pretty quick.

Broadsword and Danny Boy! These new call-signs are great, just as seeing her fly with the crows.

The assault on Global Titanium was action-packed. Looks like the Robo-Robbers have went through some updates. Unsurprisingly. At least this time when Avery was jammed, his communication was still okay. That's essential. We wouldn't want Jan to be uncomfortable.

Glad those folks she saved were okay. Once again, she proves to be the hero everyone needs!

Great work!

What a hoot of a phone call! You pretty much had me laughing from beginning to end here. Of course Gadget would have bypassed any caller id ability for her. Dating a thirty year old?!? Yeeech! Twitt, Intantgram and Reddot indeed!

At any rate, looks like Stormcrow talked Isaac into divesting his stolen metals.

Edit: Thanks for the additional goodness you added!

All: I can see that my original chapter ending left too much up in the air about Isaac. So I went back and added a little addendum to the previous episode. That should make it more clear where things stand with him and Archie. So on Saturday we can start a new chapter without any nagging uncertainties.

Sometimes when I was younger I could be Chaotic Stupid at times.

That'll be fun for the guys, talking shop over nuclear-powered econoboxes. Sadly, I feel they'll never earn that Nobel prize.

That provoked a snortle.



And that one was a more rueful laugh, as it is a thought I have had more than twice.

If I tried to quote the “good parts” of Jan's conversation with Isaac, I would just copy and paste the whole thing. Wow.

And yeah- I held onto my LG Wine flip phone until earlier this year. The battery finally stopped holding a charge... And now I have a J3 with which I am trying to reach an amicable truce.

Had to love her sudden nervousness when talking to Emilia.

More excellent story-telling and character-creation here. Just wonderful.

Renee: I am glad for your comment, because it showed me that I left too many loose ends with my original ending. I remember writing it, and feeling that it ended on a high point, and that anything else I wrote would just drag it out and lose that feeling. But now I can see that it also conveys some feelings of uncertainties, which I don't want. So I was able to go back and fill things out to put those things to bed. We will have some mentions of Isaac and Archie in future chapters, including his new car company, but they won't appear proper for some time.

I originally used Lawful Stupid. But that seems to usually be used for people who ignore the good in favor of the law part of the title. So they kill starving people who steal bread. I needed something opposite, so I went with Stupid Good, which apparently is a thing too, just not used as often (sadly it is often regular slang for something that is really good, like a stupid good burger).


Darkness Eternal: It shocks me that all states do not have bottle refunds. It is just so ingrained in Michigan life. It is like divided roads and the Big Tire on I-94

Thanks for catching my Army period. I go over these episodes more than a dozen times before I post them. But I still manage to miss things here and there.

The whole bag of snakes with January's father (and brother) was not something I originally intended. I decided to go that way because I wanted there to be more conflict in her life outside of being a superhero. Also because it is Truth In Television, making it something that some readers will be able to personally identify with.

We are starting Chapter 3 today, and Blood Raven will feature highly in its second half. I am guessing she will start showing up in December's posts. After that, she will be a very regular character. Once I started writing her, she actually turned out a lot more awesome than originally intended.

Broadsword and Danny Boy are not really official call signs. They have their super names after all. That is what happens when the writer reads a Cthulhu Mythos story that is loosely based upon Where Eagles Dare, then watches the movie afterward.


Acadian: That phone call was meant to be a hoot! January may be a big, tough, superhero, but she is still as socially awkward as any teenager. The 30 year old bit was something that just screamed out at me about how youngins think. If you are 20, a 30 year old is ancient. If you are 30 the goal posts move, and now a 50 year old is ancient, and so on. I am glad I can still remember that, given my own antediluvian age.


treydog: I loved me some Sanford and Son with I was a little 'un. Isaac was actually inspired by a villain from the Kamala Khan Ms. Marvel comics. He/it had a lair in a junkyard and was building killer robots off the spare parts. I went a much different way with Isaac's motivations and plans however.

I had to go back and rewrite some large parts of the Jan/Isaac conversation, as the original version just was not powerful enough. The parts about the tarot card were all later additions, and how Isaac had already made his mark in pursuit of his goal, and the repeated Frankenstein reference, all came in afterward when I realized the original just did not carry enough weight.

In the end I really loved it, because it really is a moment where January defines who and what she is. It is kind of the start of her formulating her own January Doctrine.






Macomb Community College classroom quad, library, and parking

Instagram Influencer

January's new Sedici Strada Carino helmet

January's Fight Music - Two Steps From Hell

2004 Mazda MX 5



Book 3.1 - Stormcrow Burning

May 25th - May 26th, 2019

January placed her final exam on her instructor's desk. A substantial pile had already accumulated there. But she did not feel bad for taking her time, and being one of the last students to finish. Creative Writing had been her favorite class of the semester. She wanted to end it on a high note. So she had put as much time and imagination as she could muster into the story for her Final Exam. It had been about the school itself gaining self-awareness, and the trials and tribulations it encountered while trying to live in a human world.

Her teacher smiled and gave her a nod as she walked past. Mr. Wirth had been one of her favorite instructors as well. A man as kindly as he was corpulent, he had a tendency to drone on about the old days, when there had been a sharp division between farm kids and city kids going to the local schools. Other students obviously found it boring, given how their eyes rolled once he got going. January supposed it was not nearly as interesting as what dress or lipstick the latest trendy Instantgram influencer was wearing. Instead she looked at it as a view through a time machine, a rare glimpse of a lost world, seen through his eyes when he was a child. She had no doubt that he would make his way into one of her stories someday.

A cluster of people waited just outside the door. January could not miss the stares and the curled lips. A few months ago someone had figured out that she was trans. The gossip had spread like lies during election season, as gossip was wont to do. She had noticed the very clear shift in behavior. The stares, first of bug-eyed astonishment, that soon turned to flinty contempt. The hushed conversations that turned dead silent whenever she came near. The muffled laughter when she walked away.

Some things, it seemed, would never change.

January stared back at them with even greater intensity. Her mind raced with all the possible moves and counters she might use against them in hand to hand. What she would do if one produced a gun. The full-faced motorcycle helmet the she carried loosely in one hand gave her even more options on that front, both in terms of attack and defense. It was not just childish fantasies. She was really plotting tactics in her head. It was something she had learned from Krav Maga. To always be aware of her surroundings, and be ready for danger.

The threat turned out to be non-existent, as it usually was in broad daylight and surrounded by other people. But she never knew when that might change. Especially these days, since she had become Stormcrow. More than ever before in her life, she had to be ready, for anything.

Still, she allowed herself to relax after moving through the pack. In a moment she was out of the building and in the cloister outside. It was tucked away within the quadrangle that formed the core of the college's classrooms. She lost herself in the stream of other students and teachers that flowed back and forth through the area. She made her way out of the quad and came out into the open. The library rose up ahead of her, with the parking lot down the slight hill beyond. In no time at all she walked down to a long line of motorcycles in the center of the lot. Hers was easy to find. It was the one with a crow sitting on the handlebars.

"And Gadget calls it a Stormcycle," January smiled. "I always knew it was the Crowbike."

January straddled the Victory Empulse. When it did not lean to the side to take her weight she remembered that it was still bonded to the asphalt below. Taking hold of the fob that dangled from the key, she clicked the button in it once. That disengaged the molecular adhesion emitter that Gadget had installed in the motorcycle. Now the bike leaned sideways as she toed up the kickstand and balanced it beneath her. January slid the key into the ignition and turned it on with a click. The crow on the bars looked back and cawed loudly at her. But he did not leave his perch.

January spared a glance up to the bright blue sky above. Sadly, there was no opportunity for flying now. Not with so many people around. Still, her armor was snugly tucked away under the fake gas tank bump. Just in case…

She took a few moments to tie her long, blonde hair into a simple braid. Then she pulled her Sedici Strada Carino helmet down over her head, and snugged up the chin strap. Its soft pink and black floral paint was scratched from hard use. The owner had insisted it had not been in a crash. But it certainly looked like it had scraped some pavement. That had worked in January's favor on Ebuy, as it had scared other bidders away and kept the price down. She of course could care less if it fell to pieces if she crashed. If it came down to a contest between her skull and concrete, the concrete would lose.

The crow remained ensconced upon her handlebars when she pulled away from the curb. The bike was nearly silent. Only a slight hum of power rose from its engine, while its slowly moving drive chain murmured a soft, metallic hymn. Other students stared as she drifted by them on the corvid-guided bike. It was not until she reached the street and really opened up the bike's fusion-powered engine that her crow friend finally took to the skies. He warbled a throaty goodbye, and January waved as the black bird departed.

The bike felt like an impatient beast between her legs, slavering for the opportunity to chew up the blacktop. She had to admit, she could not wait to turn it loose. She never would have guessed that she would become a lead foot. But one day on the back of the Victory had awakened a love of wind and speed within her. One only matched by the glory of flying.

She darted down Twelve Mile road, and had to restrain herself from weaving through the afternoon traffic. She had only just started driving, well riding anyway. The last thing she needed was a speeding ticket. She could only imagine what her insurance would look like then. As if being a nineteen year old was not bad enough on that account…

Still, traffic moved pretty well on Twelve Mile, as it usually did on a Saturday. It did not even slow down as she passed the General Motors Technical Center. Usually that place was like Gadget's adhesive emitter. Everything ground to a snail's pace around it. But it was the weekend, so GM's engineers had the day off, and the roads were open.

By the time January turned left onto Dequindre she was smiling, and humming along to a Two Steps From Hell song. She was going to have to figure out how to listen to music while riding. Maybe she could use wireless earbuds and her phone? Given how quickly its battery died, that might not work so well however.

In no time at all she had turned onto her road, and slowed to make her way down the residential street. She frowned as she pulled up into the driveway of her house. She used to look forward to going home. But that was before she heard what her father really thought of her. She noted that his Equinox was parked in the driveway, as was her mother's Mini Cooper. Worse of all was the fifteen-year-old Mazda MX-5 parked out front, red as the blood of a fresh victim. That meant her brother was home from U of M. Wonderful.

The sky had darkened from soft blue to slate gray by the time she threaded her bike through the cars and rolled up to the back patio. They didn't have a garage, and with only the front half of the driveway paved with concrete, the patio was the only place she could glue down her bike to something solid. She shut off the Victory and locked it down there with Gadget's adhesive wave emitter.

Hefting her school backpack over her shoulder, she walked in the back door. She found her mother in the kitchen. A pot of water was simmering on the stove, and a box of spaghetti stood on the counter beside it, along with mushrooms, hamburger, and a can of sauce. January did not have to be a detective to guess what was for dinner.

"Honey, I'm glad your back," her mother said in the sad, resigned voice that had become her normal for this past week. "We need to talk."

January fought down the frown that wanted to drag down the corners of her mouth. She followed her mother's gesture and sat down beside her at the kitchen table.

"There's no easy way to put this," she began. "I filed for a divorce from your father. I am going to be moving back in with your grandma Sarah in Livonia. It's just temporary, until I find a house or apartment in Warren. I have to live here for my job at the library. I'd like you to come with me."

"I'm looking for a place of my own right now." January's stomach flopped like a dying fish trapped on shore. She did not know why it affected her so. She had certainly seen it coming ever since she had overheard the argument. She had even been planning to move out since then, and had looked at some apartments already.

But this was final. It felt like the stone lid of a sarcophagus grinding shut over her past life. What would her future be? Who would be in it?

"If I don't find something by the time you move, I'll go with you," January continued. She could not stay in this house anymore. Here, it felt like she was sealed away in that sarcophagus already.

"Good," her mother smiled weakly, and laid a warm hand over one of January's.

"I hope you understand that I did not want any of this. To be honest, I don't think your father did either." A sour look crossed the red-haired woman's features at the mention of him. Then it cleared as she continued. "But this cannot go on. This environment is toxic, to all of us, and there is no fixing it. And I realize I am as much at fault as anyone else."

"I think we all need a fresh start," the older woman went on. "All of us. You need to think about your future. I know this only makes things more difficult. But I promise you, I will do everything I can for you. For school, and for surgery. But I also need to think about myself, what I am doing with my life, and where I should go next. I've lost sight of that over the years. I need to get it back."

January gaped, again, feeling like a fish flopping around on dry land, just inches away from water, and safety. She rose and put her arms around her mother, and held her tight.

"I love you mom," she finally croaked. "I always will."

"So are you staying for dinner?" her mother asked after finally pulling away.

"No, we're going to eat at Hart Plaza," January shook her head. "Everyone is probably waiting for me. I just need to put my books away and change before I head back out again."

"Oh, how was your last day of the semester?" her mother asked. "Did your Finals go well?"

"I hope so," January crossed her fingers. "I'm not sure about my Psych class, but I know Creative Writing and English were a snap."

"One day I'll be putting your books up on the stacks," her mother smiled, and turned back to the spaghetti in the making.

January smiled back at that. She certainly hoped so.

She rounded through the empty living room, and noticed that the door to her father's office was shut, but light gleamed through from underneath the threshold. She frowned, and continued on to the stairs up to the second floor. She took them two at time. There was no time to waste.

Once above, she spared only a glance down the hall toward her brother's open door, across the upper floor from her own. She saw his back, hunched over his desk, one hand cupped against the side of his head. Then she turned away. He was the last person she wanted to deal with today. Well, the second to last.

Bustling through her room, she nudged the door shut with her toe. She tossed her school backpack into one corner. Then she quickly pulled off her school clothes and threw them on the bed.

Last year people had been wearing bikinis and daisy dukes at the festival. She was not going to be left out looking frumpy in cargo pants and a tee again. She changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps, and a peach mini skirt. She passed over her shoes with heels, and settled on a pair of strappy flats. She was going to be on her feet all night after all. Looking good did not mean forgoing comfort.

She was about to turn back around when she remembered that it sometimes got cold by the river. So she went back to her closet and fished out a long-sleeved top and tied the arms around her waist. One of the perks to being a girl was that one could always rely upon a knight in shining armor to lend you his jacket. But she didn't want to be that girl, who was always dependent upon someone else.

She glanced over at the bangles and bracelets stacked up on her dresser. She usually wore long sleeves. But the tank top would leave her arms bare. She glanced down at her wrists, and the raised white scars that marred each. She turned her back on the bracelets and other cheap jewelry. She was tired of camouflaging her past mistakes. Let everyone see her for who she really was, scars and all.

She slung her purse over one shoulder and headed back out, only to find her brother waiting for her in the hall. He towered over her, standing over six feet, blond hair a golden wreath around his head.

"Are you happy?" Julian sneered. His voice dripped with poison. It reminded January of the serpent hovering over Loki's bound form during his punishment by the gods. "Mom and dad are getting divorced because of you."

"No, they're getting divorced because your father is a liar who would rather hide behind transphobia than take responsibility for his own life." January seethed in reply. "In your case, it's obvious that the road apple didn't fall far from the horse's ass."

"Ad hominem attacks," her brother scoffed. "It shows you lost the argument at the very start."

"Stating the facts is not a personal attack," January insisted. "It's just acknowledging reality. Something creatures like you are too afraid to ever do. You hide behind your bigotries like a security blanket. Anything to keep from manning up and taking ownership of your lives."

"Me? I haven't done anything." Julian snickered.

"This is all about you, and your vanity," January contended. "Everything has to always be all about you, doesn't it? But you got sloppy. You left those checks for your tuition and books out for me to see on purpose, didn't you? You just couldn't resist rubbing my face in it, could you? To show how you were daddy's favorite? How you were so special? How you were so worthy of all that money, and I wasn't?"

"Our parents are getting divorced because my mother finally found out what frakwits you and your father really are."

"My father has morals is all," Julian sneered. "Something a perverted sissy like you would never understand. You're just as bad as that fairy friend of yours, the porch mon-"

The moment the invective turned to Avery, something inside January snapped. Julian must have seen it in her eyes, because he immediately backed away. No, he fled. He slammed his bedroom door in her face just before her fist could take his head off. She heard the lock clack shut, and turned her gaze down to look at it. Taking the door knob in one hand, she twisted it, and pushed it in. She heard metal grind, as the pins and cylinders of the locking mechanism inside the knob twisted, deformed, and crushed into and through one another.

January smiled in spite of herself. If he wanted to hide in his room, he could stay there forever. That handle would never open again. He would have to take the door off the hinges, a feat January doubted he possessed the mechanical skill to accomplish. Or he would have to climb out the window and go out on the roof. She smiled even more broadly, and locked the window in the hall. Then she went back into her own room and immediately locked the window there as well. He would not be getting back inside either way.

Nice, she's back in school! I love that despite everything she's doing, she's also staying in school.

Yes I agree. I'd want to hear the teacher's tales about the way things were, too.

Oh crap. Dang, I knew this was coming eventually, that they'd have a problem with who she is. Let me come back to this story later. I just couldn't resist a peek, for now.



Sucks that she has to think this way. I get it though. A lot of ppl have issues with sexual identity, yet when someone actually goes ahead and does something about their own body, all the sudden these people look to him or her and start to judge. Like it's any of their business. Hopefully in the future there won't be all these judgements & worries. I feel like if Jan lived down near where I do, she wouldn't be getting judged by general society. Overall.

I mean, for instance, among my daughter's school for instance, I feel like a lot of students (all her friends definitely) will grow up with more open-minds than my generation did. Sure, there'll be that group of jocks or whatever who will deride that lone trans person who'll be in their college or whatever, but it'll get to the point that they won't be able to make these derisive comments openly, anymore. Things are changing. Maybe not fast enough for January's everyday life, but they are changing overall.





Oh good, her mom is divorcing. I mean, that's not really "good", it's sad. But it's necessary.

Some epic music to begin this new and third chapter. Hard to beat Two Steps from Hell.

Nice to see Jan actively pursuing her writing still.

Bless Gadget for his neat security addition to the Crowcycle.

Jan’s feeling of freedom and longing for speed that the motorcycle provides appeals to me and my flying days, as well as my elf with the fast mare.

’The sky had darkened from soft blue to slate gray by the time she threaded her bike through the cars and rolled up to the back patio.‘
- - I’m getting much more sensitized to the fact that this is a direct result of January’s mood. And we soon learn how appropriate the somber sky is. The divorce is a shame but, as January knows, not unexpected. . . and probably a wise choice by her mother.

The confrontation with Julian was exactly what January did not need at this point. What a self-absorbed fetcher! At least there was the satisfaction that big brother only barely escaped getting his butt kicked by one pissed off superhero. Sissy indeed!

Renee: Yes, she is still in school, but only just barely. That was her last Final exam for the Spring Term, so she is now officially out for the summer. Her brother, OTOH, is taking classes over the summer so he can graduate in August.

That teacher - Mr. Wirth - was my English teacher in high school. He was the first person to really encourage my writing, and even got me into an independent study period in lieu of a regular class, just so I could work on my writing.

Things have changed a lot since I was in school. If I had tried to transition then I would have been murdered, if not by the other students, then by the teachers. Now trans kids actually do transition in schools. That is not to say they don't face a lot of bigotry however, like having the right to use the bathroom. January's experiences are based upon what I have read about modern day trans-kids in school (I am so old now I have to read about it), and the issues they face. Nicole Maines - who now plays Dreamer on the Supergirl tv show - was in the center of a big example.

I got the idea for Gadget's molecular adhesion wave back in the first chapter, when I wanted a rappelling line that did not need a claw to hook on to things. It could just stick to whatever it was placed against. It was only natural for it to transition into being a lock for her motorcycle.




Acadian: I had to slip in a reference to January's theme music.

January's writing is going to be front and center in the facets of these story that deal with her personal life. Especially her working life. She has to pay the bills after all.

Keep watching those skies. We will see some very dramatic examples of how her mood affects the elements in this chapter and the next.

Her brother is another example of the toxic family life January is going through, and sadly something a great many people face IRL. Even without bigotry.




Blackjack - Transformers

Saint Andrews Hall

"I Am A Golden God!"

King Arthur 2004 Rus!

Festival is a reference to The Festival, by HP Lovecraft

The Real Portal Games have not reached #5 yet

The Kell Hounds

Ken Hite

Trail of Cthulhu

Raven Banner Pendant



Book 3.2 - Stormcrow Burning

"Hey Morning Star, good to see you."

January smiled in spite of herself. Only one of the Knights of Nerddom would refer to her as the first month in the Elder Scrolls video game universe.

"Jacktimus Prime!" she exclaimed with a wave back to the rotund young man with a mess of brown hair and a equally scruffy beard. Jacob had been Jack until their circle of friends has seen their first Transformers TV show. Since then he had been Blackjack, that cunning Decepticon micromaster. But he clearly enjoyed the honor of being promoted to Prime status. He lay sprawled across the couch that rose up amidst the electronic and mechanical treasure horde of the Gadget Cave. "How's the band going?"

"We got a gig at the Shelter next Friday!" his eyes lit up. "We're opening up for Mist Stalker and For The Win. You should come out, you'd love it!"

"I have classes Friday nights," January shook her head. Thank goodness she did. Blackjack's band - Epic Fail - was funny, with their satirical take on 80s and 90s rock. But they were not especially good. She always thought he'd be better as a stand up comic - or an actor - than as a musician. But how could you tell someone that? How would she feel if someone told her that about her writing?

"I thought school was out?" Rus piped up. The slender blond man sidled around the side of the Blob - the worn and taped up punching bag that hung from the ceiling by a rusty iron chain. His wavy blond hair was a waterfall that bathed his heart-shaped features with gold. She always expected him to shout out "I am a Golden God!" in a moment of Robert Plantian inspiration. But that had yet occur.

"College is out Rus," January nodded. Ever since they had seen the King Arthur movie that portrayed the Knights of the Round Table as Sarmatians, he had been Rus, rather than plain old Rusty. "But I still teach at the House of Pain."

"Got to make that filthy lucre!" Kell turned from where he had been leaning over Gadget's Computer Palace - the water-cooled monstrosity of his personal computer. His blond hair was several shades darker than Rus', much shorter, and complemented by a short, but full beard. Like Rus, no one called him Kelly. He was Kell, after his favorite Battletech company: the Kell Hounds.

"Can we go now?" Ryo was direct and to the point as ever, like the katana he trained with practically day and night. He rose from where he squatted in the farthest corner of the room, a shadow that detached itself from the darkness that pooled there. January was still not sure how Ryo did that. He had a way of just disappearing when he wanted to. She envied him that. Given that he was even more socially awkward than she was, she could see how it was a survival trait for him.

His dark hair was cropped short, and his high-cheekboned features bore a perpetual stubble around his upper lip and chin. Ryo did not have a special nerd story behind his name. He was one of the few members of their real life adventuring party to use the name given to him at birth. It was quite simply cooler than any nickname they could give him.

"Just let me finish this level." Avery's voice rose from beyond his floating chair. She could not see the OG - Original Geek - himself. But from what she could make out of the computer screens behind the trio, he was playing Portal 5. As she watched, she saw him create a glowing portal in one gray, concrete wall. Then he leapt through, fell past a plethora of jutting walkways and floating cubes. He fired off another portal beneath him, fell through, and found himself in a small room. He went through its only door, and the screen went black as a new level loaded.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the guys near the computer, and January saw Avery's chocolate brown hands rise up into the air above his chair in triumph.

"Hey January, you should come back to gaming tomorrow," Rus said. "I'm running Trail of Cthulhu, I think you'd like it. We can work in a new character for you, no problem."

"Isn't that Ken Hite's new game?" January's eyes lit up. She loved his podcast, and his appearances on others. He was fun to listen to, and he definitely knew his Cthulhu, given his book, Tour de Lovecraft.

"It is. It's more about narrative and less about rolling dice for every little thing." Rus said.

"It'd be great to have you back," Blackjack piped in. "It's been a while since you gamed."

"I wish I could," January bit her lip. Dungeons and Dragons - and other role-playing games - had been one of the things that had gotten her through her transition. Avery and the other Knights of Nerddom had all been supportive of her being trans. They had been weirded out at first, but still supportive. Well, all but Martin. Like most people at school, he had been anything but. He had forced everyone else to choose between him and her. Even today, January was still shocked that they had chosen her. No one had talked to Martin in years.

But there was just no time for gaming anymore. Not with writing, schoolwork, martial arts, yoga, and gymnastics. Being Stormcrow had only made it so much worse. Something had to give.

"There's just too much crap going on in my life right now," she lamented. "My parents are getting divorced, and I've got to move out."

"So it's a done deal then?" Avery rose from his chair. The room became noticeably quieter as his computer shut down behind him. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping things would work out between you and your dad."

"There's no working this out," January stared down at her shoes. "I don't think I even want to try."

"So aside from that, how was your night at the theater Mrs. Lincoln?" Blackjack said completely deadpan.

January did crack a smile at the joke. Blackjack was always good at finding the funny side of how life sucked.

"Come my fellow Knights of Nerddom," Rus declared with a flourish of his upraised hand. "The Festival awaits!"

"It is Yuletide, and we have come at last to the ancient sea town where our people dwelt and kept Festival in the elder time, when Festival was forbidden!" Kell boomed melodramatically.

"Now where did I leave my copy of the Necronomicon…" Blackjack pantomimed checking his pockets for that dread tome of Lovecraftian lore.

Rus led the way up the basement stairs. Avery stalled joining the others, and motioned for January to wait behind as well. He went to an old dresser that was filled with junk, and pulled out a silver necklace. Its links shined in the late afternoon light that slanted down through the narrow, high-set windows set along the driveway above. From the chain hung a silver and black pendant, rimmed with a simple knotwork design. Set within was the symbol of the Raven Banner. The titular bird was formed from gracefully curved lines of silver. With wings outstretched, it seemed to be taking flight.

"This is for you," Avery said. January stared in amazement as he lifted the chain and draped it around her neck. "Think of it as an early birthday present."

"It's beautiful," January gasped. She let her fingers slide over the upraised lines of the raven. Then she noticed something odd about the back of the pendant. There was a catch there. She pressed it without thinking. The rear face popped open, and revealed a small button surrounded by circuitry.

"Only our fingerprints will open it," Avery crowed. "Go ahead and turn it on."

She pressed the button, and a single LED lit up within the circuitry. But nothing else seemed to happen.

Avery continued to grin however. He reached back into the dresser and pulled out a twenty-year old camcorder. He turned it on, and spun around the side-mounted viewer so that both it, and the camera lens, faced January. The basement filled up the rectangular viewing screen. There was the Blob, still swaying gently from where Rus had leaned against it. There was the ancient couch, stuffing rising like miniature mountains from its ragged cloth. Junk and gizmos were piled everywhere.

But even though she was standing directly in front of the camera lens, January was not there in the picture. Other than a slight shimmering in the air, like the heat haze on a highway, there was no sign of her at all!

"I had a little help from our new friend Isaac in adapting his anti-video technology." Avery explained. "But I went a different way, in that it only scrubs you from the image."

"I'm invisible!" January breathed. Ever since she had transitioned, she had wished for the ability to disappear. It would have made life so much easier, not to mention safer.

"Only to video surveillance," Avery cautioned. "I can still see you just fine. But this will let you change into your armor without you having to worry about being recorded. You can do stealth missions now too, and not leave any traces on security cameras. In case there's ever a time you don't want to end up all over social media."

"Aww Avery, this is great!" She leaned in to hug him, only to hear the others shouting for them to hurry up. January grinned, her family issues momentarily forgotten, and rushed up the stairs after them. Avery followed at her heels. It was time to hold Festival!

A wonderful interlude with just the right amount of lightheartedness. We learn more about Jan and Avery’s nerdgamer pals. Always the same – so many games, so little time.

A very handy anti-surveillance device. As seems to be the case, Avery’s style and timing is very good when it comes to knowing what his Raven pal needs. In this case, the sentiment behind the beautiful amulet is perhaps more valuable than even its enchantment.

Can't believe I caught up! Been trying to juggle some things out before I came back to crack my knuckles and put on my reading glasses

Stormcrow is becoming a pro at the flying thing. Its great seeing her get better and better as time goes on, and she continues to show that in everything that she does, she always has the concern of other's in her best interest. Like transitioning into a residential area automatically has her being extra cautious about those nearby.

A few things stood out to me that I thought they were worth mentioning:

'For a moment it struck her that it looked just like a classic comic book pose, of the Dark Avenger protagonist perched upon an appropriately Gothic steeple. All she needed were some crows to swirl around her for dramatic effect.'

Hehe, this was perfect. She is the hero Detroit needs, but not the hero it deserves. What made it hilarious was the crow singing in her ear soon after. This sort of comedic aspect more or less tied to her youth made this part golden.

Jan/Stormcrow's fascinating(and relation) with Frankenstein's monster is not lost on me. There's a certain sympathy there she shares with the unloved and the shunned and, if I may, mistreated. There are plenty of things we can take away from Shelley's story, and subsequently Jan's tale.

'This armor, it's not the real me. Underneath, I don't know what I am. I just know I wasn't born right. This body of mine, it feels like garbage. Someone else's cast off. It feels like some thief sneaked in one night and stole my real body, and left me this crap instead. It's not who I'm supposed to be. I don't know if I'll ever be the real me.'
An all too prevailing occurrence. We can all to some degree relate with Jan, and I hope that she can overcome this. Thankfully she has Avery/Gadget, and though its saddening that her parents are getting divorced, this may just give her the time she needs to think clearly without the weight of negativity and judgment hanging over her shoulders.

Oh neat. Yes, some teachers make a heck of a difference, that's for sure.

For me this was Sister Mary Louise. I went to a Catholic middle school because public schools weren't working for me, and my parents switched me over in 4th grade. Anyway, SML had a weekly Creative Writing class. Once a week, we could write about anything we wanted, our Halloween costumes, our trips to grandma's house, whatever. Later on at some point in 2013 I realized this is the reason for my weekly writing habit.



Yikes. You had to keep a lot to yourself, I bet. How old were you when you transitioned?

Yes, that's what I was trying to get at earlier (about nowadays things are changing). Nobody's changing over in my daughter's school (she's in high school) but I think if somebody were, they'd mostly be supported. Oh, surely there'd be some naysayers here and there, but they'd be in a vast minority, I think.

-------------------------------

LOl @ Jack's band Epic Fail. I want to see Epic Fail!

Yes, "I am a Golden God!" is what Plant said. I read that somewhere.

Cripes, this chapter's bringing back all kinds of memories from my 20s. I was a lot more social back then. We'd all go to shows. Some of us were gamers, just like these kids in the story.

WhOA nice, she's going to be like the Stealth Bomber! Invisible to cameras, just like that plane is supposed to be invisible to radar! What a nice gift. And also nice to see Avery and Isaac Sanford met up.

Acadian: It was fun writing that scene, though there is a lot of Telling rather than Showing because I had to introduce a lot of characters at once, and I wanted for each to have something that made an impression. Otherwise they would have all just blurred together. It is a nice counter-balance to the grimness in the previous scene.

I still read comics (well I got back into them again last year after a few decades hiatus), and I see so many things that would blow a hero's secret identity. Like literally flying into and out of the window of their house, or riding around on motorcycles. As if no one is going to notice someone flying into their neighbor's window, or take down the license plate number on Batgirl's motorcycle. Anti-video surveillance is one way to counter the pervasiveness of cameras today, and how easily they would destroy anyone's secret ID.

I spent a lot of time working out just what form it would take. It had to be something that Jan could wear in everyday life, and not look out of place (for her at least). I went over a lot of rings and necklaces. In the end I went with the Raven Banner. It is a classic, so it never goes out of style.


Darkness Eternal: You caught up!

January's slowly acquired flight ability is one thing I had noted right off the bat as something she could work on throughout the early chapters. We will see it sprout into extraordinary fruition around chapter 5 or so. But even that won't be the end of the things she learns to do with it.

You are right. Detroit does not deserve Jan. Detroit deserves Blood Raven, the harsher, deadlier version.

I always want to keep that fun aspect to January, and not take her too seriously. She is inspired by a run of Batgirl where Barbara Gordon was certainly taken seriously, but also injected with joy and good friendships. She is definitely not Batman, with his dour, humorless nature. I do not want it to be a surprise when January smiles, or sometimes looks and feels a bit foolish. In spite of her wings, she is a very down to earth person.

I only read Frankenstein for the first time about 16 years ago. I was blown away by how different it was from James Whale's film. The themes of alienation and loneliness really leapt out off the pages at me. In some respect or another, everyone can relate to that at some point in their lives. That is one reason that book is still around after 200 years. It can give us the feels on a real level.


Renee: I was in my early thirties when I came out, about 16 years ago. When I was old enough and established enough in life to survive without needing anyone else's help. Jan really is a lot braver than I am. Because she did it at 12, when she was completely dependent upon her parents. Granted, she was lucky to live in a different time. But even her parents did not take her seriously at first. She had to try to kill herself for them to believe her.

I had fun working on the gaming pals aka the Knights of Nerddom. I picture them as having known one another since early childhood, and all living in the same neighborhood. For example, Avery is just two houses down from Jan. I was glad to finally work them into the story, as they were the last piece of January's life that I had not shown. I hope to do things with some of them in the future as well.

As you said, I drew some of the Knights off of people I really knew and gamed with back in the day, namely Rus and Kell. Though I added some things. Jack is a straight up copy of Jack Black, hence the comical band. Ryo is drawn from an online pal I had back in the day, with some extra layers added on that I took from film and TV shows. We will be seeing more of Ryo and Rus especially in the future.





Hart Plaza

Hart Plaza (seen from Jefferson at the bottom, looking toward the Detroit River at the top)

Hart Plaza - Fountain

Hart Plaza (seen from the river looking toward Jefferson Ave and downtown)

Hart Plaza (looking north from Cobo Hall at the bottom)

Hart Plaza (looking south)

The Fist of Joe Louis

The Spirit of Detroit

Hart Plaza - Movement Event Map

Movement Electronic Music Festival

The Movement Electronic Music Festival picture

Another Movement pic

Clips of Amelie Lens' performance at the 2019 Movement Festival


The Joe Louis Arena


Blood Raven on the rooftop


Book 3.3 - Stormcrow Burning

Festival was of course the Movement Electronic Music Festival. Every Memorial Day weekend it took place in Hart Plaza, along the Detroit river. They drove down in two cars, and parked on the Cobo Hall rooftop lot. As usual, Avery had reserved spots in advance. From there it was only a short walk to the plaza, which was packed with people.

Trees encircled the stone-flagged square. At its center rose the Dodge Memorial Fountain, the most iconic structure in the plaza. It was a giant stainless steel ring, held up horizontally in the air by two thick diagonal posts. The huge fountain underneath jetted water up into the open space within the ring, and currently glowed blue from the lights set within.

The main stage scalloped down into the earth nearby. Smaller stages rose up in other corners of the plaza, hidden behind copses of trees. A miniature stepped pyramid stood beside one. A statue of Antoine Cadillac - the founder of Detroit - lay between it and the great central fountain. While right next to the lapping waves of the Detroit River rose the monument to the Underground Railroad.

Looking toward Jefferson Avenue, January noted the Pylon, a tall, twisty obelisk near one corner of the plaza. Transcending rose up in the opposite corner. It was a statue made from a pair of tall, slender sickles that faced one another to create a circle, with only a small gap between the two curved arms at the top. It looked like a stargate to January. She kept expecting to see a line of invading Goa'uld to come marching through it, jackal-headed helmets in all.

Beyond Jefferson Avenue rose the tall skyscrapers of Downtown. There was the postmodern Comerica Building, with its sharp Neo-Gothic rooftop facades. Though apparently now it was Ally Detroit Center according to the sign that had been added to the roof. The slick modern glass and chrome One Woodward Avenue building stood to one side of it. While hunkered down in front was City Hall, a.k.a. the Coleman Young Municipal Center, in all of its 70s blandness. Deeper still within the urban forest towered stately art deco masterpieces like the Buhl and Penobscot buildings.

Looming up before those worthies, right at the edge of Jefferson Avenue, was the rounded concrete and glass face of 150 West Jefferson. Beside it rose the angular, plate glass Crowne Plaza building. Finally off to the left squatted Cobo Hall. Jefferson Avenue vanished beneath its glass-fronted bulk. A small building rose between it and the plaza, and far beyond January saw the Ambassador bridge, spanning the blue-green waters of the Detroit River about two miles south.

Jefferson itself was a split avenue, like so many Michigan streets. Right in the center of its two throughways hung the great bronze arm and clenched fist of Joe Louis. January had always appreciated that. It said a lot about a city when it honored a fist. Just a few blocks away, in front of City Hall, stood the Spirit of Detroit statue as well. It had long since turned green with age. But the gilded globe bursting with rays that it held with one hand still shined bright gold, as did the winged figure in his other palm.

A glance opposite Cobo revealed the mighty Renaissance Center. A single giant spire rose up in its center, over 70 stories high. It was flanked by four lesser towers, just shy of 40 stories each. All were stylish black glass and chrome cylinders, with a simple GM sign in blue and white atop the central tower. On the far side rose the tiny twins, two much smaller skyscrapers, just over 20 stories each. These mighty spires dominated the entire Detroit skyline, practically threatening the heavens themselves. January could not look at the central spire without dreaming of leaping off the rooftop. She imagined that from there she could glide all the way across the river to the shores of Canada.

Then there were the people. People everywhere, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder. Most were young, but January noted some who had to be at least her parent's age. Some of the women were dressed in string bikinis, others in skin-tight shorts, a few even sported animal costumes. Most of the men were just in shorts, jeans, or cargo pants, and tees. Hoodies were represented in large numbers, along with some cases of flannel. A few daring males flaunted their bare chests, but only it seemed, when there was a six pack of abs to show off.

It was a little cool for the end of May, and January felt her skin prickle when the chill air blew in off the river that bordered the southern side of the plaza. She wondered if the miniskirt and halter top she had chosen to wear had been such a good idea after all. But the temperature did rise noticeably when they moved into the crowd, and threaded their way toward one of the food kiosks. January's stomach growled as dozens of competing smells teased her nostrils with the promise of yummy delights.

She settled on a falafel sandwich, while Avery gorged on chicken on a stick. At least they thought it was chicken. The other guys of course joked that it was probably iguana on the stick. He retorted that it meant it was free from radiation (if the Fallout games could be trusted for culinary as well as scientific accuracy). Kell munched on vinegar fries. Blackjack devoured a bowl of Skyline Chili. Ryo scarfed down some Slows Barbecue, and Rus dove into a bowl of something which January was afraid to even try to identify.

After eating, they drifted around the stages. January was disappointed to find that the Yoga Lab was not until Sunday and Monday, meaning that she would miss it completely. But she did not really mind either. She could do yoga any time at home after all. It just would have been nice to do it with other people for a change. It was not like she could afford to go to a yoga studio these days.

The afternoon rolled into evening, and January lost herself dancing to the music of one artist after another. She was brought back to earth when Blackjack started asking about Ryo, and January noticed that their friend had vanished.

"He's just gone ninja again," Kell ruminated.

"Yeah, he lasted longer than I expected," Avery rubbed the back of his head. "Last year he only made it three hours."

Blackjack pulled out his phone and furiously tapped away at its screen with his thumbs. It chimed back at him a minute later. He studied its face for a moment, then looked relieved.

"He's over at the Joe," Blackjack relayed, "says he'll be back in a while."

The estrogen in January wanted to walk down the river to check up on him, and make sure he did not feel alone and left out. But her forebrain knew better. Ryo had left because he wanted to be alone. No, needed to. Ryo had a lot of issues, being around people and especially crowds was one of them. The abandoned Joe Louis Arena was an ideal place for him to disappear to decompress. Her going down there would only make matters worse for him, not better.

It was hardly anything new. Ryo had always been that way after all. Actually, he had been much worse. January still did not know how he had survived school. Probably by disappearing at lunchtime. She still remembered the first time she had noticed him. They had been in the 3rd grade, and another student had touched him. That started him screaming. The school nurse had to come to take him away.

That was of course the kiss of death socially. Which only made him a perfect Knight of Nerddom. Blackjack started hanging out with him the next day, and brought him into the rest of their merry band of nerds and outsiders. It turned out Ryo was as brilliant at writing code and swinging a sword as he was handicapped at dealing with people. The rest was nerd history.

So January pushed him out of her mind, and let herself slip back into the music. After a few hours she noticed that their ninja was back. He did not say a word, and neither did anyone else. They all just hung out together and enjoyed the night.

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

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

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

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

The crowd roared again, and January looked back to see that Blood Raven had taken to the air. She soared effortlessly across the twilight sky, her cape stretched out behind her. To January's eyes, she seemed less like a person, and more like a bloody gash cut across the firmament. She slashed her way over the plaza, and continued on to the east. Finally she threaded her way through the black towers of the Renaissance Center, and vanished behind them.

"What's wrong?" Avery's voice was low in her ear. January turned to him, and saw him standing just inches away. He had his serious face on. His work face. "Do you need to…"

He didn't have to finish that sentence. She was already thinking about her Stormcrow Armor, stashed away in the trunk of Avery's Geo. Was it time to suit up? What was going on?

"I don't know," January said honestly. "I just… feel something. I don't know what, I don't even know where."

"But she does." Avery stared in the direction that Blood Raven had vanished.

"She does," January nodded. "She can smell it somehow, feel it. Let's face it, she's a lot better at this than I am."

Avery took out his phone, and began to flip through page after page of info. But in the end he just shook his head.

"I've got bots set up to let me know what's going on," he explained. "On the police scanners, firefighters, news, social media. But there's nothing. No robberies, no shootouts, no disasters. It's all quiet."

"We'll just have to leave it to her," January practically moped. She wanted to leap into action, even more than her motorcycle wanted to scream down the highway at a hundred miles an hour. But she had no idea where to even go, or what to look for. It would be an exercise in futility.

"Whatever it is, the old lady can take care of it," Avery reassured her. "She's been looking out for this city since before we were born."

’Festival was of course the Movement Electronic Music Festival.’
- - You are right; ‘Festival’ works ever so much better as a nickname than ‘MEMF’.

A detailed tour of downtown followed by a day of fun, friends and feasting at the Festival.

Blood Raven’s entrance was very cool, and fed ominously into what sounds like danger for the Stormcrow ahead.

Okay, so Jack = Jack Black, pretty much. And Ryo .... he reminds me of someone I knew long ago (was not friends with though). Ryo's got some issues.



Merde.


Cobo Hall, I know that name from somewhere. Probably Grateful Dead played there. Some of my friends traded Dead tapes (and other bands) back in the '80s / '90s.

Hart Plaza really comes alive at night, goodness. Those links to various pictures help me see the place. I like that she's dancing amongst all these people who don't know who she is.



LOl.

I am wondering if she can sense and smell whatever it is because of her witch powers. Love the mysterious drama at the end of this one.

Acadian: It is usually called the Electronic Music Festival, or just the Techno Fest. The Knights of Nerddom call it Festival, because, nerds... Detroit is often cited as the birthplace of Techno music. The festival is a big thing here. It draws people in from around the country.

It was nice to show off some of the finer things in my hometown. That is something that does not often happen. So I went into some detail with the descriptions of Hart Plaza and Downtown, rather than just saying "there were lots of tall buildings'.

I have been itching to get Blood Raven into the story, especially since I wrote this chapter and chapter 4, which was about a month ago. As I have said before, BR will play a major role in January's life in the future. She is also quite awesome, to a level even I never expected. She is on par with Wonder Woman and Superman.


Renee: Like I said, Ryo is based on someone I knew online. He does have a lot of issues. None of those are random. They are all common traits for someone like him. Can anyone guess what underlies those issues?

Cobo Hall was a major concert venue back in the 70s, until the Palace of Auburn Hills was built and took all the concerts (the Palace was designed for it, the sound is good no matter where you sit). Bob Seger's Live Bullet album was recorded at Cobo. I even saw Kiss there once, long ago.

Hart Plaza is a big part of Detroit life as well. Pretty much every weekend during the summer there is some sort of festival taking place there. The Downtown Hoedown used to always be there (it moved a few years ago), and lots of ethnic festivals. The Jazz Fest is there. I think it would be cool to live in one of the buildings off of Woodward like 150 West Jefferson or the Crowne Plaza Building, and have all that going on across the street.

January is indeed tapping into her magical senses, for the first time, thanks to both the presence of Blood Raven and whatever it is she is hunting. Blood Raven is a magician, as is her nemesis. As is January. There will be a lot more on that in Chapter 4.




Orbital

Daredevil's Sensory Powers

Shoggoth

Xenomorph

You can follow along with January with the Stormcrow Google Map - Start at Cobo Hall and go to the Flying Dutchman

January's Route to the Fire 1 - Cobo Hall Rooftop Parking, looking north

January's Route to the Fire 2 - Fort Washington Plaza

January's Route to the Fire 3 - Theodore Levin Courthouse

January's Route to the Fire 4 - Westin Book Cadillac Hotel

January's Route to the Fire 5 - Book Tower

January's Route to the Fire 6 - Three Stadiums

January's Route to the Fire 7 - Foxtown

January's Route to the Fire 8 - Little Caesar's Arena

January's Route to the Fire 9 - Midtown and the Flying Dutchman at the corner of Peterboro and Cass




Book 3.4 - Stormcrow Burning

Twilight turned to full darkness, and Orbital replaced Amelie Lens on the stage. January wanted to get back into the swing of the festival. But no matter how much she tried to let the music wash over her, or lose her body into the dancing, she could not get her mind off Blood Raven. What had that strange feeling been? At first January thought it was the famous vigilante herself who had created that sensation. But Blood Raven had reacted to it as well. Not just reacted, she had been tracking it, hunting it. But what was it?

January knew that she had only begun to discover the depth of her abilities. But she was sure they did not lend themselves toward Daredevilian super senses. She could not track someone by their scent. She could not hear heartbeats, let alone conversations, from miles away. She could not feel electrons by touch. She could not taste the sweat off a person from across the room.

Whatever she had sensed, it was not natural. Not even natural in a meta-human sense. Her mind began to twist down Lovecraftian corridors, and conjure mystic presages of doom. Her imagination painted livid images of shoggoths or xenomorphs ravaging through the city streets.

She clamped down on such wild ravings. It was silly after all. She needed to relax. This was supposed to be a day to celebrate the end of the school term. The last thing she needed was to invent more angst in her life. She had plenty of that waiting at home already.

She remembered the books she had read on Wicca and Witchcraft, especially those by Branwen Renner. She concentrated on her breathing, and began doing energy exercises to help her unwind. But it was hard. The music hammered into her ears, and pulsed through her bones, so loud that it was a tangible, physical thing. People bumped into her. Their sweat and cheap perfume cloyed at her nostrils. They shouted to one another over the beats. Every time she thought she was finally going to slip into a higher state of consciousness, something would jerk her back to mundane reality.

"Hey, look at that bird!"

The voice was right in her ear, and someone pointed a finger practically into January's nose. She turned to look in either direction. That is when she felt a weight settle on her shoulder, and heard a deep croak in one ear. Talons gripped her skin. The logical, rational part of her brain told her that they should have been sharp. They should have dug into her like knives. But as usual, that never happened. It took a lot more than that to cut her.

She swiveled her head, and looked at the crow that had just landed on her. His black, beady eyes stared into her own, as if he was trying to tell her something. She had the sense that something really important was taking place. But what it might have been, she had no idea.

January tried to control her breathing again, and feel the magical energy that flowed through her. But she just could not get hold of it. There were too many things pulling her in too many directions. The magic slipped through her fingers like water.

The crow, perhaps disgusted at her failure to comprehend its message, took to the air once more. Her eyes followed him west across the black sky, in the same direction as Cobo Center. The same place where they had parked. The same place where her armor was stored in Avery's trunk.

January's feet instantly set into motion. She reached for her phone with one hand, and swiped the screen for Avery. He answered a few moments later, his voice distracted.

"It's a fire," Avery said. "North of here, looks like just past the new hockey arena. The first firetruck is rolling right now."

"I'll get back in touch when I've suited up." January stuffed her phone back in her purse. She reached for her necklace next, and opened the hidden panel behind the raven. One tap on the button inside hid her from electronic eyes. After that she laid on the speed. Where crowds blocked her, she leaped over them, shielding her face with one hand. People pointed up at her, some shouted. But no one would get a picture of her.

January briefly wondered if this fire was connected to whatever Blood Raven had been closing in on. But the older heroine had flown northeast, along the river. The new hockey arena was in an entirely different direction. Besides, it had been over an hour since they had seen Blood Raven. Surely she had sorted out whatever it had been by now. No, this must be something entirely separate. It was not like fires needed supervillains for their creation after all.

She bounded to the roof of Cobo Center. Racing between cars, she found Avery's yellow Geo. A crow sat upon the roof. He gave her a reproachful look, as if he had been waiting hours for her to arrive. It had only been minutes. January knew, because it was the same bird that had landed on her shoulder.

She was in the trunk a moment later. This time when she concentrated on her Fire meditation, nothing distracted her.

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

She was in her armor, and her street clothes were tucked away in Avery's trunk. An instant later she followed the crow into the sky.

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

The wide, flat parking lot that sprawled across the roof of Cobo Center vanished under January's feet as she leaped into the air. Her cape, now transformed into wings thanks to Gadget's techno-wizardry, caught the wind and lifted her up high.

To her right, the dense cluster of skyscrapers of the Downtown core rose up like cliffs of concrete, steel, and glass. Before her stood their lesser cousins. These buildings were a humble ten to twelve stories tall in most cases. But a few rose to double those heights. Some of them were grand dames of the art deco era. Others were squat brick simpletons from the 70s, and finally a few were black glass slicksters of the modern age.

January landed atop the roof of a dark, almost black-glassed building of moderate height. She triggered off her wings and tucked into a forward roll. She kept her momentum going and sprang into a run. She followed the crow as it winged its way overhead, and raced across the roof as if shot from a cannon. When the edge loomed up before her toes, she leapt skyward with all of the strength in her meta-enhanced legs. She triggered on her wings once more, and again felt them catch the sky.

To her right towered a gargantuan spire of white concrete with tall, narrow windows. If only she could get to the roof of that, she could get incredible air under her wings. But it was too high for even her to leap up to, and gaining altitude with her wings was still a tricky, and often fruitless, business for her.

Still her momentum combined with the leap to push her even higher into the air than before. Once past the tall, white building she banked somewhat around it, following the route of Washington street below. A much lower, square building slid by underneath her. January noted that its center was a hollowed out atrium. It reminded her of those old Roman and Greek buildings that her dad wrote books about.

She sailed past it, then over a lesser structure, and found the grand edifice of the Westin Book Cadillac hotel rising before her in all its stately grandeur. She had read that it had been newly restored and gone back into business, after decades of abandonment. Its tan stone and decorative columns gave it the air of an elder statesman. She followed the crow to the darker tiles of its sloping roof, and gave the lofty building a momentary pat of thanks as she landed there.

While standing on the roof of the hotel, she remembered that her video camo was still on. She reached inside her tunic to shut it off. She did not want to waste the battery after all. Then she sprang up into the air once more, clawing for even higher altitude. The crow cawed loudly in her ears, and darted ahead of her once more.

Thanks to having used the buildings like stepping stones, January realized that she was higher than she had ever been before. Far more so than she ever could get in the old Packard Plant. The wind caressed her face, while the streets crawled along far below. The world seemed wide and open, beckoning for her to come and explore. She loved every moment of it.

The black and gold art deco masterpiece of the Detroit Furnace Building flew past her right shoulder. To her left came the equally magnificent Book Tower, a needle-like spire of an elder age, capped by a great bronze roof turned green with verdigris. The crow flew to the latter, and January followed without thought.

She dropped down atop its great peak of old green bronze, and reveled at the view for just an instant. Then she was back into the sky once more. Now the smaller buildings of Foxtown slid by under her belly - among them the Fox Theater and the Filmore of course. Off to her right she could see down within the great bowl of Comerica Park, the home of the Tigers. Beyond rose the white rectangular roof of Ford Field. The name of the car company - and family - that owned it and the Detroit Lions was emblazoned in blue across its otherwise plain surface.

Straight ahead was I-75, as always a river of twinkling lights as vehicles sped along it in either direction. In a moment she and the crow soared over the highway and then above Little Caesar's Arena. The brand new hockey stadium was faced with red brick, and crowned with a white roof. Painted atop it was the cartoonish Roman mascot of the pizza company. He held a pizza impaled on a stick, and was about to scarf down a slice.

January felt a little deflated as the arena vanished behind her. That was the end of Downtown's grand skyscrapers. Now spread out beneath her were the lesser denizens of Midtown. Far smaller buildings, and nearly all mundane in style and use. She had left the mystic realm of giants, and was once again relegated to the common world of ordinary Earth.

But that common world was lit up. Not just by rivers of streetlights and cars, but by a great orange glow. It would have been warm and comforting if that glow had originated high up in the sky at noon. But this miniature Sun bloomed down at street level, nearly turning the night into day with its ravenous stare.

Great job displaying January’s frustration with the head thumping cacophony of distractions that kept her from reaching that meditative and mysterious place of inner insight she sought.

When in doubt though, ‘Follow that crow!’ works pretty well.

A wonderful air tour of downtown Detroit.

And there she be - Fire. Can’t wait to see what this is all about.

Edit: Cool new pix below!

I updated a few of the pictures of Downtown to add in the names of the buildings, as Google Earth does not do the best job of that.


Hart Plaza (seen from the river looking toward Jefferson Ave and downtown)

January's Route to the Fire 1 - Cobo Hall Rooftop Parking, looking north

January's Route to the Fire 9 - Midtown and the Flying Dutchman at the corner of Peterboro and Cass

That's so awesome when she flies. She's still new at it, too. Hope she can summon the power of water, to prepare getting near to that blaze.



Hmm. I cannot. I don't know his character well enough yet.

I know what you mean about wondering what it'd be to live like where there's always stuff going on. For me this would be downtown Ellicott City, which is historic as can be seen. If I didn't have a job and was okay with getting interrupted from sleep more often, that is my choice.

Hee, her friends Jack and Ryo must be wondering where she went.

I had to admit. I have a nice soft spot for Blood-Raven! She's growing on me already. I enjoyed the description of the downtown area. Jefferson Ave and beyond is very impressive and austere in own imposing way.

'January could not look at the central spire without dreaming of leaping off the rooftop. She imagined that from there she could glide all the way across the river to the shores of Canada.'
I'm certain most heroes that can fly have this same feeling when looking up to a tall skyscraper or tower.

'A few daring males flaunted their bare chests, but only it seemed, when there was a six pack of abs to show off.'
This is so accurate and true! In all the parties I've been to, its usually the six-packed dudes that were shirtless.

Jan having those instincts and Blood-Raven soaring through the air to what could be a major conflict was very powerful. She seemed so attuned, and Blood-Raven herself still this mysterious woman. This was great.

3.4.
There was plenty of mystery to be had here. Jan wonders about the depths of her abilities and just how attuned she is, and I wondered this just the same. Her imaginings of grim occurrence seemed to deeply bother her, I'm glad she maintained a positive vibe as she buried these notions in favor of enjoying the party.

You never fail to impress with Jan's flying. Makes me want to be up there, soaring through the night sky. Must truly be liberating.

I'm very curious to see what this fire is about.

Great pictures by the way!

Acadian: Jan definitely has a long way to go when it comes to mastering her magical nature. At least consciously so. Thankfully there are crows...

Once again I gave a detailed travelogue of Detroit. I hope this helps make the city come alive. I also hope it shows some steady development with her flying ability.


Renee: When I was first conceptualizing January the whole flight aspect was just a side thing. It was a travel power mainly to get her to where the action was. I always pictured her martial arts and physical abilities front and center. But as I write her, I find that flight is where she truly comes alive. So I have decided to put a lot more development into her wings in the future.

Elicott City looks pretty cool.

We will be seeing excuses made for Jan's disappearance this episode.


Darkness Eternal: That Downtown core is the most impressive part of Detroit. Well, except for a few other small spots like the Fisher Building and Wayne State University in Midtown. So I like using it as a setting. It really shows off the grandeur of the city.

We will be seeing a lot more of January's magical instincts later, especially concerning Blood Raven.

The fire in this chapter is based on the Real Life Ghost Ship fire. It is not really connected to what Blood Raven was hunting earlier. That will come up next chapter. But it all does tie together.




Fire Captain

Fire Lieutenant

The Flying Dutchman (RL Ghost Ship Fire)

The Flying Dutchman Interior



Book 3.5 - Stormcrow Burning

"Hola Stormcrow, I got away from the others and I'm online." Gadget's voice suddenly blossomed in her ear. "The fire's on Cass, just three blocks north of the new hockey arena."

"I'm coming up on it right now," January breathed into the comm. With one hand, she effortlessly flipped on the video unit, so that Gadget could see everything that she did. "By the way, what are we going to tell the guys?"

"Already covered," Gadget explained. "You got sick, had to hurl. Must have been that falafel you had earlier. I'm driving you home right now."

"Guess I should have had that iguana on a stick like you did," January mused as she drew nearer. "Oh, it looks like the firefighters just got here."

January saw a single firetruck pull up in the street. Figures clad in helmets and heavy coats spilled out of it like armored ants. They immediately set to work rolling out hoses, and connecting them to hydrants.

Before them raged an inferno of elemental horror. January imagined that the building might have once been a warehouse. It was a rectangular structure that rose two stories, whose cinderblock walls were unadorned by windows. However, gangland graffiti competed with elaborate and fantastic artwork scrawled across the edifice. From simple names to rearing dragons and monstrous faces, the outer shell of the otherwise ordinary building had been transformed into a lush jungle of magnificent expression.

That artwork was being devoured by a sheet of brilliant flame that wreathed the front of the building. It seemed less an act of nature, and more like a living, sentient being, all terror and fire. It roiled and leapt, swallowing all it touched, and spread out its monstrous arms for more. January could feel its heat, sucking all the moisture out of the air around her. It also seemed to push the air up from beneath her, giving her more lift. That was the last thing she needed now.

The long side of the building that stretched back from the street was clear of flames for now. She could see that this wall was bordered by a large lot. The first half of the field was empty. But farther back from the street it was packed with a shantytown of campers, makeshift tents, and truly indescribable piles - or perhaps actual structures - of junk.

She saw a pair of firemen standing away from the rest, who were all racing to and fro with their equipment. One pointed at the blaze, and seemed to be giving instructions to the other. January imagined that they must be the people in charge, and dove toward them. The ground rushed up faster and faster, now that she was nose down toward it. She allowed it to rise up until it was practically in her face. Then she flattened out her wings parallel to the earth, and caught the air upon their lower surface with a great crack! At the same time she rolled her body back, putting her feet out first and craning her head skyward. A second later she disengaged the wings, and dropped to the concrete with only a slight flex of her knees to take the impact.

She landed just a few steps away from the two firefighters. Her crow companion winged past them, and vanished into the night. The two men gaped openly. She could see that one was middle-aged, with a great sweep of a now graying mustache. His lined face was bathed in the red-orange glow of the fire, and looked as craggy and weathered as any peak of the Rockies. His partner beside him was much younger, with smooth skin and bright blue eyes that fixed upon January.

"You're her," the younger man blurted out, "the Stormcrow!"

"What can I do to help?" January asked earnestly, looking from one man to the other. She did not want to just go rampaging through there on her own. She knew that if she was going to be successful at this super thing, she was going to have to learn to work with people like this.

"I don't know, what can you do to help?" the older man parroted in a gravelly, somewhat sarcastic tone.

A drop of rain splatted on January's forehead, followed by a second, and a third. She vaguely noted that the sky had gone black, the stars now hidden behind an ebony blanket of cloud.

"Well, I don't know much about putting out fires," January admitted. "But I can go in there and find people, and bring them out."

"Can you really make it rain?" the younger man asked earnestly?

"Not as well as you would like," January shook her head ruefully. As if to contradict her statement, a crack of lighting illuminated the sky in a dazzling burst of light. January felt her heart jump with it. A long peal of thunder rolled out behind it like an afterthought. The rain picked up after that, and began to come down steadily.

The flames seemed to mock the water pouring from the sky however. Undaunted by the storm, they in fact grew visibly stronger, and leaped farther back into the building. January saw people run from a door in the still untouched side of the building. The front was nothing but a solid sheet of fire and ash.

"That fire is spreading too fast to be natural," the older man observed as he watched the flames grow. Then he focused solely upon January. "Okay, go do your hero thing. But watch for accelerants. I'd bet my pension that someone doused that place with gas or kerosene. And remember that fire can travel through the spaces inside the walls, before popping out again. It'll get you where you least expect it."

January nodded, then she was off. A single bound ate up the distance between the curb and the long, side wall of the building that stretched back from the street. She ignored the shantytown farther back in the empty lot. The fire was nowhere near that yet. Instead she plunged directly for the only door in the side of the building.

She almost careened into a pair of people trying to make their way out. She pointed to the street with one hand, and gently shepherded them that way with the other. Once they were safely out in the rain, she strode inside.

She coughed as smoke instantly assailed her lungs and stung at her eyes. The interior was like no warehouse or shop she had ever seen. Instead it was a phantasmagoria of furniture and decorations. There were couches, beds, and dressers. She could see at least a dozen pianos scattered around, along with drum kits and stacks of guitars. Paintings hung from walls and columns, along with tribal masks, and brightly-colored lamps. A wall of speakers rose up to her right, along with crates, desks, dressers, and boxes.

All of it was wood. A wooden floor, from which rose wooden columns, holding up a wood ceiling. The entire space was packed to the gills with wooden musical instruments, and wooden furniture. Then there was the cloth: carpets, beds couches, and chairs. Everything January knew about firefighting came from movies and TV. But she did not need an expert to tell her that the entire place was an inferno waiting to happen.

"I guess this would be a bad time to mention that I haven't finished working on a breathing apparatus for the suit." January could almost hear Gadget nervously rubbing his neck with one hand.

"It'll be fine," January murmured. "I can manage a little smoke."

She found more people stumbling around, and ushered them outside. After returning she worked her way toward the front of the building. It was a maze of twists and turns, most of the interior walls were made of furniture, musical instruments, and paintings. The latter were not printed out pictures, but actual canvas painted with oils and mounted on wooden frames.

"This place is crazy," January coughed, holding one hand over her mouth. A little smoke was starting to seem less manageable after all.

"It's called the Flying Dutchman." Gadget replied over her headset. "It's an art collective: musicians, artists, poets, a whole beat colony."

"Oh snap," she heard him groan with dread. "They were holding a concert tonight. This place is going to be packed. I'm looking around with the street cameras, and there are cars parked all over out here."

January got as close as she could to the front of the building. A wooden stair rose up to her left, curling around in a spiral as it rose to the second floor overhead. For the moment it was still clear, but beyond that rose a nightmare of flame and smoke. It was like the inside of a dragon's belly. She could only vaguely make out walls and even more pianos. She thought she saw a refrigerator somewhere back in the inferno, and perhaps a stove. So she imagined that was the kitchen. If the front door was out there, she could not see it.

January saw a human form stumble through the flames. She clutched a small fire extinguisher in one hand, and doused the area around herself aimlessly. January could see that she was also covered in the foam, but that it had begun to slough off of her body. The fire was licking at her legs, and starting to catch in several parts of her pants.

January's heart leaped into her throat. Before she knew what she was doing, she sprang into action. She bounded forward, and wrapped her cloak around the person. She imagined they had a female form, given the bumps and curves she felt when she held the other person close. She noted that their hair was gone, and their head was covered in either dark burns or blood. She could not be sure which in all the smoke.

January held her breath, and raced back the way she had come. She could hear the woman coughing and retching against her. Somewhere along the line they lost the mini fire extinguisher. A piano got in January's way. She did not waste time. One kick turned it into fragments. January charged through the detritus.

Soon enough she found herself back outside, and gulped for fresh air. Her charge shook in her arms, and January raced to the street. She found the fire captain with the craggy features and graying mustache. He was directing a hose that was trained upon the front of the building. It seemed to be doing little good, as the fire continued to grow brighter and hotter by the second. Gently, she passed the injured woman into his arms.

January did not stick around. She raced back around the corner, and leaped down the side of the building. She was back inside in no time at all. Once more she headed forward, toward the flames. She ran for the front of the building, to the stairway that curled up to the second floor above.

January got as close as she could to the front of the building. A wooden stair rose up to her left, curling around in a spiral as it rose to the second floor overhead. For the moment it was still clear. But beyond that rose a nightmare of flame and smoke. It was like the inside of a dragon's belly. She could only vaguely make out walls and even more pianos. She thought she saw a refrigerator somewhere back in the inferno, and perhaps a stove. So she imagined that was the kitchen. If the front door was out there, she could not see it.

Just then a snake of snarling electricity leaped along the wall beside her. Flame erupted behind it, and engulfed her in red and yellow heat. She threw up one arm in front of her face out of reflex. She felt herself picked up and thrown back by a pressure wave. Her head hit something hard. It cracked. January was not sure if that was her skull, or whatever she had struck.

"Steady on girl," Gadget's voice was cool and collected in her ear. "That hagfish armor is made for fire. Nothing will burn it short of the Sun."

She fought her way to her feet. Her lungs were burning, and her eyes stung as if they were swimming in bee venom. She was afraid that if she tried to reply she would start coughing and never stop. Instead January silently staggered back. There was no one this far forward, not who was still alive at least. The building ahead was now a solid wall of flame, including the stairs leading up to the top floor.

’The ground rushed up faster and faster, now that she was nose down toward it. She allowed it to rise up until it was practically in her face. Then she flattened out her wings parallel to the earth, and caught the air upon their lower surface with a great crack! At the same time she rolled her body back, putting her feet out first and craning her head skyward. A second later she disengaged the wings, and dropped to the concrete with only a slight flex of her knees to take the impact.’
- - Stormcrow is really getting good at this as she continues to gradually improve at this flying stuff.

While ‘Let there be rain’ is not quite in her spell book, it is clear the Stormcrow wields influence in high, cloudy places. Nice display of her burgeoning abilities and how she does not fully understand them. Yet.

Yep, pretty dangerous inside - and most comforting, I’m sure, to have Gadget’s soothing and supportive voice in her ear. You do indeed make the fire seem to have a menacing life of its own.

Oh snap is right, a passel of music enthusiasts are still inside this towering inferno! The stakes just shot up. I hope her selfless nature does not overrule our young superheroine's sense of self-preservation. . . or at least she does not ignore Gadget if/when he points it out to her.


Nit? "You got sick, had hurl.”
Not necessarily a nit since it is dialogue. I simply ask if Gadget meant to say 'had to hurl' instead of 'had hurl'?

Yah, that's what I was thinking. Sometimes people say stuff wrongly.



Oh, and we're glad you're including these flight chapters. They are fun to read.

That's awesome when the two firemen are surprised The Stormcrow shows up. It's like, she's now an unofficial part of city services, yet she doesn't have to abide by the same rules. See, but I wonder if she's now getting herself into trouble because of this.

Acadian: She is getting quite good at the flying thing. In Chapter 5 we will see a major evolution of her flight.

Likewise, I can see her doing a lot more with elemental forces in the future. But that is a long way off.

Of course January's selfless nature is going to overrule her sense of self-preservation!

That was indeed supposed to be "had to hurl". I am glad you caught that.


Renee: I am glad the flying is coming across. Now I am trying to find more ways I can use her wings and flight, beyond just getting from here to there.

January won't be having any issues working with the fire department. Their goals match after all: saving lives. And there is a long history of volunteer firefighters, who still exist in many places in the US. It is with the police that January will have the most trouble with, because their goals definitely do not always match. The police want to arrest people like Isaac and put them in prison. January wants to help people, which sometimes means letting a supervillain go because she believes they are not really a danger to anyone. That is part of January's slowly coalescing Stormcrow Doctrine. BTW. an interesting factiod I came across recently was that the modern US puts more people in prison per capita than both Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia did.






Surtr

Dr Dre



Book 3.6 - Stormcrow Burning

She made her way back the way she had come from, pausing to search behind the piles of junk. She was rewarded by discovering tiny nooks and niches where people had carved out private little bedrooms within the sea of furnishings, camouflaged by the raucous jungle of decorations.

These were empty however, which January was grateful for. She hoped she was not passing an unconscious person, perhaps laid out behind a couch or under a bed, without her ever seeing them. It would take hours to properly search the building. She clearly did not have that much time. Not given how thick these rooms farther back were choked with smoke and fumes.

"Two more fire engines just pulled up," Gadget reported. "But this thing is wicked. It's spreading faster and faster. I don't know if they can stop it."

January staggered back, past the open side doorway. She pushed farther into the back of the Flying Dutchman now. She blinked hard at the sight of two campers set up in the deluge of accoutrements. She was not seeing things, they really had a pair of recreational vehicles parked back there. She raced to the first and pulled the door open. Dashing through it, she found it empty. She ran out and into the second camper. There she found a dog hidden under a bed.

"Come here boy, everything is fine," January said in as soothing a voice as she could muster, given the smoke. The shepherd growled at her. Clearly he was no fan of crows. January did not have time to play nice. She lunged forward and pulled the big dog up into her arms. He turned his head and bit down hard on her forearm. Her armor held, and January simply ignored it. She raced out of the camper, and was at the doorway with a single leap.

Once out in the rain she released the dog. As if by mutual agreement, he whimpered and let go of her with his jaws. He scampered across the empty lot and toward the flashing lights of the fire engines in the street. January saw the older, mustached fireman still out there, directing the new trucks into action.

January turned back into the building. A glance to her right showed that the flames were closer than before. They would be up to the side door in minutes. She did not have much time.

She pushed back deeper into the building, beyond the RVs. It was even more of a twisting and turning maze back here however. It would have been hard enough keeping her directions on a normal night. But with the smoke clouding the air, it was nearly impossible.

January mentally recited her elemental mantra, to help keep her head on straight.

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

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

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

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

Spirit weave all together in balance. Bring me peace.

As if summoned by magic, she found a trio of either artists or concert-goers. It was too hard to make out details in the murk. She waved them to her, and guided them out of the maze to the side door. The fire was so much closer now, nearly at the exit. She was running out of time…

She saw two paramedics out in the lot. They grabbed up the three escapees and took them to the street. Coming past them was a crew of firefighters with a hose. They came right up to the doorway, and January backed inside to let them through. They nodded to her, and immediately began spraying down the ceiling of the room she was in.

January left them, and sped her way back into the depths of the building. She was faster this time, having made the trip through the winding passages once already. She found half a dozen more people coming her way this time, coughing and nearly retching from the fumes. She led them back to the firefighters.

They were losing the battle with the flames. Even given the water they were now dousing the interior with, the fire was gaining ground, and fast. It devoured everything it came across, transforming it all into heat and smoke. It was as if Surtr and his fire giants walked the Earth, annihilating everything before them in a Ragnarokian frenzy.

"Hurry up Crow, you still have the entire second floor." Gadget's voice was not reassuring. "From the pics I am seeing online, it looks like that is where the concert floor is. Most people are probably going to be up there."

"Do you have anything current?" January coughed into her headset.

"Nada," she could imagine him shaking his head at the other end of the comm. "This is all old stuff they posted on social media. There's no camera's inside."

January made her way to the back wall this time, without finding anyone. She was about to turn back, when she discovered a small stairway clinging to the far wall, tucked away behind a row of speakers. She leaped to the top with a single bound, and found herself in a narrow hallway on the second floor.

A pair of small bathrooms hung off the corridor, each nothing more than a cubicle with a toilet and sink. Both were empty. Beyond she found what looked like a mixing room, with a long table filled with levels and gauges, and all that Dr. Dre electronic goodness. She could not tell what even a tenth of it was for, aside from producing music of course.

This room too, was empty. Whoever had been within must have gone down the back stairs. She had probably met them and guided them out already. She took a deep breath. At least the air in here was not too badly inundated. Yet her lungs still blazed in protest, and she had to fight to keep from coughing.

"I'm upstairs," she gasped into her headset. "Clear so far."

A door in the far end of the mixing room led her out onto a stage. Really it was just a platform raised up about a foot above the rest of the floor. A scaffolding held up some lights and speakers above and beside it. The floor beyond was mostly open space, mostly. But even here there were tables and chairs. It was a woodworker's dream come true. It was also a fire's dream come true. Even now January could see those flames licking up at the far end of the building, that faced the street.

There was a crowd of people milling about here in the clouds of smoke. Most were hunched down toward the floor, trying to find breathable air. As before, January could make out few details in the smoke, other than that most were probably her age, or not much older. Other than that one face tended to blend into the next in the soot-filled air.

January glanced back, and thought of the route she would have to lead them through. Into the mixing room, down the back stairway, and then through the maze on the ground floor to reach the only exit. Would she be able to get them all out that way, without any becoming lost in the tangled warren of makeshift corridors on the ground floor? Would they get there before the flames overtook the side door?

No, they would never make it.

"Gadget, can you get on the firefighter's radio for me?" She took her bearings, and deduced that the wall to her right was the one facing the empty lot. "Tell them to clear their people out from the south wall. The one next to the lot."

"Copy that Stormcrow," Gadget's voice came cool and calm. "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to make an emergency exit."

Air give me quickness in body and wit. Fill my lungs with life.

"People!" January called upon the crowd at the top of her lungs. Somehow she did not cough, or falter. It was as if her lungs had briefly forgotten the smoke and ash that threatened to smother them. "People! Everyone gather around. Bring everyone you see here. I'm going to make a way out."

She eyed the wall. It looked to be cinderblocks, reinforced with steel, and paneled over with wood on the inside. She breathed deeply in and out, and felt the world's magic moving through her, just like her Wiccan exercises told her it would. She focused her thoughts on the wall, and visualized it shattering.

"Valhalla Awaits," she murmured. She rocketed forward, and crashed into the wall like a slug fired from a railgun. The barrier exploded around her in a shower of concrete and steel. She felt rain on her face, and fresh air in her lungs. The world spun under her. She tucked into the roll, and out of habit stuck the landing as her feet hit the dirt of the lot.

She looked back to see a great hole now gaping in the side of the building, billowing smoke into the black sky above. She had been right. The firefighters had withdrawn from the side door. They had lost it to the insatiable flames. The entire ground floor was wreathed in fire now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw firemen and paramedics running toward her. But there was no time. Without a second thought, she leapt back up to the gap she had created, and stepped back inside.

"Come on, I'll take everyone out one at a time!" She waved the people over.

One man tried to push his way through the crowd, and knocked two people to their knees.

"Me first!" he demanded.

"Man up and grow a pair," January heard herself snarl. She reached out to the people he had shoved down and helped them to their feet, then led them back to the opening. Not wasting any more time, she wrapped her arms around one and leapt out into the rain. Her knees took the shock of impact with only a tiny bend, and she handed the man to the awaiting firemen.

Then she was back up into the building, leaping over the rising flames to get inside. Next was the other person who had been knocked down. January noted that she was a rotund woman, with a shock of brilliant orange and purple hair. January put her arms around the colorful woman, and was more than mildly surprised when her charge leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

"For luck," the other woman said.

Feeling more than a little like Luke Skywalker, January leaped to the ground outside, and released her into the care of the emergency crews. Then she was back into the thick of it.

She continued ferrying people out of the building. The smoke thickened, and became great billowing clouds that obscured more than half the room. People were choking, and holding hoodies, shirts, and torn cloth over their faces to try to filter out the soot. They endured. They had to.

Finally January reached the last one in sight, the man who had bowled over the others in his eagerness to escape. He looked sheepish, clearly regretting his panic. January did not say a word. She did not blame him for being afraid. If she had not been, the sky outside would have been clear and shining with stars. But she did blame him for allowing his fear to rule him. Freyja and her valkyrjur would not carry his soul into the afterlife.

But that would not be today. She took him in her arms, and jumped to the ground with him. In spite of her earlier success with breathing, the smoke was once more assaulting her lungs. Now every breath was an agony of fire, a paroxysm of coughing. But she continued on. Endurance was a Viking virtue after all. Never give up, no matter what.

With that in mind, she leapt back skyward. The entire outer shell of the Flying Dutchman was a sheet of flame now. It was as if the structure had transformed into a giant fire elemental, conjured forth by some truly astounding wizard. January felt as if she was venturing into the belly of the beast as she pushed into the smoke, looking for anyone left behind.

She made the mistake of breathing too deeply, and doubled over in a fit of coughing. It felt like she was going to spit her liver out. Her insides burned. Her eyes hurt, and ran with tears. She tried to wipe them away, and see through the haze of smoke and moisture. The world tilted. All around her fire hissed, and snapped, and groaned, like a living thing slavering for her life.

January pushed on, moving toward the worst of it. She found someone there, hunched down over the floor. As she came near, January realized that it was a woman dragging an unconscious man across the floor. The woman slipped and fell, and slammed her head down hard on the wooden boards underfoot. January saw blood splattering her forehead when she lifted her head, only to collapse once more.

January was there a second later. She realized that she could no longer do this one at a time. It had to be both at once. She lifted the bleeding woman and tucked her under one arm. She was reaching down from the man with her free hand when the floor vanished in a geyser of flame.

There was no time to think. January's free hand snapped out and grabbed hold of a water pipe that climbed the wall. The floor evaporated beneath her feet. Time dragged by on painfully slow feet. Moment by moment, she saw the unconscious man fall into the sea of fire below. She saw him vanish into the inferno.

She did the only thing she could. She threw the woman she still had hold of up out of the fiery pit and over onto the still solid floorboards farther back in the Dutchman. Then she turned back to the gaping maw of fire, and leapt within.

"January!" she barely heard Gadget's voice in her ear. He was saying something, but she ignored it. She could not split her attention, not for an instant. The heat scorched through her lungs, as if someone had thrust a red-hot poker down her throat. The world dissolved into bright red and orange flame, and thick black smoke. She burned. Burned like the heart of the Sun. She thought she heard screaming. She was not sure if it was her own voice, or someone else's.

But Vikings did not quit. They endured. She would too. She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant.

Her questing hands found something hard, metal. She saw it was the handle of a gasoline can. It was not one of the little containers one might use to buy gas for the lawnmower. No, this was one of the big jerry cans like she saw strapped to trucks and tanks in pictures from World War II. The kind that held a zillion gallons of fuel. She crawled across another, and another, and shoved them out of her way.

Then her fingers touched something soft, malleable, and thrashing around wildly. That was him! She leapt upon the fallen man, and snapped loose the cape from around her shoulders. She threw it around the man, who was clearly no longer unconscious. He flailed and spasmed, but was no match for her strength.

She wrapped him like a mummy in the fireproof material of the cape. Not wasting a moment, she pulled him in close to her chest. Then she leapt forward with all of her might. She was vaguely aware of striking a wall. It could not withstand the force of her charge. Nothing could slow her. Nothing could stop her. The wall disintegrated in a shower of cinderblock and steel.

Then she was out in the open. Cool water showered down upon her, and sweet air teased her nostrils. She rolled off the injured man, who still screamed and thrashed under her. The world spun for a moment, and she felt strong hands holding her up, pulling her aside. Her eyes were on her charge however, and she saw a firefighter and a paramedic gently open the cape to reveal his body within.

He was a blackened and twisted mess. His hair was gone. His clothing was melted into his flesh, what little there was of it. His eyes were grey-white milky soup. He continued to thrash, and there was still screaming in her ears. She saw the paramedic pull out a hypodermic, and jab him with the needle. Then something blocked her view.

January squirmed. It felt like people were jumping on top of her, smothering her, covering her in darkness. A voice was shouting in her ear, and after a moment she realized it was Avery's.

"January stop, you're on fire!" his voice was hard as steel. "Stop, they are trying to put you out!"

January stopped struggling, and realized that the choking, smothering feeling was blankets, wrapping every inch of her body. She let the firemen clustered around her pat her out, and finally pull her to her feet. Now she realized that she was in the street in front of the Flying Dutchman. She had gone through the worst of the inferno, and punched a hole clear through the front wall of the building.

She tried to breathe deeply. To pull up the magic from the heart of the Earth, and wash its healing wave through her body. But her lungs betrayed her. Her entire body convulsed and rocked uncontrollably. The next thing she knew, she was doubled over and throwing up onto the sidewalk. Luckily she had not eaten since late afternoon, so it was only dry heaves. But it still wracked her frame.

She was stiff and sore, and bone-tired. Even though she could feel the rain pelting her face, her skin felt dry, dry and hot. She leaned her head back, to let the clean water wash down across her face, and carry away the tears and grime that she imagined must have smeared her features. At least what little of them that was not obscured by her cowl.

Even with her eyes closed, the image of the burned man still filled her mind.

She looked down at herself for the first time. Her armor was blackened and covered in ash, dust, and bits of charred wood. But it was still there, still solid. A pile of the soot ringed the ground around her, the remnants of the burning detritus that the firefighters had brushed off of her.

"That was the bravest thing I have ever seen." She heard one of the firemen breathe in her ear. She realized it was the older man with the mustache, the captain, or whatever they called the head firefighter. Then someone pushed an oxygen mask in her face, and she greedily drank in the crystal pure air.

Wow!

What a powerfully epic episode.

If there was any doubt that within the breast of this young woman beats the heart of a superhero, that doubt is tenfold dispelled. This episode really displayed that, when it comes to the perilous, dirty, terrifying business of being a superhero, Stormcrow is the gritty real deal.

I loved how she made her own fire exit for that crowd by calling upon the power of her mind, body and spirit to act as one and propel her through that reinforced wall.

It was clear that she grimly made the conscious choice to save everyone she could – or perish in the attempt. Bravest thing that fireman ever saw? I believe him.

Yikes, she's making an emergency exit.

"Til Valhall!" ... I can just see her saying this in a comic book with a jagged bubble around her words.



... or some kind of bent lawyers, trying to get money any way they can.

I think I know what's coming in the next chapter. Hee, how clever, Miss Rosa.

Did we ever get an answer to this? I still don't know what issues Ryo could have.

Acadian: I enjoyed writing the fire a great deal, because January's heart really shines through in it. It is very much the January Doctrine put into action, even though she has yet to put words to such a thing.

When I was doing my initial high level plotting, I was looking at various ways I could gradually ease her into conflicts and steadily raise the stakes each time. You see that a lot with not only super hero fiction, but all sorts of action stories and video games. The protagonist starts with the mooks, works their way up to bosses, and ends with the big bad. So for the early stuff I went with things like the diamond smuggler and his bodyguards, the misguided inventor Isaac, and now a massive fire. So far no real, honest-to-goodness supervillains. That comes next chapter. Of the first 3 chapters, I enjoy this one the most, because the stakes are now so much higher. Also because there is not a single supervillain in this chapter. It is all ordinary, everyday danger and villainy. In many ways, January is graduating from Superhero Bootcamp this chapter, and becoming a real-deal hero.



Renee: The real fire this event was based on killed 36 people, because they were trapped inside the burning building. I put Stormcrow in there so she could make an exit the real people never had, and get everyone out. It is a great example of the good that supers could do if they were real. More of that this episode.

I dug around to find an example of a viking battlecry. The Til Valhall was pretty much all I could find, aside from people shouting "Odin!" or "Thor!", which did not feel right for January. She's not really that big into either of them.

I have not dished about Ryo yet. Sadly, he will not appear again for several chapters. So we won't be getting to the bottom of his issues any time soon. I can PM you if you like.







Music to listen to while you read - Blood Raven's Theme

Blood Raven


Book 3.7 - Stormcrow Burning

Then January waved off the mask. She was not finished. She looked back to the blazing monster that rose up in front of her. There was still that one last woman inside, the one she had thrown clear of the disintegrating floor. She had to go back. She could not allow the fiery beast to claim another victim.

"There are still people inside." January wheezed. "I have to go back."

"You can't go back in there," someone said. She pushed them aside as gently as she could. She needed to get a clear leap, focus her energy, to break through the wall of the upper floor.

"Stormcrow, take one of their masks," Gadget said clearly in her ear.

January blinked. He was right. He was always right. One of the firefighters quickly pulled off his mask and oxygen tank, and with the help of his comrades, strapped it around her frame. January steeled herself, and looked down for her cape. It was still laid out underneath the horribly burned man. She was not going to make them move him to get it back. She would just have to do without.

She focused. She thought of the elements. She was air, she was earth, she was water, she was spirit, and yes, she was fire too.

She was a comet blazing through the sky. She smashed through the concrete wall and landed on her feet on the second floor. She felt it buckle and rock beneath her, and feared that it too, would collapse. She prayed to Freyja to give her more time. Just a little more. To find whoever was left.

The smoke assaulted her once more. But this time, with the mask and oxygen, it did not burn down deep inside her. Instead it was merely a thick soup that she had to stagger though. It felt almost as if she was a deep sea diver, plodding through the benthic depths. She found the woman she had thrown, sprawled out motionless on the dance floor. January gathered her up in her arms as gently as she could. Then she made her way to the back of the building, to where she had broken open an escape hole earlier.

"Yes!" Gadget exulted in her ear. "Backup is here!"

January did not know what that meant. More fire trucks? As if that mattered now. They would never stop the fire, and it would be suicide for a mundane firefighter to try to enter this inferno.

A nightmare snarled and roared from above. January looked up, and saw that the entire ceiling was a sheet of flame. She saw the support beams high overhead buckle, snap, and give way. Out of reflex she hunched over the woman she was carrying, and threw her back and arms across her to shield her from as much of the deluge that was coming.

But it never came. After a few moments January dared to look back up again. Her mouth gaped at what she saw.

A glowing barrier of golden light stretched across the ceiling, from one end of the building to the other. The ruined ceiling burned above it, held away impotently by the barrier of force. January could see waves and eddies of light flowing through the force field, like currents in a river, or blood within a body. These currents all flowed downward, and met at the form of a woman.

She floated above the floor, arms stretched out high over her head, as if beseeching the gods for aid. She was dressed from head to toe in black armor. Most of it was something similar to January's, in that it was flexible and made of woven material. Other sections - such as along her forearms and shoulders - were hardened plates. A blood red raven was emblazoned across her chest. Likewise, her cape, utility belt, boots, and gauntlets were the same crimson shade. The bone white skin of her lower face was left bare by her mask, and her hair and lips were brilliant scarlet.

She was a like a bloody gash, cut into the air where she floated. January smelled it - blood - coppery and thick. She even tasted it in her throat.

Blood Raven.

Now January noted that the heroine's armor was sliced open in several places. Not in single cuts, but in groups of three, as if she had been clawed by some sort of animal. There was no sign of blood in or around the wounds however. There was not even any sign of scars. Just pristine skin, white as bone china.

"It gives me great delight to make your acquaintance Stormcrow," the newcomer said in archaic formality. "Yet I strongly urge alacrity of motion, for but little time remains for this domicile."

January nodded. What did you say when you met your idol, and they gave you such a gentle suggestion? She had no idea. But she knew what she had to do, and she did it. January hoisted the unconscious woman in her arms and raced for the opening she had previously battered through the wall. She cleared it in a moment, and landed in the field outside, now churned into a quagmire of mud by rain and pounding feet. Once she deposited the woman into the arms of a paramedic, she leaped skyward again, and alighted within the burning building.

"Turn your gaze in that direction if you please," Blood Raven pointed to the back of the building, toward the stage and mixing room. "I smell the blood of mortals within."

That is when January realized that the other hero was not wearing a breath mask, or any sort of rebreather at all. In fact, she was not breathing at all! Her eyes glowed with blood-red light, two smaller fires amidst the inferno. In that moment, nothing about her seemed human.

There was no time to wonder. January pushed her feet forward, one in front of the other, and scampered across the stage. She darted into the mixing room, and sure enough, she found two more people within, coughing and throwing up all over the sound board.

Without a word she took them both under her arms, and lifted them from the ground. They felt light as a feather. She sped back out across the stage, and leaped through the gaping hole in the wall. She splashed down hard in the mud outside, almost toppling over. But she made sure that she took all of the force of the landing with her feet and knees. Her charge's toes never touched the ground until she handed them over to the firemen outside.

January turned back to the inferno. It seemed like she had been doing this forever. She called up the strength in her legs for another leap. But the makeshift entryway was blocked by the red and black form of Blood Raven. The superheroine floated through the egress, and finally drew her hands down. With that the golden force field holding up the roof vanished. The fiery wreckage immediately collapsed in upon itself, and January was sure that she felt the ground shake as an eruption of smoke and ash shot skyward from the ruin.

Blood Raven was blotted from sight by the cloud of smoke and dust. A few moments later the red glow of her eyes burned from the roiling darkness. Then rest of her frame slowly emerged from the smoke. With a coolness that January wished she possessed, the other heroine descended gently to the earth, cape draped about her shoulders.

Stormcrow pairs well with the music of Two Steps from Hell.

I noted to myself at the end of the last episode that the woman Stormcrow had tossed to safety before diving down into the inferno was unaccounted for. I confess I suspected an oversight on your part and toyed even with PM’ing you to mention it. Forgive my doubts, as this episode quickly clarified ‘twas no oversight at all.

"Stormcrow, take one of their masks," Gadget said clearly in her ear.
January blinked. He was right. He was always right.’
- - Buffy can attest that having a voice in your ear can be incredibly helpful – especially one who is always right.

’She focused. She thought of the elements. She was air, she was earth, she was water, she was spirit, and yes, she was fire too.
She was a comet blazing through the sky. She smashed through the concrete wall and landed on her feet on the second floor.’
- - Wow, that is a serious superhero trick!

By Julianos’ little tea pot but if Blood Raven’s entrance didn’t top even Stormcrow’s feat! Stormcrow is impressive but clearly not in Blood Raven's league - yet. Somehow though, I suspect that Blood Raven has a few centuries of experience on young Stormcrow.

My gosh, sorry to hear folks died in there, in real-life. I can just imagine the fire must have spread so fast.

Yes, you can PM me about Ryo, I am too curious now.

Ah-ha, so that's what the coppery smell was at the concert. I did turn on Blood Raven's music just as she showed up, what an enigma this one is!

And again, one of my favorite things about The Stormcrow is the fact that she lives amongst a large population of people who have no idea who she really is. I keep wanting to make guesses about who might suspect her true identity and so on, but then I don't want to influence this work-in-progress, right?

As you write this, how many chapters "ahead" are you? Just curious. With Goblin Lady, most of those tales were written whatever week they were posted, which is why I think I began getting stressed-out. Sometimes I'd get lucky though, and I'd write too much for one week. Then I could let the extra text get posted for the next week.

Acadian: I was recently thinking the same about the Stormcrow fic and Two Steps From Hell. I keep trying to look for other sources for music just for the sake of diversity. But I always seem to come back to Two Steps. I think they are the official soundtrack for the series. Although the Big Bad's theme music will still be Gustav Holst's Mars.

January would never forget someone. That is the downside to writing this all out first, and then breaking up into forum-sized pieces for posting. The last few weeks, and the weeks following this, are all meant to be read as one big scene.

I really like Jan having that invisible partner to offer insight and advice. This way she does not have to think of everything, like so many solo characters like Batman or Superman do. She does not have to be perfect.

I really liked putting that not so subtle nod that January's powers ultimately derive from focusing on the elements into her leap back into the warehouse.

Blood Raven is a lot of fun to write. Difficult, but fun. She really is January's litmus test for what a hero must be, but also a warning of what she does not want to become. Sort of like Luke in the cave on Dagobah.


Renee: That smell of blood is January magically sensing Blood Raven's presence. It is not something other people feel. Even January does not know how to interpret it, yet. But she is learning.

Well so far only Gadget knows that January is Stormcrow. But keep watching...

I did not start posting until I had the entire first chapter completed. I was working on Chapter 2 while I posted that. By the time I started posting that, I was already writing Chapters 3 and 4. Now I am starting on Chapter 5.

By chapter, I do not meant a single post here. I mean a full chapter, most of which are 20k words and change. Chapter 3 (the current one) should take us into January. I imagine Chapter 4 will go from then to March or April. Then Chapter 5, which I am starting now, will start getting posted. So I am about 5 months ahead now.

But a week before each post I still go back and go over it. Usually one time a day for four or five days. Mostly I am just looking for typos and making minor tweaks. Stuff that I missed in my original drafts. But lately I have been doing some major retooling in several of the posts, today's included. The healing in today's was completely redone, as I did not like the kind of power it was giving to Blood Raven. I wanted something more limited. In the past I did a lot of rework on the festival posts, to add more detail about Downtown Detroit. Hopefully I won't be doing so much rework very often. I would prefer to be working more ahead.







Anglo-Saxon Kennings



Book 3.8 - Stormcrow Burning

"I hope there was no one else in there." The fire captain groaned.

"None whose hearts still beat," Blood Raven fixed him with her shining crimson eyes. "But there are those still counted among the living yet desirous of aid, are there not?"

"There-" January tried to speak, but her lungs betrayed her again. She found herself doubled over, as her chest was wracked with violent convulsions. Blood and spittle sprayed the interior of the firefighter's oxygen mask that she wore. She peeled it off and let it dangle loosely, until the coughing fit passed.

"It seems relief is required by one much nearer." Blood Raven's voice floated from above her head. January straightened up, and took a moment to just revel in the feeling of the cool rain that splashed her face. Then she shook her head, and tried to point to the terribly burned man she had pulled from the flames.

"I sense that his life shall not flee just yet." Blood Raven turned her gaze to follow the motion, then looked back to January. "However, it appears that your lungs are not as resilient as the rest of your armament. Clearly, attention is required."

A warm, red light filled the air around them, and she heard Blood Raven speaking in an odd language. Perhaps it was Gaelic? It sounded ancient, primal, and wild. It was the kind of thing that she imagined might have been shouted on Beltane or Samhain from stone circles that crowned shadowed hills.

It might have been the words that awakened something within her. Or maybe it was the intent beneath the words. In any case January felt power there: a deep, all-pervasive energy that sprang from the vigilante just as plainly as the rain that fell from the thunderclouds overhead.

Brilliant symbols sprang into crimson life at their feet, adding even more illumination to the scene. January recognized them as Celtic: triquetras, triskelions, awen, Brighid's crosses, and elaborate knotwork. They formed a circle around them. A magic circle - January quickly realized - which spun and slowly rose up into the air as Blood Raven chanted, as if summoned by her will.

She took January's wrist in one hand, and pulled back the sleeve of her armor. That bared the old suicide scars that crisscrossed her wrist to all. Blood Raven stared at that for a moment, as people always did. One of her fingers transformed into a long claw, which effortlessly slashed a deep runnel through January's arm. January felt her flesh tear under the other woman's talon. It reminded her of the feeling of cloth ripping apart. She gasped in spite of herself, and watched her blood run down her bared arm.

Blood Raven gazed at the wound, as if mesmerized by the red flow. She sniffed at it, drinking in the scent, as if she were interrogating the very blood streaming from January's arm.

Blood Raven used the still-human fingers of her hand to pull back a panel set into the palm of her gauntlet. Bone white flesh was exposed underneath. She curled her fingers inward, and that single razor claw pierced her flesh as easily as if it was butter. A torrent of wound-dew issued forth, filling January's nose with the coppery scent of blood.

Wound-dew? Since when did she think in Anglo-Saxon kennings? Something about all of this… this blood and magic, conjured up such ancient and primal thoughts within her. Race memories? If one gave stock in that. Or perhaps it was just too much reading history and heroic fiction.

Moving quickly, Blood Raven clasped her injured palm to January's slashed forearm. The young superheroine abstractly noted that all of the blood that had flowed from their wounds now rose back up to them. It literally levitated through the air, crawled up their arms, and sank back into their flesh.

"Crom!" she heard Gadget breathe in her earpiece. "That's cool!"

January had to agree. But she also found herself hoping that Blood Raven did not have HIV, or HPV, or any of a host of other blood-borne diseases.

January felt something being pulled from inside her, as if drawn out with her blood. Even with her writer's imagination, she could not put words to the feeling. It was as if some dark spirit was being exorcised from her being. Some malignity being cut away from her body. Whatever it was, she felt it being siphoned away by a strange form of energy. By that power she had earlier felt beneath Blood Raven's chant. That energy seemed to drag the darkness from her, out through the wound in her arm, and draw it up into Blood Raven.

Now she did gasp for breath. Her lungs worked again! She took in a deep gulp of air. She did not cough, or gag, again. The fire that had scorched deep within her chest was gone. Instead she breathed deeply, and everything felt normal once more. Just as it had before she had entered the burning building. She stared down at her arm, and saw no sign of blood on her skin. The cut that Blood Raven had made was no longer there. Not even a scar was left behind. There was no trace of it ever having existed.

Blood Raven had gone silent. January now realized that she had abandoned her chant for some time. Ever since she had felt that darkness being drawn out. The red light was gone too, and the glowing magic circle with it.

But now the scarlet-haired woman coughed. It was a deep, hacking convulsion, that doubled her over, and nearly drove her to her knees. Phlegm, soot, and even a little blood sprayed the mud beneath them.

Out of reflex January reached out a hand to steady the other woman. She felt her shudder beneath her fingers, as one paroxysm after another of coughing gripped her. Finally she went still, and straightened her back once more. She wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. January wondered how she managed to do that without smudging her lipstick. Maybe that was a superpower? If so, she would love to possess it.

January stood there in the rain, and realized that the vigilante had just healed her with magic. No, not healed her. Blood Raven had taken her injuries into herself. Absorbed them through her blood. She had endured the seared lungs in January's place, and somehow regenerated the wound herself.

"Jesus!" one firefighter murmured.

"Sweet Mother of God!" gasped another.

"They are fine inspirations." Blood Raven looked around to all of them, and briefly locked her eyes with every firefighter and paramedic in turn. "But I look in the here and now for my encouragement. To those such as yourselves, who sacrifice and endure every day. How can one do less, among such company?"

January noted that the firefighters all looked at Blood Raven with awe. But not with joy, or admiration. She was like a goddess who walked among mortals. Powerful, stunning, dangerous, inexplicable, and ever remote. She did not live in the same world they did, and made no attempt to hide that fact. Even at her most beneficent, like now, she still remained isolated, apart from the rest of the world.

January's heart fell. She had been an outsider all of her life. It did not make her feel any better to see another who was even more cut off from humanity than she was. Even if Blood Raven's isolation was self-imposed. She was reminded of how her Literature professor had so aptly pointed out that not only was Frankenstein's monster alienated, but so too was Victor himself.

But this was hardly the time for literary introspection. She had to focus on the here and now, as Blood Raven herself had just remarked upon.

"Thank you," January breathed. She breathed easy in fact, now that her lungs were healthy and normal again. "Thank you so much."

"It was my distinct pleasure." Blood Raven inclined her head slightly. "It delights me greatly to finally make the acquaintance of Detroit's newest champion." As people sometimes did, she pronounced "Detroit" in the old French manner, so that it sounded like "Day-Twa."

January could not restrain a blush. She was thankful for her helmet, which must have hidden most of it from view. She had no idea what to say in return. In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.

When Blood Raven speaks I hear the haughty voice of that lady who runs Radiant Raiment in Solitude, for some reason. Not that BR is haughty, but I mean I hear her words in a low tone of WHOA....

Holy [censored] she cut into Jan's arm!!! Okay. Alright. Phew I thought Blood Raven's really evil or something.

Yah I was wondering if anybody else witnessed Jan's transformation. OR whatever you'd call that. Yes, Blood Raven does seem as though she's from some other time. Just the way she speaks (and I'm not even talking about the way she says Detroit) had me wondering if she's from the Enlightenment age or something.

Inspired by your example long ago, I won’t even announce a new story until it is in a solid completed draft. I love the long list advantages this provides but, you are right that carving the story into episodes approaching posting time can present its own challenges.

I’m very interested (for obvious reasons) in the insight you provided on how/why Jan has a voice traveling with her inside her head who can advise her. That it allows the primary character to manifest more imperfections and still survive is a wonderful way to think of it. Buffy and Acadian do that but I had not thought in those terms before – thank you.

I imagine Blood Raven is indeed fun (and challenging) to write. It is liberating sometimes to take the gloves off and present a mysterious character whose abilities hit the ‘Oh wow!’ mark on the power scale.

*

’Wound-dew? Since when did she think in Anglo-Saxon kennings? Something about all of this… this blood and magic, conjured up such ancient and primal thoughts within her. Race memories?’
- - I love this. Not just the evocative synonym for blood but also correctly (in my opinion) referring to ancient instincts as race memories. Some anthropologists believe that Neanderthals were the last humans to have highly developed race memories/instincts. This allowed quickly learning skills the race was well familiar at the price of a limited ability to grasp/learn new concepts. The concept that some form of race memories could still persist as recently as a few thousand years ago makes for intriguing possibilities regarding current mystics. Regardless, I heartily endorse the concept you introduce here along with its historical underpinnings.

Retractable talons! Woot!

Oh. My. Goodness. Laying on of hands and empathically absorbing a patient’s wounds and pain. Given your knowledge of my elf, it should come as no surprise that I am in awe of Blood Raven’s healing.

A poignant insight by January that life is lonely at the top of many professions – particularly that of being a super hero.

’January could not restrain a blush. She was thankful for her helmet, which must have hidden most of it from view. She had no idea what to say in return. In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.’
- - What a perfect ending, as you gently remind us that this is Stormcrow’s story, not Blood Raven’s. Whereas Blood Raven personifies awesomesauce, it is the imperfections that render January so endearing. And when it comes to a heroine, I’ll take endearing over awesome any day.

Renee: I never really thought about what Blood Raven sounds like. Maybe Kate Beckinsale, she has the kind of polish that BR does. Or maybe Laura Bailey. Probably Laura Bailey.

Good call on the Enlightenment. Stay tuned, eventually we will learn more of BR's history.


Avadian: Blood Raven was not originally meant to be so Cosmically Awesome. She just turned out that way when I started writing her. Like the constant sniping between Loria and Do'Sakhar. It just felt right, so I went with it.

My original portrayal of Blood Raven's healing was much different. Version 1.0 had her taking the blood (and thusly life force) from other people, and then using that to heal the injured person. But even with the obvious need for donors, it seemed too effective. I could not see how she would not spend her entire life in a hospital, or traveling the world, healing critically injured people. Because if she had that power, and did not use it, how selfish would that be. As it is, suffering the wounds herself puts some serious limitations on the healing ability. Even she is not a bottomless well of self-regeneration.

Blood Raven is definitely very isolated, mostly from her own doing. Partly from her long years, and the need to emotionally protect herself from creating relationships that will inevitably end in watching the people she loves dying. Partly because she can be extremely opinionated, as we will see in the future. She is not at all shy about alienating others and making enemies through her outspokenness. Call it stubbornness, or certainty, or arrogance, it is something that definitely runs in her bloodline.

Endearing is definitely what I am going for with January. In spite of all the lesbian-trans-superhero ness, my hope is that she can still come across as relatable and ordinary with her awkwardness and un-coolness. At her core, Jan is a nice person. Blood Raven makes for a really stark contrast with all those aspects of January. In many ways they are total opposites. Which is why I like writing them together.






Since she is still so front and center - Blood Raven's Theme Music

Blood Raven's Gaelic spell translates to:

Bones of Earth
Blood of Fire
Breath of Air
Cauldron of Water
Heal this Spirit, with your power



Book 3.9 - Stormcrow Burning

"If you can do something like that again, there is a man who needs your help, badly." January finally summoned the words to deflect the momentary attention from herself to the burned man. She could see that the paramedics were gingerly lifting him off of her cape and onto a gurney. She took a moment to shuck off her borrowed air tank, then led the way to his side.

"He fell into the worst of the fire. But it might be too much…"

"How did you effect a rescue?" Blood Raven asked.

"I went in after him of course." January replied without really thinking about it. Just as she had leapt into the flames.

"Of course." For some reason that seemed to please Blood Raven. She even did smile, if ever so fleetingly.

January and the firemen stepped up to the injured man, who was blessedly unconscious now. January wanted to tear her eyes away from the tortured ruin of life he had been reduced to. But she would not allow herself that luxury. Was this all because of her? Could she have been faster? Could she have saved both him and the woman? What gave her the right to choose who had lived, and who would suffer this terrible fate?

"This is why I serve," Blood Raven said quietly as she stared down at the burned man. The paramedics looked up in shock at the sight of the armored vigilante. She waved them aside, and they moved out of her way without a word. January suspected that was less from respect and admiration, and more from awe however.

Blood Raven knelt down beside him. She began to sing in Gaelic, and again that glowing red circle of Celtic symbols sprang up around them. Those monstrous claws sprang from her hands once more. With a slash across the burned man's torso, she joined his blood to hers.

Blood Raven increased the intensity of her chant, which January now realized was simply a repetition of a few sentences.

"Cnámha na Cruinne
Fuil Dóiteáin
Anáil Aeir
An Coire Uisce
Cneasaigh an Spiorad seo, le do chumhacht"

Again, January felt the power rise from Blood Raven. She was an ocean of energy, overflowing with power. She had heard that Blood Raven was some sort of magician. January had always taken that with a grain of salt. After all, what was the old saying: any advanced form of technology seemed like magic to a less-advanced culture? But this, this was the real deal. Blood Raven was an actual, old school Witch.

January felt that pull again. Now that she was not at the center of it, and could instead merely clinically observe, she could feel it much more clearly. There was a darkness within the burned man. A dis-ease. His terrible burns. His ruined flesh. That horror was being siphoned from him and poured into Blood Raven.

January shut her eyes, and she felt that power even more clearly. It seemed her meat eyes were distracting her from what was really happening. She let go of her physical senses, and simply felt - for lack of a better word - the magic growing and ripening within the man.

She could not truly understand, or trace, or track, even half of it. But she could read the changes well enough. Flesh that had literally been destroyed sprang back into being. Cauterized blood vessels rejoined. Organs leaped back to full, beating vigor and life again. All those terrible injuries were being systematically undone. It was like watching a time-lapse video in reverse.

When it finally ended, January opened her eyes and saw the stars twinkling down from above. The rain had stopped, and there was not a cloud in the sky. She looked down at the man she had rescued from the fire. The man Blood Raven had healed. He still lay on the gurney. But there was not a single mark on him. Not even a spot of soot. His hair was long and black, framing an equally long face, that was decorated by a short goatee. He was slender in frame, and wore a blue suit, with a narrow, striped purple tie. A gold class ring adorned one of his fingers, and a crucifix hung from his neck. January could not believe it was the same man she had pulled from the fire.

But Blood Raven, she was a much different story. The mane of hair that had sprouted from her helmet was a ragged, blackened stubble. January absentmindedly realized that it was not her real hair. It was a wig, attached to the outside of her helmet. She wondered if it was just for looks. Or perhaps it was so an enemy who thought they might gain an advantage by yanking at her hair, would come away surprised instead?

The rest of her armor was burned into tatters as well, even its metal pieces were singed and melted. The body underneath it seemed shrunken to half its former size, making the ruined gear seem like a half-collapsed tent. The bare skin January could see of the vigilante's lower face was a charred nightmare, shriveled and blackened meat stretched tight over bone.

As before, Blood Raven had stopped her chant at some point during the process. Now she ground her teeth tightly together, and clenched her hands into fists. Thankfully her claws had likewise vanished somewhere in the healing process. A low howl rose up from her throat, a sound not even vaguely human. Her eyes were now literal pools of red light. January felt power rising in her tortured frame once more, burning to a peak, and finally boiling over.

January could swear that she heard a hiss like that of water bubbling over from a pot, and vaporizing on the hot stove beneath it. Blood Raven's body transformed with the sound. Flesh grew back from nothingness, skin brightened from withered black to its previously shade of china white. Even the false hair crowning her helmet reappeared, and her armor knitted itself back together and shed its soot and burns.

Blood Raven rose to her feet, looking as healthy as ever. January felt that power wane within her, and fall to a low, steady hum. Even her gaze dimmed from that fiery scarlet glow to a normal, albeit still red, pair of human eyes. She only glanced briefly at January, before turning her full attention to the man whose injuries she had absorbed.

"Whoa!" His eyes flew open and he leaped to a sitting position.

January stepped away as the paramedics rushed back in, and calmed the man. All the while he stared at January and Blood Raven. That did not surprise January. Their armor did tend to the dramatic side of things. Mostly he stared at the black and red heroine, who remained at his side.

"How is it you are called my friend?"

"Ken," the man locked eyes with her, "Ken Reeve."

"It is a rare boon to gain a second chance at life Mister Reeve." Blood Raven laid a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "I pray you live yours well."

"There was a girl I met, she was with me, she…"

"We shall see to her next should she require it," Blood Raven said gently. She stepped away, and pulled January and the firefighters along with her like a magnet. Even as she followed, January marveled at that. Her presence just commanded attention. It was hard to take her eyes off her. How did she do that? Was it magic? Or did she just have a Charisma of 18?

It turned out that the woman Ken Reeve spoke of was named Alexandra Grant. She was the same one that January had found pulling Reeve across the floor of the Dutchman. Alexandra was little the worse for wear. She had a bump on her head the size of a goose egg. But she was already conscious once more, and required only a few stitches to close up the wound in her scalp. A wound whose blood miraculously flowed back into her body with just a wave of Blood Raven's hand.

Most of the others who had escaped the building had already been taken away by ambulances. Of those that remained, none bore injuries serious enough to require the extraordinary powers of Blood Raven.

January wondered what price those powers came at? It was clear that Blood Raven could not actually heal people. Rather she literally transferred their injuries to herself. Somehow she could regenerate, or heal herself afterward. But the agony she must have felt each time had looked quite real. How much of that could any person endure? How much of that literal torture could even a meta-human body withstand?

January found that she did not envy the other superheroine for this particular ability at all.

Very ‘January’ to second guess whether she could have done more to prevent such grievous injury to the burned man.

"Of course." For some reason that seemed to please Blood Raven. She even did smile, if ever so fleetingly.’ - - Blood Raven of the Fleeting Smile.

I loved what you did with Blood Raven’s healing. Observing and feeling the actions of a real Witch seemed to really open Jan’s mind and instincts. Jan’s reaction leads me to believe that, even though she doesn’t fully recognize it yet, she carries her own brand of Witchcraft within herself. Blood Raven’s healing is empathic to the extreme and I agree with Jan that it surely exacts a toll and is not exactly something to be envious of. Finally, thanks for sharing the words of Blood Raven's spell. Well done!

Charisma of 18. Hee! I see Jan’s been playing Dungeons and Dragons games.


Nits:
"This is why I serve," Blood Raven said quietly as {she?} stared down at the burned man.’
’Her presence just command{ed?} attention.’

Chapter 3.5:

Wow. That was intense! The fire did some damage for sure, and there wasn't much left. The Stormcrow came right on time to lend aid to those firefighters. The flames growing in size just as the rain began to pour came off as suspicious, and the man's comment cemented it. Something was causing the fire to grow.

A breathing device would come in handy but Avery sort of forgot about that it seems

Her abilities continue to grow and she's shown great skill, but I fear she may be in a bit of a pickle with the growing fumes!

Chapter 3.6:
Tense! Jan continues to show her heroic nature by leading those people out of the fire, and saving more lives. A great thing Gadget was there to give her the information she needed on the state of the building, and how many more people could've been potentially harmed by the flames had she not got there on time.

She was very clever in creating a new exit for those people; crashing through the wall worked rather well! This was awesome! Emotionally powerful as well! Stormcrow feeling the slight bit of panic and tense as the firefighters did their duty and helped put the flames out of her. Despite her powers and growing skill, she is vulnerable. Great thing there are the right people helping her at the right time, such as Avery/Gadget.

3.7: I'm in agreement here with Acadian. Two Steps From Hell and Stormcrow come together great. Blackheart is one of my favorites from TSFM.

I knew it! Introducing her a few chapters prior had me excited. I knew she was close to showing up and you build the intrigue quite well with Jan's/Storm's thoughts and passing mentions on Blood Raven, and since this is the figure she looks up to and is inspired by, you had me waiting with curiosity. Gave me goosebumps.

She was a like a bloody gash, cut into the air where she floated. January smelled it - blood - coppery and thick. She even tasted it in her throat.

You painted a great picture. Her presence is unmistakable, mysterious, and the way she speaks does give us the impression of her wisdom, which of course, surely came with age. I'll be back to read the next chapters!

Great stuff Subrosa!

Whoa, no way. Gaelic. See, whenever Laprimma Donnagh's game starts (and my corresponding story with her) she's going to speak Gaelic too, when she does one of her incantations.

Yes, Kate Beckinsale's voice sounds like what I'm hearing in my head with Blood Raven, especially if Kate were to put more affect into her voice, making it sound sort of emotionless and cold.



Nice. I love this way she speaks. Her Charisma is 18, her Speechcraft is up there, and perhaps her ability to Charm is off the charts.

Yes I was also gonna say: it doesn't seem like she's healing them so much as transferring their injuries / pain briefly to herself. All of this fits in with some beliefs I have about the reality of our existence, by the way. Just the fact that realities seem to be merging. And Blood Raven can access these other realities. Similar to the way our world of our dreams is an actual real place, sort of. Blood Raven can actively access this world, where injuries and pain can magically go away.

:

3.8: As I've mentioned before . . . Blood Raven has such an eloquent way of speaking. This is captured well with Jan's thoughts:

'Perhaps it was Gaelic? It sounded ancient, primal, and wild. It was the kind of thing that she imagined might have been shouted on Beltane or Samhain from stone circles that crowned shadowed hills.'
Her knowledge in Celtic magic is fascinating. Does this count as, well, Blood Magic? It was refreshing to see Blood Raven use her abilities to siphon and take away Stormcrow's pain. Its a more positive and selfless way of using one's powers that are sometimes(and mistakenly) associated with a shade.

'She also found herself hoping that Blood Raven did not have HIV, or HPV, or any of a host of other blood-borne diseases.'
Ha, that would, as the saying goes, totally suck.

'She was like a goddess who walked among mortals. Powerful, stunning, dangerous, inexplicable, and ever remote. She did not live in the same world they did, and made no attempt to hide that fact. Even at her most beneficent, like now, she still remained isolated, apart from the rest of the world.'

Perhaps this is for the best. Blood Raven's presence is noted and definitely revered by Stormcrow. You do a tremendous job maintaining this sort of mystery behind her while still showing her power. As a sort of amateur writer, I personally struggle with this

Again, wow. Stormcrow's lungs are working in tip-top-shape and she's ready for action.

'In the end all she could manage was a strangled, embarrassing grunt and a hurried nod.'
Was she fangirling? I think she was fangirling

P.S . . . love the nod to Conan the Barbarian


3.9: I wonder if Stormcrow will learn a thing or two of the Gaelic tongue. Another great chapter!

While Stormcrow has much to learn, I'm sure with Blood Raven's restorative abilities and her recent heroism, she's well on her way to learning something new perhaps, about herself? More on the hero she looks up to? There's more to Stormcrow, isn't there? I'm getting way to ahead of myself here, lol.

Ah so Blood Raven sounds like Laura Bailey eh? I could listen to her all day . . . as a matter of fact I have. Serana is my number 1 companion in Skyrim Funny enough I tend to always imagine what my characters sound like. Raven(Decumus) has what we know as an English/British accent, also known as a Nibenese accent in lore

Stormcrow asks some good questions about BR's abilities. I wouldn't envy her either to be quite honest.

Acadian: January is a nice person at the core. She cares about other people, because she can feel empathy for their pain. But she also takes her supering very seriously. She sees protecting people as her #1 priority. That is what her slowly coalescing Stormcrow Doctrine will be founded upon. So when someone is injured as badly as Ken Reeve was, she not only feels bad for their pain, she takes it as a personal failure. She has to do better than that.

Jan most definitely plays D&D, though it is not her favorite game. We will learn more about her D&D character later this chapter in fact.

Thanks for spotting those nits. Fixed and fixed.


Darkness Eternal: I intentionally decided for January not to have any kind of breathing device. Her hagfish armor already makes her immune to fire (short of the sun at least). She needed to have a vulnerability in order for there to be some real danger in her going into the fire. Smoke inhalation was perfect, as it tends to kill more people in fires than the actual fire itself. That allowed me to show her really struggling and hurting, while still going on.

Blood Raven is Irish, so her magic tends to run toward the Gaelic end of the spectrum. She is a second generation immigrant, so she does not have the Irish accent. Her posh and polished way of speaking does come from her upbringing. We will learn more about that in the future.

She definitely has a real talent for blood magic, as well as 'regular' magic. Its in her name after all! Later we will see just why she has such an ability for sensing and manipulating blood.

Laura Bailey has a wonderful, husky voice. It is like she is always sighing. I wish I could find something of her playing a 18th or 19th century lady, as that would be perfect. Serana is also my favorite npc in Skyrim, because of her voice. I loved her in Fallout New Vegas as well. Kate Beckinsale has that wonderful sense of polish to her voice, which makes her work for Blood Raven as well. She could read those lines and it would be spot on as well.

I like putting Stormcrow and Blood Raven together. As a superhero, January is all kinds of awesome. But when compared to Blood Raven, she clearly has a long way to go. That helps keep January down to earth and not feeling too uber. Blood Raven OTOH, is packed full of amazing. But she too, has a lot to learn from January, as we will see in the future. The two of them really complement one another.

Crom!

January might pick up some Gaelic words, but probably not much. She already knows English and Old Norse, and a little bit of Spanish.


Renee: I heard that Laprimma Donnagh's a real prima donna. But that might just be catty talk from jealous rivals... January will probably be migrating to Skyrim once her current adventures in Oblivion-land are finished. So she might bump into Laprimma there. Unless she goes to Fallout instead.

Blood Raven's healing was inspired by the game Earthdawn. Its Cavalryman discipline (basically class) has a talent called Blood Share. It allows the character to transfer damage between themselves and their mount. Given Blood Raven's ability for using blood magic, it was a natural fit.

I really liked your idea of alternate realities, and bridging the gaps between universes. Magic is after all the ability to change reality.







2004 Chevy Avalanche



Book 3.10 - Stormcrow Burning

By now the fire had nearly burned itself out. While they had not been able to stop it, the firefighters had prevented the blaze from spreading to other buildings. Now with nothing left to burn, the conflagration was sputtering out beneath their hoses. There was little left behind. Just the shell of the cinderblock walls, and the gutted piles of ash and soot within.

"Well, look who finally showed up."

A fireman's words brought January's head back around. She noted more vehicles pulling up, including the first police cars. The Detroit cops spread out, and began pushing back the crowd that had gathered to watch. January also noticed several news vans already on the scene, and numerous cameras and reporters buzzing around the outskirts of the event, like electrons orbiting a nucleus.

The first of the new arrivals to walk up was not a police officer or a reporter however. Rather he was a fire marshal. At least that is what it said on the side of the car he had gotten out of. The marshal was a short, dark-haired man who wore a frown like an old time detective did a fedora and trenchcoat. He was clad in a fireman's coat and boots, and carried one of their helmets in one hand.

"Give us another minute and the scene is yours Harold," the captain of the firefighters said to him.

"Take your time Mike," the new man - Harold - replied. He glanced at Blood Raven, then turned his eyes to January. "Did they change the uniforms for probies?"

"You could say that," the fire captain's younger sidekick - a lieutenant? - grinned. "What do you say boys, should the Blackbirds be honorary members of Engine 66?"

A cheer rose from the assembled firemen, many of whom were still drifting back from the gutted ruin of the building.

"You should'a seen this one Harry!" a fireman proclaimed as he pointed to January. "Jumpin' straight into the flames, and jumpin' back out again with people under her arms, snatched 'em from the jaws of death itself!"

"Hey is it true you'se a lesbo?" another yelled loudly.

"Fredo, what did I say about talk like that!" the fire captain snapped. He rolled his eyes at January. "Don't listen to him. He's not housebroken yet."

"Hey, I'm not a homophone or nothin'!" Fredo insisted.

"I got a sister, she's one of them lesbianese girls too. I can hook you up. You'se can go to the Pride Fest thing that's coming up. We always go. She's a got a pair of you know what's that's out of this world! Know what I'm sayin'?" The gesture Fredo made with his hands over his chest made it very clear what he was saying. "And her lasagna, mama mia it's the best you ever had! Even better than my grandma's, God rest her soul."

January actually heard Gadget laughing through her earpiece.

"I'm sure she's nice," January found herself saying. "But I don't really have time for dating."

She turned to the fire marshal - Harold. "When I was in there, I saw a bunch of gas cans. Big ones. I can show you where."

"With all due respect miss, we'll take it from here." It was not Harold that replied, but a policeman with captain's bars on his shoulders. Like the fire captain, his hair and mustache were going gray. Unlike the fireman, his eyes lacked kindness. Those eyes roved over January like a vulture on the hunt for rotting meat. They turned to Blood Raven, and bored into her like a pair of laser drills.

Blood Raven stared back at the new arrival and crossed her arms. Even though her face was covered by her cowl, there was no mistaking the air of contempt that she conveyed. It was clear to January that the two knew one another, and that there was no love lost between them.

"I'm sure you were most helpful." The police captain broke the stare down first, and turned back to face January. "But the proper authorities will take over from now on. The fire marshal will determine if there is a case for arson, and investigate further if he does."

"Captain Braddock, we were-" the fire captain began to say before being cut off by the newcomer.

"I believe your men are finished here Captain Henderson," the police captain interjected. "My men will take over the scene. We will see to it that protocol in enforced."

The fire captain gritted his teeth, as if chewing over what he was he might say in reply. He concealed it better than Blood Raven, but January could still see that he was no fan of this police captain either. Braddock, she made a note to remember that name. She had the feeling she might run afoul of him again someday.

"Seriously, come by the Engine and break bread," Fire Captain Henderson turned from the police man to January. He clapped a friendly hand to her back. "Fredo might lack social graces, but he makes the best fettuccini you've ever eaten. We'll take some selfies, post 'em on Instantbook, or whatever it's called, and I can show my grand-daughters that I met the real Stormcrow."

"You're on Cap," January could not help but smile. The simple goodwill of the firefighters, while rough, stood in stark contrast to the cold hostility of their police counterparts. She told herself that the behavior or these particular individuals did not speak for all within their respective organizations. But at the moment, it did not feel that way.

The firemen began to roll up their hoses and put their gear away. In the meantime January noted that Blood Raven, with a total disregard for the police, was already floating through the ruin of the Flying Dutchman. The fire marshal followed at her heels, silently observing everything around him.

January took a moment to look back to the police captain, who was visibly scowling at the older superheroine's back. She told herself that she should be building bridges, forging alliances. She had evidently done so with the firemen, without even trying. But a voice deep in her head reminded her that some people refused to be reached, no matter how many olive leafs were sent their way. In the end she knew that she did have an alliance to forge, and it was more important than one captain in the Detroit PD.

She followed Blood Raven into the ruin.

"Watch where you step," the fire marshal reminded her. His tone was not antagonistic, just a reminder. "All of this is evidence. Some of it might be used in court someday. Watch where I step, and follow along. You'll get the hang of it."

January nodded. This Harold character seemed like a decent sort, as the fire captain was. He was someone she could learn from. There was so much to all of this she still did not know.

"So are you police or fire department?" January asked him.

"Detroit Fire Department ma'am," Harold answered. "But I am a sworn law enforcement officer as well. I carry a firearm, and if I find 'em, I arrest 'em."

January chewed that over while she carefully moved through the wreckage.

"There's those gas cans." She pointed out the jerry cans she had found before. The paint had been scorched from their steel frames, and all of their caps were open.

A glance to the side revealed the hole she had smashed through the wall to escape with the burning man. Had that been just minutes ago? It seemed like forever. In fact, the burned out and water-logged wreckage of the Flying Dutchman felt like a different world from the one she had first stepped into, perhaps a half hour before.

Blood Raven picked one of the cans up, and closed her eyes. January could see her lips moving in a silent chant or song. Once again, a magic circle comprised of Celtic symbols leapt into brilliant life around her feet. This time they were of shining gold, like the warm rays of the sun slanting through an afternoon window.

They had been red before, when she had done her healing. Perhaps it was the blood in the magic then that had turned the color scarlet?

In any case, January once again felt the power, resonating through her bones. The magic - if that is what it was - seemed to call out to her. To awaken something slumbering deep inside her. Until tonight she had thought of the Wiccan/Neo-Paganism books she had been reading as just self-help. A new way in addition to yoga to help her visualize her goals and center herself. She had not really put much stock in the magical and religious aspects of it. Not outside the pure coolness factor of goddesses like Freyja and Hecate of course. Was there more to it than she had ever guessed? Was that what focused her meta-human abilities?

The flame-haired heroine took off one glove, and ran her bare hand across one of the cans. She sniffed at it, like a bloodhound getting a scent. Then she leaned her head back, as if to drink it all in.

"This was the working of a man," she said in a low, distant tone. "A young man. An angry man. A rejected man. 'he'll get her back', 'he'll take her back', 'he'll teach her a lesson'."

With that the glowing symbols faded away. Blood Raven put the jerry can back exactly where she had taken it from, and stared out the gutted entrance of the building.

"The fire shall have destroyed any physical evidence the arsonist left behind," she said. "But there are yet options possessed of us."

January's realized that they were at the very front of the building, in a little corner that might have been a bathroom. It was between the front door and the stairs leading up to the second floor. Next to it was what she had taken for a kitchen during her initial foray into the building. That area had already been consumed in flame when she had arrived. It was where she had found that woman who had doused herself with foam, the one whose head might have been bloody.

Clearly the fire had started there, or very close by. Could she have caught the arsonist in the act, and been struck over the head by him? Or had she simply been in the wrong place, and happened to be trapped in the same area?

"Stormcrow, I've got something." Gadget's serious voice spoke into her ear. "I'm in the camera system of the business across the street. I've got a partial picture of a truck leaving just before the fire started. A black and red Chevy Avalanche. Looks like early 2000s."

"Got it," January said crisply. She walked out toward the street, taking care of where she stepped. Blood Raven floated through the air behind her, and landed gently on the sidewalk beside her.

She walked out toward the street, taking care of where she stepped. Blood Raven floated through the air behind her, and landed gently on the sidewalk beside her.

"Will you see this through with me?" the scarlet and black-clad heroine asked. "Or are you content to let the 'proper authorities' investigate?"

"I am in it to the end," January insisted. Anger flared inside her, white hot anger. It looked like no one had died, so far. But that was more a matter of chance than due to anything she had done. This entire thing was clearly an attempt to murder dozens, if not a hundred people. She could not stand idly by while the creature who had perpetrated this act ran free.

"I have a clue," Blood Raven nodded. "A Chevrolet Avalanche. But no license plate number. We must needs interview the survivors. It may be that someone will recognize that conveyance."

January's ears pricked up at the identification of the truck. Did Blood Raven have her own computer specialist snooping around the local cameras, like Gadget? Well of course she did. How could anyone be a super these days without a hacker - silently and invisibly - watching their back online?

"They said they had been taken to the hospitals," January thought aloud. "We could ask the police to get in touch with them. But I don't think Captain Feldercarb here will be too cooperative."

"He will not," Blood Raven agreed, "And it is too soon to simply hack their reports. They have not been written and filed yet."

"I have an idea," January said. "Gadget, can you get me in touch with Emilia?"

"Got it," he said. "I'm putting her through now."

"Trooper Mercado," her voice came over January's earpiece a moment later.

"Hi trooper!" January said in her usual perky, phone voice. She was going to have to work on that, to sound more professional. "This is Stormcrow. I was wondering if you might be able to do me a teensy, weensy, little favor?"

"More stolen metal?" the Puerto Rican woman asked. "You know we had to get a semi-truck to carry off that stuff the last time."

"No, not metal, people," January insisted. "We need to talk to some people. I was hoping you could open some doors, get some communication going. You know, in a police to police sort of way."

"Oh no, what now?" January heard the sound of muffled voices rise up in the background, and realized that it was a news report. "Oh, the fire. I can see you on Channel 4."

January turned to look around, and saw the news team across the street. Their camera was pointed right at her. She could not resist the urge to wave.

"Can we meet up?" January asked. "We think the people we need to see are at the local hospitals, but I'm not sure which ones, or exactly who they are."

"Am I the only cop you know?" she sighed.

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"How can I say no to my friendly neighborhood Super Crow?" Trooper Mercado replied. "It's not like I'm doing anything anyway. I'll text you when I get close."

The banter about homophones and lesbianese girls was hilarious!

I was glad to see January steel herself herself to the necessity of building bridges and alliances – despite Police Captain Stick-in-the-mud. Sure enough, later in the episode when she called Trooper Mercado, we see the wisdom of her thinking.

Very cool how Blood Raven coaxed that gas can into telling her its story. It seems clear to me that Blood Raven also sees the magic and potential within her young ally.

’She mastered the roiling of her guts. But she could not deaden her heart. Who had they been? What were their final thoughts? What lives would they have had? Who was left behind, to mourn their loss, and wonder why?’
- - This is exactly the kind of internal dialogue you have shown us to expect from January and her nurturing heart.


Nit? ’She had evidently had done so with the firemen, without even trying.’ - - Looks like a redundant ‘had’ remained from an edit.

Chevy Avalanche. Not a Geo Metro or Pontiac Aztec this time.

Uh oh, here come the cops. I am pro-cop IRL mostly, Maryland cops have helped me a couple times, but I can't help but think that with January...

Because you see, it's not that they're going to arrest her, but I imagine there's some professional turfing about to go on. Like, when the FBI takes over from county cops.

Blood Raven is floating. Interesting. I know how this feels. I had a dream last week in which I was floating amongst a bunch of college students, trying maybe to impress them. I was semi-lucid in this dream. It's an awesome feeling if you've ever encountered it, Florens. At the end of the dream I wound up high above some sort of gigantic underground "quad" area where all the students were gathered far below. I fell from a precipice I had been standing on, but managed to grab a golden chain. That was the only thing which prevented me from falling fifty feet of so. Apparently I had lost my ability float. Anyway, I began thinking "I could just let go of this chain and fall to the ground.... I'll simply wake up then. No pain." But i chose not to do this. Instead, I mustered all my Strength, and climbed up the golden chain.





Jan has a smile in her voice as she calls Mercado. She can't help waving for the camera.

Cool, so Raven and Crow are basically short-circuiting what would have been a longer, drawn-out investigation. Because normally for everyone to conclude this as a mass-homicide, what'd happen (as you know I'm sure) is it would take some time before everyone's on the same page, crime-wise.

We need these two superheros in Baltimore, as our murder rate has gone past 300 for the fifth year in a row.

People saved and firefighters cheering! I'd say a job well done(aside from the unidentified victims). Thanks to Stormcrow and Blood Raven! I'm sure they'll catch the killer.

'Hey, I'm not a homophone or nothin'!'


This was a very fun exchange between them! I loved it!

'Those eyes roved over January like a vulture on the hunt for rotting meat. They turned to Blood Raven, and bored into her like a pair of laser drills.'
Good description here. I can already tell Captain Braddock is not good news. Its amazing how well we can detect the assholes that come about. Braddock sure fits the bill here, so far.

Blood Raven's abilities continue to surprise as her runes turn a different shade upon inspection. She can detect the aura/nature of a person's residue it seems. That's a fascinating ability to have.

I was wondering our trooper friend from the mall attack would appear again! She's great! The investigation is on!

Acadian: Fredo was a ton of fun to write. We will hear more about his sister and her... ahem, and chapter 5.

People often refer to "The Government" or "The Police" and so on, as if they were monolithic organizations in which every member was a essentially a zombie or robot, mindlessly following its programming, and most of all, them all acting in complete concert. The reality is that governments are formed of individuals, and every one has their own agendas, and they often do not work together, but actively against one another. That is what I am going for with the police and later state government in the Stormcrow fic. They are made up of individuals acting on their own imperatives. Some of them will naturally become January's allies, because their agendas mesh. Some will be opposed to her for the opposite reason.

Blood Raven sees a lot in January, not just potential. That will all come out at the end of this chapter, and run all through Chapter 4.

January always emphasizes with people, especially when tragedy strikes.

Thanks for finding my extra 'had', I have had enough of it!


Renee: One of these days I will have a modern car, I promise!

January does not personally have any history with the police at all. Of course she does have one with other authority figures, especially in school. Queer people in general however, have a long and really bad history of being victimized by the police. Stonewall is something we celebrate because it was the first time we stood up against police brutality. I remember once telling my therapist how I walked into a police station during a festival on city hall grounds, asked the desk sergeant where the bathroom was, and went and used it. Big deal right? For a transperson, that is like walking into a lion's den.

In chapter 5 I will have the opportunity to contrast how January, Lighthammer, and Blood Raven fly. Each is very different. Blood Raven is more like Magneto or Captain Marvel. She just ignores gravity completely, with no obvious means of propulsion. She floated into the ruins of the Flying Dutchman in particular so she would not accidentally step into evidence. It's just an example of how she is an old hat at this.

Sooner or later Jan's good nature always shines through. Like being on TV.

You called it. Jan and Blood Raven are basically taking the fast track to solving this case, where it would normally take weeks of mundanely sorting through mountains of evidence by the fire marshal. That does get pointed out later in the chapter, a few posts after today's.

You folks in Baltimore are we Detroiter's perennial rivals for murder capital and most violent city in America. Along with St. Louis. All three of our cities need superheros. That is one of the reasons I set the Stormcrow fic here in the D.


Darkness Eternal: No homophones here!

I envision Captain Braddock and Blood Raven as having a long and dubious history of acrimony. Something Stormcrow herself is going to have to get used to in the future. Not everyone appreciates supers, especially particular ones.

Blood Raven has been doing this for a long time, most of it without any help from the police. So it stood to reason that she would have developed some purely investigatory abilities. I went to the old ESP standard of psychometry to give her a way to get clues - however vague - from a crime scene. We will see a similar ability for gathering information in today's episode.

I created Trooper Mercado with the idea of her being the Jim Gordon to January's Batman. She's the ally in the police whom Jan can turn to for help. So she will be a regular feature in the Crow Tales.







You can find Detroit Receiving Hospital on the Stormcrow Google Map

Detroit Receiving Hospital

Detroit Receiving Hospital picture




Book 3.11 - Stormcrow Burning

"You arrived most expeditiously to the scene of the fire," Blood Raven observed. "You must have been nearby."

They stood in the underground parking lot of Detroit Receiving Hospital. A mountain of concrete hovered above their heads, lay beneath their feet, and closed in from all sides. The air that moved gently through the subterranean space was cool, and smelled vaguely of gasoline fumes and old oil. All around them were cars and trucks, angled into row after row of parking spaces.

"I was at Hart Plaza," January said. "In fact, I saw you there. The whole city did."

"Yes, the electronic… music festival." Blood Raven replied. She did not seem to easily equate electronic with music. That seemed to be the case with a lot of people her age. That made January wonder just what her age might be. Blood Raven had literally been superheroing since before she had been born. She had imagined her to be older than her mother. But the skin that was not covered by her armor looked untouched by the tracks of time.

"So you were there? For the entire night?" Blood Raven continued to press.

"Yes," January said. She began to feel like she was being interrogated. "We got there in the afternoon, around five. I didn't leave until I heard about the fire. Long after you left. Why?"

"I am simply curious."

"Uh huh," January nodded along. "Does this have something to do with what you were chasing?"

"What should make you think I was chasing something?" Blood Raven asked.

"I saw you. I felt you, and it," January said honestly. "I don't know what that was. But you felt it too. You went after it. I would have too, but I had no idea what it even was, or how to find it."

"I suspected it might have been you," Blood Raven admitted. "But I left the scent of your blood behind me at the festival, and there was no trace of you when I brought the monster to bay."

"I felt it," January frowned. The Monster? That accounted for the claw marks in Blood Raven's armor. "It made my stomach want to turn inside out. What was it?"

"A story for another day," Blood Raven deflected.

January noted that she seemed to do that quite a bit.

A yellow Jeep pulled into the lot. January slid away from the concrete post that she had been leaning against, and stood attentively. She recognized it as Emilia's. January motioned for Blood Raven to follow, and walked over to meet the state trooper. She noted that the other woman's arm was still in a cast, but at least no longer held by a sling.

The state trooper stepped out of the Jeep. She took one look at Blood Raven and her face turned hard as the concrete that surrounded them.

"You didn't say she was part of this," Emilia said.

"She wasn't on the TV as well?" January furrowed her brows. Not just at the other woman's surprise, but also at her reaction. It was not as decidedly frozen as Captain Braddock's had been. But it was far from warm either.

"The local stations avoid showing me on the air," Blood Raven explained. "The Detroit Police Chief revokes the press credentials of any reporter who does."

"What, that's crazy?" January sputtered. "They can't… Why?"

"It might have something to do with all the people your new friend has killed," Emilia said. "It kind of sits bad with some folks."

"She-" January let her words die off. She remembered that conversation about Blood Raven around the breakfast table just a few weeks ago, the morning after her first outing as Stormcrow.

"How many people has she killed in just the last decade? A dozen?"

"Like that maniac who walked into the Ren Cen and just started shooting people? Or the ones who were kidnapping young girls and selling them overseas? The world's a better place without them in it."

"Is this going to be a problem?" January found her hands falling to her hips, arms akimbo. She did not mean to get antagonistic. But the fact was Blood Raven had been there when she needed her most, had even healed her seared lungs. Also, the truth was, deep down, she did not really feel bad that she had killed people like mass shooters or sex slavers either. Maybe she was supposed to care. But she didn't.

Emilia looked from Blood Raven to January, and back again. She seemed to be weighing her thoughts.

"I am asking you for help to catch a murderer," January said. "I am not asking you to like her, or agree with her. This isn't about you, or her, or me, it's about the two people who died tonight."

"We may effect a solution on our own," Blood Raven interjected. "I have been protecting this city for half a century, with little to no aid from the police."

"But that's not me." January whirled around to face the older woman. She respected her. But she did not have to agree with her. "We should all be lifting each other up, not tearing each other down."

"I once heard a man say that a house divided against itself cannot stand," Blood Raven nodded. "That is why I am still standing here with you."

"Okay," Emilia relented. "I'll help. But if I'm in, I am in all the way. We do this by the numbers. We gather evidence, we make a proper arrest, the perp goes to trial, no legal loopholes."

"Of course, that's one reason I called you," January agreed. "You can actually arrest him."

"Lead the way." Blood Raven smiled faintly, and held out a hand to the elevators.

They followed Emilia into the hospital. While she was not in uniform, the state trooper had her badge slug around her neck, to clearly identify her. With just a few quiet words with the nursing staff she learned where the survivors of the fire had been taken. Once there, a few more quiet words with the police in the hall gained them passage into the wards where they were being treated.

Everyone stared of course. Even if they had just been cosplayers, they would have immediately grabbed the attention of onlookers. But Blood Raven had been a feature of the city for decades. Had she just said half a century? January made a mental note to look into that. She was not just a superhero, she was a legend. Everyone knew her on sight, and while someone might imitate her armor, there was no mistaking her presence. When you stood in the same room with her, and breathed the same air, you felt her, like a ghost walking over your grave.

January had only been at this super thing for a little less than a month. But people clearly recognized her as well. The name Stormcrow leapt from their lips. They smiled. They took pictures and videos. A few children even waved. She could not stop herself from waving back.

She also noticed the stark difference between how people looked at her, and how they looked at Blood Raven. They had cheered when the flame-haired superheroine was far away. Like the crowd at the music festival. But when they were up close, near enough feel the weight of her stare, and the aura of power that cloaked her, then things changed. No one waved to Blood Raven.

The survivors of the fire were mostly young, in their twenties, though some were perhaps twice that age. Their clothing and skin was blacked with soot and grime. Some were breathing through oxygen masks. Scrapes and bumps and bruises, and minor burns were common. None of their injuries appeared to be truly critical however.

January started out by asking for the woman she had rescued from the front of the Dutchman, the one who had doused herself with foam. The hospital workers did not know who she meant at first. But when January added that she thought she had suffered a head wound, that jogged one nurse's memory.

"We have a Jane Doe who that might be," the nurse replied. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, and dark hair that was nearly buzzed down to his scalp. "She's suffering from a concussion however. She has yet to regain consciousness."

"Show me," Blood Raven's words were not a request, but a commandment. The dark-haired man nodded, and took them down a new set of hallways to the ICU. There they found a woman with her head swathed in bandages, and an oxygen mask strapped to her face. She lay motionless in bed, and a jungle of wires connected her to mountains of electronics that beeped and chirped to either side.

Blood Raven leaned over her, and placed a hand on her head. January felt a trickle of energy move between the two women. The elder heroine frowned. Jagged claws sprang from her hand, and she deftly slashed open one of the patient's arms. The nurse gasped in shock, and moved to intercept Blood Raven. But January caught him, and held him at bay while the other woman did her work.

January did not see it. But she felt it. The feeling of energy moving between the two was as unmistakable as the sound of the Gaelic chant that filled the air. It was the same magic that Blood Raven had used to heal both her and Ken Reeve. She turned to look once the singing had died down, and saw Blood Raven sway on her feet.

She was able to catch the other woman before she could plunge to the floor. Burns marred her face, and January smelled burned flesh from under her cowl. She hung there in her arms, until a hot, hissing and popping noise rose up from Blood Raven's skull. January tasted blood, and felt hot, sanguine energy bubble up through the elder heroine's flesh. The burns vanished, and that charred odor faded. The elder heroine opened her eyes once more, and they glowed with red fire.

"I shall be fine now," Blood Raven nodded to January. She stood back, and allowed the other woman to stand freely once more. "You were quite correct nurse, she had suffered from a concussion, caused by severe blunt trauma to the head."

"Who are you?"

They all turned to see the bandaged woman sitting up in the bed. She pulled the oxygen mask from her face, and touched her head gingerly.

"What am I doing here? OMG, you're... you're... her! You're them!"

"Yes we are," Blood Raven answered. "Do you remember your name?"

"Well of course, I'm Amanda, Amanda Paines." She looked around. "What am I doing here?"

"You were badly injured in a fire," the nurse explained. He rushed forward, and began going over the readouts from the various machines. He was plainly stunned at the radical transformation of his patient. "We were not sure when you might wake up."

"I feel fine," Amanda said. She tugged at the bandages that swathed her head, revealing a torrent of curly auburn hair beneath. "What's all this stuff?"

"You suffered a serious head wound," the nurse responded. "We were-"

"You are now fine," Blood Raven cut the nurse off. "You may remove the bandages. We believe the person who injured you may have set the fire tonight. Do you remember who that was?"

"Fire, what fire?" Amanda stared blankly back at them.

"Tell us the last thing you do remember," Blood Raven said.

January not only heard the words, she felt them. They reverberated deep down in her chest, and vibrated through her bones. It was like standing in front of an amp when the music was turned up too high. You could feel the sound waves physically pulse through your body. Yet Blood Raven's voice was low. It was not the acoustic vibrations that she felt, it was something else, something much more powerful, and clearly not part of the mundane world.

She felt a steady, thumping beat: bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump. It had a rhythm, that slowed down into a steady cadence. It was a heartbeat, and somehow January knew that it was Amanda's.

"I was at the Flying Dutchman," she said in a leaden, almost robotic voice. "I was there to meet my boyfriend Guy. Then my ex showed up. He made a big scene. He can't move on since I dumped him. Total incel. He thinks he owns me. He said he would get me back. That he would take me back. He said if I didn't go with him, he'd teach me a lesson. I was about to call the cops on him."

"Then what?" Blood Raven gently prodded.

"He left after Guy showed up," Amanda said. "We hung out a while downstairs and vibed. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Then... Then... I don't know, I can't remember. I can't remember anything after that."

January remembered the bathroom. That was where the fire had started. She had definitely been there at ground zero.

"What is your former paramour's name?" Blood Raven prodded.

"John, John Gray."

"Does he drive a Chevrolet Avalanche?" Blood Raven ventured.

"How did you know that?" Amanda responded.

That conjured looks between the three women. Emilia made a phone call, and asked for info on Gray. While the state trooper was busy with the dispatcher, Blood Raven continued.

"Tell me about John Gray."

Amanda went on to give details about the apartment in which her former boyfriend lived, as well as his job, his family, and his social media accounts. Blood Raven had to stop her when she began to list his favorite foods. She passed a hand before Amanda's eyes, and the young woman suddenly blinked.

"Did you say something about a fire?" Amanda looked from one superheroine from another, as if she had no knowledge of what she had just said.

"Yes, you were injured in a fire," Blood Raven explained gently. "You suffered a serious head injury, and have lost your memory of the event. This is not unusual with brain injuries. You may remember in time, or never at all."

"OMG! I have brain damage!" she grabbed for her head.

"Nay," Blood Raven waved a hand in the negative. "You are fine. As I said, you are fully recovered. You may go home now. The police may come to interview you later."

With that Blood Raven swept from the room, her cape billowing behind her. She paused at the door however, and turned back to the nurse.

"I offer you my sincerest apologies for my brusque behavior," she said quite sincerely. "Yours is a noble calling."

Then she did stride from the room. January found herself pulled along in her wake, along with Emilia.

"What was all that?" the state trooper gasped in a mixture of horror and amazement as she struggled to keep up.

"I have my own way of learning the truth of things," Blood Raven replied. "It can have a strong influence on those that lack mental fortitude."

"Thank you Obi-Wan," January breathed. Blood Raven just stared at her, as if she did not know what that meant. Who in the world had not seen Star Wars? Or even just an Obi-Wan is Jesus meme?

"I'm calling for a warrant right now," Emilia said, back to business. "Hopefully we'll have it by the time we get there."

I think it is great that you are showing big organizations as a composite of their individuals, not so Borg-like as oft depicted. Stormcrow realizes she just has to seek those individuals that she can work with (like Trooper Mercado).

Some interesting girl talk in the opening as the two supers continue to evaluate each other.

"Is this going to be a problem?" January found her hands falling to her hips, arms akimbo. She did not mean to get antagonistic. But the fact was Blood Raven had been there when she needed her most, had even healed her seared lungs. Also, the truth was, deep down, she did not really feel bad that she had killed people like mass shooters or sex slavers either. Maybe she was supposed to care. But she didn't.’
- - First I love the pose that, for some reason, seems so familiar. . . . Ahh, Blood Raven is of an era when righteous justice was delivered without layers of bureaucracy – she would do well in Tamriel. I love how you set this scene up with Emilia and Blood Raven at odds with each other, forcing Stormcrow into the role of peacekeeper. To her credit, Stormcrow stood up to both women and convinced all that her proposed course of cooperation was the wisest path ahead. She definitely displayed high speechcraft (or that elusive 18 in charisma) here.

And Blood Raven demonstrates another of her spells. Like her healing, this one is both effective and somehow troubling. It makes me wonder if Blood Raven is a master of the illusion school of magic.

I wanted to say how much I’m enjoying this story. The passion you feel for January comes through strongly – making her a very endearing character. And you are building a wonderful cast of characters (Gadget, Blood Raven, Emilia. . . ) for her to interact with.