Acadian: That scene between January, Blood Raven, and Lighthammer was a joy to write. As you said, January has earned the cape she wears, and the right to stand beside Blood Raven.
This is why a while ago when I was fishing around for team names, The Covenant was one I mentioned. In my case though it makes me think of The Scottish Covenanters, from the English Civil War. So as the Blackbirds expand their numbers, I suspect they will simply be The Alliance instead.
Blood Raven and January, being both writers, tend to bond over words and their meanings. Especially how those meanings change. January is special indeed, in that she can actually bring out Blood Raven's sense of humor, like the Franklin vs. Adams comment. I like writing those moments, because they show that both are people, as well as capes.
January and Lighthammer have a long road to travel together. We will see more of him this chapter, and in upcoming chapters. In many ways, I think he is an example of January's greatest power: her willingness to set aside her differences and create alliances with people who might otherwise be adversaries.
Renee: I am glad I wrote that scene with Jan, Blood Raven, and Lighthammer, because it helped me bring things together with Lighthammer's personality. As you noted, he can be irreverent, especially when someone (like Blood Raven) is dismissive of him, or taking him for granted. He is not the kind of person to just sit there and quietly take it. He has to speak up and be snarky about it. If he was female, he would probably be reminding people that her eyes are up *here*, thank you very much.
It comes from him being a very passionate person. He gets his dander up easily. He gets excited easily. He's reckless. He is the kind of person whose emotions are always right there under the surface. But at the same time, because of that he really lives life to the fullest.
The Spider from New York is a thinly-veiled allusion to Spider-Man, who makes his money taking pictures of himself in action and selling them to the Daily Bugle in his secret identity as Peter Parker. But that was back in the late 60s. So he would have retired by the current time of the story.
People are looking into Stormcrow already, much more next chapter when Jan makes a titanic splash in world news. But the people who most likely to figure out who she is are those nearest to her, such as the Knights of Nerddom or her mother. One of them has already figured it out. That will come up in Chapter 7.
Gay people are kind of taking back the word Queer. Like January said, not everyone likes it, mainly older people, who heard that word being used pejoratively against them their entire life. They naturally have a visceral reaction to it. I get it, because I am from that age group. But I embrace it, because like January, I really do think it is better than the alphabet soup terms which are the alternative.
I really don't think the N-Word can ever be reclaimed however. There are just too many centuries or horror and shame and ugliness tied up in it. Sure, some People of Color might be able to use it among themselves to bond. But as soon as it is used by someone from outside the group, all that hate wrapped up in it comes roaring back, and I think it always will.
Ferndale Pride was the first time one of the Conjurer's conjurings was seen by the public. Blood Raven was been able to keep a lid on all the others before they could be seen. So far, all anyone really knows is that a giant spider showed up in Ferndale. Weird and creepy, but it is a super world after all.
Lighthammer is not a Detroiter, or Michigander, that is why Blood Raven left him out of her statement about the city only having one champion. The hammer normally hangs in Ohio. He only comes up to train with January. From now on, she will be going down there instead.
Dana Essen is based on RL Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel
The Michigan Attorney General may appoint special agents having the powers of a peace officer
As always, you can follow January's flight with the Stormcrow Map
Book 5.9 - Crystal Death
January stared at her computer screen. One click of the mouse would post her second installment of Crow Tales on Instantgram. Her first post of Stormcrow's book review blog had been on Monday. In fact, it had been the same night that Avery had given her the idea of using her Stormcrow identity to advertise her book. Only she was determined to go much further than just personal aggrandizement. As Stormcrow, she could bring attention to many excellent novels and short stories that were progressive and diverse. As she had told Blood Raven, something that was actually positive.
She was not worried about her post as Stormcrow being traced back to her. The layers of VPNs, spoofed IPs, and other forms of internet camouflage that Avery had implemented on her devices insured that she would never be traced, at least not electronically.
But her real name was in that post - January Ward - the author of This Spell for Hire. One click, and that name would be forever linked with that of Stormcrow. Nothing could prevent a truly persistent detective or journalist from following every such link, every single contact Stormcrow ever had with another person. Every selfie Stormcrow ever took with a fan. Every conversation she ever had.
One click, and January Ward would be added to that list of people whose lives intersected with Stormcrow. It was not evidence that she was Stormcrow. But it was a link.
The paranoid part of her brain told her not to do it. That wariness had kept her safe through her childhood, by prompting her to hide the fact that she was trans. Only this time, it was not just her life she had to protect. It was everyone around her. Her mother, Avery, the Knights of Nerddom, Adin, all of them were at risk if she was outed as Stormcrow.
She knew about the unspoken agreement between the press and the caped community. She knew about the laws passed by Congress. Secret identities were never leaked, never. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened to Hailstorm...
Or did they? This world was different from the one in which those compacts had been formed. Thanks to the internet, there were no gatekeepers to hold shut the floodgates on such revelations. Now anyone could call themselves a journalist, and post whatever they pleased on social media. The only rule was that the more sensational it was, the more it would trend, no matter how toxic or potentially murderous it was. In fact, the more toxic and murderous it was, the more popular it would be.
She pulled her finger back from her mouse, and stared out one of the windows of her new bedroom. She had picked the room in the back of the house. She had learned the dangers of trying to sneak in through a window that faced the street back in Warren. Any passing car, or nosy neighbor, might see her. Here, she was safe from detection.
The backyard was a relatively small patch of grass, bordered on all sides by a dense wall of greenery, and the detached garage. Great trees, she did not know if they were elms or maples or oaks, rose up on all sides, easily twice the height of the house. They made flying to and from the roof a tricky proposition. But they also completely shielded her from view while she did so. Only a narrow gap in the trees behind the lot broke the wall of growth. But it led back deeper into the woods, where there was no one to see anything anyhow.
She looked around her new room. It was easily twice the size of her old one. But the furniture was all the same. It was the same plain, white dresser, vanity, and desk. The same tiny twin bed with its soft watermelon-colored quilt jutted from one wall. The same pictures of her role models decorated the room, such as Cecilia Braekhus. Well, she had taken down the ones of Blood Raven and the Veil. They were no longer figures to admire from afar after all. They were her colleagues now, even though she had yet to actually meet the latter.
Tacked to the inside of her door was a plain piece of paper with her Viking Virtues. She took a moment to consider each in turn.
Do Not Live In Fear
"The error is the result of letting fear rule your actions" - The Saga of Harald Hardrade, c.46.
Friendship
"A true friend whom you trust well and wish for his good will: go to him often exchange gifts and keep him company" - Havamal, s.44.
Kindness
"A kind word need not cost much, The price of praise can be cheap: With half a loaf and an empty cup I found myself a friend" - Havamal, s.52.
The Law Is Not Always Right
"When truth and fairness are different from what is law, better it is to follow truth and fairness" - Bandamanna Saga, c.6
Be A Part Of The World
"He is truly wise who has travelled far and knows the ways of the world. He who has traveled can tell what spirit governs the men he meets" - Havamal, s.18.
Never Hide My Truth
"Sorrow eats him who can no longer open his heart to another" - Havamal, s.121.
Prepare for the Worst
"A wayfarer should not walk unarmed, but have his weapons to hand" - Havamal, s.38.
Sacrifice
"Nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given." -Havamal, s.138.
Never Give Up, No Matter What
"Often times it is not numbers that wins the victory, but those who fare forward with the most vigor" - The Saga of Thrond of Gate, c.19
She remembered something that her Intro to Psychology instructor had once said. "The only constant in life was change," which he had quickly followed with: "The more things change, the more they stay the same."
Here she was, afraid of being Outed. Afraid of what people might do to her if they knew the truth.
She clicked the mouse, and Stormcrow posted her review of January Ward's story.
With a curious sense of relief, she closed out the social media site. For better or worse, it was out there now.
She absentmindedly surfed through the news sites. Headlining them all was the conviction of one of her own senators from Michigan, Wade Harding. Well, former senator now. He had been found guilty on charges of wire fraud, money-laundering, and perjury. All thanks to Michigan's new attorney general. There was even talk of a separate federal investigation into him on charges of tax evasion. For once a corrupt politician was actually going to be held accountable for his actions. It was a heady event, given its rarity.
January also noted several related stories about her home state's new attorney general - Dana Essen. One was a picture of her kissing her wife on the night of her election to office the year before. The others were stories and opinion pieces by Michiganders calling on the AG to officially empower Stormcrow as a law enforcement officer. January was a little surprised by the latter. While she certainly wanted the official recognition, and the cooperation it brought with police, even she thought it was a little early for that.
Her phone chimed, and she nearly leaped through the ceiling. She slid a finger across the Hamsung J1's screen to unlock it, and found a new message glowing on her home screen. She brought up the text with another tap of a finger. It had been forwarded from her official Stormcrow line. She saw it was from one of the burner phones Gadget had given to Emilia, untraceable by anyone.
Emergency Team about to roll on anonymous tip.
Waiting for warrant.
3600 Farmbrook Court, Sterling Heights.
January did not respond to the text. Emilia had probably broken the phone into pieces and thrown it away by now. Standard spycraft, at least from what January saw in movies and TV shows.
She needed her armor. She reached for her mana out of reflex, and relaxed in the cool stream of power that flowed through her body. Her elemental chant rose in her mind, and she effortlessly translated it into runic script. The runes glowed to life in mid-air, and scrolled around her in a circle.
Fire give me passion and energy, transform me in the night sky.
The white top and flowered skirt she had been wearing vanished. In their place she was clad in her Stormcrow armor. She blinked. Not at the speed of the change. She had been enacting the transformation since that first night at the convention. But her armor had been locked away in the fake gas tank bump of her Victory. The motorcycle itself was tucked away in the garage behind the house. She looked out the window to the separate building. The door to it was still shut.
Blood Raven had been right about her magical abilities. Using magic was just like using her muscles, or her brain. The more she exercised, the stronger she became.
She did not have time to waste pondering her growing power. She had to get to that address, but first things first. She picked her phone back up. Her thumbs danced across its screen, and she sent a text to her mother, telling her she was going for a walk in the park. Then she brought up Sága, and punched in the address that Emilia had texted her. Her armor's digital assistant brought up the location on the video screen built into her inner forearm's armor plating. January smiled. It was only a few miles down Van Dyke. She would be there in no time at all.
She slid the bedroom window open and effortlessly popped out the screen. After a glance to insure that her mother was not in the backyard, she turned to reset the plastic mesh behind her. Then she faced skyward, and plotted her path through the leafy branches that reached out from either side above the house. She crouched down, and rocketed upward with a great leap. Once free of the branches, she snapped out her wings and soared away from the house.
She did not fly around to the front of the house, which faced her eventual destination. Instead she glided in the opposite direction, across the backyard. She was instantly skimming above the literal forest that grew behind all the houses that lined Utica Road. A slender break in the trees revealed the sinuous track of the Clinton River. Though calling it a river seem generous. It looked more like a stream to her eyes, especially compared to the Detroit River. She had found that it was hardly even a challenge to jump across, being only twenty to thirty feet wide, depending on where you stood.
"Are you seeing this Stormcrow?" Gadget's voice rang in her ear. "I'm working on getting into the local cameras right now."
"I'm on the way Gadget." January followed the river south east for a few moments. Then she banked right to follow the M-53 freeway where it crossed the water. She soared above that until it joined with Van Dyke, a divided street that ran north to south through the city of Sterling Heights. She adjusted her path a bit to one side, so that she was not directly over the road. Instead she put herself over the sprawl of subdivisions east of it. She hoped that she was less likely to cause a traffic accident where there were fewer drivers. Flying was fun. But car crashes by distracted drivers were not.
As always, the wind caressed her armored frame and filled her wings. She delighted in the feeling of being unchained from the earth, and just hanging there in the air. She marveled at the land below. It all looked so different from up high. She had never noticed how green the city was. How many trees lined its streets, and clustered between houses. It gave her hope, seeing all that life stretched out in every direction.
Full Version: The Stormcrow
A nice interlude as Jan tries to balance her writing aspirations with capehood while keeping the two (hopefully) hard firewalled apart. A daunting proposition. Not surprisingly, she chooses the riskier path, refusing to be intimidated by ‘what ifs’.
The ancient ‘new’ house is a step up in both space and discrete accessibility.
A call up from thebat crow phone! Naturally, Gadget is ‘info’d’ on the message and, sure enough, she hears from him on her comm system shortly after she’s en route.
You do a great job of routinely (as in the last scene of this episode) showing us the magic allure of flight through the eyes and other senses of Stormcrow.
The ancient ‘new’ house is a step up in both space and discrete accessibility.
A call up from the
You do a great job of routinely (as in the last scene of this episode) showing us the magic allure of flight through the eyes and other senses of Stormcrow.
QUOTE
Lighthammer is not a Detroiter, or Michigander, that is why Blood Raven left him out of her statement about the city only having one champion.
Oh okay. That part made me smile, anyway.
Oh no! Don't link yourself to Stormcrow!
QUOTE
The paranoid part of her brain told her not to do it. That wariness had kept her safe through her childhood, by prompting her to hide the fact that she was trans.
No, nothing to do with being trans. Everything to do with just.... you! Don't do it don't do it!
Sorry. Talking to my laptop screen again.
This is pretty dramatic. Is she really living in that big old house all by herself? She does have some animal or animals, right? Sorry, I forget. Pretty sure I remember reading about a cat. But I just worry about her. A cat won't save her while she's sleeping.
It might not even alert her if some intruder breaks in. Then again, we are talking about a Blood Raven home. It's probably got some warding magic to keep the unwanted out. Damn, she did it. Well it'll certainly make the story even more intense somehow.
I wonder what her latest call will lead to? And I agree. I haven't flown on a plane in over a decade, but it always would shock me how much green there actually is, even over parts of Maryland which (from the ground) seem like they've been heavily decimated of forest.
Acadian: You hit the nail on the head. January refuses to be intimidated, either by bullies, giant spiders, supervillains, or exposure. That stubbornness is one of the things that defines her character. So even when she grapples with real fears, she always faces them head on.
I figure Gadget is automatically connected to every call that goes to the Stormcrow line. He is the one who set it up after all. So whenever she gets an alert, he does as well. They are a team after all.
January is going to make a gigantic leap on the flying front. Not in today's episode, but next week's. I am currently working on Chapter 6, and she makes some even more startling evolutions. Flying, and her wings, are really becoming a central part of who and what she is as a superhero.
Renee: I can just imagine you yelling at the screen, like how I yell at the TV when I am watching a Horror movie and the people decide to go in the basement, or split up. But, as I have pointed out in earlier scenes, January will not be the first cape to use their super career for financial gain. That is why I mentioned the Spider doing the Spider-Man antics of selling pics to the Daily Bugle, and in previous episodes I mentioned other supers selling their wedding photos to People magazine, and still others making a power plant in Chicago. You are right, it is risky. But unless you took the Rich perk at character creation, you have to make a living somehow.
Jan is living with her mother, at least for now. They don't have any pets. Though I keep wondering if someday Jan might bring home a baby dragon, or unicorn, or something. I am not entirely joking either. I could see it happening.
I feel sorry for anyone who tries to break into Jan's place though. Remember what she did to that giant spider! January is a wrecking machine. I have been watching the new Stargirl TV show. The antagonists are a team of supervillains called the Injustice Society of America. While watching it and seeing each villain in action, I realized very quickly that January would wipe the floor with them. Not singly, but all at once. The only one who might stand a chance against her would be Solomon Grundy. But she would grind him down to dust eventually. Just wait until you see what she does to the Nazis later in this chapter.
Looking at Google Maps with the satellite view turned on really brings home just how green urban spaces are. We don't think of it from the ground, when we are looking at all the concrete. We don't notice the canopies of all the trees overhead. But from above, the trees and grass fills up almost everything but the most solid factory districts.
As always, you can find the Mills house on the Stormcrow Map
Swatting
Book 5.10 - Crystal Death
"Ok, I'm in the house," Gadget crowed. "These Refuge home security systems are so easy for a real hacker to crack. Let's see what we have. Ok, Mom's at the kitchen table doing something on her laptop. Working on a Saturday, oy! Dad is on a ladder fiddling with the garage door. He must be one of those 'Man Stuff' guys. Son is in his bedroom playing a video game. Aww yeah, he's a PC Gamer too, my kind of guy."
"Are you going to get all Elitist PC Gamer Snob on me now?" January laughed.
"It is a terribly difficult burden to be so superior," Gadget responded in a posh British accent, "but we bear it with grace and humility."
"Truly, you are a paragon of unpretentiousness," January breathed. She passed over 16 Mile Road, and began scanning the houses and streets below. She was almost there. So far she saw nothing untoward. It was just an ordinary, boring suburb.
"I've looked all over the house, and I don't see any sort of drug lab," Gadget noted in his normal voice once more. "Not even an elementary school chemistry set. Maybe we got the address wrong?"
"I don't think our contact would make a mistake like that," January frowned. She certainly hoped Emilia did not fat-finger the address. That would be really embarrassing.
"Well, I am digging up some info on the homeowners now," Gadget said. "They are the Mills family. Jefferson - 44 - works on the line at the Ford axle plant up the street. Tanisha - 41 - is a social worker. And Wayne -15 - is enrolled in Stevenson High School, looks like he's holding down a solid B average."
"This does not sound like a gang of mad scientists," January admitted. "What about Wayne. How's he doing in chem class?"
"Never took it," Gadget said. "He's got straight A's in his socio and history classes though."
"And there's nothing in the house? What about a shed?" January asked.
"No shed," Gadget responded, "just an attached garage. I see a bag of fertilizer in there. Some oil cans, and a tool box. The neighbors do have a shed in the backyard next door, and there's no fence between them."
"Sounds pretty thin," January said.
Soaring along east of Van Dyke, January noted the wide parking lot of a movie megaplex ahead of her. Casting her eyes behind the movie theater, she found the house, nestled in a sea of suburbia. It was just an ordinary one-story home with a russet-colored roof, white walls, and red garage door. She saw the shed in the neighbor's yard that Gadget had referred to, and banked toward that.
She picked up speed as she nosed down toward the earth. As always, she let the ground fill her vision before braking with her wings, and pulling her legs forward. She turned off the wings a moment later, and dropped to the grass without even needing to bend her knees to take the impact. She was getting better and better at this. Using her wings was second nature by now. They were just a part of her.
She saw a lock on the shed door, and fished out her electric lockpick to open it. She was inside in a moment, and frowned at what she saw. It was nothing but what you would expect: a lawnmower, gardening tools, a snow-blower, a bucket of rock salt. No nefarious drug lab, or even secret panels in the floor leading to one.
She locked up the shed behind her, and turned back to the house in question. She could see the mom sitting in the kitchen through one of the back windows. Her skin was dark brown, her short hair was styled in a pixie cut, and a pair of glasses hovered over her nose. Said nose was still buried in her laptop. Before she could look up and see the superhero in her backyard, January leaped up and came down upon the rooftop. She crouched down behind the crown of the roof, so as to not be visible from the street out front, and waited.
"I can try to sneak in," January offered, "and get a closer look."
"No," Gadget said. "I can see every room, even the cat in the front window."
"Should try talking to them?" January thought aloud. "Maybe they know something, but don't realize it?"
"Could be," Gadget murmured. "You know what this looks like? Swatting. I think these people are being set up."
"The text said it was an anonymous tip, so that might be," January said. "Or maybe they just have a neighbor with too much time on her hands, and nothing to do with it but invent paranoid theories about the black family in the subdivision."
"I'm going to try to get into the police report on the tip," Gadget said. "With what your friend gave me, I should be able to get in their system with no problem. But if they have the Emergency Response Team on the way, someone must have told them about Crystal Death specifically. Otherwise it would just be the city cops making an ordinary stop, and we wouldn't be here."
"Okay," January said. "I'll see what I can find out from the family. I'm looping you in so you can see."
A spoken command to Sága turned on her video link to the Gadget Cave. Then January scampered across the roof and leaped up into a forward roll. She put a half-twist in the maneuver, and came down on her feet in the front yard, facing the house. It was just like all her years on the uneven bars. This time she resisted sticking the landing however.
She walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Waiting at someone's door always made her uncomfortable. Doing so in full armor and cape did not make things easier. As she had told Emilia, sometimes walking around in the Stormcrow gear seemed silly. This was definitely one of those times. But it was not like she could walk up in her street clothes and ask if they were drug dealers.
Instead she was going to do that in her hero outfit, wonderful.
She was about to knock when the door swung open. The mom just stood there, wearing yoga pants and a tank top. She stared at January for a long moment, then shut the door.
"Wayne!" she heard her yell through the door, "one of your friends is here!"
She thought she heard Gadget laughing in her ear. This whole superhero thing was not nearly as glamorous as it looked in old movies.
After a minute she heard stomping down the hallway, and the door opened to reveal a slender youth, with short curls on top of his fade and a Bob Marley tee. His jaw practically dropped to the floor when he saw January.
"It's... it's... it's…" he stammered, "OMG you're her!"
"Hi!" January wanted to use her serious, superhero voice. It sounded good when she practiced in front of the mirror. But she always seemed to forget how to do it whenever she was around real people. "I'm her, Stormcrow I mean. Could I come in and talk to you and your folks?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Wayne exalted. He reached out tentatively with one hand and gently touched the armor plate on one of her shoulders. "Hey that's new! That's real heavy duty shi- um, stuff. I've got to get my phone! No one at school's going to believe this!"
He tore back though the living room and vanished into the hallway adjoining it to the left. January imagined he was headed to his bedroom. The living room itself was entirely ordinary: couch, recliners, coffee table, and big TV set. Family pictures held court over the fire place, the usual. The far end turned into a kitchen and dining area, with a long counter and hanging cabinets blocking off half the living room. The other half was open, with a step up from the carpet of the living room to the linoleum floor of the dining room.
The mom - Tanisha - stood up from her laptop on the round table in the dining area and turned back to face January again. January could see it was finally sinking in that she was not just some teenage cosplayer. Her eyes darted from her to the hall where her son had disappeared. Then she looked to a door in the opposite wall, where January imagined the garage might be.
"Hi Mrs. Mills," January said. She tried to be as friendly and non-threatening as possible. It was usually not very difficult for her. She had never been good at the whole menacing thing. Not like Blood Raven was. She was even thinking of changing the color of her armor to something less black. Though granted, it did work with the whole crow motif.
"Could you get your husband?" she went on, "we all need to talk."
Mom practically ran to the garage door, all while trying to make it look like she was not running to the door. She called out to her husband, who came into the kitchen a few moments later. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with Zero Point's powered armored emblazoned across it. He wiped his hands with a rag, and looked at January with shock. Wayne came charging back from the hallway an instant later, phone held high and camera light on.
"Hi," January said again. "I'm Stormcrow. I know this seems a little surprising. It's kind of a surprise to me too in fact. But we need to talk."
"Could I get you a cup of coffee, or tea?" Mom slipped into the role of hostess. January wondered if that made the extraordinary event of having a superhero drop by seem easier to deal with. She was tempted to ask for a FaeCo, but decided that she had best keep things on track.
"No thank you," January said. "Oh I would love to, but I don't think we'll have time."
"Time?" Dad asked. His eyes darted to the windows. "There's not a giant spider outside!"
"Oh no," January held up her hands in what she hoped was a calming fashion. "No spiders, no monsters. But the police are on their way."
"The police!" Now it was Mom's turn to exclaim. Her eyes immediately turned to her son. "Wayne, what did you do?"
January felt for Wayne. She had heard that same Mom voice enough times in her own life. It was never good.
"I didn't… I swear… I don't know," Wayne stammered.
"I watched him go in the bedroom," Gadget said in her ear. "He wasn't trying to ditch any evidence. He just got his phone and came back."
"I don't think your son did anything," January came to the fifteen year old's rescue. If only a superhero had come to her rescue that time she broke the lamp doing cartwheels in the living room…
"Have any of you ever heard of Crystal Death?"
They all shook their heads, and looked dumbfounded.
"Sounds like a metal band," Dad frowned. "Are you sure you're the real Stormcrow? I've seen cosplay people on Imgrr…"
"I'm the real Stormcrow," January insisted. He still looked doubtful however. So she walked into the living room and picked up the couch with one hand, holding it by just one of its wooden legs.
"She's the real Stormcrow," Mom insisted.
"Is Blood Raven coming too?" Wayne asked. "That would rock! Are you really a lesbian? Is she a lesbian too?"
"Wayne!" Mom admonished her son. "You do not go talking to people like that!"
"Blood Raven is not coming," January fought the urge to smile, and put the couch back down. She stared into the camera lens of his phone, which was clearly still recording. "But yes, I am a lesbian. No, Blood Raven is not, at least not as far as I know."
"You know he's recording that right now?" Gadget said in her ear.
January could not respond without it appearing like she was talking to herself, so she said nothing to Gadget. Instead she motioned for them to join her in the living room. She asked Wayne to stop and turn his phone off. She did not want what she was about to say to go over the internet. So she waited until she saw it actually power down before she continued.
"I know this is a lot to take in," she said. "But please think, do any of you know about a drug called Crystal Death? It's red, and looks like meth crystals. But it's really nothing like it."
"What does it do?" Dad asked. He put his arm around his wife and led her into the living room opposite January. "And what does that have to do with us?"
"Someone gave the police a tip that you were manufacturing it," January said plainly.
"What!" the mother and father both erupted at once.
"That's… that's…" the mother sputtered.
"Wayne, tell me this has nothing to do with you!" Dad recovered enough from her shock to level an accusatory gaze at his son.
"Oh hell no!" the fifteen year-old insisted. "I don't sell no drugs. That's how you end up dead or in prison. Besides, you think I'd be working at Meijer if I was rolling in gangsta money?"
"I'm in the case files," Gadget said in her ear. "The call specifically says that Crystal Death is being manufactured at that address. I'm backtracking the phone number right now. It must be turned off, because I can't get a GPS from it."
"Wayne, if you know something, now is the time to talk," Mom took a more conciliatory tone. "Maybe we can work something out, before the police get here."
"Why does everyone keep looking at me?" Wayne raised his hands in frustration. "I didn't do nothing wrong, I swear! I'm not a criminal!"
"I am not saying you are," January tried to sound as soothing as possible. "Not any of you. Is there someone you know who might want to set you up? Someone who knows how to make drugs, or does sell them? Someone who would want to take revenge on one or all of you?"
"I got in a fight with that cracker Tucker Hannity after he called me a ni- the 'N-word'." Wayne related. "But that was a year ago."
"Young man, you know we do not use words like that," his mother scolded. "When they go low, we go high."
"That's what my mother says to me too," January murmured. She hoped he went high, like for the chin…
"The phone number's a dead end," Gadget said. "It belongs to a burner phone, bought with a prepaid credit card. The anonymous tip was the only call made from it. It's been turned off ever since. My guess is that it's in pieces in a dumpster right now."
Totally untraceable, exactly how they were communicating with Emilia. Whoever this was, they had some idea of how to evade digital scrutiny.
"I did get the cell tower it was connected to when it made the call," Gadget continued. "It's in Madison Heights, about seven miles away from you. Uh oh, you got Five Oh coming up your fundament."
"They are going to be here in just a moment," January said. "Just be calm, we'll work through this. Remember, they think they are cornering a murderous drug lord. Don't give them any excuses to get violent."
"Hey, we're black," Dad said, "we know the drill."
"If you folks partake of the green, you might want to flush it down the toilet," January said.
"It's perfectly legal now," the Mom insisted.
"I know," January agreed. "But like I said, don't give them excuses."
They all looked from one to another, then to Wayne.
"Why does everyone keep looking at me like I'm the OG?" he lamented.
"The OG," January breathed. That was what the Knights of Nerddom called Avery - the Original Gamer - because of his PC gaming skills. "Swatting started in gaming culture…"
"You might be on to something," Gadget said in her earpiece. "Wayne was playing a video game. I am going to clone his computer and do a deep dive."
Before January could ask the teen about his gaming enemies, red and blue lights began to flash through the windows. She was out of time. Her whole investigation was supposed to be on the down low. But she could not just run out the back door and leave the Millses to tender mercies of the SWAT team that was about the break down their door. Besides, even if she caught the Death Dealer - when she caught the Death Dealer - she was going to have to deal with the police to turn him over. One way or another, there was no avoiding it.
"Stay here," January said, "I'll talk to them."
I figure Gadget is automatically connected to every call that goes to the Stormcrow line. He is the one who set it up after all. So whenever she gets an alert, he does as well. They are a team after all.
January is going to make a gigantic leap on the flying front. Not in today's episode, but next week's. I am currently working on Chapter 6, and she makes some even more startling evolutions. Flying, and her wings, are really becoming a central part of who and what she is as a superhero.
Renee: I can just imagine you yelling at the screen, like how I yell at the TV when I am watching a Horror movie and the people decide to go in the basement, or split up.
But, as I have pointed out in earlier scenes, January will not be the first cape to use their super career for financial gain. That is why I mentioned the Spider doing the Spider-Man antics of selling pics to the Daily Bugle, and in previous episodes I mentioned other supers selling their wedding photos to People magazine, and still others making a power plant in Chicago. You are right, it is risky. But unless you took the Rich perk at character creation, you have to make a living somehow. Jan is living with her mother, at least for now. They don't have any pets. Though I keep wondering if someday Jan might bring home a baby dragon, or unicorn, or something. I am not entirely joking either. I could see it happening.
I feel sorry for anyone who tries to break into Jan's place though. Remember what she did to that giant spider! January is a wrecking machine. I have been watching the new Stargirl TV show. The antagonists are a team of supervillains called the Injustice Society of America. While watching it and seeing each villain in action, I realized very quickly that January would wipe the floor with them. Not singly, but all at once. The only one who might stand a chance against her would be Solomon Grundy. But she would grind him down to dust eventually. Just wait until you see what she does to the Nazis later in this chapter.
Looking at Google Maps with the satellite view turned on really brings home just how green urban spaces are. We don't think of it from the ground, when we are looking at all the concrete. We don't notice the canopies of all the trees overhead. But from above, the trees and grass fills up almost everything but the most solid factory districts.
As always, you can find the Mills house on the Stormcrow Map
Swatting
Book 5.10 - Crystal Death
"Ok, I'm in the house," Gadget crowed. "These Refuge home security systems are so easy for a real hacker to crack. Let's see what we have. Ok, Mom's at the kitchen table doing something on her laptop. Working on a Saturday, oy! Dad is on a ladder fiddling with the garage door. He must be one of those 'Man Stuff' guys. Son is in his bedroom playing a video game. Aww yeah, he's a PC Gamer too, my kind of guy."
"Are you going to get all Elitist PC Gamer Snob on me now?" January laughed.
"It is a terribly difficult burden to be so superior," Gadget responded in a posh British accent, "but we bear it with grace and humility."
"Truly, you are a paragon of unpretentiousness," January breathed. She passed over 16 Mile Road, and began scanning the houses and streets below. She was almost there. So far she saw nothing untoward. It was just an ordinary, boring suburb.
"I've looked all over the house, and I don't see any sort of drug lab," Gadget noted in his normal voice once more. "Not even an elementary school chemistry set. Maybe we got the address wrong?"
"I don't think our contact would make a mistake like that," January frowned. She certainly hoped Emilia did not fat-finger the address. That would be really embarrassing.
"Well, I am digging up some info on the homeowners now," Gadget said. "They are the Mills family. Jefferson - 44 - works on the line at the Ford axle plant up the street. Tanisha - 41 - is a social worker. And Wayne -15 - is enrolled in Stevenson High School, looks like he's holding down a solid B average."
"This does not sound like a gang of mad scientists," January admitted. "What about Wayne. How's he doing in chem class?"
"Never took it," Gadget said. "He's got straight A's in his socio and history classes though."
"And there's nothing in the house? What about a shed?" January asked.
"No shed," Gadget responded, "just an attached garage. I see a bag of fertilizer in there. Some oil cans, and a tool box. The neighbors do have a shed in the backyard next door, and there's no fence between them."
"Sounds pretty thin," January said.
Soaring along east of Van Dyke, January noted the wide parking lot of a movie megaplex ahead of her. Casting her eyes behind the movie theater, she found the house, nestled in a sea of suburbia. It was just an ordinary one-story home with a russet-colored roof, white walls, and red garage door. She saw the shed in the neighbor's yard that Gadget had referred to, and banked toward that.
She picked up speed as she nosed down toward the earth. As always, she let the ground fill her vision before braking with her wings, and pulling her legs forward. She turned off the wings a moment later, and dropped to the grass without even needing to bend her knees to take the impact. She was getting better and better at this. Using her wings was second nature by now. They were just a part of her.
She saw a lock on the shed door, and fished out her electric lockpick to open it. She was inside in a moment, and frowned at what she saw. It was nothing but what you would expect: a lawnmower, gardening tools, a snow-blower, a bucket of rock salt. No nefarious drug lab, or even secret panels in the floor leading to one.
She locked up the shed behind her, and turned back to the house in question. She could see the mom sitting in the kitchen through one of the back windows. Her skin was dark brown, her short hair was styled in a pixie cut, and a pair of glasses hovered over her nose. Said nose was still buried in her laptop. Before she could look up and see the superhero in her backyard, January leaped up and came down upon the rooftop. She crouched down behind the crown of the roof, so as to not be visible from the street out front, and waited.
"I can try to sneak in," January offered, "and get a closer look."
"No," Gadget said. "I can see every room, even the cat in the front window."
"Should try talking to them?" January thought aloud. "Maybe they know something, but don't realize it?"
"Could be," Gadget murmured. "You know what this looks like? Swatting. I think these people are being set up."
"The text said it was an anonymous tip, so that might be," January said. "Or maybe they just have a neighbor with too much time on her hands, and nothing to do with it but invent paranoid theories about the black family in the subdivision."
"I'm going to try to get into the police report on the tip," Gadget said. "With what your friend gave me, I should be able to get in their system with no problem. But if they have the Emergency Response Team on the way, someone must have told them about Crystal Death specifically. Otherwise it would just be the city cops making an ordinary stop, and we wouldn't be here."
"Okay," January said. "I'll see what I can find out from the family. I'm looping you in so you can see."
A spoken command to Sága turned on her video link to the Gadget Cave. Then January scampered across the roof and leaped up into a forward roll. She put a half-twist in the maneuver, and came down on her feet in the front yard, facing the house. It was just like all her years on the uneven bars. This time she resisted sticking the landing however.
She walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Waiting at someone's door always made her uncomfortable. Doing so in full armor and cape did not make things easier. As she had told Emilia, sometimes walking around in the Stormcrow gear seemed silly. This was definitely one of those times. But it was not like she could walk up in her street clothes and ask if they were drug dealers.
Instead she was going to do that in her hero outfit, wonderful.
She was about to knock when the door swung open. The mom just stood there, wearing yoga pants and a tank top. She stared at January for a long moment, then shut the door.
"Wayne!" she heard her yell through the door, "one of your friends is here!"
She thought she heard Gadget laughing in her ear. This whole superhero thing was not nearly as glamorous as it looked in old movies.
After a minute she heard stomping down the hallway, and the door opened to reveal a slender youth, with short curls on top of his fade and a Bob Marley tee. His jaw practically dropped to the floor when he saw January.
"It's... it's... it's…" he stammered, "OMG you're her!"
"Hi!" January wanted to use her serious, superhero voice. It sounded good when she practiced in front of the mirror. But she always seemed to forget how to do it whenever she was around real people. "I'm her, Stormcrow I mean. Could I come in and talk to you and your folks?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Wayne exalted. He reached out tentatively with one hand and gently touched the armor plate on one of her shoulders. "Hey that's new! That's real heavy duty shi- um, stuff. I've got to get my phone! No one at school's going to believe this!"
He tore back though the living room and vanished into the hallway adjoining it to the left. January imagined he was headed to his bedroom. The living room itself was entirely ordinary: couch, recliners, coffee table, and big TV set. Family pictures held court over the fire place, the usual. The far end turned into a kitchen and dining area, with a long counter and hanging cabinets blocking off half the living room. The other half was open, with a step up from the carpet of the living room to the linoleum floor of the dining room.
The mom - Tanisha - stood up from her laptop on the round table in the dining area and turned back to face January again. January could see it was finally sinking in that she was not just some teenage cosplayer. Her eyes darted from her to the hall where her son had disappeared. Then she looked to a door in the opposite wall, where January imagined the garage might be.
"Hi Mrs. Mills," January said. She tried to be as friendly and non-threatening as possible. It was usually not very difficult for her. She had never been good at the whole menacing thing. Not like Blood Raven was. She was even thinking of changing the color of her armor to something less black. Though granted, it did work with the whole crow motif.
"Could you get your husband?" she went on, "we all need to talk."
Mom practically ran to the garage door, all while trying to make it look like she was not running to the door. She called out to her husband, who came into the kitchen a few moments later. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with Zero Point's powered armored emblazoned across it. He wiped his hands with a rag, and looked at January with shock. Wayne came charging back from the hallway an instant later, phone held high and camera light on.
"Hi," January said again. "I'm Stormcrow. I know this seems a little surprising. It's kind of a surprise to me too in fact. But we need to talk."
"Could I get you a cup of coffee, or tea?" Mom slipped into the role of hostess. January wondered if that made the extraordinary event of having a superhero drop by seem easier to deal with. She was tempted to ask for a FaeCo, but decided that she had best keep things on track.
"No thank you," January said. "Oh I would love to, but I don't think we'll have time."
"Time?" Dad asked. His eyes darted to the windows. "There's not a giant spider outside!"
"Oh no," January held up her hands in what she hoped was a calming fashion. "No spiders, no monsters. But the police are on their way."
"The police!" Now it was Mom's turn to exclaim. Her eyes immediately turned to her son. "Wayne, what did you do?"
January felt for Wayne. She had heard that same Mom voice enough times in her own life. It was never good.
"I didn't… I swear… I don't know," Wayne stammered.
"I watched him go in the bedroom," Gadget said in her ear. "He wasn't trying to ditch any evidence. He just got his phone and came back."
"I don't think your son did anything," January came to the fifteen year old's rescue. If only a superhero had come to her rescue that time she broke the lamp doing cartwheels in the living room…
"Have any of you ever heard of Crystal Death?"
They all shook their heads, and looked dumbfounded.
"Sounds like a metal band," Dad frowned. "Are you sure you're the real Stormcrow? I've seen cosplay people on Imgrr…"
"I'm the real Stormcrow," January insisted. He still looked doubtful however. So she walked into the living room and picked up the couch with one hand, holding it by just one of its wooden legs.
"She's the real Stormcrow," Mom insisted.
"Is Blood Raven coming too?" Wayne asked. "That would rock! Are you really a lesbian? Is she a lesbian too?"
"Wayne!" Mom admonished her son. "You do not go talking to people like that!"
"Blood Raven is not coming," January fought the urge to smile, and put the couch back down. She stared into the camera lens of his phone, which was clearly still recording. "But yes, I am a lesbian. No, Blood Raven is not, at least not as far as I know."
"You know he's recording that right now?" Gadget said in her ear.
January could not respond without it appearing like she was talking to herself, so she said nothing to Gadget. Instead she motioned for them to join her in the living room. She asked Wayne to stop and turn his phone off. She did not want what she was about to say to go over the internet. So she waited until she saw it actually power down before she continued.
"I know this is a lot to take in," she said. "But please think, do any of you know about a drug called Crystal Death? It's red, and looks like meth crystals. But it's really nothing like it."
"What does it do?" Dad asked. He put his arm around his wife and led her into the living room opposite January. "And what does that have to do with us?"
"Someone gave the police a tip that you were manufacturing it," January said plainly.
"What!" the mother and father both erupted at once.
"That's… that's…" the mother sputtered.
"Wayne, tell me this has nothing to do with you!" Dad recovered enough from her shock to level an accusatory gaze at his son.
"Oh hell no!" the fifteen year-old insisted. "I don't sell no drugs. That's how you end up dead or in prison. Besides, you think I'd be working at Meijer if I was rolling in gangsta money?"
"I'm in the case files," Gadget said in her ear. "The call specifically says that Crystal Death is being manufactured at that address. I'm backtracking the phone number right now. It must be turned off, because I can't get a GPS from it."
"Wayne, if you know something, now is the time to talk," Mom took a more conciliatory tone. "Maybe we can work something out, before the police get here."
"Why does everyone keep looking at me?" Wayne raised his hands in frustration. "I didn't do nothing wrong, I swear! I'm not a criminal!"
"I am not saying you are," January tried to sound as soothing as possible. "Not any of you. Is there someone you know who might want to set you up? Someone who knows how to make drugs, or does sell them? Someone who would want to take revenge on one or all of you?"
"I got in a fight with that cracker Tucker Hannity after he called me a ni- the 'N-word'." Wayne related. "But that was a year ago."
"Young man, you know we do not use words like that," his mother scolded. "When they go low, we go high."
"That's what my mother says to me too," January murmured. She hoped he went high, like for the chin…
"The phone number's a dead end," Gadget said. "It belongs to a burner phone, bought with a prepaid credit card. The anonymous tip was the only call made from it. It's been turned off ever since. My guess is that it's in pieces in a dumpster right now."
Totally untraceable, exactly how they were communicating with Emilia. Whoever this was, they had some idea of how to evade digital scrutiny.
"I did get the cell tower it was connected to when it made the call," Gadget continued. "It's in Madison Heights, about seven miles away from you. Uh oh, you got Five Oh coming up your fundament."
"They are going to be here in just a moment," January said. "Just be calm, we'll work through this. Remember, they think they are cornering a murderous drug lord. Don't give them any excuses to get violent."
"Hey, we're black," Dad said, "we know the drill."
"If you folks partake of the green, you might want to flush it down the toilet," January said.
"It's perfectly legal now," the Mom insisted.
"I know," January agreed. "But like I said, don't give them excuses."
They all looked from one to another, then to Wayne.
"Why does everyone keep looking at me like I'm the OG?" he lamented.
"The OG," January breathed. That was what the Knights of Nerddom called Avery - the Original Gamer - because of his PC gaming skills. "Swatting started in gaming culture…"
"You might be on to something," Gadget said in her earpiece. "Wayne was playing a video game. I am going to clone his computer and do a deep dive."
Before January could ask the teen about his gaming enemies, red and blue lights began to flash through the windows. She was out of time. Her whole investigation was supposed to be on the down low. But she could not just run out the back door and leave the Millses to tender mercies of the SWAT team that was about the break down their door. Besides, even if she caught the Death Dealer - when she caught the Death Dealer - she was going to have to deal with the police to turn him over. One way or another, there was no avoiding it.
"Stay here," January said, "I'll talk to them."
I loved the banter between Stormcrow and Gadget while she was on the way to the target address. Wow, Gadget and his. . . gadgets are darn handy! Having a preview of who and what’s inside that house before Stromcrow even gets there was invaluable.
I think the StormTeam pretty much has figured out the right of what’s going on. Looks like Jan will have to diffuse things with the police before they can learn more about the why.
I think the StormTeam pretty much has figured out the right of what’s going on. Looks like Jan will have to diffuse things with the police before they can learn more about the why.
Maybe I got it wrong though. So let me ask: did January post the story under her own name, or a screen name? I was thinking maybe she inadvertently left some link between the real her, any pen name she's using, and/or Stormcrow, but maybe I got that wrong. If she's merely using her own name, maybe that'll be okay. I was thinking there'd be some link between her and Stormcrow.
That's so freaky. Avery can look in anyone's house if they've got a so-called 'advanced' security system.
That was my thinking too... somebody is using their house maybe like a proxy server. So they are innocent, yet don't know the Crystal Death people are doing something behind the scenes. 
So technically, if somebody didn't do their homework like Jan and Avery are doing, they could wind up simply accusing the family. Break down their doors, yet find nothing. There was a Grisham book I read a few years ago in which this happened. Sort of like what's in that Swatting link. Goodness.
Ha! Mom opens the door and immediately closes it. Maybe she's not aware of who Stormcrow is.
Wayne says OMG. He actually says O M G.
This is funny episode today. And then Jan is in her outfit as the whole fam crowds around. Her thinking is right. Her outfit is certainly going to catch their attention, make them pay attention and take her words more serious.
Hmm, I am starting to think this could be a distraction, not to get this family arrested, but maybe something else is going on right now, as the police arrive at this mundane address. Meanwhile, some other location is having some crime going on.
Gadget is going to clone Wayne's computer.
He says it like he's going to get something to eat. Ah geez.
That's so freaky. Avery can look in anyone's house if they've got a so-called 'advanced' security system.
That was my thinking too... somebody is using their house maybe like a proxy server. So they are innocent, yet don't know the Crystal Death people are doing something behind the scenes. So technically, if somebody didn't do their homework like Jan and Avery are doing, they could wind up simply accusing the family. Break down their doors, yet find nothing. There was a Grisham book I read a few years ago in which this happened. Sort of like what's in that Swatting link. Goodness. Ha! Mom opens the door and immediately closes it.
Maybe she's not aware of who Stormcrow is. Wayne says OMG. He actually says O M G.
This is funny episode today. And then Jan is in her outfit as the whole fam crowds around. Her thinking is right. Her outfit is certainly going to catch their attention, make them pay attention and take her words more serious. QUOTE
. If only a superhero had come to her rescue that time she broke the lamp doing cartwheels in the living room…
Hmm, I am starting to think this could be a distraction, not to get this family arrested, but maybe something else is going on right now, as the police arrive at this mundane address. Meanwhile, some other location is having some crime going on.
Gadget is going to clone Wayne's computer.
He says it like he's going to get something to eat. Ah geez.
Acadian: Jan and Avery playing off one another is always a joy to write. They are the dynamic duo after all. Gadget really gets to show off his gadeteering in these next few episodes, as he sniffs out the electronic trail to the bad guys.
Jan is going to have her hands full diffusing the situation. In fact, I used today's episode as a way of showing that while she may be super, she is still far from perfect. She really could use some of Buffy's grace at a time like this.
Renee: January is posting her Crow Tales blog under her Stormcrow identity. I went back to make that more clear. If she did it as January Ward no one would ever notice it. That was the whole idea, use her identity as Stormcrow to promote positive novels and short stories. Because of that, there is now a link between January Ward and Stormcrow: the fact that Jan's book was featured on Stormcrow's blog. Just as Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein was. And every following author whose work she features. So it is not evidence that Jan is Stormcrow. Just that Stormcrow mentioned her.
Anything with a connection to the internet can be hacked, simple as that. Look at all those celebrities whose phones were hacked years ago, and their private pictures spread all over. Or the Sony executives whose emails were plastered all over the internet.
I thought it was interesting that you brought up the idea that this might be a distraction while a real crime took place elsewhere. That is an idea that Avery will have concerning the Conjurer in next chapter. Though it will turn out to not be the case.
Mom does know who Stormcrow is. Pretty much everyone in Michigan does at this point in the story. But she does not expect the real Stormcrow to show up at her door. More likely a cosplayer that her son is friends with.
Cloning Wayne's computer really is as simple as making a sandwich for Avery. When it comes to technology, he literally makes up his own rules. That is his gift.
All: I did some tweaking to some parts of Chapter 1 over the past few days. Nothing dramatic. I just steamlined the place where Jan is talking about her story idea at the very start. I added in a little more detail about her early flights, namely the landings. Now they went much less smoothly, showing that she has a long way to go with learning to fly. I tweaked Avery's use of the name Gadget, so it is clear that only January knows him by that name. I even went back and changed the news casters to be Gilda Gadfly as well.
Finally I changed Heisenberg's Technocracy from Central Asia to Central Europe (namely Austria). I had not thought about it at first, but lately I have been concerned that it might look like the White Savior trope - a genius European scientist lifting the Asians out of their backward squalor. I could not find any Russian scientists whose names resonated like Heisenberg's. So I decided to scrap the location and just move it to Europe. I am still keeping the time that Heisenberg created the Technocracy as 1953, as that is still ideal with Stalin's death, and the creation of the Warsaw Pact. I even briefly considered changing him to Schrodinger, as he was Austrian and living at that time. But my original idea was to create a character like Doctor Doom - a genius scientist who ruled his own nation. The name Schrodinger just does not carry the same ominous tinge to it that Heisenberg does.
Knock and Announce Rule
Grond
Hecate II
Book 5.11 - Crystal Death
She strode purposely to the door and went outside. She was just in time to see a squad of what looked like commandos in black uniforms and body armor. Their faces were covered in balaclava, and their heads in the Army's newest style of helmets. They carried a mix of assault rifles and shotguns, all tricked out with electronic optics, vertical handgrips, and practically every other manner of tacticool bling imaginable.
They might have leaped from one of Avery's video games. Instead they spilled from a giant armored vehicle that was just one step away from being an actual tank. An MRAP is what January thought they were called. Leading the way was a man carrying a battering ram. Another followed close behind him with a giant crowbar.
They came up short when they found January planted directly in their path. She put her hands on her hips, in her best imitation of a defiant superhero pose.
"This isn't Minas Tirith, and there's no need to roll up with Grond there." January looked pointedly at the battering ram. "Ever hear of the Knock-and-Announce Rule?"
"Knock-and-Announce doesn't apply when it's unreasonable." A trooper with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders insisted. He was tall, and the skin around his eyes showed that he was a white man. That was the only distinguishing feature January could make out, given the military armor he was swathed within. "Given that our suspects pose a high level of threat, that is the case."
Gadget had prepared a dossier on the Emergency Response Team. Thanks to that January remembered that the lieutenant was named Paul Hunter. He had the dubious distinction of being investigated for misconduct more times than any other police officer in the state. He had also been essentially hand-picked for his current position by the previous governor. Hunter was clearly going to be trouble.
The rest of the team fanned out, rifles and shotguns at the ready. January wondered if they had armor-piercing rounds, like those the Whitewater mercenaries had used at the airport. Their weapons were not pointed directly at January. But they were not exactly pointed away either. She saw one of them climb up the back of the MRAP, and go prone on the roof with the largest rifle she had ever seen.
"That's a Hecate II," Gadget appraised her. "That's what Ryo uses in World of Guncraft. Fifty caliber. It's made for killing trucks."
"The only threat here is the one you bring," January insisted. She felt rather proud of herself for that. It sounded like something Gandalf or Yoda might say. "These people have committed no crimes. There's no reason for you to be here."
"We know about you Stormcrow," Lieutenant Hunter said her name like it was something slimy he found underneath his shoe. "This has nothing to do with your spooky monsters or limp-wristed friends, so clear out. Go play with the other rainbow pansies downtown."
January shook her head. She was tempted to show him how limp her wrists were by putting her knuckles through his face. Instead she reached down for her mana. She let it wash through her, cool as a mountain spring. She allowed it to sweep her anger away. Or at least she tried to at any rate. The fact that she didn't take the lieutenant's head off proved that she retained some measure of calm.
The steady drizzle that began to patter down from the sky said otherwise however.
"I am not going anywhere," she contended.
"We have a warrant to search the premises," the lieutenant growled. "If you stand in our way, you will be arrested for interfering with an officer, and other possible aiding and abetting charges."
"Oh I would never dream of obstructing justice," January insisted. "In fact, why don't I help you? I mean, just in case these big, bad suburbanites really are making meta-humans in the bathtub."
That brought sharp glances between the state troopers. January wanted to kick herself for giving too much away. She did her best to keep her face an expressionless mask. Blood Raven seemed to do it effortlessly. Since there was no way of reloading from her last save game and trying again, she decided to dive in with both feet.
"Oh you thought that was a secret? Superpowers aren't just about punching giant spiders you know. I am conducting my own investigation into Crystal Death," she declared. "I know all about it. I also have a pretty good idea that a social worker and a guy who makes axles are not criminal masterminds. But let's just make sure shall we? I'll go first, and protect you from any spooky monsters. You just worry about getting that warrant out."
January stepped back to the still open front door, and glanced back to the state police. "Oh by the way, you are being filmed, so smile for the camera."
She strode into the house like she owned it. She found the three members of the Mills family clustered in the kitchen, along with the cat. January walked slowly but steadily toward them, doing her best to remain unemotional. In reality her heart was beating like a jackhammer in her chest. But at least tapping into her mana helped her keep her cool, so far.
The state police burst in behind her, except for the sniper on the roof of their armored vehicle of course. January imagined that she - for she had noticed the sniper was female - was following everything inside with a thermal scope, or something else appropriately high tech. The other state troopers fanned out with guns drawn. Four of them immediately trained their weapons on January and the Millses. The rest of them split up in different directions. Most of them raced down the hallway deeper into the house, breaking down every door they came across. The remainder broke down the door to the garage, and vanished inside.
"Get out of my house!" Mr. Mills immediately bristled. He pointed an accusatory finger at the troopers. They turned their guns to point at him. The lieutenant came forward with two of his men to either side of him. Clearly they were intending to grab and restrain him.
Somewhere far back in the calculating, rational part of her mind, January knew that getting physically involved would only escalate things. But she could not hear that logical voice in her head. Not over the pounding of the blood in her ears, or the roar of her heart. Instead she fought back, as she learned she had to against the bullies in school.
She knew that she could not stop all three state troopers from reaching Mr. Mills - Jefferson. But she remembered how she had used her wings to block the police from shooting at the djieien in Ferndale. She thought of doing so again, and her mana poured into that image. Her will made it reality.
She had not hit the triggers built into her gauntlets to deploy her wings. They snapped out on their own. But this was not simply her cape changing its shape. No, this was an actual pair of crow's wings, feathers and all. Or at least there was the shape of feathers in the wings. But they were still made of hagfish armor. These wings however, were much larger than her cape had ever been. January did not even try to wrap her mind around that. She was having enough trouble dealing with the fact that her arms had disappeared.
A quick glance showed that was not quite true. The wings were in fact sprouting from her arms, just like a real bird's wing was its arm. Her hands were still in there, perhaps halfway through the wing. But they were much longer now. If she had to guess, she imagined that each arm/wing was at least five feet in length, perhaps longer. They stretched from one side of the kitchen to the other. That left the Mills family tucked safely in the corner behind her, out of reach of the police.
The state troopers seemed even more surprised than January was. That was certainly not in any dossier they might possess on her. They lowered their weapons, and stumbled back in shock. Even the lieutenant seemed taken aback.
"Holy Cromcakes Stormgirl!" Gadget breathed in her ear. "I didn't know you could turn your arms into actual wings!"
January did not know either. But she was not about to say that out loud.
"Tell me Lieutenant Hunter," she struck while the iron was hot. "Do the Sterling Heights Police even know you are here? Or are you going behind their backs with your little raid?"
"That's a good idea Crowgirl," Gadget's voice was in her ear again. "The SHPD are receiving an anonymous phone call right now…"
"While we are at it Lieutenant Hunter, how many people have you shot?" January continued to use his name. She wanted everyone in the world would hear it, and know who he was. "Is it true that the only reason you weren't thrown out of the state police was because you were friends with the last governor? Isn't he the only reason you have this job?"
If he wanted to make snide comments about limp-wrists and rainbow pansies, she could dish out better. That logical, rational part of her brain told her that she was throwing gasoline onto a raging forest fire. She ignored it, and decided it was time to break out the marshmallows instead.
"I have a warrant to search these premises!" Hunter finally gathered his wits and produced the folded up papers in question. He waved them at January like they were a magical talisman to ward off super crows. All the while he still gripped his assault rifle in the other hand, barrel pointed at January. "You will cease and desist this… this… obstruction at once!"
"I'm not obstructing anything," January shot back. "I'm protecting innocent people from your brutality."
"There is no brutality here!" Hunter shouted.
"Really, then why are assault rifles being pointed at the heads of unarmed people. People who pose no threat to anyone? Why are doors being broken down for no reason? Why do I hear things being smashed in the other rooms? Why is a .50 caliber sniper rifle being pointed at a 15 year old boy? Is that how the Michigan State Police behave? I say thee nay!"
January did not know where she got the last part. Maybe it was from listening to Blood Raven talk. Or it could have been from watching the Lord of the Rings movies recently. Inwardly, she groaned. Once this video got out, that was going to be a meme, no doubt about it.
"Whoa, weren't you all the ones telling me to be chill?" January heard Wayne murmur behind her.
He was right. Normally it would have been Gadget giving her that sage advice. But he must have been busy calling the Sterling Heights police. In any case, January knew words of wisdom, at least when someone else spoke them. With an effort of will, she controlled her breathing, slowed her heart, and lowered her wings. The latter shortened to the regular length of her arms. But they remained armored bird's wings rather than human limbs.
"Thank you Wayne," January glanced back at the 15 year old. She ran her elemental mantra through her head, and let her mana wash through the words. She concentrated on her breathing, and listened to the words in her head.
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.
"They do have a legal right to search the property," she said as she turned back to the Emergency Response Team. "Since none of us are criminals, we are not going to impede them from carrying out their duties. They will find that there is nothing here, and leave. In the meantime the real police - the ones from Sterling Heights - are on their way."
"Maybe you would like to explain to them what you are doing here, Lieutenant Hunter," January stared at her opposite number.
He glared at January, but did not reply. Instead he slapped down the warrant on the kitchen counter. Then he turned to his men.
"Search the family."
Again, two of the state troopers came forward, while the other pair hung back. January noted that they had moved into positions where their fields of fire would not be blocked by the advancing cops. She also remembered that the sniper was still out there with that giant rifle. January wondered if a .50 caliber round would penetrate her armor? What about an armor-piercing .50 caliber round? How many buildings would it go through if it missed? How many other innocent lives would it snuff out?
"First, lower your weapons," January insisted, "and treat these people with respect."
"You don't tell the Michigan State Police what to do!" Lieutenant Hunter fumed.
"I shouldn't have to," January shot back. She looked away from the lieutenant, and instead locked eyes on each of the other members of the team in turn. "You are pointing guns at a child. Is this why you joined the police? Is this going to be your legacy? Is this the kind of person you are? Who do you serve? Who do you protect?"
Thunder rumbled outside, in a long, low drumbeat.
Without a word, the state troopers lowered the weapons to a forty five degree angle. Except for Lieutenant Hunter of course, he stood back and fumed, rifle still leveled firmly at January's head. Two of the men then slung their weapons entirely, and came forward to search the Millses. But they did so much more gingerly and respectfully, than it appeared they would have a moment before.
January wondered if the other troopers might try to plant drugs at the scene to get back at her, and justify the ordeal. But she remembered that Gadget was watching over the home security cameras. She hoped they would not be so foolish. But the lieutenant was clearly raging, and January knew that she bore much of the blame for that.
In the end they did not take that particular low road. They did not find any drugs of course. But they did carry out a computer that January imagined belonged to Wayne, along with Tanisha's laptop, and all of their phones.
January resisted taunting them as they filed out of the house. The mom - Tanisha - however did not.
"Didn't find anything did you!" she crowed. "But you are still stealing our electronics? I need that laptop for work, and my son needs his computer for school! And who is going to pay for my broken doors! And what about this lamp you all smashed?"
"My warrant gives me the right to seize any and all evidence pertaining to our investigation," Lieutenant Hunter bragged. "Your property will be returned in due course, once it is no longer required for the investigation."
"I will get it all back for you." January turned her back on the state police and faced the Millses directly. "One way or another, I promise."
Jan is going to have her hands full diffusing the situation. In fact, I used today's episode as a way of showing that while she may be super, she is still far from perfect. She really could use some of Buffy's grace at a time like this.
Renee: January is posting her Crow Tales blog under her Stormcrow identity. I went back to make that more clear. If she did it as January Ward no one would ever notice it. That was the whole idea, use her identity as Stormcrow to promote positive novels and short stories. Because of that, there is now a link between January Ward and Stormcrow: the fact that Jan's book was featured on Stormcrow's blog. Just as Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein was. And every following author whose work she features. So it is not evidence that Jan is Stormcrow. Just that Stormcrow mentioned her.
Anything with a connection to the internet can be hacked, simple as that. Look at all those celebrities whose phones were hacked years ago, and their private pictures spread all over. Or the Sony executives whose emails were plastered all over the internet.
I thought it was interesting that you brought up the idea that this might be a distraction while a real crime took place elsewhere. That is an idea that Avery will have concerning the Conjurer in next chapter. Though it will turn out to not be the case.
Mom does know who Stormcrow is. Pretty much everyone in Michigan does at this point in the story. But she does not expect the real Stormcrow to show up at her door. More likely a cosplayer that her son is friends with.
Cloning Wayne's computer really is as simple as making a sandwich for Avery. When it comes to technology, he literally makes up his own rules. That is his gift.
All: I did some tweaking to some parts of Chapter 1 over the past few days. Nothing dramatic. I just steamlined the place where Jan is talking about her story idea at the very start. I added in a little more detail about her early flights, namely the landings. Now they went much less smoothly, showing that she has a long way to go with learning to fly. I tweaked Avery's use of the name Gadget, so it is clear that only January knows him by that name. I even went back and changed the news casters to be Gilda Gadfly as well.
Finally I changed Heisenberg's Technocracy from Central Asia to Central Europe (namely Austria). I had not thought about it at first, but lately I have been concerned that it might look like the White Savior trope - a genius European scientist lifting the Asians out of their backward squalor. I could not find any Russian scientists whose names resonated like Heisenberg's. So I decided to scrap the location and just move it to Europe. I am still keeping the time that Heisenberg created the Technocracy as 1953, as that is still ideal with Stalin's death, and the creation of the Warsaw Pact. I even briefly considered changing him to Schrodinger, as he was Austrian and living at that time. But my original idea was to create a character like Doctor Doom - a genius scientist who ruled his own nation. The name Schrodinger just does not carry the same ominous tinge to it that Heisenberg does.
Knock and Announce Rule
Grond
Hecate II
Book 5.11 - Crystal Death
She strode purposely to the door and went outside. She was just in time to see a squad of what looked like commandos in black uniforms and body armor. Their faces were covered in balaclava, and their heads in the Army's newest style of helmets. They carried a mix of assault rifles and shotguns, all tricked out with electronic optics, vertical handgrips, and practically every other manner of tacticool bling imaginable.
They might have leaped from one of Avery's video games. Instead they spilled from a giant armored vehicle that was just one step away from being an actual tank. An MRAP is what January thought they were called. Leading the way was a man carrying a battering ram. Another followed close behind him with a giant crowbar.
They came up short when they found January planted directly in their path. She put her hands on her hips, in her best imitation of a defiant superhero pose.
"This isn't Minas Tirith, and there's no need to roll up with Grond there." January looked pointedly at the battering ram. "Ever hear of the Knock-and-Announce Rule?"
"Knock-and-Announce doesn't apply when it's unreasonable." A trooper with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders insisted. He was tall, and the skin around his eyes showed that he was a white man. That was the only distinguishing feature January could make out, given the military armor he was swathed within. "Given that our suspects pose a high level of threat, that is the case."
Gadget had prepared a dossier on the Emergency Response Team. Thanks to that January remembered that the lieutenant was named Paul Hunter. He had the dubious distinction of being investigated for misconduct more times than any other police officer in the state. He had also been essentially hand-picked for his current position by the previous governor. Hunter was clearly going to be trouble.
The rest of the team fanned out, rifles and shotguns at the ready. January wondered if they had armor-piercing rounds, like those the Whitewater mercenaries had used at the airport. Their weapons were not pointed directly at January. But they were not exactly pointed away either. She saw one of them climb up the back of the MRAP, and go prone on the roof with the largest rifle she had ever seen.
"That's a Hecate II," Gadget appraised her. "That's what Ryo uses in World of Guncraft. Fifty caliber. It's made for killing trucks."
"The only threat here is the one you bring," January insisted. She felt rather proud of herself for that. It sounded like something Gandalf or Yoda might say. "These people have committed no crimes. There's no reason for you to be here."
"We know about you Stormcrow," Lieutenant Hunter said her name like it was something slimy he found underneath his shoe. "This has nothing to do with your spooky monsters or limp-wristed friends, so clear out. Go play with the other rainbow pansies downtown."
January shook her head. She was tempted to show him how limp her wrists were by putting her knuckles through his face. Instead she reached down for her mana. She let it wash through her, cool as a mountain spring. She allowed it to sweep her anger away. Or at least she tried to at any rate. The fact that she didn't take the lieutenant's head off proved that she retained some measure of calm.
The steady drizzle that began to patter down from the sky said otherwise however.
"I am not going anywhere," she contended.
"We have a warrant to search the premises," the lieutenant growled. "If you stand in our way, you will be arrested for interfering with an officer, and other possible aiding and abetting charges."
"Oh I would never dream of obstructing justice," January insisted. "In fact, why don't I help you? I mean, just in case these big, bad suburbanites really are making meta-humans in the bathtub."
That brought sharp glances between the state troopers. January wanted to kick herself for giving too much away. She did her best to keep her face an expressionless mask. Blood Raven seemed to do it effortlessly. Since there was no way of reloading from her last save game and trying again, she decided to dive in with both feet.
"Oh you thought that was a secret? Superpowers aren't just about punching giant spiders you know. I am conducting my own investigation into Crystal Death," she declared. "I know all about it. I also have a pretty good idea that a social worker and a guy who makes axles are not criminal masterminds. But let's just make sure shall we? I'll go first, and protect you from any spooky monsters. You just worry about getting that warrant out."
January stepped back to the still open front door, and glanced back to the state police. "Oh by the way, you are being filmed, so smile for the camera."
She strode into the house like she owned it. She found the three members of the Mills family clustered in the kitchen, along with the cat. January walked slowly but steadily toward them, doing her best to remain unemotional. In reality her heart was beating like a jackhammer in her chest. But at least tapping into her mana helped her keep her cool, so far.
The state police burst in behind her, except for the sniper on the roof of their armored vehicle of course. January imagined that she - for she had noticed the sniper was female - was following everything inside with a thermal scope, or something else appropriately high tech. The other state troopers fanned out with guns drawn. Four of them immediately trained their weapons on January and the Millses. The rest of them split up in different directions. Most of them raced down the hallway deeper into the house, breaking down every door they came across. The remainder broke down the door to the garage, and vanished inside.
"Get out of my house!" Mr. Mills immediately bristled. He pointed an accusatory finger at the troopers. They turned their guns to point at him. The lieutenant came forward with two of his men to either side of him. Clearly they were intending to grab and restrain him.
Somewhere far back in the calculating, rational part of her mind, January knew that getting physically involved would only escalate things. But she could not hear that logical voice in her head. Not over the pounding of the blood in her ears, or the roar of her heart. Instead she fought back, as she learned she had to against the bullies in school.
She knew that she could not stop all three state troopers from reaching Mr. Mills - Jefferson. But she remembered how she had used her wings to block the police from shooting at the djieien in Ferndale. She thought of doing so again, and her mana poured into that image. Her will made it reality.
She had not hit the triggers built into her gauntlets to deploy her wings. They snapped out on their own. But this was not simply her cape changing its shape. No, this was an actual pair of crow's wings, feathers and all. Or at least there was the shape of feathers in the wings. But they were still made of hagfish armor. These wings however, were much larger than her cape had ever been. January did not even try to wrap her mind around that. She was having enough trouble dealing with the fact that her arms had disappeared.
A quick glance showed that was not quite true. The wings were in fact sprouting from her arms, just like a real bird's wing was its arm. Her hands were still in there, perhaps halfway through the wing. But they were much longer now. If she had to guess, she imagined that each arm/wing was at least five feet in length, perhaps longer. They stretched from one side of the kitchen to the other. That left the Mills family tucked safely in the corner behind her, out of reach of the police.
The state troopers seemed even more surprised than January was. That was certainly not in any dossier they might possess on her. They lowered their weapons, and stumbled back in shock. Even the lieutenant seemed taken aback.
"Holy Cromcakes Stormgirl!" Gadget breathed in her ear. "I didn't know you could turn your arms into actual wings!"
January did not know either. But she was not about to say that out loud.
"Tell me Lieutenant Hunter," she struck while the iron was hot. "Do the Sterling Heights Police even know you are here? Or are you going behind their backs with your little raid?"
"That's a good idea Crowgirl," Gadget's voice was in her ear again. "The SHPD are receiving an anonymous phone call right now…"
"While we are at it Lieutenant Hunter, how many people have you shot?" January continued to use his name. She wanted everyone in the world would hear it, and know who he was. "Is it true that the only reason you weren't thrown out of the state police was because you were friends with the last governor? Isn't he the only reason you have this job?"
If he wanted to make snide comments about limp-wrists and rainbow pansies, she could dish out better. That logical, rational part of her brain told her that she was throwing gasoline onto a raging forest fire. She ignored it, and decided it was time to break out the marshmallows instead.
"I have a warrant to search these premises!" Hunter finally gathered his wits and produced the folded up papers in question. He waved them at January like they were a magical talisman to ward off super crows. All the while he still gripped his assault rifle in the other hand, barrel pointed at January. "You will cease and desist this… this… obstruction at once!"
"I'm not obstructing anything," January shot back. "I'm protecting innocent people from your brutality."
"There is no brutality here!" Hunter shouted.
"Really, then why are assault rifles being pointed at the heads of unarmed people. People who pose no threat to anyone? Why are doors being broken down for no reason? Why do I hear things being smashed in the other rooms? Why is a .50 caliber sniper rifle being pointed at a 15 year old boy? Is that how the Michigan State Police behave? I say thee nay!"
January did not know where she got the last part. Maybe it was from listening to Blood Raven talk. Or it could have been from watching the Lord of the Rings movies recently. Inwardly, she groaned. Once this video got out, that was going to be a meme, no doubt about it.
"Whoa, weren't you all the ones telling me to be chill?" January heard Wayne murmur behind her.
He was right. Normally it would have been Gadget giving her that sage advice. But he must have been busy calling the Sterling Heights police. In any case, January knew words of wisdom, at least when someone else spoke them. With an effort of will, she controlled her breathing, slowed her heart, and lowered her wings. The latter shortened to the regular length of her arms. But they remained armored bird's wings rather than human limbs.
"Thank you Wayne," January glanced back at the 15 year old. She ran her elemental mantra through her head, and let her mana wash through the words. She concentrated on her breathing, and listened to the words in her head.
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.
"They do have a legal right to search the property," she said as she turned back to the Emergency Response Team. "Since none of us are criminals, we are not going to impede them from carrying out their duties. They will find that there is nothing here, and leave. In the meantime the real police - the ones from Sterling Heights - are on their way."
"Maybe you would like to explain to them what you are doing here, Lieutenant Hunter," January stared at her opposite number.
He glared at January, but did not reply. Instead he slapped down the warrant on the kitchen counter. Then he turned to his men.
"Search the family."
Again, two of the state troopers came forward, while the other pair hung back. January noted that they had moved into positions where their fields of fire would not be blocked by the advancing cops. She also remembered that the sniper was still out there with that giant rifle. January wondered if a .50 caliber round would penetrate her armor? What about an armor-piercing .50 caliber round? How many buildings would it go through if it missed? How many other innocent lives would it snuff out?
"First, lower your weapons," January insisted, "and treat these people with respect."
"You don't tell the Michigan State Police what to do!" Lieutenant Hunter fumed.
"I shouldn't have to," January shot back. She looked away from the lieutenant, and instead locked eyes on each of the other members of the team in turn. "You are pointing guns at a child. Is this why you joined the police? Is this going to be your legacy? Is this the kind of person you are? Who do you serve? Who do you protect?"
Thunder rumbled outside, in a long, low drumbeat.
Without a word, the state troopers lowered the weapons to a forty five degree angle. Except for Lieutenant Hunter of course, he stood back and fumed, rifle still leveled firmly at January's head. Two of the men then slung their weapons entirely, and came forward to search the Millses. But they did so much more gingerly and respectfully, than it appeared they would have a moment before.
January wondered if the other troopers might try to plant drugs at the scene to get back at her, and justify the ordeal. But she remembered that Gadget was watching over the home security cameras. She hoped they would not be so foolish. But the lieutenant was clearly raging, and January knew that she bore much of the blame for that.
In the end they did not take that particular low road. They did not find any drugs of course. But they did carry out a computer that January imagined belonged to Wayne, along with Tanisha's laptop, and all of their phones.
January resisted taunting them as they filed out of the house. The mom - Tanisha - however did not.
"Didn't find anything did you!" she crowed. "But you are still stealing our electronics? I need that laptop for work, and my son needs his computer for school! And who is going to pay for my broken doors! And what about this lamp you all smashed?"
"My warrant gives me the right to seize any and all evidence pertaining to our investigation," Lieutenant Hunter bragged. "Your property will be returned in due course, once it is no longer required for the investigation."
"I will get it all back for you." January turned her back on the state police and faced the Millses directly. "One way or another, I promise."
During Lt Hunter’s insulting opening statement to January, I had flashbacks to Buffy’s fairly recent encounter with Count Pompous Terentius! Very uncourtly behavior on his part instead of the grace that should accompany authority. Yay for Jan that she maintained a degree of restraint. . . to a point of course. 
”I say thee nay!"
- - I can imagine how much fun you had crafting this old world Blood Ravenesque line! Though Jan second guesses herself for it, I loved it!
This was a tense encounter indeed and Jan conducted herself well as she carefully managed being assertively helpful without becoming aggressively counterproductive.
Fabulous job of blending the weather with Jan's emotions. She is the Stormcrow after all.
And real wings! With feathers and everystuff!
I look forward to learning more about this new development that surprised Gadget and even January herself!
”I say thee nay!"
- - I can imagine how much fun you had crafting this old world Blood Ravenesque line! Though Jan second guesses herself for it, I loved it!
This was a tense encounter indeed and Jan conducted herself well as she carefully managed being assertively helpful without becoming aggressively counterproductive.
Fabulous job of blending the weather with Jan's emotions. She is the Stormcrow after all.
And real wings! With feathers and everystuff!
I look forward to learning more about this new development that surprised Gadget and even January herself!
I have done that too, gone back to previous chapters I have written and changed stuff around. When I was writing Sarah Phimm back in 2016-2017 I couldn't stand reading her earliest journal updates without editing. It's because toward the middle and end of these tales, we learn stuff about how they really are. In earlier chapters we haven't found their true voice yet. At least, that's how it works for me.
Okay, so she's releasing her tales under her Stormcrow name. That is best. She'll retain her own secret self identity (for awhile, anyway) and Stormcrow will guarantee lots of reads and Likes.
I like that. 'Defiant superhero pose'. She's taking lessons from Lighthammer, perhaps.
Yeah, she needs that mana now. Even if she's in the right... that guy up top of the SWAT truck has a Hecate II.
Oh boy. They're tearing up the house. This happened to a house I lived in long ago, sort of. Long story. I lived in a house in which somebody was growing pot, and long story short, the place wound up getting raided. They really do not do nice things to one's house.
My room got a little messed up by them. Thankfully, the main guy who was growing fessed up once he arrived (he heard what was going on and had to skip out of work). Police stopped tearing apart our rooms after he admitted to being the main grower.
She turns her arms into wings due to magic, right?
That braggart lieutenant. Oy.
When I was writing Sarah Phimm back in 2016-2017 I couldn't stand reading her earliest journal updates without editing. It's because toward the middle and end of these tales, we learn stuff about how they really are. In earlier chapters we haven't found their true voice yet. At least, that's how it works for me. Okay, so she's releasing her tales under her Stormcrow name. That is best.
She'll retain her own secret self identity (for awhile, anyway) and Stormcrow will guarantee lots of reads and Likes. I like that. 'Defiant superhero pose'. She's taking lessons from Lighthammer, perhaps.
Yeah, she needs that mana now. Even if she's in the right... that guy up top of the SWAT truck has a Hecate II.
Oh boy. They're tearing up the house. This happened to a house I lived in long ago, sort of. Long story. I lived in a house in which somebody was growing pot, and long story short, the place wound up getting raided. They really do not do nice things to one's house.
My room got a little messed up by them. Thankfully, the main guy who was growing fessed up once he arrived (he heard what was going on and had to skip out of work). Police stopped tearing apart our rooms after he admitted to being the main grower.She turns her arms into wings due to magic, right?
That braggart lieutenant. Oy.
Acadian: When I read Buffy's encounter with Count Pretentiousness, I immediately thought of this scene as well (since I wrote it last autumn). Unfortunately, Buffy behaved with much more grace and poise than January managed. This was in part meant to be a scene that showed that January is not perfect. She could have handled that better, and she knows it. This scene also went through a lot of edits by me to get just right. In the original January was much more hostile to the police. But I dialed it back some, because it just did not feel right, in spite of the issues she has with authority figures.
I did love the "I say thee nay!" line. It just sort of rolled off the keyboard without me even having to think about it. Jan was on a roll at that point.
January has been building toward creating real wings for a long time, and being able to really fly, rather than just glide. She still has a lot more to learn about her wings, and what she can do with them.
Renee: I am sorry you had to deal with that swat team. I bet it made you look at the police in a different light. I remember being in a Rite Aid in Detroit once and the police hit a car in the street outside. Everyone was walking around smiling and laughing behind their hands at the cops. None of these people were gang-bangers or professional criminals. They were just ordinary people. It was an eye-opener for me, because I realized that my experience with the police as a white suburbanite was a lot different from a that of a black city-dweller. The police were not there to protect them, or serve them. They were nothing less than an occupying force there to suppress them. When you look at the history of the American police, and how they started from either mercenaries for the rich in the north, or slave-catching patrols in the south, that is not surprising. It is one of the reasons why Blood Raven is so contemptuous of the police.
Besides showing that January is not perfect, this scene was just a slice of life. Swatting has been a fact of life for a long time. It only works because the police have no qualms about breaking into peoples houses and sticking guns in their faces, with absolutely no real evidence that anyone is in danger, or a crime is being committed. I not only wanted to show this because it is reality. But also because it is a reality that January has to face if she wants to work with the police.
January's wings are all magic. Eventually she will be able to form them without the need of her cape. She will just create them whole cloth, as it were. Not to mention being able to use them as shields, weapons, and more that just a means of travel.
Lieutenant Hunter is an example of how I said before that "the government" is not one, monolithic organization where everyone is like-minded and working toward the same goals. It is filled with individuals who all have their own agendas, and all do their own things. Lt Hunter is definitely not a Crow fan. While I never planned to use him beyond this chapter, I am now thinking of bringing him back for what I think of as Phase 2 of the Crowfic (after Nátthrafn is defeated). Things will be a lot less magical then, and focused on more mundane things like an election, and white supremacists. He could make for a good medium level antagonist then. Who knows, he might eventually become a real supervillain?
Book 5.12 - Crystal Death
"Sterling Heights PD is on the scene," Gadget said. January glanced out the window and saw one of the city's white police cars with blue lettering at the curb. Another pulled up behind it a moment later. Lieutenant Hunter filed out with the rest of his men, leaving January alone in the house with the Millses.
"Before the city cops come in, I need to ask you something Wayne," January turned to the young man. "You're a gamer right? What do you play?"
"Well World of Guncraft of course!" he proudly declared. "But I do some Sword Science Online too."
"Did you make any enemies online recently?" she asked, "anyone who is really, really mad at you."
"You mean like mad enough to call the cops?" Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. It was exactly the same tell that Gadget had when he was nervous. "Well…."
"Wayne Anthony Mills," his mother intoned gravely. January knew it was never good when your mother used your middle name. So far as January could tell, it had been invented just to be yelled at kids. "You had better not be responsible for all this!"
"It's not my fault!" he replied, sounding more than a little like a smuggler with a defective hyperdrive.
"Just please tell me about it," January said in as soothing a tone as possible.
"I was in his PC before the cops took it," Gadget said in her ear. "I like this kid already. His name on World of Guncraft is AfroSamurai2004. We'll have to see if he wants to game with us."
"There was this guy, ThunderRhino-something, he was kind of upset," Wayne explained.
"Why was he upset?" January asked gently.
"Well I might have killed him like ten times in a row," Wayne rubbed the back of his neck again. "And I may have allegedly tea-bagged him each time. And I might have put it on MeTube..."
"Tea bagged?" Mom asked, clearly perplexed. "What is that?"
"It's when you-" Dad began to explain, before January interceded.
"It's rude," she said simply.
"Ok, I'm in the game server. I got this guy." Gadget said in her ear. "ThunderRhino666. Wow, what a name. He's clearly got some deep-seated issues."
"Can you work with that?" January said. The Mills family all stared at her in consternation. January imagined that to them, it must have seemed like she was talking to thin air.
"Oh hell yeah!" Gadget crowed. "I've got his IP. From this I can backtrack to his ISP, and from them I can get his address. Probably what this guy did to Lil Wayne here in the first place. We are done, unless you want to stick around for the Sterling PD. Just give me some time to work."
"I'm sorry things got crazy." Now January spoke directly to the family. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. They just got my dander up. I called the city cops. You can file a report with them on what happened. Give them a copy of your home security footage. I don't know if they can do anything for you. But you can also talk to the Michigan Attorney General's office as well. That was part of the state Emergency Response Team, led by Lieutenant Paul Hunter."
"No, thank you, for being on our side," Mr. Mills said. "We don't forget something like that."
"You're always welcome here," Mrs. Mills continued. She glanced at the police outside. "Just don't bring your 'friends' with you next time."
"Yeah, you're badass!" Wayne exclaimed. "Come over and we can play World of Guncraft! And bring Blood Raven too, and Lighthammer!"
"I'm almost afraid to say I've never played it," January replied honestly. "I haven't played a video game since Skyrim. I just never have the time."
She waved goodbye and walked outside into the last drops of rain. The clouds began to part as she gazed up into the sky. Then she glanced down at herself. Her arms were still wings. She was still not exactly sure how she had done that. She had been exercising her mana as the time, and thinking of the need to deploy the wings. That must have done it, her energy, her visualization, and her will. Exactly as all magic worked.
She imagined that she could turn her arms back to normal by doing the same. No, she knew that she could. As Blood Raven had insisted, a magician's will had to be absolute. A conjure woman who doubted, was a conjure woman who failed.
With that certainty in her thoughts, she once more called up her mana. She spent a moment just basking in its cool, cleansing embrace. It was as relaxing as soaking in the tub after a long workout. Then she pictured her arms returning to normal once more, and her cape billowing out behind her. She willed that into reality, and the world literally reshaped itself according to her desire.
When she looked again she found that her arms had returned to normal. She could even hear her cape flapping dramatically in the air behind her, even though there was no breeze.
A pair of uniformed Sterling Heights officers stared at her, but said nothing as they walked past and knocked on fame of the open front door. January noted the distinct lack of body armor and other military gear on their persons. It was a sharp contrast to the commando attire - and attitude - of the Emergency Response Team.
January saw more of the Sterling Heights PD pulling up. One with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders was speaking with Lieutenant Hunter of the state police. Hunter looked frustrated at having to explain himself. That gave January a twinge of satisfaction.
She debated trying to talk to him again, let bygones and be bygones, and try to work with him. She would sooner put a foot through his kneecap. But she was not going to be Blood Raven. She needed to foster relationships, not animosities. That was so much easier said than done however.
So she swallowed her anger - and the adrenaline that still percolated through her blood - and strode over to the taller man. She tried to act as calm and confident as she could. The way Blood Raven projected strength and coolness, at least when she wasn't infuriating people.
"Lieutenant Hunter," she said in as measured a tone as she could muster. "I suggest that we work together on this. I believe that by pooling our resources, we will discover the real culprit all the sooner."
"Oh I think you've done enough," her state police counterpart replied haughtily. "Rest assured, I'll be making a full report on your obstruction in this case."
January ground her teeth, but did not say any of many things that sprang to her mind. Instead she fought to keep her cool, and remembered what she had said to Emilia when she had balked at working with Blood Raven.
"This is not about you or me, or whatever animosities we might share," January insisted. "This is about the innocent people whose lives are in danger from Crystal Death. I am offering you my help to put a stop to it. Will you take it?"
As much as it pained her, January even put her once again normal, human hand out to the state trooper.
He stared at it like it was a cobra. Without even a glance at the Sterling Heights lieutenant who stood beside them, he turned and walked back to his armored vehicle. The rest of his troopers were already filing inside. The sniper on the roof had stood up, and was in the process of slinging her massive rifle across her back.
"Be right back," she murmured to the Sterling Heights officer.
January was on top of the armored truck with a single leap. The sniper kept her cool, and looked her in the eye.
"This is going to sound odd, but I'd like your phone number," January said quietly. She hoped it was quiet enough that the troopers below could not hear.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" the sniper said loudly. That brought chuckles from the men filing into the back of the armored truck.
"No." January wanted to roll her eyes. Was this why Jane Jet had never came out as a lesbian? Because every woman would think she wanted to date them, and every man would try to fix her up with their sister?
She kept her voice low. "I am going to find the real Death Dealer. Give me your number and I will call you when I do. In spite of how it might look, I would rather do this with the police, than without you. Now will you work with me? Or are you as big a yotz as your boss?"
The sniper stared at her for long moments. January steeled herself to remain calm and impassive, at least outwardly so. A tremendous wave of relief washed over her when the other woman whispered her phone number back. January was glad that she was recording, because she knew she never would have remembered it on her own.
"I don't know what you think," the sniper loudly cried out, "but I am not like that!"
January smiled in spite of herself. Then she looked around and saw the people milling around on the sidewalks and staring. That was going to be viral. No doubt about it. But at least she had a contact, of sorts, in the Emergency Team.
She leaped back down from the MRAP as the sniper climbed down a ladder on the back. It pulled away a moment later with all the state cops within. January saw Lieutenant Hunter glare at her through the windows as it went by. She was about to leave as well, but more Sterling Heights police pulled up.
A man with captain's bars on his shoulder got out of one car. He seemed young for the rank, but the flecks of grey in his otherwise short and impeccably combed black hair hinted that he might be older than he first appeared. Like the other SHPD officers, he wore an ordinary uniform, rather than body armor and military gear. He strode directly to January, and offered his hand.
"Well there's a ruggedly handsome fella," Gadget noted in her ear.
"Dale Nowakowski, Chief of Police," he declared. January shook his hand. Her head practically spun at the radical change in behavior from one branch of law enforcement to the other. "I am glad to finally meet. I have followed you since you brought in that diamond smuggler."
"Well that was really a team effort," January now found herself squirming at the unexpected praise. "I just did one small part, and really, almost screwed up the entire thing."
The chief stopped short, and looked her up and down, as if only now seeing her for the first time.
"That kind of humility is not what I expected," he said. "Not after…"
"After fifty years of Blood Raven," January finished his sentence. "I am not her. Even she's not her, not the image you think she is. I've got a lot to learn from her. But I've also got a lot to learn from people like you sir. I hope we will have a better relationship than the one I just had with the Emergency Response Team."
"Well it looks like that might not be too difficult," the chief glanced back at the armored vehicle, which was just turning out of sight. January imagined that he had seen her be rebuffed by the sniper. "I take it you were the source of our anonymous phone call?"
"My partner was," January said. She had already talked to Gadget about it, and by now there was really no disguising the fact that she had an online compatriot. "They watch my virtual back. Just like you guys have your own computer specialists."
January found that Chief Nowakowski was indeed a much easier person to get along with than Lieutenant Hunter. As it turned out, he had no idea that the Emergency Response Team was making the raid. She told him everything that had happened, warts and all. That included the reality that Crystal Death was making temporary meta-humans, and how the attorney general was obfuscating that aspect of the drug. It also included January's own admission of antagonism on her part. The chief did not look pleased at any of it. But he kept a calm, professional face the entire time. January imagined there was something for her to learn from that alone.
"I hope this is not going to color our future relationship," January finished. "We need to be allies, for everyone's sake."
"I agree," the chief declared. He handed her a business card, which January glanced at before she tucked away into her utility belt. "This is my personal number. I don't have authorization from the mayor to make it official. Not yet at least. But you can call me any time, and my department will give you all the support we can."
In return January gave him her Stormcrow number, with the same assurance that she would always be there for him and his city.
She gave him a friendly nod and stepped away to create some space. She called up her mana once more, and concentrated upon her wings. They sprang into reality a moment later, once again an extension of her arms, rather than just her cape flattened out into a wing shape.
She catapulted herself into the sky with a great leap. She swept her wings up and down with force, just as a bird would. All the while she concentrated on flying, and willed herself to remain aloft, never mind what gravity or other laws of physics might decree. She would fly, and that was that.
As simple as that, she soared through the sky as easily as any other crow. She was no longer gliding, as she had always done before. Now she was truly free of the Earth's shackles. She gained altitude when she wished to, not just when the wind cooperated. She just as easily lost that height when she so desired. She was entirely free in the air, to do whatever she willed, for as long as she wished.
She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features. She not only had made a friendly alliance with a police chief, she had also finally learned to truly fly. At least some good things had come out of this.
That lasted for less than a minute before Gadget spoiled her mood.
"Uh oh, we might have problems Downtown," he said.
"The Conjurer?" January's stomach clenched. She had not felt the horrific disturbance of a summoning. But that might simply have been due to her being too far away.
"No," he replied. "You are not going to believe this. Or maybe you will. This is 2019 after all. It's Nazis, real Nazis, at Motor City Pride."
I did love the "I say thee nay!" line. It just sort of rolled off the keyboard without me even having to think about it. Jan was on a roll at that point.
January has been building toward creating real wings for a long time, and being able to really fly, rather than just glide. She still has a lot more to learn about her wings, and what she can do with them.
Renee: I am sorry you had to deal with that swat team. I bet it made you look at the police in a different light. I remember being in a Rite Aid in Detroit once and the police hit a car in the street outside. Everyone was walking around smiling and laughing behind their hands at the cops. None of these people were gang-bangers or professional criminals. They were just ordinary people. It was an eye-opener for me, because I realized that my experience with the police as a white suburbanite was a lot different from a that of a black city-dweller. The police were not there to protect them, or serve them. They were nothing less than an occupying force there to suppress them. When you look at the history of the American police, and how they started from either mercenaries for the rich in the north, or slave-catching patrols in the south, that is not surprising. It is one of the reasons why Blood Raven is so contemptuous of the police.
Besides showing that January is not perfect, this scene was just a slice of life. Swatting has been a fact of life for a long time. It only works because the police have no qualms about breaking into peoples houses and sticking guns in their faces, with absolutely no real evidence that anyone is in danger, or a crime is being committed. I not only wanted to show this because it is reality. But also because it is a reality that January has to face if she wants to work with the police.
January's wings are all magic. Eventually she will be able to form them without the need of her cape. She will just create them whole cloth, as it were. Not to mention being able to use them as shields, weapons, and more that just a means of travel.
Lieutenant Hunter is an example of how I said before that "the government" is not one, monolithic organization where everyone is like-minded and working toward the same goals. It is filled with individuals who all have their own agendas, and all do their own things. Lt Hunter is definitely not a Crow fan. While I never planned to use him beyond this chapter, I am now thinking of bringing him back for what I think of as Phase 2 of the Crowfic (after Nátthrafn is defeated). Things will be a lot less magical then, and focused on more mundane things like an election, and white supremacists. He could make for a good medium level antagonist then. Who knows, he might eventually become a real supervillain?
Book 5.12 - Crystal Death
"Sterling Heights PD is on the scene," Gadget said. January glanced out the window and saw one of the city's white police cars with blue lettering at the curb. Another pulled up behind it a moment later. Lieutenant Hunter filed out with the rest of his men, leaving January alone in the house with the Millses.
"Before the city cops come in, I need to ask you something Wayne," January turned to the young man. "You're a gamer right? What do you play?"
"Well World of Guncraft of course!" he proudly declared. "But I do some Sword Science Online too."
"Did you make any enemies online recently?" she asked, "anyone who is really, really mad at you."
"You mean like mad enough to call the cops?" Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. It was exactly the same tell that Gadget had when he was nervous. "Well…."
"Wayne Anthony Mills," his mother intoned gravely. January knew it was never good when your mother used your middle name. So far as January could tell, it had been invented just to be yelled at kids. "You had better not be responsible for all this!"
"It's not my fault!" he replied, sounding more than a little like a smuggler with a defective hyperdrive.
"Just please tell me about it," January said in as soothing a tone as possible.
"I was in his PC before the cops took it," Gadget said in her ear. "I like this kid already. His name on World of Guncraft is AfroSamurai2004. We'll have to see if he wants to game with us."
"There was this guy, ThunderRhino-something, he was kind of upset," Wayne explained.
"Why was he upset?" January asked gently.
"Well I might have killed him like ten times in a row," Wayne rubbed the back of his neck again. "And I may have allegedly tea-bagged him each time. And I might have put it on MeTube..."
"Tea bagged?" Mom asked, clearly perplexed. "What is that?"
"It's when you-" Dad began to explain, before January interceded.
"It's rude," she said simply.
"Ok, I'm in the game server. I got this guy." Gadget said in her ear. "ThunderRhino666. Wow, what a name. He's clearly got some deep-seated issues."
"Can you work with that?" January said. The Mills family all stared at her in consternation. January imagined that to them, it must have seemed like she was talking to thin air.
"Oh hell yeah!" Gadget crowed. "I've got his IP. From this I can backtrack to his ISP, and from them I can get his address. Probably what this guy did to Lil Wayne here in the first place. We are done, unless you want to stick around for the Sterling PD. Just give me some time to work."
"I'm sorry things got crazy." Now January spoke directly to the family. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. They just got my dander up. I called the city cops. You can file a report with them on what happened. Give them a copy of your home security footage. I don't know if they can do anything for you. But you can also talk to the Michigan Attorney General's office as well. That was part of the state Emergency Response Team, led by Lieutenant Paul Hunter."
"No, thank you, for being on our side," Mr. Mills said. "We don't forget something like that."
"You're always welcome here," Mrs. Mills continued. She glanced at the police outside. "Just don't bring your 'friends' with you next time."
"Yeah, you're badass!" Wayne exclaimed. "Come over and we can play World of Guncraft! And bring Blood Raven too, and Lighthammer!"
"I'm almost afraid to say I've never played it," January replied honestly. "I haven't played a video game since Skyrim. I just never have the time."
She waved goodbye and walked outside into the last drops of rain. The clouds began to part as she gazed up into the sky. Then she glanced down at herself. Her arms were still wings. She was still not exactly sure how she had done that. She had been exercising her mana as the time, and thinking of the need to deploy the wings. That must have done it, her energy, her visualization, and her will. Exactly as all magic worked.
She imagined that she could turn her arms back to normal by doing the same. No, she knew that she could. As Blood Raven had insisted, a magician's will had to be absolute. A conjure woman who doubted, was a conjure woman who failed.
With that certainty in her thoughts, she once more called up her mana. She spent a moment just basking in its cool, cleansing embrace. It was as relaxing as soaking in the tub after a long workout. Then she pictured her arms returning to normal once more, and her cape billowing out behind her. She willed that into reality, and the world literally reshaped itself according to her desire.
When she looked again she found that her arms had returned to normal. She could even hear her cape flapping dramatically in the air behind her, even though there was no breeze.
A pair of uniformed Sterling Heights officers stared at her, but said nothing as they walked past and knocked on fame of the open front door. January noted the distinct lack of body armor and other military gear on their persons. It was a sharp contrast to the commando attire - and attitude - of the Emergency Response Team.
January saw more of the Sterling Heights PD pulling up. One with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders was speaking with Lieutenant Hunter of the state police. Hunter looked frustrated at having to explain himself. That gave January a twinge of satisfaction.
She debated trying to talk to him again, let bygones and be bygones, and try to work with him. She would sooner put a foot through his kneecap. But she was not going to be Blood Raven. She needed to foster relationships, not animosities. That was so much easier said than done however.
So she swallowed her anger - and the adrenaline that still percolated through her blood - and strode over to the taller man. She tried to act as calm and confident as she could. The way Blood Raven projected strength and coolness, at least when she wasn't infuriating people.
"Lieutenant Hunter," she said in as measured a tone as she could muster. "I suggest that we work together on this. I believe that by pooling our resources, we will discover the real culprit all the sooner."
"Oh I think you've done enough," her state police counterpart replied haughtily. "Rest assured, I'll be making a full report on your obstruction in this case."
January ground her teeth, but did not say any of many things that sprang to her mind. Instead she fought to keep her cool, and remembered what she had said to Emilia when she had balked at working with Blood Raven.
"This is not about you or me, or whatever animosities we might share," January insisted. "This is about the innocent people whose lives are in danger from Crystal Death. I am offering you my help to put a stop to it. Will you take it?"
As much as it pained her, January even put her once again normal, human hand out to the state trooper.
He stared at it like it was a cobra. Without even a glance at the Sterling Heights lieutenant who stood beside them, he turned and walked back to his armored vehicle. The rest of his troopers were already filing inside. The sniper on the roof had stood up, and was in the process of slinging her massive rifle across her back.
"Be right back," she murmured to the Sterling Heights officer.
January was on top of the armored truck with a single leap. The sniper kept her cool, and looked her in the eye.
"This is going to sound odd, but I'd like your phone number," January said quietly. She hoped it was quiet enough that the troopers below could not hear.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" the sniper said loudly. That brought chuckles from the men filing into the back of the armored truck.
"No." January wanted to roll her eyes. Was this why Jane Jet had never came out as a lesbian? Because every woman would think she wanted to date them, and every man would try to fix her up with their sister?
She kept her voice low. "I am going to find the real Death Dealer. Give me your number and I will call you when I do. In spite of how it might look, I would rather do this with the police, than without you. Now will you work with me? Or are you as big a yotz as your boss?"
The sniper stared at her for long moments. January steeled herself to remain calm and impassive, at least outwardly so. A tremendous wave of relief washed over her when the other woman whispered her phone number back. January was glad that she was recording, because she knew she never would have remembered it on her own.
"I don't know what you think," the sniper loudly cried out, "but I am not like that!"
January smiled in spite of herself. Then she looked around and saw the people milling around on the sidewalks and staring. That was going to be viral. No doubt about it. But at least she had a contact, of sorts, in the Emergency Team.
She leaped back down from the MRAP as the sniper climbed down a ladder on the back. It pulled away a moment later with all the state cops within. January saw Lieutenant Hunter glare at her through the windows as it went by. She was about to leave as well, but more Sterling Heights police pulled up.
A man with captain's bars on his shoulder got out of one car. He seemed young for the rank, but the flecks of grey in his otherwise short and impeccably combed black hair hinted that he might be older than he first appeared. Like the other SHPD officers, he wore an ordinary uniform, rather than body armor and military gear. He strode directly to January, and offered his hand.
"Well there's a ruggedly handsome fella," Gadget noted in her ear.
"Dale Nowakowski, Chief of Police," he declared. January shook his hand. Her head practically spun at the radical change in behavior from one branch of law enforcement to the other. "I am glad to finally meet. I have followed you since you brought in that diamond smuggler."
"Well that was really a team effort," January now found herself squirming at the unexpected praise. "I just did one small part, and really, almost screwed up the entire thing."
The chief stopped short, and looked her up and down, as if only now seeing her for the first time.
"That kind of humility is not what I expected," he said. "Not after…"
"After fifty years of Blood Raven," January finished his sentence. "I am not her. Even she's not her, not the image you think she is. I've got a lot to learn from her. But I've also got a lot to learn from people like you sir. I hope we will have a better relationship than the one I just had with the Emergency Response Team."
"Well it looks like that might not be too difficult," the chief glanced back at the armored vehicle, which was just turning out of sight. January imagined that he had seen her be rebuffed by the sniper. "I take it you were the source of our anonymous phone call?"
"My partner was," January said. She had already talked to Gadget about it, and by now there was really no disguising the fact that she had an online compatriot. "They watch my virtual back. Just like you guys have your own computer specialists."
January found that Chief Nowakowski was indeed a much easier person to get along with than Lieutenant Hunter. As it turned out, he had no idea that the Emergency Response Team was making the raid. She told him everything that had happened, warts and all. That included the reality that Crystal Death was making temporary meta-humans, and how the attorney general was obfuscating that aspect of the drug. It also included January's own admission of antagonism on her part. The chief did not look pleased at any of it. But he kept a calm, professional face the entire time. January imagined there was something for her to learn from that alone.
"I hope this is not going to color our future relationship," January finished. "We need to be allies, for everyone's sake."
"I agree," the chief declared. He handed her a business card, which January glanced at before she tucked away into her utility belt. "This is my personal number. I don't have authorization from the mayor to make it official. Not yet at least. But you can call me any time, and my department will give you all the support we can."
In return January gave him her Stormcrow number, with the same assurance that she would always be there for him and his city.
She gave him a friendly nod and stepped away to create some space. She called up her mana once more, and concentrated upon her wings. They sprang into reality a moment later, once again an extension of her arms, rather than just her cape flattened out into a wing shape.
She catapulted herself into the sky with a great leap. She swept her wings up and down with force, just as a bird would. All the while she concentrated on flying, and willed herself to remain aloft, never mind what gravity or other laws of physics might decree. She would fly, and that was that.
As simple as that, she soared through the sky as easily as any other crow. She was no longer gliding, as she had always done before. Now she was truly free of the Earth's shackles. She gained altitude when she wished to, not just when the wind cooperated. She just as easily lost that height when she so desired. She was entirely free in the air, to do whatever she willed, for as long as she wished.
She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features. She not only had made a friendly alliance with a police chief, she had also finally learned to truly fly. At least some good things had come out of this.
That lasted for less than a minute before Gadget spoiled her mood.
"Uh oh, we might have problems Downtown," he said.
"The Conjurer?" January's stomach clenched. She had not felt the horrific disturbance of a summoning. But that might simply have been due to her being too far away.
"No," he replied. "You are not going to believe this. Or maybe you will. This is 2019 after all. It's Nazis, real Nazis, at Motor City Pride."
A good followup, tying up loose ends. Jan was gracious to offer an alliance with Lt Hunter. . . his loss though. Looks like Chief N-9 will be a valuable ally.
Her aerial departure opens a whole new era to her flying. Her magic is blending with and making her flying much more mystical. I like the approach that Blood Raven taught her that magic seems largely a matter of exerting her will over the laws of nature. It is no wonder that:
’She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features.’
- - So much better than a Teresaesue faint one.
No rest for the weary though, as there appears to be more trouble brewing in Motor City.
Nit: 'January imagined there was something for her {to?} learn from that alone.'
Her aerial departure opens a whole new era to her flying. Her magic is blending with and making her flying much more mystical. I like the approach that Blood Raven taught her that magic seems largely a matter of exerting her will over the laws of nature. It is no wonder that:
’She allowed a genuine smile to cross her features.’
- - So much better than a Teresaesue faint one.
No rest for the weary though, as there appears to be more trouble brewing in Motor City.
Nit: 'January imagined there was something for her {to?} learn from that alone.'
Ha ha World of Guncraft. I love how you change all these popular names around.
Uh oh. So Wayne Anthony Mills might have something to do with this.
Oh my gosh! Buncha nerds!
Yeah, my nephew would teabag downed enemies in Halo and Oblivion back when he was more of a gamer. Yuck.
I like that. She blurts something out loud to Gadget, forgetting that nobody else can hear him.
Awesome, she played Skyrim. And she's going behind the stupid lieutenant's back, and might have a sniper on her side. Yeah, because that's better for her. January is awesome, but she no lone fighter like her great aunt.
Uh oh. Nazis downtown. I'm actually looking forward to January maybe kicking them around. I hope that's okay to say. It's how I feel.
Oh it wasn't that bad, and not a SWAT team at all. It was regular police. My room got a little messed up. I was terrified at the time, but it wan't nearly as bad as what the Mills just went through. I was living in a big house with 7 people (2 of them weren't supposed to be living there) and one of them, this lady who'd just moved in literally a month before, actually offered to make coffee for everyone. She calmed everyone down. Maybe if the one guy hadn't fessed to growing things would have gotten worse. In fact from what I understand, if he hadn't confessed, ALL of us would have been in trouble. Even though the 'operation' was obviously in his living space.
I was living in Portland Oregon at the time. Maybe if this had happened in Detroit... things might have been much different.
Finally, we are cool with seeing more of Lieutenant Hunter. He's a ass. But if you bring him back, you have the power to bring African Goddess back, right?
I love how you change all these popular names around. Uh oh. So Wayne Anthony Mills might have something to do with this.
QUOTE
I was in his PC before the cops took it," Gadget said in her ear. "I like this kid already. His name on World of Guncraft is AfroSamurai2004. We'll have to see if he wants to game with us."
Oh my gosh!
Buncha nerds! Yeah, my nephew would teabag downed enemies in Halo and Oblivion back when he was more of a gamer. Yuck.
I like that. She blurts something out loud to Gadget, forgetting that nobody else can hear him.
Awesome, she played Skyrim. And she's going behind the stupid lieutenant's back, and might have a sniper on her side. Yeah, because that's better for her. January is awesome, but she no lone fighter like her great aunt.
Uh oh. Nazis downtown. I'm actually looking forward to January maybe kicking them around. I hope that's okay to say. It's how I feel.
QUOTE
I am sorry you had to deal with that swat team. I bet it made you look at the police in a different light.
Oh it wasn't that bad, and not a SWAT team at all. It was regular police. My room got a little messed up. I was terrified at the time, but it wan't nearly as bad as what the Mills just went through. I was living in a big house with 7 people (2 of them weren't supposed to be living there) and one of them, this lady who'd just moved in literally a month before, actually offered to make coffee for everyone. She calmed everyone down. Maybe if the one guy hadn't fessed to growing things would have gotten worse.
In fact from what I understand, if he hadn't confessed, ALL of us would have been in trouble. Even though the 'operation' was obviously in his living space. I was living in Portland Oregon at the time. Maybe if this had happened in Detroit... things might have been much different.
Finally, we are cool with seeing more of Lieutenant Hunter. He's a ass. But if you bring him back, you have the power to bring African Goddess back, right?
Acadian: Jan did take her own advice, eventually. Even when her dander is up, her character shines through. Chief N-9 will appear in at least one future chapter. He will kick it off in fact, when supervillains make a nuisance of themselves in at the Lakeside Mall, and he calls in Stormcrow for an assist.
January's real wings are indeed a huge evolution in her super abilities. They really open up the world for her to travel and explore. We will even start seeing her beyond Michigan's borders in upcoming episodes.
Thanks for the nit. Proofreading is a value.
Renee: World of Guncraft and Sword Science Online were fun names to invent.
A giant bunch of nerds! Swatting began in nerd culture, so I leaned into that heavily.
When it is no longer ok to punch Nazis, we will be in really big trouble... But it won't be January doing the punching, at least not yet. Someone else is already Downtown.
There will be another African Goddess sighting later this chapter. Maybe in 4 or 5 more episodes.
A pic of Downtown and the River
Renaissance Center Roof
Pic of Jefferson and Griswold
Close up pic of the streets
Motor City Pride is a real event
Nazis really did protest at Motor City Pride
The National Socialist League is based on a real Nazi group
Odal Rune
The SOE
Book 5.13 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven gazed down at the rainbow of celebrants that filled Hart Plaza, over 700 feet below. Like the many rainbow flags they waved, they came in every color of the spectrum. They were likewise every age, and every gender. Thanks to January, she had learned that there was more to the latter than the standard two options she had always been taught. Life was a spectrum, rather than a handful of rigid selections, and the throngs below exemplified that fact.
It was at once exhilarating and frightening to a person her age. How the world had changed since her birth. If anyone had told her while she had attended Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls that one day there would be bridges over every river on the eastern seaboard, she would have laughed in their face. Now there were not only bridges, but highways, and railroads, and airports - ports for air travel! - everywhere. Once upon a time a squirrel could have traveled from Maine to Florida by hopping from tree to tree, its feet never touching the ground. Now it would use one of the Wright Brother's aeroplanes to get there!
But the changes to the land were nothing compared to those of the people. To think that a white person could marry an African! Or was the term a person of color? She knew it definitely was not a colored person, and absolutely not a Negro, at least not anymore. Oh it was so difficult trying to keep up with the vagaries of modern language! It was even worse than technology.
Or that homosexuality could be so openly acknowledged! What a world. Of course she had read Sappho and giggled with the other girls, when Mrs. Gibson was safely out of earshot of course. But the thought of two women walking hand in hand in public, or kissing one another... Poor Mrs. Gibson would have surely died of apoplexy had such a subject even been broached in her puritanical presence!
Her life after Boston had certainly opened her eyes to the Queer community—that was the term January said that she preferred. Her first Molly House in New Orleans had been a revelation. That had been centuries ago of course, and since then she had certainly not been a stranger to the charms of men, women, or others uninhibited by such definitions.
Of course her current civilian life as Neo-Pagan writer Branwen Renner was certainly strongly tied to the Queer community. The only thing modern Pagans did not tolerate was intolerance, as oxymoronic as that sounded. But given the fact that at one time Branwen Renner would have been hanged for writing her books, it was a necessary oxymoron. January would have been hanged for merely existing back then.
Sometimes the world changed for the better.
Blood Raven spun on her heel and strode across the roof of the Renaissance Center's highest, central tower. The Ren Cen was not a single building, but rather a complex of seven glass and steel skyscrapers. The cylindrical central tower was the highest, stretching just over seventy floors tall. It was the highest building in the city in fact. This central spire was surrounded by four smaller, diamond-shaped towers. Finally, a pair of even lower structures rose up to one side of the complex.
The peak upon which she stood was crowded with antennas, satellite dishes, and gigantic cables that were clamped down to the rooftop. A small radio mast rose up several dozen feet from the center of the tower, surrounded by low clumps of machinery and venting. Only a technophile like Cray could imagine what all of it was for.
She idly recalled that when the complex had been built, it had been by the Ford Motor Company. Yet now the General Motors logo glowed from the electronic sign attached to the side of the central spire. However, that particular building was in fact a hotel. Only the six other towers were office space housing the administrative headquarters of the automotive giant, along with a prominent health insurance corporation.
She paused at the edge of the roof, and glanced down at the wider ring of another level a story below. This lower roof supported the window washing apparatuses, which appeared like nothing so much as giant tuning forks set into a trackway that ringed the building. Clustered around the center of the structure were even more mechanical devices, conduits, and satellite dishes. What would these people do without their satellites? They probably could not boil water without a computer to instruct them how.
Blood Raven looked beyond the rim of the lower level rooftop. Directly below her ran Jefferson Avenue, which was set back from the Detroit River, and ran parallel to it. Between the boulevard and the water stood the Ren Cen complex, Hart Plaza, and the entrance to the tunnel to Canada, among other sites. Behind the divided street rose the numerous skyscrapers of the Financial District. They were a chaotic mix of styles, from Art Deco artworks, to modern glass and chrome masterpieces. They reminded her of nothing so much as toys casually tossed aside by giants in a playground.
She let her eyes wander away from the Downtown core, and gazed across the flesh of the city that spread out far beyond the towering skyscrapers. Far smaller buildings lumped together in the manner of cells, while streets ran between them like veins and arteries. Only rather than carrying blood, they transported people to and fro. They were the real lifeblood of the city when it came down to it. The narrow belt of the Detroit River bounded the tissue of the city to her right. In every other direction, the metropolis seemed to spread out into a haze of infinity.
Nestled between the banks of the relatively narrow river was the hourglass shape of Belle Isle, connected to the American side by a single bridge. A winding roadway curled back and forth along its uneven coastline. Smaller roads crisscrossed the interior, leading to parks, memorials, an aquarium, sports fields, marinas, and more. A thick clump of woods nearly filled the far end of the island, where the remnants of the old zoo slowly crumbled into dissolution.
Last weekend the isle had been filled with people for the Grand Prix. She had waited there for most of the day. She had suspected that the Conjurer might make another conjuration attempt nearby. But she had miscalculated, and instead he had struck at Ferndale Pride.
Now the island was practically deserted. That would give the Conjurer plenty of privacy for the summoning ritual. Yet it was still near enough to Downtown for him to find some measure of cover in the steady flow of people traveling to and from the festival in Hart Plaza.
She turned her gaze north and west from Belle Isle and scanned the tiny rooftops that spread out near the riverbank. Her eyes eventually settled upon one in particular. It was a small, abandoned factory not very far from the Renaissance Center and the Downtown core. The Conjurer had struck there just two weeks earlier, during the Electronic Music Festival. It had been the nearest she had come to apprehending him so far. But by then he had learned the art of anchoring his summonings, so that a simple banishment could not dispel them. She had been obliged to deal with the monster the old-fashioned way. That had given the Conjurer ample time to escape.
Would he return to the scene of his past crime for another summoning? He had not done so yet. But he also seemed to enjoy crowds, the larger the better. Perhaps it was simply because it was all the easier to lose himself in the sea of faces? Motor City Pride was the largest event taking place over the weekend. If anything would draw him forth, this would be it.
"Something is going on," Cray said over their communications link. His voice was soft, yet gruff. It reminded her of the feeling of wool or fleece on her ears. Not an unpleasant sensation. "I see a crowd of police just off Jefferson, by the Scientology Church."
Blood Raven wheeled about and strode back across the roof to face southwest. She felt her cape spill out into the wind behind her, and whip up high into the air along with the brilliant red strands of her hair. She smelled nothing arcane in the air, not even the simple spells of a neophyte. She closed her eyes and trained her magical senses upon that spot, yet still, there was no feeling of magic actively working to alter reality.
She opened her eyes once more and stared down at the area her technical specialist had indicated: the corner of Jefferson Avenue and Griswold Street. The Church of Scientology did not look like a church at all. It was a small, white office building of the Neo-Classical style. Nestled between the massive skyscrapers of One Woodward and 150 West Jefferson, it was a dwarf among giants. Behind it along Griswold Street stretched out a four story parking structure. Standing in the driveway of the latter was a crowd of people.
She brought up her hands in front of her face, and swiped them to either side. At the same time she called up her aion - what January would call mana - and turned loose the tiniest drop of it. She willed the energy to display the location. A window rimmed with golden energy sprang up in the air before her. The street and parking garage leaped up in tight magnification within, as if she viewed the area through a spyglass.
Now that she had a close up view, she could see that a score of Detroit Police officers were gathered around the entrance to the parking structure. They appeared to be ordinary patrolmen, wearing blue uniforms and black armored vests. They did not sport riot gear, nor carry weapons beyond their sidearms and pepper spray. Some even wore rainbow colored hearts pinned to their uniforms.
"This can't be for a big shot," Cray said. "The festival has VIP parking right next to Hart Plaza. Not that they would have a police escort anyway. Not even the mayor has this many bodyguards."
"Not this mayor," Blood Raven breathed. "Yet the previous one…"
"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied. "I don't know what this could be, I don't have any-"
Cray's words stopped abruptly when a group of over a dozen men, and a few women, strode out of the parking structure. All were dressed in black, sporting red armbands emblazoned with swastikas. The men's heads were shaved bare, or nearly so, at least those not wearing black, coal scuttle helmets. All bore tattoos. Some were of swastikas and SS runes or skulls. Others were less obvious fascist markers such as solar crosses and the number 1488.
Many carried bright red shields, that curved inward like an old Roman scutum. All of these were decorated with a black, Norse Odal rune in the center. Written in Gothic script across the top of the design were the letters "NSL".
Blood Raven's eyes instantly narrowed in on the pistols openly hanging from the hips of many of the men. Some even carried rifles slung over their shoulders. She absentmindedly noted that none of the female Nazis were armed. She wondered if that meant they were less homicidally inclined than the others. Or if being women, they were not allowed to carry weapons? After all, white supremacists were as poisonous to women as they were to everyone else.
Blood Raven also noted something odd on their shoulders, some sort of rounded electronic devices. One of them carried neither a rifle or shield, but rather a large camera, the kind used by television crews. Several other ordinary cameras were slung from his neck as well.
Shouts in German ripped through the night air, intermingled with high-pitched screams. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled her nose, along with the disturbing aroma of burning human flesh. The latter was a distinctive stench, nauseatingly sweet, metallic, and savory at the same time. The boom of a 75mm cannon rang in her ears, along with the chatter of machine guns. She felt steel rip apart under her claws as she carved open another Panther tank. Then came the mouthwatering ambrosia of fresh blood, and the hot life force that jetted with it.
"Nazis," Cray's voice brought her back to the present. This was Detroit, not France, and it was no longer 1944. Then he explained the mystery of those strange devices on their shoulders. "Those are GoPros that they're wearing. They're recording all of this."
"The only thing Nazis love as much as murder is propaganda," Blood Raven growled. She could not stop herself from baring her teeth. At least she prevented them from transforming. Two and a half centuries had at least taught her to keep her fangs in check. No matter how great her bloodlust rose.
Now it was raging, as it usually did at the sight of a swastika. The beast deep inside of her rose up and howled for blood. Not for sustenance. She had fed well in preparation for this day's possible work. The monster within cried for vengeance. Selene, the Mother of Vampires, had gifted her progeny with many blessings. But the moon goddess had also passed on this curse in their blood, this passion for death, for its own sake. She could already imagine the sound of bones cracking under her hands, and the glorious feeling of blood spraying warm across her skin.
She clamped down hard on her fury. She was not an animal. She was not that monster, which threatened to overwhelm every vampire. That threatened to overwhelm every human. She was better than that, stronger than that, more disciplined than that.
In any case, it was broad daylight, and millions would be watching. This was not the time for killing swathes of fascists. France had taught her that was best done under the cover of darkness...
Blood Raven ended her viewing spell by swiping one hand left across the surface of the magical window. Then she stepped off the roof of the Renaissance Center. Out of reflex she warped reality around her, and reshaped it according to her will. Gravity no longer tugged at her feet. Instead she simply ignored the laws of physics, and moved through space as she desired. In only a matter of moments she arrowed down from her lofty perch to the street below, and held herself suspended above Jefferson Avenue.
She hovered there, and stared down Griswold Street. The Scientology building now rose at her left shoulder, with the parking garage beyond it. The massive tower of One Woodward shot up at her right side. Far in the distance straight ahead she could even see her own lair: the black and gold masterpiece of the Detroit Radiator Building. It loomed over the far end of Griswold like a Gothic sentinel, as she now did herself opposite it.
Walking directly toward her down the sidewalk were the Nazis, with the police officers forming a cordon about them. Pedestrians nearby stopped what they were doing and stared in shock. The Nazis ignored them. Instead they strode down the street as if they owned it. As if they were the masters of the Earth.
They had much to learn...
"Don't kill them!" Cray pleaded. "Not now, not like this."
"The SOE taught me how to deal with these creatures," Blood Raven replied evenly. She heard car horns blaring beneath her, and brakes screeching. She hoped there would be no collisions as drivers stopped their vehicles right in the middle of Jefferson to gawk.
"They want a show, to put on their website," Cray insisted. "They want people to overreact, and do something crazy, like start a fight. The more dramatic it is, the more money they make in donations."
"They seek another Charlottesville," Blood Raven considered. "Not in my city."
She gestured with one hand, and every camera strapped to a Nazi cracked. With another wave of a finger, so did the massive TV camera of the videographer, and all of the smaller cameras that hung from his neck.
She waved her other hand from side to side, and a field of golden force sprang up across Griswold, stretching from building to building on either side of the street. That completely blocked the road off from Jefferson Avenue, and Hart Plaza beyond. They would never reach the festival. Not while she existed.
January's real wings are indeed a huge evolution in her super abilities. They really open up the world for her to travel and explore. We will even start seeing her beyond Michigan's borders in upcoming episodes.
Thanks for the nit. Proofreading is a value.
Renee: World of Guncraft and Sword Science Online were fun names to invent.
A giant bunch of nerds! Swatting began in nerd culture, so I leaned into that heavily.
When it is no longer ok to punch Nazis, we will be in really big trouble... But it won't be January doing the punching, at least not yet. Someone else is already Downtown.
There will be another African Goddess sighting later this chapter. Maybe in 4 or 5 more episodes.
A pic of Downtown and the River
Renaissance Center Roof
Pic of Jefferson and Griswold
Close up pic of the streets
Motor City Pride is a real event
Nazis really did protest at Motor City Pride
The National Socialist League is based on a real Nazi group
Odal Rune
The SOE
Book 5.13 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven gazed down at the rainbow of celebrants that filled Hart Plaza, over 700 feet below. Like the many rainbow flags they waved, they came in every color of the spectrum. They were likewise every age, and every gender. Thanks to January, she had learned that there was more to the latter than the standard two options she had always been taught. Life was a spectrum, rather than a handful of rigid selections, and the throngs below exemplified that fact.
It was at once exhilarating and frightening to a person her age. How the world had changed since her birth. If anyone had told her while she had attended Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls that one day there would be bridges over every river on the eastern seaboard, she would have laughed in their face. Now there were not only bridges, but highways, and railroads, and airports - ports for air travel! - everywhere. Once upon a time a squirrel could have traveled from Maine to Florida by hopping from tree to tree, its feet never touching the ground. Now it would use one of the Wright Brother's aeroplanes to get there!
But the changes to the land were nothing compared to those of the people. To think that a white person could marry an African! Or was the term a person of color? She knew it definitely was not a colored person, and absolutely not a Negro, at least not anymore. Oh it was so difficult trying to keep up with the vagaries of modern language! It was even worse than technology.
Or that homosexuality could be so openly acknowledged! What a world. Of course she had read Sappho and giggled with the other girls, when Mrs. Gibson was safely out of earshot of course. But the thought of two women walking hand in hand in public, or kissing one another... Poor Mrs. Gibson would have surely died of apoplexy had such a subject even been broached in her puritanical presence!
Her life after Boston had certainly opened her eyes to the Queer community—that was the term January said that she preferred. Her first Molly House in New Orleans had been a revelation. That had been centuries ago of course, and since then she had certainly not been a stranger to the charms of men, women, or others uninhibited by such definitions.
Of course her current civilian life as Neo-Pagan writer Branwen Renner was certainly strongly tied to the Queer community. The only thing modern Pagans did not tolerate was intolerance, as oxymoronic as that sounded. But given the fact that at one time Branwen Renner would have been hanged for writing her books, it was a necessary oxymoron. January would have been hanged for merely existing back then.
Sometimes the world changed for the better.
Blood Raven spun on her heel and strode across the roof of the Renaissance Center's highest, central tower. The Ren Cen was not a single building, but rather a complex of seven glass and steel skyscrapers. The cylindrical central tower was the highest, stretching just over seventy floors tall. It was the highest building in the city in fact. This central spire was surrounded by four smaller, diamond-shaped towers. Finally, a pair of even lower structures rose up to one side of the complex.
The peak upon which she stood was crowded with antennas, satellite dishes, and gigantic cables that were clamped down to the rooftop. A small radio mast rose up several dozen feet from the center of the tower, surrounded by low clumps of machinery and venting. Only a technophile like Cray could imagine what all of it was for.
She idly recalled that when the complex had been built, it had been by the Ford Motor Company. Yet now the General Motors logo glowed from the electronic sign attached to the side of the central spire. However, that particular building was in fact a hotel. Only the six other towers were office space housing the administrative headquarters of the automotive giant, along with a prominent health insurance corporation.
She paused at the edge of the roof, and glanced down at the wider ring of another level a story below. This lower roof supported the window washing apparatuses, which appeared like nothing so much as giant tuning forks set into a trackway that ringed the building. Clustered around the center of the structure were even more mechanical devices, conduits, and satellite dishes. What would these people do without their satellites? They probably could not boil water without a computer to instruct them how.
Blood Raven looked beyond the rim of the lower level rooftop. Directly below her ran Jefferson Avenue, which was set back from the Detroit River, and ran parallel to it. Between the boulevard and the water stood the Ren Cen complex, Hart Plaza, and the entrance to the tunnel to Canada, among other sites. Behind the divided street rose the numerous skyscrapers of the Financial District. They were a chaotic mix of styles, from Art Deco artworks, to modern glass and chrome masterpieces. They reminded her of nothing so much as toys casually tossed aside by giants in a playground.
She let her eyes wander away from the Downtown core, and gazed across the flesh of the city that spread out far beyond the towering skyscrapers. Far smaller buildings lumped together in the manner of cells, while streets ran between them like veins and arteries. Only rather than carrying blood, they transported people to and fro. They were the real lifeblood of the city when it came down to it. The narrow belt of the Detroit River bounded the tissue of the city to her right. In every other direction, the metropolis seemed to spread out into a haze of infinity.
Nestled between the banks of the relatively narrow river was the hourglass shape of Belle Isle, connected to the American side by a single bridge. A winding roadway curled back and forth along its uneven coastline. Smaller roads crisscrossed the interior, leading to parks, memorials, an aquarium, sports fields, marinas, and more. A thick clump of woods nearly filled the far end of the island, where the remnants of the old zoo slowly crumbled into dissolution.
Last weekend the isle had been filled with people for the Grand Prix. She had waited there for most of the day. She had suspected that the Conjurer might make another conjuration attempt nearby. But she had miscalculated, and instead he had struck at Ferndale Pride.
Now the island was practically deserted. That would give the Conjurer plenty of privacy for the summoning ritual. Yet it was still near enough to Downtown for him to find some measure of cover in the steady flow of people traveling to and from the festival in Hart Plaza.
She turned her gaze north and west from Belle Isle and scanned the tiny rooftops that spread out near the riverbank. Her eyes eventually settled upon one in particular. It was a small, abandoned factory not very far from the Renaissance Center and the Downtown core. The Conjurer had struck there just two weeks earlier, during the Electronic Music Festival. It had been the nearest she had come to apprehending him so far. But by then he had learned the art of anchoring his summonings, so that a simple banishment could not dispel them. She had been obliged to deal with the monster the old-fashioned way. That had given the Conjurer ample time to escape.
Would he return to the scene of his past crime for another summoning? He had not done so yet. But he also seemed to enjoy crowds, the larger the better. Perhaps it was simply because it was all the easier to lose himself in the sea of faces? Motor City Pride was the largest event taking place over the weekend. If anything would draw him forth, this would be it.
"Something is going on," Cray said over their communications link. His voice was soft, yet gruff. It reminded her of the feeling of wool or fleece on her ears. Not an unpleasant sensation. "I see a crowd of police just off Jefferson, by the Scientology Church."
Blood Raven wheeled about and strode back across the roof to face southwest. She felt her cape spill out into the wind behind her, and whip up high into the air along with the brilliant red strands of her hair. She smelled nothing arcane in the air, not even the simple spells of a neophyte. She closed her eyes and trained her magical senses upon that spot, yet still, there was no feeling of magic actively working to alter reality.
She opened her eyes once more and stared down at the area her technical specialist had indicated: the corner of Jefferson Avenue and Griswold Street. The Church of Scientology did not look like a church at all. It was a small, white office building of the Neo-Classical style. Nestled between the massive skyscrapers of One Woodward and 150 West Jefferson, it was a dwarf among giants. Behind it along Griswold Street stretched out a four story parking structure. Standing in the driveway of the latter was a crowd of people.
She brought up her hands in front of her face, and swiped them to either side. At the same time she called up her aion - what January would call mana - and turned loose the tiniest drop of it. She willed the energy to display the location. A window rimmed with golden energy sprang up in the air before her. The street and parking garage leaped up in tight magnification within, as if she viewed the area through a spyglass.
Now that she had a close up view, she could see that a score of Detroit Police officers were gathered around the entrance to the parking structure. They appeared to be ordinary patrolmen, wearing blue uniforms and black armored vests. They did not sport riot gear, nor carry weapons beyond their sidearms and pepper spray. Some even wore rainbow colored hearts pinned to their uniforms.
"This can't be for a big shot," Cray said. "The festival has VIP parking right next to Hart Plaza. Not that they would have a police escort anyway. Not even the mayor has this many bodyguards."
"Not this mayor," Blood Raven breathed. "Yet the previous one…"
"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied. "I don't know what this could be, I don't have any-"
Cray's words stopped abruptly when a group of over a dozen men, and a few women, strode out of the parking structure. All were dressed in black, sporting red armbands emblazoned with swastikas. The men's heads were shaved bare, or nearly so, at least those not wearing black, coal scuttle helmets. All bore tattoos. Some were of swastikas and SS runes or skulls. Others were less obvious fascist markers such as solar crosses and the number 1488.
Many carried bright red shields, that curved inward like an old Roman scutum. All of these were decorated with a black, Norse Odal rune in the center. Written in Gothic script across the top of the design were the letters "NSL".
Blood Raven's eyes instantly narrowed in on the pistols openly hanging from the hips of many of the men. Some even carried rifles slung over their shoulders. She absentmindedly noted that none of the female Nazis were armed. She wondered if that meant they were less homicidally inclined than the others. Or if being women, they were not allowed to carry weapons? After all, white supremacists were as poisonous to women as they were to everyone else.
Blood Raven also noted something odd on their shoulders, some sort of rounded electronic devices. One of them carried neither a rifle or shield, but rather a large camera, the kind used by television crews. Several other ordinary cameras were slung from his neck as well.
Shouts in German ripped through the night air, intermingled with high-pitched screams. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled her nose, along with the disturbing aroma of burning human flesh. The latter was a distinctive stench, nauseatingly sweet, metallic, and savory at the same time. The boom of a 75mm cannon rang in her ears, along with the chatter of machine guns. She felt steel rip apart under her claws as she carved open another Panther tank. Then came the mouthwatering ambrosia of fresh blood, and the hot life force that jetted with it.
"Nazis," Cray's voice brought her back to the present. This was Detroit, not France, and it was no longer 1944. Then he explained the mystery of those strange devices on their shoulders. "Those are GoPros that they're wearing. They're recording all of this."
"The only thing Nazis love as much as murder is propaganda," Blood Raven growled. She could not stop herself from baring her teeth. At least she prevented them from transforming. Two and a half centuries had at least taught her to keep her fangs in check. No matter how great her bloodlust rose.
Now it was raging, as it usually did at the sight of a swastika. The beast deep inside of her rose up and howled for blood. Not for sustenance. She had fed well in preparation for this day's possible work. The monster within cried for vengeance. Selene, the Mother of Vampires, had gifted her progeny with many blessings. But the moon goddess had also passed on this curse in their blood, this passion for death, for its own sake. She could already imagine the sound of bones cracking under her hands, and the glorious feeling of blood spraying warm across her skin.
She clamped down hard on her fury. She was not an animal. She was not that monster, which threatened to overwhelm every vampire. That threatened to overwhelm every human. She was better than that, stronger than that, more disciplined than that.
In any case, it was broad daylight, and millions would be watching. This was not the time for killing swathes of fascists. France had taught her that was best done under the cover of darkness...
Blood Raven ended her viewing spell by swiping one hand left across the surface of the magical window. Then she stepped off the roof of the Renaissance Center. Out of reflex she warped reality around her, and reshaped it according to her will. Gravity no longer tugged at her feet. Instead she simply ignored the laws of physics, and moved through space as she desired. In only a matter of moments she arrowed down from her lofty perch to the street below, and held herself suspended above Jefferson Avenue.
She hovered there, and stared down Griswold Street. The Scientology building now rose at her left shoulder, with the parking garage beyond it. The massive tower of One Woodward shot up at her right side. Far in the distance straight ahead she could even see her own lair: the black and gold masterpiece of the Detroit Radiator Building. It loomed over the far end of Griswold like a Gothic sentinel, as she now did herself opposite it.
Walking directly toward her down the sidewalk were the Nazis, with the police officers forming a cordon about them. Pedestrians nearby stopped what they were doing and stared in shock. The Nazis ignored them. Instead they strode down the street as if they owned it. As if they were the masters of the Earth.
They had much to learn...
"Don't kill them!" Cray pleaded. "Not now, not like this."
"The SOE taught me how to deal with these creatures," Blood Raven replied evenly. She heard car horns blaring beneath her, and brakes screeching. She hoped there would be no collisions as drivers stopped their vehicles right in the middle of Jefferson to gawk.
"They want a show, to put on their website," Cray insisted. "They want people to overreact, and do something crazy, like start a fight. The more dramatic it is, the more money they make in donations."
"They seek another Charlottesville," Blood Raven considered. "Not in my city."
She gestured with one hand, and every camera strapped to a Nazi cracked. With another wave of a finger, so did the massive TV camera of the videographer, and all of the smaller cameras that hung from his neck.
She waved her other hand from side to side, and a field of golden force sprang up across Griswold, stretching from building to building on either side of the street. That completely blocked the road off from Jefferson Avenue, and Hart Plaza beyond. They would never reach the festival. Not while she existed.
Very neat for a change to have an episode from Blood Raven’s perspective. You have done such a nice job of showing us who she is that when we had the chance to travel inside her head here, her private thoughts were completely consistent with who you have shown her to be. That said, it was still nice to put more of a fine point on her history, attitudes and struggles she faces controlling the beast within.
Ripping open a German tank with her hands conjured images of Wonder Woman – another superhero I’ve come to enjoy.
Ripping open a German tank with her hands conjured images of Wonder Woman – another superhero I’ve come to enjoy.
....Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls ... My gosh... that name alone gives me shudders.
I love the way this chapter starts. Flying 700 feet over Hart Plaza. Phew. That pic of the Renaissance Center buildings helps a lot.
Is Cray more of a mortal? Or is he similar to her? From an entirely different century?
Wow, she wears a wig. I didn't know that. Why does she wear a wig?
Sounds like Baltimore's recent mayor. Sentenced recently to 3 years, for a children's book, of all things. Basically, misappropriation of funds, tax evasion, but at the center of it all was the book she wrote.
Wow, there are women skinheads? Never heard this before. Hey, at least they don't discriminate females.
I love that line. He knows her well, it seems.
Okay. Edge of our seats time...
My gosh... that name alone gives me shudders. I love the way this chapter starts. Flying 700 feet over Hart Plaza. Phew. That pic of the Renaissance Center buildings helps a lot.
Is Cray more of a mortal? Or is he similar to her? From an entirely different century?
Wow, she wears a wig. I didn't know that. Why does she wear a wig?
QUOTE
"Not this mayor," Blood Raven breathed. "Yet the previous one…"
"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied.
"Well that one is still cooling his heels in prison," Cray replied.
Sounds like Baltimore's recent mayor. Sentenced recently to 3 years, for a children's book, of all things. Basically, misappropriation of funds, tax evasion, but at the center of it all was the book she wrote.
Wow, there are women skinheads? Never heard this before. Hey, at least they don't discriminate females.
QUOTE
Don't kill them!" Cray pleaded. "Not now, not like this."
I love that line. He knows her well, it seems.
Okay. Edge of our seats time...
Acadian: This was a scene that could only be written from Blood Raven's pov, so I embraced the opportunity to show the inner workings of her mind, and reveal a few more things about her life, such as her service in France with the SOE, or her youth at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls.
Wonder Woman is a great comparison to Blood Raven. They are comparable in many ways. Did you see the live action movie from a few years ago? That was excellent. Gal Gadot was the perfect WW. I still remember the TV show with Lynda Carter.
Renee: I did some research, and found that schools like Mrs. Gibson's were very common back in the 1700s and 1800s. They were basically finishing schools, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.
Cray is entirely mortal. We will meet him in the flesh in the beginning of chapter 6, and learn a bit of his history then.
Blood Raven's wig is inspired by Batwoman's. She wears it as a ruse, so that someone will try to grab her hair, and come away surprised and off-balance for a moment. She defeated Batman once that way. It is also a way to protect her secret identity. As Kate Kane she has short hair. As Batwoman she has long hair. So it's a piece of misdirection there as well. Finally, Blood Raven deliberately uses her presence as a weapon to overawe people. As January noted when they were in the hospital in chapter 3, when Blood Raven turns her gaze your way, it is feels like someone is walking over your grave. A great mane of blood red hair blowing in the wind behind her one component of that image she wants to create.
Wow, using a children's book to basically embezzle money. The lengths grifters will go to! The Detroit mayor in prison is Kwame Kilpatrick, the former hip-hop mayor of the D
There are definitely female white supremacists, be they Nazis, KKK, skin heads, or other varieties of fascists. Though there are a few Greek organizations like the Proud Boys (who also swear a vow to never masturbate, these people are weird). But white supremacy is just as bigoted against women as they are against everyone else. They just need women to prove that they are heterosexual. And just like there is no shortage of Karens just itching to call the police whenever they see a black person, there is no shortage of female white supremacists. Because even as they are discriminated against, they see their opportunity to feel powerful by discriminating against someone else in turn. That is what being a Karen is all about after all.
Cray does know Blood Raven well. He has been her online backup for a long time, just like Avery is January's computer partner.
The 14 Words
White Supremacists within law enforcement
Tulle
Oradour sur Glane
Why Nazis are so afraid of clowns
Book 5.14 - Crystal Death
Now a man wearing a black suit and sporting a shaven head and goatee came forward. He appeared to be a lawyer for the Nazis, as he was ranting about their rights, and demanding restitution for their broken cameras. Blood Raven ignored him. Instead she watched the armed men. So far none of them had drawn a handgun or unslung a rifle, yet.
Michigan state law made openly carrying firearms legal. That explained why they had not been arrested on the spot. Perhaps the Nazis hoped to provoke them, or others, with the mere sight of the weapons? That violence was their ultimate goal was a given. Nazis could not exist without it.
The police spread out, moving away from the Nazis. So far they too, had not drawn weapons. The officers made no move to approach her, or even address her. Most were stone-faced. But Blood Raven did note that several fought to conceal sneers or other looks of disgust. For once, these were not directed at her.
Apparently the Detroit Police were not happy with their assignment to protect the Nazis. She imagined the black officers, who made up at least three quarters of the complement, must have been especially displeased. How they could not shoot the Nazis on the spot was beyond her. Then again, she could have incinerated their blood and turned them into walking explosions of super-heated gore in a heartbeat. Yet she had not done so either.
For once, both she and the Detroit Police were not only united, but equally restrained. January would be so pleased at how they had found common ground.
Blood Raven took a moment to glance around, and saw that traffic had now come to a complete halt on both sides of Jefferson Avenue behind her. People had even gotten out of their cars to watch, and were raising their phones to record. Blood Raven fought back a frown. This was why January was always being shown on the internet and television. Everyone had to record every event on their phones, as if it was the only way to validate it had taken place.
She turned back to the Nazis, and saw that traffic had stopped behind them on Griswold as well. Naturally, since she had blocked it off with her force field. But people could have turned off it at the cross street just beyond the parking structure and gone either left or right from there. But again, they preferred to stop and watch. She noted that no cars remained in the street beside the Nazis. They had all backed up to get out of the way.
That was good. If things went badly, there would be no innocents in the middle of things.
Yet she was keenly aware that the Nazis were still getting their publicity, even if not from their own cameras. She could extend her spell to destroy all the phones in the area. But that would do nothing to aid her cause. Of course she could make herself invisible to all the cameras, but there were too many Nazis for her to extend the spell far enough to cloak them all as well. She would have to be content with destroying the white supremacist's own recording devices.
"We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children!"
A Nazi with a shaven head and thoroughly ordinary features had a bullhorn out. Since he had no real crowd around him, he had no one to harangue but his own followers. Still, he plunged ahead with a litany of racial, homophobic, religious, and nationalist epithets. It was really quite a feat of hate for a single sentence.
"These guys are the National Socialist League," Cray said in her ear. "According to the Southern Poverty Law Center they are currently the biggest neo-Nazi group in America. If you can keep up with how often they come and go. The guy with the bullhorn is their leader, Mikael Scheuer."
"Too many brave men and women died to give me the chance to fight now," Scheuer droned on. "I will honor their blood and fight for soil."
"Now I see the reason for the Odal rune on their shields," Blood Raven breathed quietly, so that only Cray could hear.
"You mean that thing that looks like an awareness ribbon?" Cray responded.
"Yes," Blood Raven explained. "It represents lineage, especially a noble or exclusive one. It also means inheritance of land or property."
"Blood and soil, at least these guys are consistent," Cray murmured, then his voice changed to become more certain. "Ok, I have some more info. Turns out the police chief knew about their demonstration in advance. That's why the police detail is here. But he didn't pass on the news to the mayor, press, or anyone else."
"He is more clever than I thought," Blood Raven hated to say the words. But they were earned. "It is called 'quarantine'. Solomon Fineberg - an American rabbi - developed it after the War to use against American Nazis. He understood that hate groups need the media to spread their message. Otherwise they wither and die. So instead of engaging with them in debates or even street fights, they do the opposite, and actively work to convince the news not to cover them. The fewer stories, the fewer donations and recruits they receive. Eventually they are strangled by the lack of sensationalism."
"So Chief Creighton kept this a secret, to keep Worldwide Network News from covering it nationwide?" Cray said. "You are right, that is clever."
"I have to say, you are handling this quite well," Cray continued. "Just looking at these… individuals... on the street cameras gets my blood boiling."
"I have years of experience with this particular strain of evil," Blood Raven said. "As I said, I know how to deal with them. Speaking of which, I want full work ups on every one of them. Names, addresses, families, everything."
"I'm running facial recognition right now," Cray said. "I've got three hits so far. They're already in the system. They're law enforcement. I'm also looking back at camera footage of all the cars that went into that lot, and getting their plates as a second line of inquiry."
"Good, I should like to know where to find them when the excitement is over," Blood Raven said.
"And then?"
"Then they shall meet Der Teufel von Bellac," Blood Raven breathed. It had been more than 70 years since she had slaughtered the 2nd SS Panzer division. She had thought she would never need to kill Nazis again. But history had a way of repeating itself.
"Isn't that a little overboard, even for neo-Nazis?" Cray argued. "I mean these people in particular haven't killed anyone, at least not yet."
"They will," Blood Raven contended. "Genocide is their sole reason for existing, they trumpet it openly. The Weimar Republic failed to excise this cancer. It destroyed their country, then the rest of Europe. I shall not allow the same to happen here."
"You know, you've gone five years without killing anyone," Cray continued to dissent. "That's a good streak to keep going."
"All things must end," Blood Raven growled. "These creatures sealed their fates when they came to my city."
"What would your great-granddaughter think of that?"
Blood Raven closed her eyes. She knew what January would think, even though she was one of those specifically targeted for murder by hate groups such as this. But what she did, she did for January, and everyone else like her.
She opened her eyes to see a new development. Now the Nazis had brought out a pair of flags. One was a gay rainbow flag, a plethora of which flew all about the Pride festival behind her in Hart Plaza. The other was a transgender flag, with its blue, pink, and white stripes.
A different white supremacist held each flag, while a third pulled out a lighter. At this point the Detroit Police interceded. A black officer with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders said something to the Nazis. The Nazis frowned, and put away the lighter.
"Looks like Detroit's finest advised them of our fire safety regulations," Cray noted dryly.
Instead the Nazi threw down the trans flag he was holding. He straddled it, and pretended to urinate on it. In the meantime the other Nazi took the rainbow flag he held and tried to rip it up in his hands. But whoever had made the flag had done their work well, for it resisted his most strident efforts.
That was enough for Blood Raven. She drew forth the tiniest amount of her power, and directed it with a finger. A strand of golden force snaked out from her hand, and flew across the street. It wrapped around the rainbow flag, and yanked it from the Nazi's paws with ease. A second tentacle of force leaped from her other hand, and likewise caught up the trans flag. With barely a twitch of her wrists, both emblems were snapped back to her side. She took up one in each hand, and held them both aloft. With only a thought the wind changed at her command, and blew both out behind her in their full glory, along with the crimson streaks of her hair and cape.
That brought a cheer from the people now clustered around her feet. It was no longer just the commuters that were looking on. People were streaming across Jefferson Avenue from the festival in Hart Plaza to join them. Like it or not, this had become a media sensation. The Nazis were going to be on the news. There had been no way to truly prevent that, given the proliferation of smart phones and the internet. Blood Raven knew that at this point the best she could do was to make certain that the Nazis would be viewed as a wretched, feeble lot.
"Wife Power!" the crowd beneath her began to chant at the Nazis, along with "White Flowers!" and "Wright Power!"
Blood Raven could not suppress a smile of vindication. She had no idea who Wright Power was however. She was tempted to ask Cray to Googol it.
"Wright Broward is a basketball player," his voice chimed in her ear a moment later, as if summoned by her thoughts.
The mocking of the crowd seemed to take the wind out of the Nazi's sails, what was left of it at least. They stared in disbelief at the crowd that laughed at them from the other side of Blood Raven's force field. Eventually they sullenly filed off the street, and back into the parking structure that they had emerged from.
Blood Raven did not fail to note that it had not been her withering gaze, or even her casual acts of power that had driven them off. No, it had been the people those Nazis had come to taunt and harangue, people who had responded not with violence, but with humor and irony.
Perhaps Cray had a point. Five years without killing was a good streak. It was a long way from Tulle and Oradour-sur-Glane.
"Seig Fail! Seig Fail! Seig Fail!" the crowd now chanted.
A twenty year old Impala came out of the parking structure. Blood Raven recognized several of the faces within as belonging to the Nazis. It drove away from her down Griswold, and took the first turn out of sight. Next came a van, then another car.
"I've got them on video," Cray said, "looks like they are headed for the hills."
"Keep watching them," Blood Raven said. "Make sure they don't double back. They might try to ram the crowd."
"Maybe you could do something about that?" he suggested. "There would be a lot less risk if they were off the street and back in Hart Plaza."
"Even my powers of mental manipulation do not extend so far young man," Blood Raven noted. "Unless you are suggesting I throw them?"
"I am suggesting you lead them," Cray said. "Why don't you come down from the heavens and rub shoulders with the Earthlings? Who knows, you might even have fun for once in your life, old lady. January will be so jealous that you are getting all the press."
"She would love this," Blood Raven sighed. January was so good at dealing with civilians, with people, so much better than she was. She still remembered what the young heroine had said to her in the hospital.
"You know if you were a little nicer to people, they might trust you more, and maybe even help you sometime."
Perhaps January had a point. Perhaps her public image would benefit from some positive effort.
Blood Raven pulled on the fabric of space, and descended gently to the street. With a single nod in its direction, her force field across Griswold vanished. She pulled at her energy, and made an effort to draw it in, and suppress the aura of dread that she habitually projected whenever she clad herself in armor. The wind around her died down, allowing the flags she carried, and her cape, to drape freely about her shoulders.
People crowded around her, smiling, cheering, slapping her on the back. She did her best to smile back. She told herself that it was no different from a Neo-Pagan convention. She attended those with regularity in her current alter ego as Branwen Renner. In fact, some of the faces she saw around her may well have been at ConVocation in February.
As Cray had suggested, she led them across Jefferson, and back to Hart Plaza. It was simple. All she had to do was walk that way, and the crowd automatically followed. Soon traffic lurched back into motion once more in the empty street behind her. She paused at the entrance of the festival, and made a point to pay the entrance fee. She handed off both the flags she had rescued from the Nazis, and did her best to act like a normal, happy person, whatever that was.
The Nazis did not return.
Wonder Woman is a great comparison to Blood Raven. They are comparable in many ways. Did you see the live action movie from a few years ago? That was excellent. Gal Gadot was the perfect WW. I still remember the TV show with Lynda Carter.
Renee: I did some research, and found that schools like Mrs. Gibson's were very common back in the 1700s and 1800s. They were basically finishing schools, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.
Cray is entirely mortal. We will meet him in the flesh in the beginning of chapter 6, and learn a bit of his history then.
Blood Raven's wig is inspired by Batwoman's. She wears it as a ruse, so that someone will try to grab her hair, and come away surprised and off-balance for a moment. She defeated Batman once that way. It is also a way to protect her secret identity. As Kate Kane she has short hair. As Batwoman she has long hair. So it's a piece of misdirection there as well. Finally, Blood Raven deliberately uses her presence as a weapon to overawe people. As January noted when they were in the hospital in chapter 3, when Blood Raven turns her gaze your way, it is feels like someone is walking over your grave. A great mane of blood red hair blowing in the wind behind her one component of that image she wants to create.
Wow, using a children's book to basically embezzle money. The lengths grifters will go to! The Detroit mayor in prison is Kwame Kilpatrick, the former hip-hop mayor of the D
There are definitely female white supremacists, be they Nazis, KKK, skin heads, or other varieties of fascists. Though there are a few Greek organizations like the Proud Boys (who also swear a vow to never masturbate, these people are weird). But white supremacy is just as bigoted against women as they are against everyone else. They just need women to prove that they are heterosexual. And just like there is no shortage of Karens just itching to call the police whenever they see a black person, there is no shortage of female white supremacists. Because even as they are discriminated against, they see their opportunity to feel powerful by discriminating against someone else in turn. That is what being a Karen is all about after all.
Cray does know Blood Raven well. He has been her online backup for a long time, just like Avery is January's computer partner.
The 14 Words
White Supremacists within law enforcement
Tulle
Oradour sur Glane
Why Nazis are so afraid of clowns
Book 5.14 - Crystal Death
Now a man wearing a black suit and sporting a shaven head and goatee came forward. He appeared to be a lawyer for the Nazis, as he was ranting about their rights, and demanding restitution for their broken cameras. Blood Raven ignored him. Instead she watched the armed men. So far none of them had drawn a handgun or unslung a rifle, yet.
Michigan state law made openly carrying firearms legal. That explained why they had not been arrested on the spot. Perhaps the Nazis hoped to provoke them, or others, with the mere sight of the weapons? That violence was their ultimate goal was a given. Nazis could not exist without it.
The police spread out, moving away from the Nazis. So far they too, had not drawn weapons. The officers made no move to approach her, or even address her. Most were stone-faced. But Blood Raven did note that several fought to conceal sneers or other looks of disgust. For once, these were not directed at her.
Apparently the Detroit Police were not happy with their assignment to protect the Nazis. She imagined the black officers, who made up at least three quarters of the complement, must have been especially displeased. How they could not shoot the Nazis on the spot was beyond her. Then again, she could have incinerated their blood and turned them into walking explosions of super-heated gore in a heartbeat. Yet she had not done so either.
For once, both she and the Detroit Police were not only united, but equally restrained. January would be so pleased at how they had found common ground.
Blood Raven took a moment to glance around, and saw that traffic had now come to a complete halt on both sides of Jefferson Avenue behind her. People had even gotten out of their cars to watch, and were raising their phones to record. Blood Raven fought back a frown. This was why January was always being shown on the internet and television. Everyone had to record every event on their phones, as if it was the only way to validate it had taken place.
She turned back to the Nazis, and saw that traffic had stopped behind them on Griswold as well. Naturally, since she had blocked it off with her force field. But people could have turned off it at the cross street just beyond the parking structure and gone either left or right from there. But again, they preferred to stop and watch. She noted that no cars remained in the street beside the Nazis. They had all backed up to get out of the way.
That was good. If things went badly, there would be no innocents in the middle of things.
Yet she was keenly aware that the Nazis were still getting their publicity, even if not from their own cameras. She could extend her spell to destroy all the phones in the area. But that would do nothing to aid her cause. Of course she could make herself invisible to all the cameras, but there were too many Nazis for her to extend the spell far enough to cloak them all as well. She would have to be content with destroying the white supremacist's own recording devices.
"We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children!"
A Nazi with a shaven head and thoroughly ordinary features had a bullhorn out. Since he had no real crowd around him, he had no one to harangue but his own followers. Still, he plunged ahead with a litany of racial, homophobic, religious, and nationalist epithets. It was really quite a feat of hate for a single sentence.
"These guys are the National Socialist League," Cray said in her ear. "According to the Southern Poverty Law Center they are currently the biggest neo-Nazi group in America. If you can keep up with how often they come and go. The guy with the bullhorn is their leader, Mikael Scheuer."
"Too many brave men and women died to give me the chance to fight now," Scheuer droned on. "I will honor their blood and fight for soil."
"Now I see the reason for the Odal rune on their shields," Blood Raven breathed quietly, so that only Cray could hear.
"You mean that thing that looks like an awareness ribbon?" Cray responded.
"Yes," Blood Raven explained. "It represents lineage, especially a noble or exclusive one. It also means inheritance of land or property."
"Blood and soil, at least these guys are consistent," Cray murmured, then his voice changed to become more certain. "Ok, I have some more info. Turns out the police chief knew about their demonstration in advance. That's why the police detail is here. But he didn't pass on the news to the mayor, press, or anyone else."
"He is more clever than I thought," Blood Raven hated to say the words. But they were earned. "It is called 'quarantine'. Solomon Fineberg - an American rabbi - developed it after the War to use against American Nazis. He understood that hate groups need the media to spread their message. Otherwise they wither and die. So instead of engaging with them in debates or even street fights, they do the opposite, and actively work to convince the news not to cover them. The fewer stories, the fewer donations and recruits they receive. Eventually they are strangled by the lack of sensationalism."
"So Chief Creighton kept this a secret, to keep Worldwide Network News from covering it nationwide?" Cray said. "You are right, that is clever."
"I have to say, you are handling this quite well," Cray continued. "Just looking at these… individuals... on the street cameras gets my blood boiling."
"I have years of experience with this particular strain of evil," Blood Raven said. "As I said, I know how to deal with them. Speaking of which, I want full work ups on every one of them. Names, addresses, families, everything."
"I'm running facial recognition right now," Cray said. "I've got three hits so far. They're already in the system. They're law enforcement. I'm also looking back at camera footage of all the cars that went into that lot, and getting their plates as a second line of inquiry."
"Good, I should like to know where to find them when the excitement is over," Blood Raven said.
"And then?"
"Then they shall meet Der Teufel von Bellac," Blood Raven breathed. It had been more than 70 years since she had slaughtered the 2nd SS Panzer division. She had thought she would never need to kill Nazis again. But history had a way of repeating itself.
"Isn't that a little overboard, even for neo-Nazis?" Cray argued. "I mean these people in particular haven't killed anyone, at least not yet."
"They will," Blood Raven contended. "Genocide is their sole reason for existing, they trumpet it openly. The Weimar Republic failed to excise this cancer. It destroyed their country, then the rest of Europe. I shall not allow the same to happen here."
"You know, you've gone five years without killing anyone," Cray continued to dissent. "That's a good streak to keep going."
"All things must end," Blood Raven growled. "These creatures sealed their fates when they came to my city."
"What would your great-granddaughter think of that?"
Blood Raven closed her eyes. She knew what January would think, even though she was one of those specifically targeted for murder by hate groups such as this. But what she did, she did for January, and everyone else like her.
She opened her eyes to see a new development. Now the Nazis had brought out a pair of flags. One was a gay rainbow flag, a plethora of which flew all about the Pride festival behind her in Hart Plaza. The other was a transgender flag, with its blue, pink, and white stripes.
A different white supremacist held each flag, while a third pulled out a lighter. At this point the Detroit Police interceded. A black officer with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders said something to the Nazis. The Nazis frowned, and put away the lighter.
"Looks like Detroit's finest advised them of our fire safety regulations," Cray noted dryly.
Instead the Nazi threw down the trans flag he was holding. He straddled it, and pretended to urinate on it. In the meantime the other Nazi took the rainbow flag he held and tried to rip it up in his hands. But whoever had made the flag had done their work well, for it resisted his most strident efforts.
That was enough for Blood Raven. She drew forth the tiniest amount of her power, and directed it with a finger. A strand of golden force snaked out from her hand, and flew across the street. It wrapped around the rainbow flag, and yanked it from the Nazi's paws with ease. A second tentacle of force leaped from her other hand, and likewise caught up the trans flag. With barely a twitch of her wrists, both emblems were snapped back to her side. She took up one in each hand, and held them both aloft. With only a thought the wind changed at her command, and blew both out behind her in their full glory, along with the crimson streaks of her hair and cape.
That brought a cheer from the people now clustered around her feet. It was no longer just the commuters that were looking on. People were streaming across Jefferson Avenue from the festival in Hart Plaza to join them. Like it or not, this had become a media sensation. The Nazis were going to be on the news. There had been no way to truly prevent that, given the proliferation of smart phones and the internet. Blood Raven knew that at this point the best she could do was to make certain that the Nazis would be viewed as a wretched, feeble lot.
"Wife Power!" the crowd beneath her began to chant at the Nazis, along with "White Flowers!" and "Wright Power!"
Blood Raven could not suppress a smile of vindication. She had no idea who Wright Power was however. She was tempted to ask Cray to Googol it.
"Wright Broward is a basketball player," his voice chimed in her ear a moment later, as if summoned by her thoughts.
The mocking of the crowd seemed to take the wind out of the Nazi's sails, what was left of it at least. They stared in disbelief at the crowd that laughed at them from the other side of Blood Raven's force field. Eventually they sullenly filed off the street, and back into the parking structure that they had emerged from.
Blood Raven did not fail to note that it had not been her withering gaze, or even her casual acts of power that had driven them off. No, it had been the people those Nazis had come to taunt and harangue, people who had responded not with violence, but with humor and irony.
Perhaps Cray had a point. Five years without killing was a good streak. It was a long way from Tulle and Oradour-sur-Glane.
"Seig Fail! Seig Fail! Seig Fail!" the crowd now chanted.
A twenty year old Impala came out of the parking structure. Blood Raven recognized several of the faces within as belonging to the Nazis. It drove away from her down Griswold, and took the first turn out of sight. Next came a van, then another car.
"I've got them on video," Cray said, "looks like they are headed for the hills."
"Keep watching them," Blood Raven said. "Make sure they don't double back. They might try to ram the crowd."
"Maybe you could do something about that?" he suggested. "There would be a lot less risk if they were off the street and back in Hart Plaza."
"Even my powers of mental manipulation do not extend so far young man," Blood Raven noted. "Unless you are suggesting I throw them?"
"I am suggesting you lead them," Cray said. "Why don't you come down from the heavens and rub shoulders with the Earthlings? Who knows, you might even have fun for once in your life, old lady. January will be so jealous that you are getting all the press."
"She would love this," Blood Raven sighed. January was so good at dealing with civilians, with people, so much better than she was. She still remembered what the young heroine had said to her in the hospital.
"You know if you were a little nicer to people, they might trust you more, and maybe even help you sometime."
Perhaps January had a point. Perhaps her public image would benefit from some positive effort.
Blood Raven pulled on the fabric of space, and descended gently to the street. With a single nod in its direction, her force field across Griswold vanished. She pulled at her energy, and made an effort to draw it in, and suppress the aura of dread that she habitually projected whenever she clad herself in armor. The wind around her died down, allowing the flags she carried, and her cape, to drape freely about her shoulders.
People crowded around her, smiling, cheering, slapping her on the back. She did her best to smile back. She told herself that it was no different from a Neo-Pagan convention. She attended those with regularity in her current alter ego as Branwen Renner. In fact, some of the faces she saw around her may well have been at ConVocation in February.
As Cray had suggested, she led them across Jefferson, and back to Hart Plaza. It was simple. All she had to do was walk that way, and the crowd automatically followed. Soon traffic lurched back into motion once more in the empty street behind her. She paused at the entrance of the festival, and made a point to pay the entrance fee. She handed off both the flags she had rescued from the Nazis, and did her best to act like a normal, happy person, whatever that was.
The Nazis did not return.
Yes, Gal Gadot’s portrayal of Wonder Woman was what I had in mind. Though I do remember the old Lynda Carter TV show, I never paid much attention to it. I agree with you that the more recent movie was fabulous, and Gal Gadot was a truly inspired choice to play Diana. There is ‘look’ she has that includes raising one eyebrow when someone pisses her off right before makes them wish they had never crossed her. I can quite imagine that look on Blood Raven.
Blood Raven handled herself well here and nobody got hurt – unusual for her ‘interventions’.
I was glad to see her take the advice of January and Cray to c’mon down and rub shoulders with folks on the ground.
Blood Raven handled herself well here and nobody got hurt – unusual for her ‘interventions’.
I was glad to see her take the advice of January and Cray to c’mon down and rub shoulders with folks on the ground.
They were basically finishing schools, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.
The final phrase is what gives me shudders. I have no problem learning how to cook better, how to sew, and so on, but I would have failed that final part big time, and hard core! I think a lot of modern women would. Someone should make a videogame about that. I would buy it!
I didn't know Batwoman wears a wig! Maybe I knew this as a kid because I watched the original show. Okay I see the reasoning now. Women robbers often wear wigs as part of their disguises; in fact, they can get away with this in certain parts of our country where wigs are common. I just never thought of a superhero doing so.
Yikes your mayor in Detroit got 28 years!
Wow, racketeering. Bribery. Yeah, sounds like he was more involved in the criminal life for sure. I think our Catherine Pugh did not intend to be a criminal. She was thinking her book would make a lot of money perhaps (a mayor getting involved in writing a child's book is certainly unique), and then she could turn around and make things right. She never imagined the whole thing would blow up.
Sure, I see now. I guess I never really thought about it, but this does make sense.
I like how Raven is puzzled about everyone using their phones. And also holds back incinerating all of them. That would be wicked! Too bad she can't do this. Well, maybe she could do this, then escape back into her tower unharmed. But everyone on the force would know it was her who did this.
I hear Cray's voice as sort of soothing. Sort of like an airline pilot. Doesn't matter if there's a storm or if they're about to arrive to Toledo with no incidents, his voice is always calm and soothing. Unflappable. Maybe I'm wrong. I always try to 'voice' characters as I am reading them speak.
Ha, he's debating with her about killing them, I like that. See, he knows she is in charge. He's merely throwing his opinions at her, as though trying to provide some perspective. But he knows she'll do as she pleases in the end. He is similar to Avery in a way, I think I remember Avery also getting into debates with Jan, trying to provide counter-thoughts. But he's also a heck of a lot more polished, probably due to age. That's my assumption, anyway.
Whoa, she captures their flags. Ha ha! You go!
Seig Fail!
Oh gosh. You and your beater cars!
Awesome chapter, hon. Or sub-chapter I guess.
The final phrase is what gives me shudders. I have no problem learning how to cook better, how to sew, and so on, but I would have failed that final part big time, and hard core! I think a lot of modern women would. Someone should make a videogame about that. I would buy it!
I didn't know Batwoman wears a wig!
Maybe I knew this as a kid because I watched the original show. Okay I see the reasoning now. Women robbers often wear wigs as part of their disguises; in fact, they can get away with this in certain parts of our country where wigs are common. I just never thought of a superhero doing so. Yikes your mayor in Detroit got 28 years!
Wow, racketeering. Bribery. Yeah, sounds like he was more involved in the criminal life for sure. I think our Catherine Pugh did not intend to be a criminal. She was thinking her book would make a lot of money perhaps (a mayor getting involved in writing a child's book is certainly unique), and then she could turn around and make things right. She never imagined the whole thing would blow up. QUOTE
But white supremacy is just as bigoted against women as they are against everyone else. They just need women to prove that they are heterosexual.
Sure, I see now. I guess I never really thought about it, but this does make sense.
I like how Raven is puzzled about everyone using their phones. And also holds back incinerating all of them. That would be wicked! Too bad she can't do this. Well, maybe she could do this, then escape back into her tower unharmed. But everyone on the force would know it was her who did this.
I hear Cray's voice as sort of soothing. Sort of like an airline pilot. Doesn't matter if there's a storm or if they're about to arrive to Toledo with no incidents, his voice is always calm and soothing. Unflappable. Maybe I'm wrong. I always try to 'voice' characters as I am reading them speak.
Ha, he's debating with her about killing them, I like that. See, he knows she is in charge. He's merely throwing his opinions at her, as though trying to provide some perspective. But he knows she'll do as she pleases in the end. He is similar to Avery in a way, I think I remember Avery also getting into debates with Jan, trying to provide counter-thoughts. But he's also a heck of a lot more polished, probably due to age. That's my assumption, anyway.
Whoa, she captures their flags. Ha ha! You go!
Seig Fail!
QUOTE
A twenty year old Impala
Oh gosh.
You and your beater cars! Awesome chapter, hon. Or sub-chapter I guess.
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Aug 15 2020, 02:29 PM) 
, teaching girls all the arts a woman needed to know - cooking, sewing, playing musical instruments, and otherwise being pleasant for men to be around.
I've heard a few jokes about going to finishing school and learning to say FANTASTIC instead of something else much less flattering.
Acadian: Blood Raven is keenly aware of the cameras, and of publicity in general. She may not like any of it, but she does know how to use it. She also learned in France that killing Nazis in broad daylight is not a good idea. It just makes things worse for everyone else when more come and start making reprisals. That sort of thng is best done quietly, with no witnesses.
January is definitely having an affect on Blood Raven, just as the reverse is true.
Renee: Basically the whole purpose of schools for girls in those days was to make them a better marriage prospect.
Kwame was the gangsta mayor. He was a very, very bad dude. A prostitute who allegedly danced on his lap in one of his parties at the governor's mansion conveniently ended up murdered. The state attorney general very publicly put two investigators on the case. Then quietly fired both of them a week later. He covered the entire thing up.
Blood Raven does not like all these phones and cameras everywhere. She remembers life before every step you took was being recorded and scrutinized.
You are imaging Cray exactly as I intended. He is inspired by James Remar's portrayal of Gambi in Black Lightning. Here is a clip (Gambi is the white guy)
Cray knows that a frontal assault against Blood Raven's decision-making will never work. The harder he pushes her, the more stubborn it will make her. So instead he has learned to outflank her, and instead prompt her to look at other ideas, without trying to force it. You are right in that Avery is in the same boat, because January is just as stubborn as Blood Raven. It is in their blood after all.
macole: Oh bless your heart dear.
The Oakland Mall sign
The Oakland Mall from the air
John R Road from the air
The lair is somewhere around here
Another view
The Greenwood's house
The Satanic Temple (The guy who wrote this was on Monstertalk recently to talk about the Satanic Temple)
Book 5.15 - Crystal Death
"You're sure you don't need any help?" January stared at Blood Raven's face. Her red hair formed a scarlet halo about her features, which lit up Sága's screen on January's inner forearm. "I can be there in a few minutes."
"The Nazis have been dealt with, at least for now," Blood Raven replied. January could see a crowd of people behind the red and black-clad superheroine. It looked like she was not simply watching over the festival at Hart Plaza, but in it. "I shall remain here on my original mission. You should continue with your own investigation."
"Wow, is that Stormcrow?" one of the faces in the crowd behind Blood Raven gaped.
"That is Stormcrow!" another insisted. "Awesome! Are you dating?"
"They can see me?" January said, without even realizing it.
"I am in possession of a holographic display," Blood Raven noted. "Wait, I shall close it down to audio only."
"No, that's ok, let people see me," January insisted. As much as she loved her new wrist-mounted computer, a hologram would be really cool too. She was tempted to start reciting Princess Leia's lines from A New Hope. "Are you actually at the festival?"
"I am," Blood Raven declared. "I am having fun."
"Who are you?" January stifled the urge to laugh out loud, "and what have you done with the real Blood Raven?"
"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls," Blood Raven insisted. "I have also been reminded that I could be nicer to people."
January felt herself blush. She hoped her helmet would hide it. Instead she went on.
"Well, tell everyone that I wish I could be there!" she said perkily. "Maybe next year we can go without the added fuss of 'work'."
"I shall do so," Blood Raven said before signing off.
January turned off the link, and slid shut the armored plate that protected Sága's touchscreen when it was not in use. She lifted her eyes, and gazed about her. She was crouched atop the tall sign for the Oakland Mall, which rose up on the corner of 14 Mile and John R Road. Cars streamed past her on John R, while those waiting at the red light on 14 Mile had rolled down their windows to wave at her.
January took a moment to wave back. Then she leaped into the sky. She thrust her arms out to either side, and willed them to form into wings. With a series of powerful flaps, she rose higher into the sky, and circled around the parking lot of the mall.
The massive conglomeration of buildings and its surrounding parking lots took up nearly a quarter mile of real estate. It was nestled between John R Road to the east, I-75 to the west, and 14 Mile to the south. From above, January could see that the central structure was not a single building, but rather was several buildings all linked together. The Sears, Macy's, and JC Penny sections stood out most plainly from the central area.
Smaller businesses rose from the edges of the parking lot, including a donut shop, various restaurants, and of course a phone store. Even more shops and fast food places rose up across the street from it on the other side of John R. Likewise, a car lot spread out across the other side of 14 Mile, along with still more stores, and even a movie theater.
January imagined that in a thousand years, archaeologists might dig it all up and assume this was a massive temple complex dedicated to worshipping Capitalism. They would not be wrong.
"Did I hear what I thought I did?" Gadget said in her ear. "Is the Blood Raven actually chilling at Motor City Pride? You must be rubbing off on her."
"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."
"Not to mention being shot down in flames by the hot sniper," Gadget remarked dryly.
"Yeah well, at least that might still go somewhere," January mused. "I did get her number. Maybe we can work with her at least."
"That's not what the rest of the world thinks," Gadget noted. "It's all over social media already, 'Stormcrow burned so hard by cop!'"
"Well, I guess that's good. At least her boss won't know we have a line of communication, yet." January frowned anyway. She had to admit, even if just to herself, it still did sting to know that people thought she had been rejected in public. She knew that it had just been a sham, and a clever one at that. But no one liked looking like a loser. Even with a cape.
Of course it was nothing compared to steady stream of invective she had been receiving from certain parts of the internet since that gas station attendant had repeated her statement that she was a lesbian. But homophobia was like gravity, or taxes: an inescapable part of ordinary life. She did not mind people knowing she was a lesbian. She had been Out so long in her real life, that it was honestly strange not being so in her cape life. She was getting tired of people constantly asking about it. Maybe Avery did have a point, and she should come right out and say something publically?
"Ok, I've got an address for ThunderRhino666," Gadget said with some satisfaction. "I'm sending it to you now."
"Madison Heights," January ruminated, "must be near the dojo."
She banked to the south, and followed John R Road. More businesses and parking lots slid by under her stomach. She knew that she was in Madison Heights from the moment that she crossed 14 Mile Road, but where?
"Gadget, I was thinking…" she mused out loud.
"Uh oh, this can't be good," he remarked dryly.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then realized that he could not see the act of defiance. Instead she went on as if he had said nothing even slightly burning.
"Maybe in Sága 2.0 you could build in some sort of heads up display, that could put in an overlay of the street names. Maybe you could tie it into Googol Maps or something."
"Yeah, yeah, I think I could do that," Gadget replied seriously. "I could upgrade the lenses that snap over your eyes with the breath mask. That's totally doable."
"Good. But for now you are going to have to guide me in," she said. "Because I can barely tell what street is what from up here."
"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted. January imagined that he was looking through the video feed from her helmet now. What he had said was an understatement. Signs were impossible to read from hundreds of feet up. Even buildings looked completely different when you were staring down at their roofs. Thankfully this neighborhood was near home, one that she had driven through many times. If it had been on the West Side, she would have been completely lost.
Following Gadget's cues, she continued south for several miles, and in minutes crossed 11 Mile Road. She soared directly over Adin's martial arts dojo. After it came the Madison Heights Fire Department, a building January was able to pick out by its reddish-brown roof. On the other side of the street was Wilkinson Middle School. A large parking lot lay out in front of the school, and the wide expanse of a baseball diamond sprawled out to the south of it.
At Gadget's directions, she banked slightly left over the school and floated down to earth within the grassy expanse of its sports field. A subdivision of pedestrian homes sprawled out directly south of the field. The neighborhood was bordered by a small chain of businesses to the right, which lined John R Road.
The side street that was right in front of January dead-ended at January's feet. She easily hopped over the steel barrier that separated it from the field, and walked into the subdivision. She found the house Gadget had indicated with ease. It was the first one on her right, literally right next to the empty field.
She absentmindedly wondered if they suffered from many broken windows from strong-armed baseball players. She noted a large tree at the back of the house, which would have absorbed most home runs to right field. Then again, she really was not sure just how far a middle-schooler might be able to hit the ball. So maybe they were out of the reach of aspiring Babe Ruths.
With a single leap she landed gently on the roof. She paused to engage the new video camouflage unit that Gadget had built into Sága. Then she scampered across and dropped into the back yard. There was a small, detached garage set back from the house, and little else back there. She did not see any one looking out the windows of the house, so she immediately went to the garage. She found it locked, but Gadget's home-made electric lockpicker settled that. It buzzed as it vibrated the lock's pins open. She was inside in seconds, and shut the door behind her.
Snooping about within the garage yielded little. An aging Oldsmobile took up one side of the small structure. The rest was cluttered with the usual bric-a-brac: a lawnmower, snow-blower, some tools, and the like. Certainly nothing one might use to brew up a deadly meta-creating drug. Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.
"The garage is a bust," she told Gadget. "How are things on your end?"
"I'm in their router," Gadget said. "I didn't even have to hack it. Their Wi-Fi is unencrypted, and it's still set to the default login and password. I can see several MAC addresses attached to it. Looks like one's a phone, and three are PCs. One of the PCs is heavily encrypted. I can't get into it. The other computers are wide open, and guess who is playing World of Guncraft on one right now?"
"ThunderRhino," January said.
"666," Gadget added, "Don't forget that, it's the best part."
"Can you get into their security system?" January asked. She walked to the back door, and waited for Gadget.
"Nada," he replied. "They don't have one, nothing for me to snoop into."
"Ok, I guess we do this old school," January said. She fished out the lockpicker again, but was chagrined to discover that the back door was already unlocked. She crept inside as quietly as she could. Only to be betrayed by a loud squeak of the door hinges, She froze instantly, and listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps.
She heard nothing but the noise of a television somewhere deeper in the house. After waiting long moments, she shut the door behind her slowly, trying to avoid a repeat of the same noisy hinges. They still squawked, but not as loudly this time. She made a note to herself to start carrying spray grease for things like that in the future.
She found herself on a small landing between the basement and the kitchen. She chose the kitchen first, quickly darting her head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. It was empty. Taking her time, she slowly stepped through the small space, and its adjoining dining room. Peeking her head around the next corner, she found the living room.
It was dominated by a giant TV set, whose volume was really, really loud. That explained why no one had heard the back door. Ensconced in a soft lounge chair and a long couch were a pair of old white folks: silver hair, glasses, the works. Both stared in rapture at the rerun of NCIS that lit the television screen.
"Looks like this is Wanda and Bruce Greenwood," Gadget said. "Both retired. Bruce is a Vietnam War veteran. Props to the old guy. Wanda was an admin in the public school system. Nothing much else on them."
"Are you sure you got the right house?" January breathed. Given how loud the TV was, she doubted that she could be heard by the owners, especially given their seventy-year old ears. "This hardly looks like a pair of criminal masterminds, let alone someone who would call themselves ThunderRhino."
"666," Gadget reiterated.
"You need to slow your roll on that," January noted as she drifted back through the kitchen to the basement. "I don't think they're Satanists either. Some of the nicest people I know online are from the Satanic Temple."
"It's pretty sad when the Satanists are the ones who believe in benevolence and compassion…" Gadget said. "But I don't think our Rhino is one of those types."
January descended into the basement. She did not turn on the light. Instead she pushed a few buttons on her wrist-mounted computer, and a pair of lenses slid over her eyes. The darkened room immediately leaped into bright reality as the night vision turned on. She poked around, and again looked for secret panels. But as before, there was nothing to discover but ordinary suburban junk.
"Well, I can go back upstairs and try the bedrooms," January said.
She ascended the stairs and did just that. Rather than trying to sneak through the living room, she went back into the yard behind the house, and found a convenient window. Thankfully it was summer, so all of them were open. It was child's play to pop out the screen and hop through. Once again however, the rest of the house yielded no evidence of evil-doing. The most interesting find was a Compaq computer that looked older than she was, alongside a much newer wireless router. Just to be sure she started up the PC and looked through the hard drive. But there seemed to be little more than a bunch of recipes and pictures of grandkids on it.
"This is a bust," January said. "These people are no more Death Dealers than the last ones in Sterling Heights."
January is definitely having an affect on Blood Raven, just as the reverse is true.
Renee: Basically the whole purpose of schools for girls in those days was to make them a better marriage prospect.
Kwame was the gangsta mayor. He was a very, very bad dude. A prostitute who allegedly danced on his lap in one of his parties at the governor's mansion conveniently ended up murdered. The state attorney general very publicly put two investigators on the case. Then quietly fired both of them a week later. He covered the entire thing up.
Blood Raven does not like all these phones and cameras everywhere. She remembers life before every step you took was being recorded and scrutinized.
You are imaging Cray exactly as I intended. He is inspired by James Remar's portrayal of Gambi in Black Lightning. Here is a clip (Gambi is the white guy)
Cray knows that a frontal assault against Blood Raven's decision-making will never work. The harder he pushes her, the more stubborn it will make her. So instead he has learned to outflank her, and instead prompt her to look at other ideas, without trying to force it. You are right in that Avery is in the same boat, because January is just as stubborn as Blood Raven. It is in their blood after all.
macole: Oh bless your heart dear.
The Oakland Mall sign
The Oakland Mall from the air
John R Road from the air
The lair is somewhere around here
Another view
The Greenwood's house
The Satanic Temple (The guy who wrote this was on Monstertalk recently to talk about the Satanic Temple)
Book 5.15 - Crystal Death
"You're sure you don't need any help?" January stared at Blood Raven's face. Her red hair formed a scarlet halo about her features, which lit up Sága's screen on January's inner forearm. "I can be there in a few minutes."
"The Nazis have been dealt with, at least for now," Blood Raven replied. January could see a crowd of people behind the red and black-clad superheroine. It looked like she was not simply watching over the festival at Hart Plaza, but in it. "I shall remain here on my original mission. You should continue with your own investigation."
"Wow, is that Stormcrow?" one of the faces in the crowd behind Blood Raven gaped.
"That is Stormcrow!" another insisted. "Awesome! Are you dating?"
"They can see me?" January said, without even realizing it.
"I am in possession of a holographic display," Blood Raven noted. "Wait, I shall close it down to audio only."
"No, that's ok, let people see me," January insisted. As much as she loved her new wrist-mounted computer, a hologram would be really cool too. She was tempted to start reciting Princess Leia's lines from A New Hope. "Are you actually at the festival?"
"I am," Blood Raven declared. "I am having fun."
"Who are you?" January stifled the urge to laugh out loud, "and what have you done with the real Blood Raven?"
"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls," Blood Raven insisted. "I have also been reminded that I could be nicer to people."
January felt herself blush. She hoped her helmet would hide it. Instead she went on.
"Well, tell everyone that I wish I could be there!" she said perkily. "Maybe next year we can go without the added fuss of 'work'."
"I shall do so," Blood Raven said before signing off.
January turned off the link, and slid shut the armored plate that protected Sága's touchscreen when it was not in use. She lifted her eyes, and gazed about her. She was crouched atop the tall sign for the Oakland Mall, which rose up on the corner of 14 Mile and John R Road. Cars streamed past her on John R, while those waiting at the red light on 14 Mile had rolled down their windows to wave at her.
January took a moment to wave back. Then she leaped into the sky. She thrust her arms out to either side, and willed them to form into wings. With a series of powerful flaps, she rose higher into the sky, and circled around the parking lot of the mall.
The massive conglomeration of buildings and its surrounding parking lots took up nearly a quarter mile of real estate. It was nestled between John R Road to the east, I-75 to the west, and 14 Mile to the south. From above, January could see that the central structure was not a single building, but rather was several buildings all linked together. The Sears, Macy's, and JC Penny sections stood out most plainly from the central area.
Smaller businesses rose from the edges of the parking lot, including a donut shop, various restaurants, and of course a phone store. Even more shops and fast food places rose up across the street from it on the other side of John R. Likewise, a car lot spread out across the other side of 14 Mile, along with still more stores, and even a movie theater.
January imagined that in a thousand years, archaeologists might dig it all up and assume this was a massive temple complex dedicated to worshipping Capitalism. They would not be wrong.
"Did I hear what I thought I did?" Gadget said in her ear. "Is the Blood Raven actually chilling at Motor City Pride? You must be rubbing off on her."
"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."
"Not to mention being shot down in flames by the hot sniper," Gadget remarked dryly.
"Yeah well, at least that might still go somewhere," January mused. "I did get her number. Maybe we can work with her at least."
"That's not what the rest of the world thinks," Gadget noted. "It's all over social media already, 'Stormcrow burned so hard by cop!'"
"Well, I guess that's good. At least her boss won't know we have a line of communication, yet." January frowned anyway. She had to admit, even if just to herself, it still did sting to know that people thought she had been rejected in public. She knew that it had just been a sham, and a clever one at that. But no one liked looking like a loser. Even with a cape.
Of course it was nothing compared to steady stream of invective she had been receiving from certain parts of the internet since that gas station attendant had repeated her statement that she was a lesbian. But homophobia was like gravity, or taxes: an inescapable part of ordinary life. She did not mind people knowing she was a lesbian. She had been Out so long in her real life, that it was honestly strange not being so in her cape life. She was getting tired of people constantly asking about it. Maybe Avery did have a point, and she should come right out and say something publically?
"Ok, I've got an address for ThunderRhino666," Gadget said with some satisfaction. "I'm sending it to you now."
"Madison Heights," January ruminated, "must be near the dojo."
She banked to the south, and followed John R Road. More businesses and parking lots slid by under her stomach. She knew that she was in Madison Heights from the moment that she crossed 14 Mile Road, but where?
"Gadget, I was thinking…" she mused out loud.
"Uh oh, this can't be good," he remarked dryly.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then realized that he could not see the act of defiance. Instead she went on as if he had said nothing even slightly burning.
"Maybe in Sága 2.0 you could build in some sort of heads up display, that could put in an overlay of the street names. Maybe you could tie it into Googol Maps or something."
"Yeah, yeah, I think I could do that," Gadget replied seriously. "I could upgrade the lenses that snap over your eyes with the breath mask. That's totally doable."
"Good. But for now you are going to have to guide me in," she said. "Because I can barely tell what street is what from up here."
"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted. January imagined that he was looking through the video feed from her helmet now. What he had said was an understatement. Signs were impossible to read from hundreds of feet up. Even buildings looked completely different when you were staring down at their roofs. Thankfully this neighborhood was near home, one that she had driven through many times. If it had been on the West Side, she would have been completely lost.
Following Gadget's cues, she continued south for several miles, and in minutes crossed 11 Mile Road. She soared directly over Adin's martial arts dojo. After it came the Madison Heights Fire Department, a building January was able to pick out by its reddish-brown roof. On the other side of the street was Wilkinson Middle School. A large parking lot lay out in front of the school, and the wide expanse of a baseball diamond sprawled out to the south of it.
At Gadget's directions, she banked slightly left over the school and floated down to earth within the grassy expanse of its sports field. A subdivision of pedestrian homes sprawled out directly south of the field. The neighborhood was bordered by a small chain of businesses to the right, which lined John R Road.
The side street that was right in front of January dead-ended at January's feet. She easily hopped over the steel barrier that separated it from the field, and walked into the subdivision. She found the house Gadget had indicated with ease. It was the first one on her right, literally right next to the empty field.
She absentmindedly wondered if they suffered from many broken windows from strong-armed baseball players. She noted a large tree at the back of the house, which would have absorbed most home runs to right field. Then again, she really was not sure just how far a middle-schooler might be able to hit the ball. So maybe they were out of the reach of aspiring Babe Ruths.
With a single leap she landed gently on the roof. She paused to engage the new video camouflage unit that Gadget had built into Sága. Then she scampered across and dropped into the back yard. There was a small, detached garage set back from the house, and little else back there. She did not see any one looking out the windows of the house, so she immediately went to the garage. She found it locked, but Gadget's home-made electric lockpicker settled that. It buzzed as it vibrated the lock's pins open. She was inside in seconds, and shut the door behind her.
Snooping about within the garage yielded little. An aging Oldsmobile took up one side of the small structure. The rest was cluttered with the usual bric-a-brac: a lawnmower, snow-blower, some tools, and the like. Certainly nothing one might use to brew up a deadly meta-creating drug. Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.
"The garage is a bust," she told Gadget. "How are things on your end?"
"I'm in their router," Gadget said. "I didn't even have to hack it. Their Wi-Fi is unencrypted, and it's still set to the default login and password. I can see several MAC addresses attached to it. Looks like one's a phone, and three are PCs. One of the PCs is heavily encrypted. I can't get into it. The other computers are wide open, and guess who is playing World of Guncraft on one right now?"
"ThunderRhino," January said.
"666," Gadget added, "Don't forget that, it's the best part."
"Can you get into their security system?" January asked. She walked to the back door, and waited for Gadget.
"Nada," he replied. "They don't have one, nothing for me to snoop into."
"Ok, I guess we do this old school," January said. She fished out the lockpicker again, but was chagrined to discover that the back door was already unlocked. She crept inside as quietly as she could. Only to be betrayed by a loud squeak of the door hinges, She froze instantly, and listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps.
She heard nothing but the noise of a television somewhere deeper in the house. After waiting long moments, she shut the door behind her slowly, trying to avoid a repeat of the same noisy hinges. They still squawked, but not as loudly this time. She made a note to herself to start carrying spray grease for things like that in the future.
She found herself on a small landing between the basement and the kitchen. She chose the kitchen first, quickly darting her head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. It was empty. Taking her time, she slowly stepped through the small space, and its adjoining dining room. Peeking her head around the next corner, she found the living room.
It was dominated by a giant TV set, whose volume was really, really loud. That explained why no one had heard the back door. Ensconced in a soft lounge chair and a long couch were a pair of old white folks: silver hair, glasses, the works. Both stared in rapture at the rerun of NCIS that lit the television screen.
"Looks like this is Wanda and Bruce Greenwood," Gadget said. "Both retired. Bruce is a Vietnam War veteran. Props to the old guy. Wanda was an admin in the public school system. Nothing much else on them."
"Are you sure you got the right house?" January breathed. Given how loud the TV was, she doubted that she could be heard by the owners, especially given their seventy-year old ears. "This hardly looks like a pair of criminal masterminds, let alone someone who would call themselves ThunderRhino."
"666," Gadget reiterated.
"You need to slow your roll on that," January noted as she drifted back through the kitchen to the basement. "I don't think they're Satanists either. Some of the nicest people I know online are from the Satanic Temple."
"It's pretty sad when the Satanists are the ones who believe in benevolence and compassion…" Gadget said. "But I don't think our Rhino is one of those types."
January descended into the basement. She did not turn on the light. Instead she pushed a few buttons on her wrist-mounted computer, and a pair of lenses slid over her eyes. The darkened room immediately leaped into bright reality as the night vision turned on. She poked around, and again looked for secret panels. But as before, there was nothing to discover but ordinary suburban junk.
"Well, I can go back upstairs and try the bedrooms," January said.
She ascended the stairs and did just that. Rather than trying to sneak through the living room, she went back into the yard behind the house, and found a convenient window. Thankfully it was summer, so all of them were open. It was child's play to pop out the screen and hop through. Once again however, the rest of the house yielded no evidence of evil-doing. The most interesting find was a Compaq computer that looked older than she was, alongside a much newer wireless router. Just to be sure she started up the PC and looked through the hard drive. But there seemed to be little more than a bunch of recipes and pictures of grandkids on it.
"This is a bust," January said. "These people are no more Death Dealers than the last ones in Sterling Heights."
"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls," Blood Raven insisted. "I have also been reminded that I could be nicer to people."
- - Blood Raven is developing – or more likely, now displaying – a delightfully witty and tongue in cheek sense of humor. As wonderful as that above passage is, the one below is just as clever:
"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."
Looking straight down is something a superhero can do in flight. I used to have to roll inverted to do that. Seriously though, it helps to keep your vision out and down instead of mostly down – much easier to navigate and recognized landmarks. I do feel for Gadget though as there is not only the altitude but movement of Stromcrow’s head as she looks around.
‘Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.‘
- -Haha! She certainly came through with her night eye spell though.
I think it would be a hoot if Gadget used his technomancy to change ThunderRhino666's callsign to something like RainbowThumperBunnyOne.
Wow, a second strike. Hopefully the next place they look will yield some answers.
- - Blood Raven is developing – or more likely, now displaying – a delightfully witty and tongue in cheek sense of humor. As wonderful as that above passage is, the one below is just as clever:
"We're both rubbing off on each other," January frowned. "It must be Freaky Friday. She's kicking it with the Queer community, and I'm antagonizing the cops."
Looking straight down is something a superhero can do in flight. I used to have to roll inverted to do that. Seriously though, it helps to keep your vision out and down instead of mostly down – much easier to navigate and recognized landmarks. I do feel for Gadget though as there is not only the altitude but movement of Stromcrow’s head as she looks around.
‘Years of playing role-playing games taught January to look for secret panels. But either because her stealth skill was too low, or she lacked the bonus elves get to spot secret doors, she found nothing.‘
- -Haha! She certainly came through with her night eye spell though.
I think it would be a hoot if Gadget used his technomancy to change ThunderRhino666's callsign to something like RainbowThumperBunnyOne.
Wow, a second strike. Hopefully the next place they look will yield some answers.
Yes, I was thinking of Princess Leia reciting her message from R2D2 (I think) as soon as that holograph was mentioned.
I agree with Acadian, this line is priceless.
Wow, Jan is really soaking in the limelight this time. I thought this Oakland Mall sign was 50 feet in the air or something. But she's right above traffic.
Aw, she's upset about the social media stuff. About getting turned town by that sniper cop. Even though that's not what actually happened. Still feel bad for her, anyway.
Poor Gadget. His work is never done.
Un oh. Breaking 'n' entering... this is intense.
...and the back door is unlocked. Is this a trap?
Hmm.
QUOTE
"I shall have you know that I was considered the very spirit of liveliness and conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's School for Proper Young Girls,"
I agree with Acadian, this line is priceless.
Wow, Jan is really soaking in the limelight this time. I thought this Oakland Mall sign was 50 feet in the air or something. But she's right above traffic.
Aw, she's upset about the social media stuff. About getting turned town by that sniper cop. Even though that's not what actually happened. Still feel bad for her, anyway.
QUOTE
Good. But for now you are going to have to guide me in," she said. "Because I can barely tell what street is what from up here."
"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted
"Oh snap, the world does look a lot different from up there doesn't it?" Gadget noted
Poor Gadget. His work is never done. Un oh. Breaking 'n' entering... this is intense.
...and the back door is unlocked. Is this a trap?
Hmm.
Acadian: Blood Raven is so firmly ensconced in my mind that her line about conviviality at Mrs. Gibson's school is one that just jumped off my keyboard. The same with January's Freaky Friday comment.
I have never understood how you people can land airplanes when you cannot see the ground you are landing on! I remember trying one of those WW2 flight sims a few years ago, and tried flying a Japanese Val attacking Pearl Harbor. It was insanely difficult, since the cockpit obscured everything beneath me. Like you said, I had to roll or at least bank to see what was beneath me. I literally could not even hit an anchored battleship.
I did not want the Death Dealer to be easy to find. Hence the red herrings. But real criminals are not masterminds, as much as the media loves to pretend they are to create drama and get ratings. Eventually the Death Dealer's fate will be sealed by the unreliability of his lackeys.
Renee: Jan is becoming more and more comfortable with being around people while she is caping. Next chapter will have several major evolutions in that. It is not accidental. She has a real motive to it, as will be explained near the end of this chapter.
It always hurts to be burned. Even when it was fake.
No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away.
Some repeat pics:
The lair is somewhere around here
Another view
The Greenwood's house
Plus some new ones:
Real Meth Lab 01
Real Meth Lab 02
Book 5.16 - Crystal Death
"You have to be close," Gadget insisted. "That is definitely our guy's computer connected to the Wi-Fi. He must be stealing it from someplace close. The range is only a few hundred feet at best. Probably a lot less, since it must be going through walls."
January went back out the window and into the yard once more. She hopped up on the roof of the garage and took another look around. A line of houses stretched away to the south down either side of the suburban street. To the east were still more side streets and homes, while the empty baseball field lay to the north.
She turned around and looked west. There she saw the back of a strip mall that faced John R Road. A little wall blocked off the line of small businesses from the Greenwood's backyard. Straight ahead was what looked like an empty building. At least there were no signs up around it. But there was a black SUV parked in the very back corner of the lot.
There was nothing but the empty field of the middle school to the right of the building. To the left of it was a print shop with a single car parked behind it. Farther on there was a plumbing company with a dozen vans parked in its expansive lot, and beyond that a small used car lot.
"Maybe one of these…" January mused. She took a good look at the license plates of the cars in the back lot, so Gadget would have them on video. Then a single leap took her across the lot and onto the roof of the print shop. Her nose was immediately assaulted by a sharp odor, and she involuntarily made a face. It did not smell like hot ink on paper. Instead, it smelled more like urine, and things even less-savory.
"There's a smell here," January said. She stalked around the roof, trying to get a better sense of exactly where the odor emanated from. If only she had White Fell with her. Rumor had it that the werewolf from the Sentinels in Chicago had a sense of smell so heightened that she could track individual people from miles away. She could sniff out the source in no time at all.
But even though January was no lycanthrope, she gradually realized that the odor grew stronger the more she moved toward the empty baseball field. She stepped from the roof of the print shop to the empty building next door. There was no alley between them. They were literally so close together that there was barely an inch of space betwixt the two. She was looking at the field when Gadget asked her to stop, and look back.
She turned her gaze back to where it had been a moment before, at a patch of burned grass near the driveway that led behind the shops.
"Someone's been dumping chemicals," Gadget noted, "and that smell, those are classic signs of a drug lab."
She found an air vent leading down into the abandoned building and took a whiff. She immediately regretted it. The fumes spiked into her lungs like tiny icicles, and turned her stomach. She coughed as she turned away, and gasped for fresher air.
"This has got to be it," she wheezed.
She hopped down, and found that the windows in the back of the building were all covered over with blinds. There was a single pedestrian door, which she tried gently, and found locked. She held off using the pick on it. She was not sure if she really wanted to go in just yet. Instead she laid her ear to the door. She definitely heard something from within. Loud noises, like from a television show, or a video game.
"I think the Rhino is home," January said. "I'm not sure if I should go in there or not. If they are the bad guys, I'd rather go in with the cops. So there's no loopholes a defense attorney can use to get them off. But I don't want to bust in on more innocent people if I am wrong."
"Come back to the cave," Gadget said. "I've got some toys that can help us get the skinny on these mugs."
"Have you been watching those old Edward G Robinson movies again?"
"I plead the Fifth your honor," Gadget laughed.
Her flight back to the Gadget Cave took just a few minutes, given how close the Death Dealer's lair was. Sneaking into the back of the house was a little trickier. She made sure that her video camouflage was still on, just in case someone had a porch camera nearby. January had to dodge his mother as she went in the back door, and leap down the stairs and roll to one side to avoid being seen. She could have done her quick change and just walked in. But she had nothing to change into. She had left her street clothes behind at the Witch House.
She made another note to herself, to leave some clothes stashed in Gadget's backyard, or on the roof.
Once safely in the cave, Gadget gave her a handful of tools, which she secreted into her utility belt. He also had some more information for her, from his investigation of the plates of the cars in the lot, but nothing conclusive. He just had a list of names and home addresses. So far none had a criminal record that he could find.
January tried to sneak back upstairs and out the back door. But now his mother was firmly ensconced in the kitchen. She just had to pick this one day to actually be home. That obliged January to go back down the stairs, and sneak out of the little basement windows set down against the outside curb. She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.
Back in the sky once more, she prompted Sága to tune into Worldwide Network News to pass the time it would take for her to fly back to the suspected drug lab. Her ears were immediately assailed by Gilda Gadfly's fulsome voice.
"You saw it here first people," the reporter declared bombastically, "everyone's favorite maybe lesbian, maybe bi, superhero Stormcrow was totally shut down by a member of the Michigan State Police. Ouch! Do you feel the burn? The Crowgirl is going to need a fire engine to put out those flames!"
January shook her head. Only she could be rejected on national TV and radio, without even trying to hook up in the first place!
She turned it off and flew the rest of the way in silence. Once she had returned, she dropped down on top of the roof of the suspected super drug lair. She pulled out Gadget's new tools: a drill, a glasscutter with attached suction cup, and a fiber optic endoscope. She picked up the drill and considered the roof. Going through the ceiling was bound to make noise. But given the Rhino's gaming habit, would anyone hear it?
"You know, I'm not really made for this man-stuff," she mused. "Next you'll be wanting me to put up drywall, or retile your bathroom floor."
"Only if I want crowtiles," Gadget said.
January put down the drill, and instead thought about the glass cutter. A minute later she had tied her rappelling line around her waist, and anchored the other end to the roof via Gadget's handy molecular adhesion wave. She had not used the line since her first night as a cape, back at the hotel in Southfield. At least this way Gadget was getting his money's worth from it.
She suspended herself upside down from the roof, and hung in front of one of the small windows in the back wall. Using the cutter, she gingerly sliced a round hole through the pane of glass, and popped it out with the attached suction cup. She poked the fiber optic endoscope through the opening a moment later, and nudged the camera in the tip past the blinds. Its other end was already attached to Sága on January's wrist.
She brought up the video, and whistled softly at what she saw revealed before her. The large, cement-floored room within was dominated by numerous tables loaded with a plethora of bottles, flasks, jars, kegs, and jugs. But it was not the classic mad scientist lab from a horror movie. That would have been too neat and organized. This was a haphazard mess. There were pop bottles filled with mysterious fluids, cans and jugs of industrial cleaners, coffee makers, pvc tubes trailing into buckets, even a propane tank. It was a nightmare of chemical engineering.
"That sure looks like a meth lab to me," Gadget murmured.
Set to one side of the truly insane science mess was a plain desk with a computer that held three monitors. Sitting in front of it was a balding man with pasty skin and wearing glasses. The only hairs he possessed squatted upon his upper lip like a frightened caterpillar. He squinted at the screens, and cautiously clicked here and there. January could not see all of his monitors, but those that were visible were filled with graphs and tree-like chains of linked chemical symbols. Papers scattered both the desk and the floor all around him, and a printer loomed on a stand nearby.
To the other side of the room was a second desk. This one had a single PC and monitor. Sitting in front of it was another middle-aged man. This one sported a ponytail, and wore his glasses pushed up on his forehead. His skin was bronzed, as if from many hours in the sun. What looked like a two-day old stubble dirtied his chin, and gaudy gold jewelry graced his fingers and neck. She could not see his screen, but from the way he violently jerked his head and body this way and that, he was clearly getting much too involved in whatever he was doing.
"That has to be ThunderRhino," January noted, "666 and all."
"Ah, Ha!" Gadget crowed. "I've got a name for the bald guy. That's Joshua Bleaker, he owns the Lincoln Navigator in the lot. My guess is that he's the brains of the operation. Rhino must be his Igor."
January pulled her fiber optic camera out of the window, and climbed back up on to the roof. She put away her toys, and called up the sniper from the Emergency Response Team.
"Yeah, it's Nyah," the other woman answered.
"Hi Nyah," January reflexively said in her perky phone voice. She winced inwardly. She was supposed to be working on sounding more professional when she was in cape-mode. Clearly, she needed more work. "This is Stormcrow. How would you like to arrest the Death Dealer?"
"You should really be talking to my lieutenant instead of me," the sniper responded.
"Ok, I can just call the Madison Heights police instead," January said. "Maybe they won't mind making the arrest with me."
"Okay, okay, I'm on the way," Nyah relented. "Just slide me the deets, and I'll be there."
January texted her the address of the old folks house behind the drug lab. Given that the Death Dealer and his Rhino accomplice were stealing their Wi-Fi, it was only fair to coordinate their demise from the same place. Before she hung up, she also asked to have her boss start the work on a warrant.
I have never understood how you people can land airplanes when you cannot see the ground you are landing on! I remember trying one of those WW2 flight sims a few years ago, and tried flying a Japanese Val attacking Pearl Harbor. It was insanely difficult, since the cockpit obscured everything beneath me. Like you said, I had to roll or at least bank to see what was beneath me. I literally could not even hit an anchored battleship.
I did not want the Death Dealer to be easy to find. Hence the red herrings. But real criminals are not masterminds, as much as the media loves to pretend they are to create drama and get ratings. Eventually the Death Dealer's fate will be sealed by the unreliability of his lackeys.
Renee: Jan is becoming more and more comfortable with being around people while she is caping. Next chapter will have several major evolutions in that. It is not accidental. She has a real motive to it, as will be explained near the end of this chapter.
It always hurts to be burned. Even when it was fake.
No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away.
Some repeat pics:
The lair is somewhere around here
Another view
The Greenwood's house
Plus some new ones:
Real Meth Lab 01
Real Meth Lab 02
Book 5.16 - Crystal Death
"You have to be close," Gadget insisted. "That is definitely our guy's computer connected to the Wi-Fi. He must be stealing it from someplace close. The range is only a few hundred feet at best. Probably a lot less, since it must be going through walls."
January went back out the window and into the yard once more. She hopped up on the roof of the garage and took another look around. A line of houses stretched away to the south down either side of the suburban street. To the east were still more side streets and homes, while the empty baseball field lay to the north.
She turned around and looked west. There she saw the back of a strip mall that faced John R Road. A little wall blocked off the line of small businesses from the Greenwood's backyard. Straight ahead was what looked like an empty building. At least there were no signs up around it. But there was a black SUV parked in the very back corner of the lot.
There was nothing but the empty field of the middle school to the right of the building. To the left of it was a print shop with a single car parked behind it. Farther on there was a plumbing company with a dozen vans parked in its expansive lot, and beyond that a small used car lot.
"Maybe one of these…" January mused. She took a good look at the license plates of the cars in the back lot, so Gadget would have them on video. Then a single leap took her across the lot and onto the roof of the print shop. Her nose was immediately assaulted by a sharp odor, and she involuntarily made a face. It did not smell like hot ink on paper. Instead, it smelled more like urine, and things even less-savory.
"There's a smell here," January said. She stalked around the roof, trying to get a better sense of exactly where the odor emanated from. If only she had White Fell with her. Rumor had it that the werewolf from the Sentinels in Chicago had a sense of smell so heightened that she could track individual people from miles away. She could sniff out the source in no time at all.
But even though January was no lycanthrope, she gradually realized that the odor grew stronger the more she moved toward the empty baseball field. She stepped from the roof of the print shop to the empty building next door. There was no alley between them. They were literally so close together that there was barely an inch of space betwixt the two. She was looking at the field when Gadget asked her to stop, and look back.
She turned her gaze back to where it had been a moment before, at a patch of burned grass near the driveway that led behind the shops.
"Someone's been dumping chemicals," Gadget noted, "and that smell, those are classic signs of a drug lab."
She found an air vent leading down into the abandoned building and took a whiff. She immediately regretted it. The fumes spiked into her lungs like tiny icicles, and turned her stomach. She coughed as she turned away, and gasped for fresher air.
"This has got to be it," she wheezed.
She hopped down, and found that the windows in the back of the building were all covered over with blinds. There was a single pedestrian door, which she tried gently, and found locked. She held off using the pick on it. She was not sure if she really wanted to go in just yet. Instead she laid her ear to the door. She definitely heard something from within. Loud noises, like from a television show, or a video game.
"I think the Rhino is home," January said. "I'm not sure if I should go in there or not. If they are the bad guys, I'd rather go in with the cops. So there's no loopholes a defense attorney can use to get them off. But I don't want to bust in on more innocent people if I am wrong."
"Come back to the cave," Gadget said. "I've got some toys that can help us get the skinny on these mugs."
"Have you been watching those old Edward G Robinson movies again?"
"I plead the Fifth your honor," Gadget laughed.
Her flight back to the Gadget Cave took just a few minutes, given how close the Death Dealer's lair was. Sneaking into the back of the house was a little trickier. She made sure that her video camouflage was still on, just in case someone had a porch camera nearby. January had to dodge his mother as she went in the back door, and leap down the stairs and roll to one side to avoid being seen. She could have done her quick change and just walked in. But she had nothing to change into. She had left her street clothes behind at the Witch House.
She made another note to herself, to leave some clothes stashed in Gadget's backyard, or on the roof.
Once safely in the cave, Gadget gave her a handful of tools, which she secreted into her utility belt. He also had some more information for her, from his investigation of the plates of the cars in the lot, but nothing conclusive. He just had a list of names and home addresses. So far none had a criminal record that he could find.
January tried to sneak back upstairs and out the back door. But now his mother was firmly ensconced in the kitchen. She just had to pick this one day to actually be home. That obliged January to go back down the stairs, and sneak out of the little basement windows set down against the outside curb. She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.
Back in the sky once more, she prompted Sága to tune into Worldwide Network News to pass the time it would take for her to fly back to the suspected drug lab. Her ears were immediately assailed by Gilda Gadfly's fulsome voice.
"You saw it here first people," the reporter declared bombastically, "everyone's favorite maybe lesbian, maybe bi, superhero Stormcrow was totally shut down by a member of the Michigan State Police. Ouch! Do you feel the burn? The Crowgirl is going to need a fire engine to put out those flames!"
January shook her head. Only she could be rejected on national TV and radio, without even trying to hook up in the first place!
She turned it off and flew the rest of the way in silence. Once she had returned, she dropped down on top of the roof of the suspected super drug lair. She pulled out Gadget's new tools: a drill, a glasscutter with attached suction cup, and a fiber optic endoscope. She picked up the drill and considered the roof. Going through the ceiling was bound to make noise. But given the Rhino's gaming habit, would anyone hear it?
"You know, I'm not really made for this man-stuff," she mused. "Next you'll be wanting me to put up drywall, or retile your bathroom floor."
"Only if I want crowtiles," Gadget said.
January put down the drill, and instead thought about the glass cutter. A minute later she had tied her rappelling line around her waist, and anchored the other end to the roof via Gadget's handy molecular adhesion wave. She had not used the line since her first night as a cape, back at the hotel in Southfield. At least this way Gadget was getting his money's worth from it.
She suspended herself upside down from the roof, and hung in front of one of the small windows in the back wall. Using the cutter, she gingerly sliced a round hole through the pane of glass, and popped it out with the attached suction cup. She poked the fiber optic endoscope through the opening a moment later, and nudged the camera in the tip past the blinds. Its other end was already attached to Sága on January's wrist.
She brought up the video, and whistled softly at what she saw revealed before her. The large, cement-floored room within was dominated by numerous tables loaded with a plethora of bottles, flasks, jars, kegs, and jugs. But it was not the classic mad scientist lab from a horror movie. That would have been too neat and organized. This was a haphazard mess. There were pop bottles filled with mysterious fluids, cans and jugs of industrial cleaners, coffee makers, pvc tubes trailing into buckets, even a propane tank. It was a nightmare of chemical engineering.
"That sure looks like a meth lab to me," Gadget murmured.
Set to one side of the truly insane science mess was a plain desk with a computer that held three monitors. Sitting in front of it was a balding man with pasty skin and wearing glasses. The only hairs he possessed squatted upon his upper lip like a frightened caterpillar. He squinted at the screens, and cautiously clicked here and there. January could not see all of his monitors, but those that were visible were filled with graphs and tree-like chains of linked chemical symbols. Papers scattered both the desk and the floor all around him, and a printer loomed on a stand nearby.
To the other side of the room was a second desk. This one had a single PC and monitor. Sitting in front of it was another middle-aged man. This one sported a ponytail, and wore his glasses pushed up on his forehead. His skin was bronzed, as if from many hours in the sun. What looked like a two-day old stubble dirtied his chin, and gaudy gold jewelry graced his fingers and neck. She could not see his screen, but from the way he violently jerked his head and body this way and that, he was clearly getting much too involved in whatever he was doing.
"That has to be ThunderRhino," January noted, "666 and all."
"Ah, Ha!" Gadget crowed. "I've got a name for the bald guy. That's Joshua Bleaker, he owns the Lincoln Navigator in the lot. My guess is that he's the brains of the operation. Rhino must be his Igor."
January pulled her fiber optic camera out of the window, and climbed back up on to the roof. She put away her toys, and called up the sniper from the Emergency Response Team.
"Yeah, it's Nyah," the other woman answered.
"Hi Nyah," January reflexively said in her perky phone voice. She winced inwardly. She was supposed to be working on sounding more professional when she was in cape-mode. Clearly, she needed more work. "This is Stormcrow. How would you like to arrest the Death Dealer?"
"You should really be talking to my lieutenant instead of me," the sniper responded.
"Ok, I can just call the Madison Heights police instead," January said. "Maybe they won't mind making the arrest with me."
"Okay, okay, I'm on the way," Nyah relented. "Just slide me the deets, and I'll be there."
January texted her the address of the old folks house behind the drug lab. Given that the Death Dealer and his Rhino accomplice were stealing their Wi-Fi, it was only fair to coordinate their demise from the same place. Before she hung up, she also asked to have her boss start the work on a warrant.
Forgive me for not knowing or recalling but may I assume the Sentinel is another cape who has a werewolf named White Fell?
A utility belt to secret new and hopefully enchanted gizmos into! Sounds almost as handy as having a mage pouch at one’s waist.
’She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.’
Being small is often a disadvantage but does sometimes have its perks. . . .
Gilda Gadfly – grrrr!
Some excellent, even Mission Impossible quality work there as Stormcrow and Gadget locate the smelly lair of the Death Dealer.
Oh this will be interesting to see how the take down goes!
A utility belt to secret new and hopefully enchanted gizmos into! Sounds almost as handy as having a mage pouch at one’s waist.
’She thanked her girlish figure for the ability to squeeze through.’
Being small is often a disadvantage but does sometimes have its perks. . . .
Gilda Gadfly – grrrr!
Some excellent, even Mission Impossible quality work there as Stormcrow and Gadget locate the smelly lair of the Death Dealer.
Oh this will be interesting to see how the take down goes!
QUOTE
It always hurts to be burned. Even when it was fake.
No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away
No, no trap, so you can tell Admiral Ackbar to go away
Absolutely it hurts to be burned.
Who is Admiral Ackbar? I just google'd and that name is from Star Wars? Last SW movie I watched was Empire Strikes Back, and that was in the '80s. Maybe Ackbar was in this movie, but if so, I don't remember. I know what you're saying, though. No trap.
By the way, I get sort of worked up (excited) as I read these stories, and my comments can be over-the-top sometimes. It's like I'm watching some show or movie, and even my daughter tells me "Shut up!" sometimes. So I'll try to tone it down.
Bleagh. She smells cat urine. That's some old-school biker meth! I have heard modern meth (Walter White / Breaking Bad stuff) does not smell like this any more. Has something to do with the chemicals they use to distill the drug, or purify it, or whatever.
Man, these crystal death folks aren't being too discreet, are they?
Yes, I agree with not going in there by herself. Heck, they could have cameras. Maybe they already know she's out there. Then again, they don't seem to be that smart, if they're literally just dumping chemicals in their back yard. Sounds like a fly-by-night operation, and they're just in it for the quick cash. She's using her perky phone voice again!
Looks like crystal death might soon die a quick death in Michigan. Is meth a big thing in MI? It is not in Maryland, at least I never hear bout it. Very popular on the west coast, though.
Acadian: The Sentinels are a superhero team based in Chicago. White Fell is one of their members. I went back and reworded that passage so it was less confusing.
January would love a purse of holding! She could keep her armor in it all the time. But she has other ways of getting what she needs.
While Gilda has been generally positive in her reporting, there is no way that a gossip columnist like her would miss out on covering so public of a failed romantic liaison.
The take down will take a few episodes, but it will not be the end of our story.
Renee: Admiral Ackbar was introduced in Return of the Jedi. He is famous in Star Wars fandom for a certain line of his in the movie, concerning traps.
Feel free to get worked up! I think that is great. It is like when I am watching a Horror movie and I yell at the TV because they are doing something stupid, like going in the basement, or splitting up, or leaving the gun on the windowsill.
The cat pee smell is from ammonia, which as far as I know is still an integral component to making meth.
It is definitely a fly by night operation. It is what happens when you don't have a company or wealthy investors backing you. But it is not for the quick cash. They are only releasing small amounts at a time, so they can observe the effects. They are making meta-humans. If they succeed, it would be world-changing.
January just cannot escape her perky phone voice. It is part of her nature.
Heroin seems to be the #1 illegal drug in Michigan. I guess the classics never do go out of style. Meth comes in second, and it seems to mainly in the rural areas, especially Up North. So far as I know, it is not in the inner city at all, or only just barely.
William Duquesne (RL Bill Duke)
Book 5.17 - Crystal Death
A red Buick Lacrosse came down the suburban street a half hour later. It rolled slowly along, paused at the end of the road, then turned and came to a full stop in front of the old people's house. January watched it the entire time from the branches of a tree high overhead. Once she was sure that it was the sniper driving the car, she dropped down to the ground and walked over.
She wanted to say something incredibly clever and witty when she stepped up to the car. Instead she could only blurt out a simple "Hi," when the woman opened the side door and motioned her to get inside. Now that she was not in her body armor and helmet, Nyah was not hard to look at. Not hard at all.
Her straightened hair was combed over to one side, with a line of thin braids crossing the other side of her head. Her face was heart shaped, her eyes soft amber, and her lips as inviting as rose petals. She wore a fitted top and skinny jeans that left little to the imagination, and right at that moment, January found that she could imagine quite a bit.
Another goddess, January mused as she tried to act professional. How many could there be!
She tried not to stare, and instead plunged into the full story of how she and Gadget had tracked down the Death Dealer to the lair behind the Greenwood's house. She even twisted her arm around and brought up Sága, to show her the video she had recorded of the chemical lab.
"You know, I want to help you," the sniper explained. "But I take the shots, I don't call them. Lieutenant Hunter is the one you really need to talk to."
"I tried that," January frowned, "and all I got were homophobic slurs for my trouble."
"Look, we aren't all like that," Nyah insisted. "Some of us, well, we appreciate a cape out there who is willing to talk to us, at least some times."
"I'm sorry about how things happened back at Mills house." January resisted biting her lip at the admission. "I let your boss get under my skin. I should be better than that. Goddess knows I should be used to it by now. I'm trying to play nice. The less I deal with him, the less likely I am to punch him in the face."
"So it's true then, you're a lesbian?" Nyah asked. Then she held up a hand. "You know what, that is no one's business. I did not say that."
"I am," January said anyway "and I'm transgender too."
The sniper's eyes goggled at the last. She made no pretense about staring down at January's crotch, then up to her chest, and finally set her gaze back to her eyes.
"Damn," she swore quietly as she glanced back down again, "what do you, like crank that thing back? I mean that outfit shows everything you got, and I mean everything. I never would have guessed you've got that!"
"I wear a gaff." January tried not to blush, and was glad for the mask that covered her features. When it was clear that the other woman did not know what that was, she went on. "It's a kind of underwear. It helps with tucking up."
"That sounds…. uncomfortable," Nyah said, "don't that hurt?"
January glanced down at the other woman's shoes, which were firmly ensconced atop five inch heels. "I could ask the same about those."
"Touché," Nyah laughed. "No one ever said being a girl was for the faint of heart."
"No kidding," January mused. "I never would have figured out the whole makeup thing without MeTube videos. I remember when I tried to dye my hair. Ugh."
"What happened, chemical burns on your scalp?" Nyah looked at the long blond ponytail that fell from the back of January's winged helmet. "Hair relaxer can be like napalm sometimes."
"No," January said. She had never even considered what using relaxer would do to African hair, aside from making it straight of course. Maybe being a goddess was not as easy as it looked. "It came out bright fuchsia! It did not help my popularity in high school…"
The other woman was still laughing when the rest of her team pulled up in their giant armored vehicle. They both got out of the car, and after the SWAT troopers filed out, Nyah went inside the armored monstrosity to change into her body armor. January made an effort to be nice as the rest of the troops milled around outside. She did not say a word to Lieutenant Hunter, and he returned the favor by doing no more than glare in her direction.
A Tesla pulled up a few minutes later. A tired-looking man in a blue suit got out. His head was shaved completely bare, and he wore a pair of large round glasses. His skin was a deep shade of umber, and January imagined he might be anywhere from 60 to 60,000 years old from the lines that creased his face and hands. His only forms of adornment were a class ring on one finger, and a US flag pin attached to his lapel. January noted that the state troopers all stood straighter the moment he arrived, and made an effort to look busy, even though there was nothing for them to do yet.
"This looks like some sort of boss man," Gadget voice rang out in her ear. "I'll bet bitcoin to bananas he's a lawyer."
"Good evening Ms. Stormcrow," the new arrival said as he stretched out a hand to January. She took it, and discovered that he had a handshake that was a lot firmer than his somewhat slack-looking frame would have suggested. She wondered if he might have been an athlete when he was younger.
"My name is William Duquesne, Special Assistant to the Attorney General of Michigan," he said. "Perhaps we could speak in private?"
Gadget whistled in her ear. January fought the urge to tense up. This could either be very good, or very bad. There was only one way to find out.
She followed him back to his car, and once again sat in a passenger's seat. Nyah's Lacrosse had been nice. She was surprised to find that the Tesla was much less grand inside. The interior was spacious, but had a very minimalist approach to everything. It was sleek, simple, and unobtrusive, except for the massive display screen in the center of the dashboard. That was practically a television set.
"I am hoping we can get off to a better start than I did with your lieutenant in Sterling Heights," January started. Once again, she repeated the apology she had made to Nyah. "I am sorry that things went badly there. I lost my temper. That shouldn't have happened. I should be better than that. It is not how I want my relationship with the police, or the state government, to be."
"First we too, would like to apologize for any comments Lieutenant Hunter may have made that might have been insensitive. They do not reflect the values of the State of Michigan, nor our legal community." The smooth tone that Duquesne used suggested that he had made such apologies before. Or at least that he was so professional a speaker that he could say anything and make it sound calm and sincere. January briefly wanted to hear him recite the lyrics to a K-Pop song…
"I should note as well that he is not my lieutenant," Duquesne said. "The Office of the Michigan Attorney General has no direct control over the actions of the state or local police. However, the Director of the Michigan State Police has spoken to Mr. Hunter about his behavior. Rest assured, it will not happen again."
January thought about that. The Special Assistant AG seemed genuine. She had to admit that a person in authority taking her seriously was certainly a new and pleasant sensation. Not to mention one treating her with a measure of respect and decency.
But then again, he was a lawyer. That immediately put her guard up. Still, she wondered if his title would shorten to SAAG. That was certainly an unfortunate acronym. One she reminded herself to never consider again.
"Ok, now that we've both established that we're really nice people, what can I do for you counselor?" January said plainly.
"Well that is the question," he replied. "The attorney general, and the governor, have been keenly interested in you ever since the encounter you had with Lighthammer in Southfield, and then with the diamond smuggler in Flint the next day. Estimates say you saved the lives of fifty people at the Flying Dutchman fire, and perhaps many more from that… giant spider… last week in Ferndale. Most impressive."
January could not help but to smile, and sit up a little straighter at the praise. She was not used to hearing that from an authority figure.
"But when they see you cavorting about the skies above the Packard Plant with Lighthammer, well that makes my superiors wonder. Your very close relationship with Blood Raven does not reassure them either."
January was not smiling any more. She chose her words carefully when she responded. Once again, she fell back to what she had learned about expressing herself in the years of therapy that had followed her attempted suicide.
"Lighthammer is not my enemy," January began. "That is not saying that he is my friend, or my partner. But the fact is we do have a relationship, one that benefits us both. He can help me, and I am willing to accept that help because I think in the long run, it is beneficial to everyone."
"I know you people don't like Blood Raven very much," January went on. "I know you have your reasons, and I am not saying they are all invalid. She likewise has her reasons for how she feels too. But the fact is, I have a lot to learn from her, and she is my friend, and that will never change."
"If that makes it impossible for you to work with me, then I accept that," January declared. "But I hope not. All of us picking sides and remaining entrenched in adversarial positions is not going to help anyone. I think that reaching out to people will. We need to forge alliances, and all work together, even with people we might not personally like. Because it isn't about making an arrest, or being first, or taking the credit. It is about helping people, about saving lives, and preventing tragedies. That is all I care about. That is my mission statement."
"This whole mess with Crystal Death never should have went this far," January insisted. "If you and Blood Raven had been working together, he would have been stopped weeks ago."
"Just how is it that you learned of this case," Duquesne probed. "There has been little about it in the news."
"Superpowers remember," January tapped a finger to her temple. "It isn't all about punching people, or shooting lightning bolts."
"So it doesn't have anything to do with Trooper Emilia Mercado?" he questioned. "She's not the one who tipped you off about this?"
January's heart almost stopped at the mention of Emilia's name. If Duquesne knew the truth, Emilia could go to prison. She could not let that happen.
"I wish she had," January said. She called upon Earth, to not only figuratively, but literally, set her face in stone. She was not going to give away any tells that she was obfuscating the truth. "This would have been over a lot sooner. We could have saved people's lives from this drug. This is what I mean, about reaching out. If I had someone like you, or like Mercado, that I could stay in close contact with, we could stop these threats before they spin out of control."
"But you and Mercado are friends?" Duquesne pressed.
"Ever since Flint, I found that we work well together," January said with complete honesty. "We have the same goals. We want to do what is right, and protect people. That's why I reached out to her for help on the Flying Dutchman case. I trust her, a whole lot more than I do Lieutenant Hunter over there. Like I said, if she and I had been working on this case together, it would have been over with a long time ago."
"That may well be so," Duquesne admitted. "The attorney general has begun to feel that way. So do I. I believe you could be a great help to our state. You have been already."
"So does that mean you are offering me full legal empowerment?" January practically held her breath waiting for his response. It was everything that she had hoped for since she had first put on her cape.
"No," Duquesne said, "not yet at least. That can only come from the AG, and she will not do it without the governor's support. For now, we would like to keep our relationship… unofficial."
"So you aren't going to give me a badge," January said, "but you are willing to let me go through that door first, and be the first one to get shot."
"That sums it up," the old man smiled.
"How can a girl say no to that?"
January would love a purse of holding! She could keep her armor in it all the time. But she has other ways of getting what she needs.
While Gilda has been generally positive in her reporting, there is no way that a gossip columnist like her would miss out on covering so public of a failed romantic liaison.
The take down will take a few episodes, but it will not be the end of our story.
Renee: Admiral Ackbar was introduced in Return of the Jedi. He is famous in Star Wars fandom for a certain line of his in the movie, concerning traps.
Feel free to get worked up! I think that is great. It is like when I am watching a Horror movie and I yell at the TV because they are doing something stupid, like going in the basement, or splitting up, or leaving the gun on the windowsill.
The cat pee smell is from ammonia, which as far as I know is still an integral component to making meth.
It is definitely a fly by night operation. It is what happens when you don't have a company or wealthy investors backing you. But it is not for the quick cash. They are only releasing small amounts at a time, so they can observe the effects. They are making meta-humans. If they succeed, it would be world-changing.
January just cannot escape her perky phone voice. It is part of her nature.
Heroin seems to be the #1 illegal drug in Michigan. I guess the classics never do go out of style. Meth comes in second, and it seems to mainly in the rural areas, especially Up North. So far as I know, it is not in the inner city at all, or only just barely.
William Duquesne (RL Bill Duke)
Book 5.17 - Crystal Death
A red Buick Lacrosse came down the suburban street a half hour later. It rolled slowly along, paused at the end of the road, then turned and came to a full stop in front of the old people's house. January watched it the entire time from the branches of a tree high overhead. Once she was sure that it was the sniper driving the car, she dropped down to the ground and walked over.
She wanted to say something incredibly clever and witty when she stepped up to the car. Instead she could only blurt out a simple "Hi," when the woman opened the side door and motioned her to get inside. Now that she was not in her body armor and helmet, Nyah was not hard to look at. Not hard at all.
Her straightened hair was combed over to one side, with a line of thin braids crossing the other side of her head. Her face was heart shaped, her eyes soft amber, and her lips as inviting as rose petals. She wore a fitted top and skinny jeans that left little to the imagination, and right at that moment, January found that she could imagine quite a bit.
Another goddess, January mused as she tried to act professional. How many could there be!
She tried not to stare, and instead plunged into the full story of how she and Gadget had tracked down the Death Dealer to the lair behind the Greenwood's house. She even twisted her arm around and brought up Sága, to show her the video she had recorded of the chemical lab.
"You know, I want to help you," the sniper explained. "But I take the shots, I don't call them. Lieutenant Hunter is the one you really need to talk to."
"I tried that," January frowned, "and all I got were homophobic slurs for my trouble."
"Look, we aren't all like that," Nyah insisted. "Some of us, well, we appreciate a cape out there who is willing to talk to us, at least some times."
"I'm sorry about how things happened back at Mills house." January resisted biting her lip at the admission. "I let your boss get under my skin. I should be better than that. Goddess knows I should be used to it by now. I'm trying to play nice. The less I deal with him, the less likely I am to punch him in the face."
"So it's true then, you're a lesbian?" Nyah asked. Then she held up a hand. "You know what, that is no one's business. I did not say that."
"I am," January said anyway "and I'm transgender too."
The sniper's eyes goggled at the last. She made no pretense about staring down at January's crotch, then up to her chest, and finally set her gaze back to her eyes.
"Damn," she swore quietly as she glanced back down again, "what do you, like crank that thing back? I mean that outfit shows everything you got, and I mean everything. I never would have guessed you've got that!"
"I wear a gaff." January tried not to blush, and was glad for the mask that covered her features. When it was clear that the other woman did not know what that was, she went on. "It's a kind of underwear. It helps with tucking up."
"That sounds…. uncomfortable," Nyah said, "don't that hurt?"
January glanced down at the other woman's shoes, which were firmly ensconced atop five inch heels. "I could ask the same about those."
"Touché," Nyah laughed. "No one ever said being a girl was for the faint of heart."
"No kidding," January mused. "I never would have figured out the whole makeup thing without MeTube videos. I remember when I tried to dye my hair. Ugh."
"What happened, chemical burns on your scalp?" Nyah looked at the long blond ponytail that fell from the back of January's winged helmet. "Hair relaxer can be like napalm sometimes."
"No," January said. She had never even considered what using relaxer would do to African hair, aside from making it straight of course. Maybe being a goddess was not as easy as it looked. "It came out bright fuchsia! It did not help my popularity in high school…"
The other woman was still laughing when the rest of her team pulled up in their giant armored vehicle. They both got out of the car, and after the SWAT troopers filed out, Nyah went inside the armored monstrosity to change into her body armor. January made an effort to be nice as the rest of the troops milled around outside. She did not say a word to Lieutenant Hunter, and he returned the favor by doing no more than glare in her direction.
A Tesla pulled up a few minutes later. A tired-looking man in a blue suit got out. His head was shaved completely bare, and he wore a pair of large round glasses. His skin was a deep shade of umber, and January imagined he might be anywhere from 60 to 60,000 years old from the lines that creased his face and hands. His only forms of adornment were a class ring on one finger, and a US flag pin attached to his lapel. January noted that the state troopers all stood straighter the moment he arrived, and made an effort to look busy, even though there was nothing for them to do yet.
"This looks like some sort of boss man," Gadget voice rang out in her ear. "I'll bet bitcoin to bananas he's a lawyer."
"Good evening Ms. Stormcrow," the new arrival said as he stretched out a hand to January. She took it, and discovered that he had a handshake that was a lot firmer than his somewhat slack-looking frame would have suggested. She wondered if he might have been an athlete when he was younger.
"My name is William Duquesne, Special Assistant to the Attorney General of Michigan," he said. "Perhaps we could speak in private?"
Gadget whistled in her ear. January fought the urge to tense up. This could either be very good, or very bad. There was only one way to find out.
She followed him back to his car, and once again sat in a passenger's seat. Nyah's Lacrosse had been nice. She was surprised to find that the Tesla was much less grand inside. The interior was spacious, but had a very minimalist approach to everything. It was sleek, simple, and unobtrusive, except for the massive display screen in the center of the dashboard. That was practically a television set.
"I am hoping we can get off to a better start than I did with your lieutenant in Sterling Heights," January started. Once again, she repeated the apology she had made to Nyah. "I am sorry that things went badly there. I lost my temper. That shouldn't have happened. I should be better than that. It is not how I want my relationship with the police, or the state government, to be."
"First we too, would like to apologize for any comments Lieutenant Hunter may have made that might have been insensitive. They do not reflect the values of the State of Michigan, nor our legal community." The smooth tone that Duquesne used suggested that he had made such apologies before. Or at least that he was so professional a speaker that he could say anything and make it sound calm and sincere. January briefly wanted to hear him recite the lyrics to a K-Pop song…
"I should note as well that he is not my lieutenant," Duquesne said. "The Office of the Michigan Attorney General has no direct control over the actions of the state or local police. However, the Director of the Michigan State Police has spoken to Mr. Hunter about his behavior. Rest assured, it will not happen again."
January thought about that. The Special Assistant AG seemed genuine. She had to admit that a person in authority taking her seriously was certainly a new and pleasant sensation. Not to mention one treating her with a measure of respect and decency.
But then again, he was a lawyer. That immediately put her guard up. Still, she wondered if his title would shorten to SAAG. That was certainly an unfortunate acronym. One she reminded herself to never consider again.
"Ok, now that we've both established that we're really nice people, what can I do for you counselor?" January said plainly.
"Well that is the question," he replied. "The attorney general, and the governor, have been keenly interested in you ever since the encounter you had with Lighthammer in Southfield, and then with the diamond smuggler in Flint the next day. Estimates say you saved the lives of fifty people at the Flying Dutchman fire, and perhaps many more from that… giant spider… last week in Ferndale. Most impressive."
January could not help but to smile, and sit up a little straighter at the praise. She was not used to hearing that from an authority figure.
"But when they see you cavorting about the skies above the Packard Plant with Lighthammer, well that makes my superiors wonder. Your very close relationship with Blood Raven does not reassure them either."
January was not smiling any more. She chose her words carefully when she responded. Once again, she fell back to what she had learned about expressing herself in the years of therapy that had followed her attempted suicide.
"Lighthammer is not my enemy," January began. "That is not saying that he is my friend, or my partner. But the fact is we do have a relationship, one that benefits us both. He can help me, and I am willing to accept that help because I think in the long run, it is beneficial to everyone."
"I know you people don't like Blood Raven very much," January went on. "I know you have your reasons, and I am not saying they are all invalid. She likewise has her reasons for how she feels too. But the fact is, I have a lot to learn from her, and she is my friend, and that will never change."
"If that makes it impossible for you to work with me, then I accept that," January declared. "But I hope not. All of us picking sides and remaining entrenched in adversarial positions is not going to help anyone. I think that reaching out to people will. We need to forge alliances, and all work together, even with people we might not personally like. Because it isn't about making an arrest, or being first, or taking the credit. It is about helping people, about saving lives, and preventing tragedies. That is all I care about. That is my mission statement."
"This whole mess with Crystal Death never should have went this far," January insisted. "If you and Blood Raven had been working together, he would have been stopped weeks ago."
"Just how is it that you learned of this case," Duquesne probed. "There has been little about it in the news."
"Superpowers remember," January tapped a finger to her temple. "It isn't all about punching people, or shooting lightning bolts."
"So it doesn't have anything to do with Trooper Emilia Mercado?" he questioned. "She's not the one who tipped you off about this?"
January's heart almost stopped at the mention of Emilia's name. If Duquesne knew the truth, Emilia could go to prison. She could not let that happen.
"I wish she had," January said. She called upon Earth, to not only figuratively, but literally, set her face in stone. She was not going to give away any tells that she was obfuscating the truth. "This would have been over a lot sooner. We could have saved people's lives from this drug. This is what I mean, about reaching out. If I had someone like you, or like Mercado, that I could stay in close contact with, we could stop these threats before they spin out of control."
"But you and Mercado are friends?" Duquesne pressed.
"Ever since Flint, I found that we work well together," January said with complete honesty. "We have the same goals. We want to do what is right, and protect people. That's why I reached out to her for help on the Flying Dutchman case. I trust her, a whole lot more than I do Lieutenant Hunter over there. Like I said, if she and I had been working on this case together, it would have been over with a long time ago."
"That may well be so," Duquesne admitted. "The attorney general has begun to feel that way. So do I. I believe you could be a great help to our state. You have been already."
"So does that mean you are offering me full legal empowerment?" January practically held her breath waiting for his response. It was everything that she had hoped for since she had first put on her cape.
"No," Duquesne said, "not yet at least. That can only come from the AG, and she will not do it without the governor's support. For now, we would like to keep our relationship… unofficial."
"So you aren't going to give me a badge," January said, "but you are willing to let me go through that door first, and be the first one to get shot."
"That sums it up," the old man smiled.
"How can a girl say no to that?"
Learning how to put make up on watching MeTube videos!
So what’d you and Nyah talk about? Oh, you know, the usual girl things. . . hair, shoes. . . crotches.
Duquesne is interesting. I like how you put some time into developing him. He comes across as smooth, experienced and with a welcome sense of dry humor. Whether he plays a bigger role in the story is not so important but he was fun to read in this scene.
I had to laugh at January's answer to Duquesne’s question about how she knew about the Crystal Death situation. ‘Superpowers, remember.’ The answer in another time/place would be ‘Magicka, silly.’
It looks like Jan’s efforts to reach out to the police are paying off. She’s getting a small collection of folks she can deal with now and is building some mutual trust.
So what’d you and Nyah talk about? Oh, you know, the usual girl things. . . hair, shoes. . . crotches.
Duquesne is interesting. I like how you put some time into developing him. He comes across as smooth, experienced and with a welcome sense of dry humor. Whether he plays a bigger role in the story is not so important but he was fun to read in this scene.
I had to laugh at January's answer to Duquesne’s question about how she knew about the Crystal Death situation. ‘Superpowers, remember.’ The answer in another time/place would be ‘Magicka, silly.’
It looks like Jan’s efforts to reach out to the police are paying off. She’s getting a small collection of folks she can deal with now and is building some mutual trust.
Forgot to put up a pic of William Duquesne (Bill Duke from his role in Black Lightning)
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Sep 6 2020, 08:37 PM)
Forgot to put up a pic of William Duquesne (Bill Duke from his role in Black Lightning)
To the better that way I figure. I read the story and formed my own impression based only upon Jan's description. Very neat to see that the pic looks just like I imagined him!
Phew, that's a relief. Sometimes I worry about being annoying, or something.
Ah, I see. Interesting.
Yes, heroin is also popular in Baltimore, and its surrounding counties. Yuck. I have a couple acquaintances who struggle with smack. Cocaine and crack are probably #2. I am not including pot of course, that's halfway to being legal. I think the virus stuff has slowed the legal process down, there. Otherwise, marijuana would be easily #1.
I like that... she wants to say something witty or outstanding, but can only manage "Hi."
Whoa, the sniper's in skinny jeans. *gulp* I hear her voice as Midwest accent. Not Moira Brown-ish, but maybe halfway there, and not as piercing as Moira's. I'm kinda hoping Jan will get hot under the collar at some point.
Off-topic here, but yesterday Linda Hand met a woman in Camp McCarran who is clearly lesbian. She said something about she 'wants to get in her pants' or something. Her name is ... damn. Can't remember. The moment surprised me (in a good way). No wonder people sometimes say New Vegas has some more complex undercurrents than FO3, these undercurrents aren't just with quests and consequences!
I like Jan's 'mission statement' that is very well thought and worded.
Hmm. Duquesne is making me suspicious.
QUOTE
But it is not for the quick cash. They are only releasing small amounts at a time, so they can observe the effects. They are making metahumans. If they succeed, it would be world-changing.
Ah, I see. Interesting.
Yes, heroin is also popular in Baltimore, and its surrounding counties. Yuck. I have a couple acquaintances who struggle with smack. Cocaine and crack are probably #2. I am not including pot of course, that's halfway to being legal. I think the virus stuff has slowed the legal process down, there. Otherwise, marijuana would be easily #1.
I like that... she wants to say something witty or outstanding, but can only manage "Hi."
Whoa, the sniper's in skinny jeans. *gulp* I hear her voice as Midwest accent. Not Moira Brown-ish, but maybe halfway there, and not as piercing as Moira's. I'm kinda hoping Jan will get hot under the collar at some point.
Off-topic here, but yesterday Linda Hand met a woman in Camp McCarran who is clearly lesbian. She said something about she 'wants to get in her pants' or something. Her name is ... damn. Can't remember. The moment surprised me (in a good way). No wonder people sometimes say New Vegas has some more complex undercurrents than FO3, these undercurrents aren't just with quests and consequences!
QUOTE
January briefly wanted to hear him recite the lyrics to a K-Pop song…
I like Jan's 'mission statement' that is very well thought and worded.
Hmm. Duquesne is making me suspicious.
Acadian: January is a Generation Z'er. She has never known life without the internet. So it is always her go-to for learning new things, like makeup and hair and clothes.
Duquesne is strongly inspired by Bill Duke from Black Lightning. More and more when I have a supporting character, I am picking a real person and using them as a base. Both for how the character looks, and often their voice, and how they behave. Duquesne's appearance, his smooth nature, his confidence and self-assurance, all come from his role in Black Lightning. However, he is not also an evil so-and-so in the Crowverse, as he is in Black Lightning.
It took her five chapters, but January is finally making some serious inroads into seriously connecting with the authorities. By chapter 7 she will be personally meeting the state attorney general. Though it won't all be smooth, or necessarily work out in the end. Jan has some serious issues with authority after all.
Renee: Pot is legal here in Michigan. Though only just recently. One of my neighbors smokes right out on the porch.
Jan can be at her most adorable when she is failing to act as cool and composed as she would like. It is one of the things I really enjoy writing about her. Her nature always shines through.
Jan will eventually get hot under the hagfish. But that will not be until about chapter 8, when she meets Hannah (who I wrote about in the Writing Process topic).
Just as Buffy has her Doctrine, Jan has her Mission Statement. It has been a long time coming, and steadily evolving all of this time. Ironically, it will also be her largest stumbling block in creating a lasting relationship with the police. Because she really does not care about arresting people or putting them in prison.
Duquesne is a lawyer, he should make you suspicious!
Book 5.18 - Crystal Death
The cluster of state police and now an ambulance began to attract attention from the neighbors. At January's suggestion they knocked on the door of the Greenwood's, who graciously let them use their home as a headquarters, or at least as a place to cool their heels while they waited for their warrant.
The Greenwoods were unimpressed with January, which was actually something of a relief for the superheroine. For once she did not have any preconceived notions to live up to. Mr. Greenwood even made a remark about Halloween coming early. That brought several chuckles from the Emergency Response Team, and one from January herself. If only they knew that her superhero career had begun cosplay…
The state troopers pulled their armored assault vehicle through the driveway of the Greenwood's house, and into their backyard, in order to be off the street. Their detached garage blocked it from view of the Death Dealer's lair, on the opposite side of the yard. An ambulance pulled up behind it. January hoped the EMTs within would not be needed.
Time dragged by on leaden feet. If no one else had been there, January would have opened up Sága and gone to work on her Artemis Argent story. But she did not want to look like she was taking events lightly. So instead she did her best to meditate, and practice her flow of energy. It turned out that may not have been much better at impressing people with her professional attitude.
Before she knew it, she has slipped into Tadasana, or the Mountain Pose. It was her usual starting position for Yoga. It was a simple standing position with her hands down, palms open and facing forward. She rocked back and forth, then side to side, until she felt limber and loose. Then she moved through more challenging positions, such as the Eight Angle Pose, and of course the Crow Pose, which now felt like something of a signature position.
Finally January opened her eyes feeling calm and refreshed. Everyone was staring at her.
"What, no one does Yoga?" she challenged police and retirees alike.
That brought some chuckles and much shaking of heads. Mr. Greenwood mumbled something about heroes in his day not needing namby-pamby stretches. On the other hand, Mrs. Greenwood brought out coffee, milk, and home-baked cookies for all. January had to admit, the latter two were quite enjoyable. Mrs. Greenwood asked about Yoga, and January spent the next fifteen minutes talking with her about it. She explained how it helped her stay limber and clear her mind, how easy the beginner poses were, and where to find classes. They even did a few of the most basic poses together.
Duquesne's phone rang, and everyone stopped to stare at him. He nodded a few times, said some noncommittal words, and hung up. Then he looked to January and the Emergency Response Team.
"We have the warrant," he declared. "Take them."
With that they all flew out of the house like bees. The state troopers split up. Half of them went around the front of the Greenwood's house, through the adjoining field, and approached the drug lab from the street. The other half went through the backyard of the Greenwoods, and began to scale the wall to the back of the strip mall.
The sniper Nyah slung her massive Hecate II rifle and climbed atop the roof of their MRAP. January saw her contemplating the leap between it and the roof of the detached garage next to the vehicle. It seemed a risky maneuver, given the weight of her body armor and the unwieldiness of the incredibly long gun. Before the other woman could move, January was on top of the armored truck beside her. She put an arm around Nyah's waist, and in another instant both of them were on top of the garage.
January had a nearly overwhelming urge to pull a Princess Leia and lean in to kiss the other woman for luck, nearly. But she contained herself, and instead squatted down behind the crown of the roof, as if she did that kind of thing every day. Which, well, she kind of did now.
"Next time, warn me before you do that," Nyah shook her head.
"Next time?" January said without thinking, "People are going to think we are dating if there's a next time."
"You should be so lucky sister."
'Sister', that sounded good to January. Better than she could ever expect in fact. It was not like she would ever ask the sniper out for real. That would be too complicated, in far too many ways. Still, it was nice to think that the other woman might actually like her. Just like her, and nothing more. That was a victory all on its own.
Nyah unlsung her rifle and went prone on the rooftop. She got set up with the Hecate II, pulling out the legs of its bipod, bracing it on the roof, loading a magazine, and chambering a round with the bolt action. She stared down the telescopic sight, and studied the abandoned business across the empty back parking lot. January glanced over her shoulder, and could see a colorful display of shapes through the thermographic sight.
"So what made you pick me to talk to?" Nyah asked while they waited. "Is it because I'm the only female member of my team?"
"No," January answered honestly. "It's because you're a sniper."
When it was clear that the other woman still did not understand what she meant, January went on.
"I have a friend who plays World of Guncraft." January's thoughts turned to Ryo. "While everyone else runs around like mad, shooting everything that moves, he finds a spot and just chills. He sits there and waits, and watches, and thinks, and measures. He waits until he finally has that one perfect moment. Then he takes one shot, and gets a kill from it. Every shot he takes is a kill. He doesn't miss, he doesn't misjudge, because he takes his time and thinks everything through patiently and dispassionately."
"I was hoping that those same qualities would carry over into real world snipers," January finished, "and that you would also be someone who doesn't prejudge, or let their emotions get the better of them."
Nyah nodded, but before she could say anything, Lieutenant Hunter came on the radio.
"Ready to move in," he said. "Stormcrow, you are up."
January leaped from the roof of the garage, executed a forward roll in mid air, and landed on both feet before the back door of the lab. She fished the lockpick from her utility belt and jabbed it into the lock. It hummed as it did its work. In moments the pins within slid out of the way, allowing the cylinder of the lock to swing open.
"Movement inside," Nyah said calmly. "Could be a suspect is reaching for a gun. Permission to engage?"
"Negative," Hunter's voice came over the link. "Let's see what our new ally can really do."
Then January was through the door. Nyah had been right, one of them had gone for a gun. The dark-haired man with the ponytail - doubtlessly ThunderRhino - pointed a revolver at her. It roared in the enclosed space. She was vaguely aware of the bullet disintegrating on her new cubic boron nitride breastplate. She was on top of him with a single bound, and crushed the weapon under her fingers.
She could hear the state troopers breaking down the front door at the opposite end of the building, and rushing into another room beyond the lab. At the same time more troopers streamed in behind January, and fanned out across the back wall. They leveled their rifles at the other man in the room.
It was the man Gadget had identified as Joshua Bleaker, the pasty one with the mustache and glasses. He lifted a syringe in his hand. January stared at the glowing red liquid that filled it with trepidation. Whatever that was, it could not be good.
"Put the syringe down!" Lieutenant Hunter exclaimed.
Naturally Bleaker did the opposite. He raised the syringe, and plunged the needle into his neck. January involuntarily flinched at the sight. Then she abandoned Rhino, and leapt onto Bleaker. But she was too slow, and his thumb shoved the plunger of the device all the way to its base before she could stop him.
That glowing red liquid vanished into his body. January was able to pull the empty syringe from his neck and toss it aside before he went into convulsions. The next thing she knew, he collapsed into her arms, white froth welling from his mouth. She eased him to the floor as gently as she could, while more of the state troopers rushed forward to help her.
January remembered what Emilia had said, when she had first explained the danger of Crystal Death: "Half the people who have taken it are dead, the lucky ones who survive end up in a persistent vegetative state. Some of them never even get the meta abilities. They just go straight into a coma."
"Put your hand in his mouth," Gadget's voice was calm in her ear, "so he doesn't bite his tongue off."
January did as she was told, and shoved her armored palm between his teeth. As always, Gadget was right. Bleaker bit down hard, but human teeth were no match for her hagfish armor. January was relieved that he would pose no greater danger. Apparently he had lost the roll of the dice with his own super drug. Instead of enjoying only temporary superpowers, he had gone straight to the consolation prize of overdosing.
Lieutenant Hunter called for the EMTs, while January knelt there and watched the man spasm uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his veins stood out like purple cords all across his exposed flesh. It looked like he was dying, in a most spectacular fashion. She tried to conjure up sympathy for him. But when she considered how many people his drug had killed in this same fashion, it just felt like karma.
Author's Note - This is not the end of the chapter. We are only about 2/3rds of the way through. Chekov's Gunmen are still out there...
Duquesne is strongly inspired by Bill Duke from Black Lightning. More and more when I have a supporting character, I am picking a real person and using them as a base. Both for how the character looks, and often their voice, and how they behave. Duquesne's appearance, his smooth nature, his confidence and self-assurance, all come from his role in Black Lightning. However, he is not also an evil so-and-so in the Crowverse, as he is in Black Lightning.
It took her five chapters, but January is finally making some serious inroads into seriously connecting with the authorities. By chapter 7 she will be personally meeting the state attorney general. Though it won't all be smooth, or necessarily work out in the end. Jan has some serious issues with authority after all.
Renee: Pot is legal here in Michigan. Though only just recently. One of my neighbors smokes right out on the porch.
Jan can be at her most adorable when she is failing to act as cool and composed as she would like. It is one of the things I really enjoy writing about her. Her nature always shines through.
Jan will eventually get hot under the hagfish. But that will not be until about chapter 8, when she meets Hannah (who I wrote about in the Writing Process topic).
Just as Buffy has her Doctrine, Jan has her Mission Statement. It has been a long time coming, and steadily evolving all of this time. Ironically, it will also be her largest stumbling block in creating a lasting relationship with the police. Because she really does not care about arresting people or putting them in prison.
Duquesne is a lawyer, he should make you suspicious!
Book 5.18 - Crystal Death
The cluster of state police and now an ambulance began to attract attention from the neighbors. At January's suggestion they knocked on the door of the Greenwood's, who graciously let them use their home as a headquarters, or at least as a place to cool their heels while they waited for their warrant.
The Greenwoods were unimpressed with January, which was actually something of a relief for the superheroine. For once she did not have any preconceived notions to live up to. Mr. Greenwood even made a remark about Halloween coming early. That brought several chuckles from the Emergency Response Team, and one from January herself. If only they knew that her superhero career had begun cosplay…
The state troopers pulled their armored assault vehicle through the driveway of the Greenwood's house, and into their backyard, in order to be off the street. Their detached garage blocked it from view of the Death Dealer's lair, on the opposite side of the yard. An ambulance pulled up behind it. January hoped the EMTs within would not be needed.
Time dragged by on leaden feet. If no one else had been there, January would have opened up Sága and gone to work on her Artemis Argent story. But she did not want to look like she was taking events lightly. So instead she did her best to meditate, and practice her flow of energy. It turned out that may not have been much better at impressing people with her professional attitude.
Before she knew it, she has slipped into Tadasana, or the Mountain Pose. It was her usual starting position for Yoga. It was a simple standing position with her hands down, palms open and facing forward. She rocked back and forth, then side to side, until she felt limber and loose. Then she moved through more challenging positions, such as the Eight Angle Pose, and of course the Crow Pose, which now felt like something of a signature position.
Finally January opened her eyes feeling calm and refreshed. Everyone was staring at her.
"What, no one does Yoga?" she challenged police and retirees alike.
That brought some chuckles and much shaking of heads. Mr. Greenwood mumbled something about heroes in his day not needing namby-pamby stretches. On the other hand, Mrs. Greenwood brought out coffee, milk, and home-baked cookies for all. January had to admit, the latter two were quite enjoyable. Mrs. Greenwood asked about Yoga, and January spent the next fifteen minutes talking with her about it. She explained how it helped her stay limber and clear her mind, how easy the beginner poses were, and where to find classes. They even did a few of the most basic poses together.
Duquesne's phone rang, and everyone stopped to stare at him. He nodded a few times, said some noncommittal words, and hung up. Then he looked to January and the Emergency Response Team.
"We have the warrant," he declared. "Take them."
With that they all flew out of the house like bees. The state troopers split up. Half of them went around the front of the Greenwood's house, through the adjoining field, and approached the drug lab from the street. The other half went through the backyard of the Greenwoods, and began to scale the wall to the back of the strip mall.
The sniper Nyah slung her massive Hecate II rifle and climbed atop the roof of their MRAP. January saw her contemplating the leap between it and the roof of the detached garage next to the vehicle. It seemed a risky maneuver, given the weight of her body armor and the unwieldiness of the incredibly long gun. Before the other woman could move, January was on top of the armored truck beside her. She put an arm around Nyah's waist, and in another instant both of them were on top of the garage.
January had a nearly overwhelming urge to pull a Princess Leia and lean in to kiss the other woman for luck, nearly. But she contained herself, and instead squatted down behind the crown of the roof, as if she did that kind of thing every day. Which, well, she kind of did now.
"Next time, warn me before you do that," Nyah shook her head.
"Next time?" January said without thinking, "People are going to think we are dating if there's a next time."
"You should be so lucky sister."
'Sister', that sounded good to January. Better than she could ever expect in fact. It was not like she would ever ask the sniper out for real. That would be too complicated, in far too many ways. Still, it was nice to think that the other woman might actually like her. Just like her, and nothing more. That was a victory all on its own.
Nyah unlsung her rifle and went prone on the rooftop. She got set up with the Hecate II, pulling out the legs of its bipod, bracing it on the roof, loading a magazine, and chambering a round with the bolt action. She stared down the telescopic sight, and studied the abandoned business across the empty back parking lot. January glanced over her shoulder, and could see a colorful display of shapes through the thermographic sight.
"So what made you pick me to talk to?" Nyah asked while they waited. "Is it because I'm the only female member of my team?"
"No," January answered honestly. "It's because you're a sniper."
When it was clear that the other woman still did not understand what she meant, January went on.
"I have a friend who plays World of Guncraft." January's thoughts turned to Ryo. "While everyone else runs around like mad, shooting everything that moves, he finds a spot and just chills. He sits there and waits, and watches, and thinks, and measures. He waits until he finally has that one perfect moment. Then he takes one shot, and gets a kill from it. Every shot he takes is a kill. He doesn't miss, he doesn't misjudge, because he takes his time and thinks everything through patiently and dispassionately."
"I was hoping that those same qualities would carry over into real world snipers," January finished, "and that you would also be someone who doesn't prejudge, or let their emotions get the better of them."
Nyah nodded, but before she could say anything, Lieutenant Hunter came on the radio.
"Ready to move in," he said. "Stormcrow, you are up."
January leaped from the roof of the garage, executed a forward roll in mid air, and landed on both feet before the back door of the lab. She fished the lockpick from her utility belt and jabbed it into the lock. It hummed as it did its work. In moments the pins within slid out of the way, allowing the cylinder of the lock to swing open.
"Movement inside," Nyah said calmly. "Could be a suspect is reaching for a gun. Permission to engage?"
"Negative," Hunter's voice came over the link. "Let's see what our new ally can really do."
Then January was through the door. Nyah had been right, one of them had gone for a gun. The dark-haired man with the ponytail - doubtlessly ThunderRhino - pointed a revolver at her. It roared in the enclosed space. She was vaguely aware of the bullet disintegrating on her new cubic boron nitride breastplate. She was on top of him with a single bound, and crushed the weapon under her fingers.
She could hear the state troopers breaking down the front door at the opposite end of the building, and rushing into another room beyond the lab. At the same time more troopers streamed in behind January, and fanned out across the back wall. They leveled their rifles at the other man in the room.
It was the man Gadget had identified as Joshua Bleaker, the pasty one with the mustache and glasses. He lifted a syringe in his hand. January stared at the glowing red liquid that filled it with trepidation. Whatever that was, it could not be good.
"Put the syringe down!" Lieutenant Hunter exclaimed.
Naturally Bleaker did the opposite. He raised the syringe, and plunged the needle into his neck. January involuntarily flinched at the sight. Then she abandoned Rhino, and leapt onto Bleaker. But she was too slow, and his thumb shoved the plunger of the device all the way to its base before she could stop him.
That glowing red liquid vanished into his body. January was able to pull the empty syringe from his neck and toss it aside before he went into convulsions. The next thing she knew, he collapsed into her arms, white froth welling from his mouth. She eased him to the floor as gently as she could, while more of the state troopers rushed forward to help her.
January remembered what Emilia had said, when she had first explained the danger of Crystal Death: "Half the people who have taken it are dead, the lucky ones who survive end up in a persistent vegetative state. Some of them never even get the meta abilities. They just go straight into a coma."
"Put your hand in his mouth," Gadget's voice was calm in her ear, "so he doesn't bite his tongue off."
January did as she was told, and shoved her armored palm between his teeth. As always, Gadget was right. Bleaker bit down hard, but human teeth were no match for her hagfish armor. January was relieved that he would pose no greater danger. Apparently he had lost the roll of the dice with his own super drug. Instead of enjoying only temporary superpowers, he had gone straight to the consolation prize of overdosing.
Lieutenant Hunter called for the EMTs, while January knelt there and watched the man spasm uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his veins stood out like purple cords all across his exposed flesh. It looked like he was dying, in a most spectacular fashion. She tried to conjure up sympathy for him. But when she considered how many people his drug had killed in this same fashion, it just felt like karma.
Author's Note - This is not the end of the chapter. We are only about 2/3rds of the way through. Chekov's Gunmen are still out there...
You are absolutely right that Jan is at her most adorable when trying be cool and having to settle (in her mind) for awkward instead. That said, I think her yoga was pretty cool – eccentric, mysterious and exotic. Perfect.
I’m also glad to see her getting along with Nyah. Having the sniper call her ‘Sister’ is an encouraging step. Whether anything pans out or not with Nyah, it looks like having somewhat of a reasonable ally is well underway.
A nice takedown, and the Stormcrow is well equipped to take down the door and intercept any initial resistance.
I shared Jan’s trepidation at Bleaker with that syringe. My concern was that she would quickly find herself in a fight with a drug-fueled temporary Super who could pose a serious threat to her and the SWAT team. It certainly appears he is simply going to convulse and die but I’m not ruling out my earlier concern. . . yet. I’m going to guess that is going to die without posing a threat, but also unable to provide info on tracking the source deeper toward the evil behind it. As you imply in your note, looks like it ain't over yet. . . .
I’m also glad to see her getting along with Nyah. Having the sniper call her ‘Sister’ is an encouraging step. Whether anything pans out or not with Nyah, it looks like having somewhat of a reasonable ally is well underway.
A nice takedown, and the Stormcrow is well equipped to take down the door and intercept any initial resistance.
I shared Jan’s trepidation at Bleaker with that syringe. My concern was that she would quickly find herself in a fight with a drug-fueled temporary Super who could pose a serious threat to her and the SWAT team. It certainly appears he is simply going to convulse and die but I’m not ruling out my earlier concern. . . yet. I’m going to guess that is going to die without posing a threat, but also unable to provide info on tracking the source deeper toward the evil behind it. As you imply in your note, looks like it ain't over yet. . . .
Smoking on the front porch sounds nice. Even if it gets legal here I would feel weird about that, but it does sound nice.
The Greenwoods have no idea who they are talking to, which is oddly a relief. Yes, I would think the constant stares and adulation would get distracting after awhile, though for Jan she also relishes this at times, right? Good for her well-being, I'd think. Of course, in Blood Raven's eyes, she doesn't want or need this so much.
And Lighthammer starts to deflate if he doesn't get it!
That is a question I had, but forgot earlier. When you game with the different Januaries in Fallout 3, Skyrim, etc., are you able to simulate her ability to draw from various elements like Earth, Water, and so on?
"What, nobody does yoga?"
I know how she feels. Going for a kiss at that moment is something we dream about.
Nice. Hunter says "you're up, Stormcrow." Letting her do the hard part I guess, but still...
Bam in they go. Guess ThunderRhino did not allot any funds toward the purchase of an exterior camera system after all.
Now wait a minute though. That does strike me as odd they would want SC to take on the most dangerous part. Me and my suspicious mind, now I'm wondering if it's because the uppers (Hunter and the lawyer) want to use her, which makes the rest of their team not as liable to injury. Of course, maybe January (nor you) sees it this way. I mean, it's great she's going to get some glory, and all.
Hmm.
Yeah, me too.
Oh man, I thought he injected some Crystal Death. That's what he should have done. At least he'd be able to Hulk out as he met his demise.
The Greenwoods have no idea who they are talking to, which is oddly a relief. Yes, I would think the constant stares and adulation would get distracting after awhile, though for Jan she also relishes this at times, right? Good for her well-being, I'd think. Of course, in Blood Raven's eyes, she doesn't want or need this so much.
And Lighthammer starts to deflate if he doesn't get it! That is a question I had, but forgot earlier. When you game with the different Januaries in Fallout 3, Skyrim, etc., are you able to simulate her ability to draw from various elements like Earth, Water, and so on?
"What, nobody does yoga?"
I know how she feels. Going for a kiss at that moment is something we dream about.
Nice. Hunter says "you're up, Stormcrow." Letting her do the hard part I guess, but still...
Bam in they go.
Guess ThunderRhino did not allot any funds toward the purchase of an exterior camera system after all. Now wait a minute though. That does strike me as odd they would want SC to take on the most dangerous part. Me and my suspicious mind, now I'm wondering if it's because the uppers (Hunter and the lawyer) want to use her, which makes the rest of their team not as liable to injury. Of course, maybe January (nor you) sees it this way. I mean, it's great she's going to get some glory, and all.
Hmm.
QUOTE
He raised the syringe, and plunged the needle into his neck. January involuntarily flinched at the sight
Yeah, me too.
Oh man, I thought he injected some Crystal Death. That's what he should have done. At least he'd be able to Hulk out as he met his demise.
Since there was a little confusion, I went back and tweaked the last few paragraphs to make it clear that yes, that was Crystal Death that Bleaker injected himself with. Also that people dying immediately upon taking it is not uncommon.
I have given a lot of thought since posting it, on whether it is too anti-climatic. I think the common route here would have been to have a big, knock-down, drag out boss battle. Instead I went this route for several reasons. Firstly was to show the different sides of Crystal Death. We were first introduced to the drug in the prologue with Chad, whose experience was standard. He takes it, gets powers, gets hella angry and a god-complex, then crashes and burns.
But as Emilia said at the beginning, some people take it and immediately die or fall into a brain-dead coma. I wanted a character to go that route as well, to show it to the readers.
But now I wonder if I ought to go back and add a fight here instead? A good story has a steady pace of action and exposition. I have been looking for other ways to provide conflict and action in this chapter, beyond simple fist-fights. Like January's misgivings about posting her own story on Crow Tales, or the showdown with the police, or the appearance of the Nazis downtown. I would like to think that we could go without an explosion every ten minutes (like in a James Cameron movie). But sometimes a big fight is just what the doctor ordered.
In the very least, fear not, because this chapter will end on the biggest super battle I have yet written.
I have given a lot of thought since posting it, on whether it is too anti-climatic. I think the common route here would have been to have a big, knock-down, drag out boss battle. Instead I went this route for several reasons. Firstly was to show the different sides of Crystal Death. We were first introduced to the drug in the prologue with Chad, whose experience was standard. He takes it, gets powers, gets hella angry and a god-complex, then crashes and burns.
But as Emilia said at the beginning, some people take it and immediately die or fall into a brain-dead coma. I wanted a character to go that route as well, to show it to the readers.
But now I wonder if I ought to go back and add a fight here instead? A good story has a steady pace of action and exposition. I have been looking for other ways to provide conflict and action in this chapter, beyond simple fist-fights. Like January's misgivings about posting her own story on Crow Tales, or the showdown with the police, or the appearance of the Nazis downtown. I would like to think that we could go without an explosion every ten minutes (like in a James Cameron movie). But sometimes a big fight is just what the doctor ordered.
In the very least, fear not, because this chapter will end on the biggest super battle I have yet written.
The clarification you added was perfect.
Given what you just said, I'd leave things as they are now. I do thank you for the clarification we could indeed consider Bleaker dead. I wasn't looking for a fight here (lol), just didn't want to rule it out in case it was part of your plans.
Given what you just said, I'd leave things as they are now. I do thank you for the clarification we could indeed consider Bleaker dead. I wasn't looking for a fight here (lol), just didn't want to rule it out in case it was part of your plans.
Acadian: January is making inroads, and becoming a lot more at ease with the superhero life. She has come a long way mentally since her first encounters with Lighthammer and the Blood Diamond Trader. Even with all of her awkwardness, she is really growing into her role.
Renee: When I play January in computer games I do my best to work with what the games offer. A lot of them have classes, which can really restrict what she can do. Though sometimes I can use the console to add in lightning spells and the like even when she is a monk or a paladin. I also mod the game to add lightning effects to her weapons whenever I can. I do that in all the Bethesda games. I also eliminate falling damage in them, and when I can mod the jumping so she can make super leaps. Morrowind has the Levitate spell, which was perfect since January can fly.
January does like the fame, to a certain extent. But she has already found it invasive. There will be more on that later this chapter in fact. Blood Raven of course, has no use for it at all. She'd much rather lurk in the shadows of a gothic steeple than be live streamed.
Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.
The situation of an African-American reverend taking over a Nazi Group is real
Book 5.19 - Crystal Death
January remained for enough of the aftermath to confirm that the ponytailed gunman was indeed ThunderRhino666. His real name turned out to be Lonnie Maguire. His history came up very quickly in the police computer, thanks to his long record of drug arrests. He was also the brother-in-law of Joshua Bleaker - the Death Dealer himself - who had been recently fired from a chemical company for the vaguely disturbing reason of conducting 'unethical experiments'.
More warrants were in the works to search both their homes. But Mr. Duquesne assured January that she would not be needed for either. That was something that ordinary troopers - like Emilia Mercado - could handle, rather than her and the Emergency Response Team.
"It appears that after he was fired, our Death Dealer - Mr. Bleaker - decided to go into business for himself." Mr. Duquesne flipped through a stack of print outs that were covered in chemical symbols, and stained with coffee rings. "I will admit, I have no idea what any of this means. But the dates of these batches do match up with the incidents we have on file. He must have been experimenting, tweaking the formula each time."
"And his brother-in-law Lonnie was his man on the street, handing it out to the unwitting test subjects," January frowned.
"All that is left now is to get into his PC." Duquesne walked to Bleaker's desktop computer, and its array of three monitors. A young man in a state police uniform sat there with a frown etched across his features.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to take this back to the lab." The technician turned to the Special Assistant AG. "I can't make any headway against this encryption."
January said nothing. In truth, she was relieved. The last thing the world needed was more Crystal Death. She hoped that its secrets would die with its creator, assuming that the massive overdose he had given himself proved fatal.
The only thing that stopped her from ripping open the sky and calling down lightning on the entire lab was the fact that it would not go over well with the state police. She really did want to get off on a better foot with them. She also did not want to destroy the building and start a fire that would certainly spread to the neighboring print shop.
"That was good work." Duquesne turned back to January as the technician began disconnecting the computer's peripherals and packing it all up. "It was quick, and with no collateral damage."
"I just got lucky," January admitted. "I did not find them because I was smart. I only did because 'ThunderRhino' screwed up."
"Criminals rarely show discipline or good judgment," Duquesne noted. "That tends to be why they are criminals in the first place."
"I take it this means the Mills family's electronics will be returned to them?" January said pointedly.
"As we speak," Duquesne nodded, "along with an apology to the family. That is something that could have gone better. It would do no one any good if say, video of the incident were to leak to the internet."
"It won't come from me," January looked down at her feet. She did not much like the idea. But she had to admit, she was not exactly proud of her role in events either. She knew that it would certainly not endear her toward law enforcement officials. "But I cannot speak for Wayne or his parents."
"I believe the young Mr. Mills will cooperate with us in this matter," Duquesne said smoothly, "as well as his parents. The young squire has desires to become an attorney. I may be able to lend him some guidance in that endeavor."
* * *
"So where do you stand with your mission?" Blood Raven's voice intoned in January's ear, while her face filled Sága's screen.
January was perched on the roof of a black and white office building, across the street from the General Motors Technical Center. The sprawl of office and engineering buildings stretched for an entire square mile. But today only a handful of cars dotted the many parking lots and roads within. It was a Saturday, so only the most die-hard or unlucky of company men were working.
Between her and the massive automotive campus stretched out Van Dyke, a great seven lane thoroughfare that ran from north to south through Metro Detroit's East Side. Thanks to it being a weekend, the traffic below was likewise spotty, rather than its usual weekday roar. Instead it was only a muted hum in the background of their conversation.
"It's all wrapped up," January tried not to preen. She really did. "The Death Dealer is in a coma. The last I heard he was being taken to the Detroit Medical Center. The state police have his lackey, and they're sweating him for a confession."
"We were fortuitous that he did not seek a corporation or wealthy individual for a sponsor," Blood Raven considered, "elsewise he should not have been so easily apprehended."
"Yeah, I'm sure the Department of Defense would have thrown millions at the guy, just to get what had already produced." January noted. "But I guess he did not want to share. After all, if he had succeeded in making a stable drug that makes meta-humans, well, he'd be our next Emperor, wouldn't he? Why give that kind of power away to someone else?"
"Indeed," Blood Raven nodded over their link. "As I said before, ever since Tunguska there have been others who have sought this same grail. Any nation, or organization, or cult, who controlled such a thing, would literally control the world. At least until their own creations spun out of their control. Thankfully, no one has ever drawn even this near to success."
"What about Bleaker's lab notes," a gruff, yet soft voice came to January's ears. "Sorry, this is Cray. I work with Blood Raven."
"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?
"There were some hard copies, but nothing really definitive in them," January continued. "The real formula is locked up in his PC. It's got some serious encryption on it. Not even Gadget could crack it. I doubt the state cops ever will."
"It is a shame you were not able to destroy it," Blood Raven sighed. "This knowledge is too dangerous to leave in existence. But I realize the opportunity was not there."
"I dunno, couldn't something like this be used for good someday?" Gadget chimed in. "I mean, if it could be fixed, so it didn't drive people crazy, and kill them. I mean, someone without meta abilities might say that we are just hogging it all to ourselves, like some sort of superpowered elites. Oh, this is Gadget by the way."
"Everyone has that power already," Blood Raven insisted. "All they have to do is believe in themselves, and commit to an ideal. That is what January did. She is not special. Nor am I. The problem with drugs like Crystal Death is that they require no effort on the part of the recipient. They need no disciple, no sacrifice to attain. Because of that those who take it do not respect the power they were given, or take responsibility for the danger they even unwittingly pose to others. Even those born meta-human typically have to invest time and effort learning to master their abilities. That commitment engenders a healthy respect for those powers, at least most of the time."
"I guess you do have a point," Gadget grudgingly admitted. "It took me years to make my first invention actually work."
January smiled in spite of herself. She remembered that. It had been a drone that he had made from three hair-dryers, a toaster, and a skate board. He had indeed spent years fighting to make it work. But in the end his perseverance had won the day. At least until it crashed into a neighbor's swimming pool...
"Well maybe we can still get at the PC?" Gadget forged ahead. "All we need is for someone to walk in and put an electromagnet next to the hard drive."
"That is an excellent idea," Blood Raven agreed. "Yet I fear that task shall not be so easily accomplished. The state police evidence lockup is a highly secure location. It shall take time, a proper reconnaissance, and planning. Most of all it cannot look like we were responsible."
"So, before breakfast tomorrow then?" Gadget laughed. January grinned at the joke, and she even saw Blood Raven crack a smile over the video link.
"I admire your pluck young man!" Cray joined in. "But I am afraid that is a job for another day. Thankfully that encryption should keep them deadlocked until we can find a solution."
"You mean until we can recruit Danny Ocean," January murmured. For an instant her mind jumped to Ryo. He could practically disappear when he wanted to. It was too bad he wasn't a meta-human. He would be their perfect ninja for something like this.
"I believe Frank Sinatra is a trifle long in the tooth for that," Blood Raven actually made a pop culture reference. Albeit one that January did not understand.
"I think she meant Clooney," Cray explained.
"Who?" Blood Raven asked. Then she waved a hand in dismissal. "In any case, good work you two. That relieves us of one threat. Now we may concentrate all of our efforts upon the Conjurer once again."
"I'll be there Downtown tomorrow morning," January insisted, "I took the day off work. So I can be there all day."
"As long as we can avoid any Imperial entanglements," Gadget mused.
"Well that is the real trick, isn't it," Cray instantly responded. January thought it was adorable how they nerded off one another. "I have unearthed some arcana on today's Nazis: the National Socialist League. They have chapters across the country. They have their own social media platform, a podcast, even a record label. But they've been in freefall lately. It seems they're a little too Nazi to be popular. They even took the swastika off their logo a few years ago, and replaced it with that Norse rune, to be a little less overt."
"But they still can't compete with the other Alt-Right groups that pretend to be more mainstream, like the Proud Boys or Patriot Prayer. They show too much of what they really believe, and that scares off the run-of-the-mill racists before they can radicalize them even further. A few months ago their leader - Mikael Scheuer - lost power of attorney over the group to an African-American reverend. The reverend now officially owns all NSL property - their website, their social media, their podcast - everything legally owned by the organization, rather than by the individual people in it."
"What?" January was not the only one to betray shock.
"Way to go Rev!" Gadget was the first to exult.
"Yeah, he sounds like a pretty cool dude," January added.
Even Blood Raven looked impressed.
"I won't even pretend to understand how all of this works," Cray went on, "but it looks like instead of just disbanding the group, the reverend is trying to gradually tone them down. To reverse radicalize them. But they are still around, and Scheuer still has control on the ground, even if not legal power over the organization's assets."
"If he dissolved the group, they would all just move to other organizations, or even restart with the same name," Blood Raven observed. "These fascist gangs fracture, dissolve, poach each other's members, and start anew at a rate only a speedster can keep up with."
"So what were they doing here?" January asked.
"It looks like Scheuer is originally from Detroit," Cray said. "But I am guessing this was some last stab at regaining power in his own organization. Maybe he wants to show his own people that he's still in control? Or maybe he wants to use the publicity to convince other Nazi groups that he is? Or maybe he hopes to use the money he gathers from donations to take legal control back? In any case, he's hemorrhaging members to other groups, like the Church Militia and the Shieldwall Network. If this keeps up, there won't be an NSL for much longer."
"I smell desperation," Blood Raven observed. "Now I see why there were only fifteen demonstrators yesterday, from a group that stretches nationwide. The NSL is a dying beast. We must take care. This will make them reckless, dangerous. They may return to Motor City Pride tomorrow. If so, they will probably go to even greater lengths to provoke violence. Blood in the streets is the only thing that can save them now."
Renee: When I play January in computer games I do my best to work with what the games offer. A lot of them have classes, which can really restrict what she can do. Though sometimes I can use the console to add in lightning spells and the like even when she is a monk or a paladin. I also mod the game to add lightning effects to her weapons whenever I can. I do that in all the Bethesda games. I also eliminate falling damage in them, and when I can mod the jumping so she can make super leaps. Morrowind has the Levitate spell, which was perfect since January can fly.
January does like the fame, to a certain extent. But she has already found it invasive. There will be more on that later this chapter in fact. Blood Raven of course, has no use for it at all. She'd much rather lurk in the shadows of a gothic steeple than be live streamed.
Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.
The situation of an African-American reverend taking over a Nazi Group is real
Book 5.19 - Crystal Death
January remained for enough of the aftermath to confirm that the ponytailed gunman was indeed ThunderRhino666. His real name turned out to be Lonnie Maguire. His history came up very quickly in the police computer, thanks to his long record of drug arrests. He was also the brother-in-law of Joshua Bleaker - the Death Dealer himself - who had been recently fired from a chemical company for the vaguely disturbing reason of conducting 'unethical experiments'.
More warrants were in the works to search both their homes. But Mr. Duquesne assured January that she would not be needed for either. That was something that ordinary troopers - like Emilia Mercado - could handle, rather than her and the Emergency Response Team.
"It appears that after he was fired, our Death Dealer - Mr. Bleaker - decided to go into business for himself." Mr. Duquesne flipped through a stack of print outs that were covered in chemical symbols, and stained with coffee rings. "I will admit, I have no idea what any of this means. But the dates of these batches do match up with the incidents we have on file. He must have been experimenting, tweaking the formula each time."
"And his brother-in-law Lonnie was his man on the street, handing it out to the unwitting test subjects," January frowned.
"All that is left now is to get into his PC." Duquesne walked to Bleaker's desktop computer, and its array of three monitors. A young man in a state police uniform sat there with a frown etched across his features.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to take this back to the lab." The technician turned to the Special Assistant AG. "I can't make any headway against this encryption."
January said nothing. In truth, she was relieved. The last thing the world needed was more Crystal Death. She hoped that its secrets would die with its creator, assuming that the massive overdose he had given himself proved fatal.
The only thing that stopped her from ripping open the sky and calling down lightning on the entire lab was the fact that it would not go over well with the state police. She really did want to get off on a better foot with them. She also did not want to destroy the building and start a fire that would certainly spread to the neighboring print shop.
"That was good work." Duquesne turned back to January as the technician began disconnecting the computer's peripherals and packing it all up. "It was quick, and with no collateral damage."
"I just got lucky," January admitted. "I did not find them because I was smart. I only did because 'ThunderRhino' screwed up."
"Criminals rarely show discipline or good judgment," Duquesne noted. "That tends to be why they are criminals in the first place."
"I take it this means the Mills family's electronics will be returned to them?" January said pointedly.
"As we speak," Duquesne nodded, "along with an apology to the family. That is something that could have gone better. It would do no one any good if say, video of the incident were to leak to the internet."
"It won't come from me," January looked down at her feet. She did not much like the idea. But she had to admit, she was not exactly proud of her role in events either. She knew that it would certainly not endear her toward law enforcement officials. "But I cannot speak for Wayne or his parents."
"I believe the young Mr. Mills will cooperate with us in this matter," Duquesne said smoothly, "as well as his parents. The young squire has desires to become an attorney. I may be able to lend him some guidance in that endeavor."
* * *
"So where do you stand with your mission?" Blood Raven's voice intoned in January's ear, while her face filled Sága's screen.
January was perched on the roof of a black and white office building, across the street from the General Motors Technical Center. The sprawl of office and engineering buildings stretched for an entire square mile. But today only a handful of cars dotted the many parking lots and roads within. It was a Saturday, so only the most die-hard or unlucky of company men were working.
Between her and the massive automotive campus stretched out Van Dyke, a great seven lane thoroughfare that ran from north to south through Metro Detroit's East Side. Thanks to it being a weekend, the traffic below was likewise spotty, rather than its usual weekday roar. Instead it was only a muted hum in the background of their conversation.
"It's all wrapped up," January tried not to preen. She really did. "The Death Dealer is in a coma. The last I heard he was being taken to the Detroit Medical Center. The state police have his lackey, and they're sweating him for a confession."
"We were fortuitous that he did not seek a corporation or wealthy individual for a sponsor," Blood Raven considered, "elsewise he should not have been so easily apprehended."
"Yeah, I'm sure the Department of Defense would have thrown millions at the guy, just to get what had already produced." January noted. "But I guess he did not want to share. After all, if he had succeeded in making a stable drug that makes meta-humans, well, he'd be our next Emperor, wouldn't he? Why give that kind of power away to someone else?"
"Indeed," Blood Raven nodded over their link. "As I said before, ever since Tunguska there have been others who have sought this same grail. Any nation, or organization, or cult, who controlled such a thing, would literally control the world. At least until their own creations spun out of their control. Thankfully, no one has ever drawn even this near to success."
"What about Bleaker's lab notes," a gruff, yet soft voice came to January's ears. "Sorry, this is Cray. I work with Blood Raven."
"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?
"There were some hard copies, but nothing really definitive in them," January continued. "The real formula is locked up in his PC. It's got some serious encryption on it. Not even Gadget could crack it. I doubt the state cops ever will."
"It is a shame you were not able to destroy it," Blood Raven sighed. "This knowledge is too dangerous to leave in existence. But I realize the opportunity was not there."
"I dunno, couldn't something like this be used for good someday?" Gadget chimed in. "I mean, if it could be fixed, so it didn't drive people crazy, and kill them. I mean, someone without meta abilities might say that we are just hogging it all to ourselves, like some sort of superpowered elites. Oh, this is Gadget by the way."
"Everyone has that power already," Blood Raven insisted. "All they have to do is believe in themselves, and commit to an ideal. That is what January did. She is not special. Nor am I. The problem with drugs like Crystal Death is that they require no effort on the part of the recipient. They need no disciple, no sacrifice to attain. Because of that those who take it do not respect the power they were given, or take responsibility for the danger they even unwittingly pose to others. Even those born meta-human typically have to invest time and effort learning to master their abilities. That commitment engenders a healthy respect for those powers, at least most of the time."
"I guess you do have a point," Gadget grudgingly admitted. "It took me years to make my first invention actually work."
January smiled in spite of herself. She remembered that. It had been a drone that he had made from three hair-dryers, a toaster, and a skate board. He had indeed spent years fighting to make it work. But in the end his perseverance had won the day. At least until it crashed into a neighbor's swimming pool...
"Well maybe we can still get at the PC?" Gadget forged ahead. "All we need is for someone to walk in and put an electromagnet next to the hard drive."
"That is an excellent idea," Blood Raven agreed. "Yet I fear that task shall not be so easily accomplished. The state police evidence lockup is a highly secure location. It shall take time, a proper reconnaissance, and planning. Most of all it cannot look like we were responsible."
"So, before breakfast tomorrow then?" Gadget laughed. January grinned at the joke, and she even saw Blood Raven crack a smile over the video link.
"I admire your pluck young man!" Cray joined in. "But I am afraid that is a job for another day. Thankfully that encryption should keep them deadlocked until we can find a solution."
"You mean until we can recruit Danny Ocean," January murmured. For an instant her mind jumped to Ryo. He could practically disappear when he wanted to. It was too bad he wasn't a meta-human. He would be their perfect ninja for something like this.
"I believe Frank Sinatra is a trifle long in the tooth for that," Blood Raven actually made a pop culture reference. Albeit one that January did not understand.
"I think she meant Clooney," Cray explained.
"Who?" Blood Raven asked. Then she waved a hand in dismissal. "In any case, good work you two. That relieves us of one threat. Now we may concentrate all of our efforts upon the Conjurer once again."
"I'll be there Downtown tomorrow morning," January insisted, "I took the day off work. So I can be there all day."
"As long as we can avoid any Imperial entanglements," Gadget mused.
"Well that is the real trick, isn't it," Cray instantly responded. January thought it was adorable how they nerded off one another. "I have unearthed some arcana on today's Nazis: the National Socialist League. They have chapters across the country. They have their own social media platform, a podcast, even a record label. But they've been in freefall lately. It seems they're a little too Nazi to be popular. They even took the swastika off their logo a few years ago, and replaced it with that Norse rune, to be a little less overt."
"But they still can't compete with the other Alt-Right groups that pretend to be more mainstream, like the Proud Boys or Patriot Prayer. They show too much of what they really believe, and that scares off the run-of-the-mill racists before they can radicalize them even further. A few months ago their leader - Mikael Scheuer - lost power of attorney over the group to an African-American reverend. The reverend now officially owns all NSL property - their website, their social media, their podcast - everything legally owned by the organization, rather than by the individual people in it."
"What?" January was not the only one to betray shock.
"Way to go Rev!" Gadget was the first to exult.
"Yeah, he sounds like a pretty cool dude," January added.
Even Blood Raven looked impressed.
"I won't even pretend to understand how all of this works," Cray went on, "but it looks like instead of just disbanding the group, the reverend is trying to gradually tone them down. To reverse radicalize them. But they are still around, and Scheuer still has control on the ground, even if not legal power over the organization's assets."
"If he dissolved the group, they would all just move to other organizations, or even restart with the same name," Blood Raven observed. "These fascist gangs fracture, dissolve, poach each other's members, and start anew at a rate only a speedster can keep up with."
"So what were they doing here?" January asked.
"It looks like Scheuer is originally from Detroit," Cray said. "But I am guessing this was some last stab at regaining power in his own organization. Maybe he wants to show his own people that he's still in control? Or maybe he wants to use the publicity to convince other Nazi groups that he is? Or maybe he hopes to use the money he gathers from donations to take legal control back? In any case, he's hemorrhaging members to other groups, like the Church Militia and the Shieldwall Network. If this keeps up, there won't be an NSL for much longer."
"I smell desperation," Blood Raven observed. "Now I see why there were only fifteen demonstrators yesterday, from a group that stretches nationwide. The NSL is a dying beast. We must take care. This will make them reckless, dangerous. They may return to Motor City Pride tomorrow. If so, they will probably go to even greater lengths to provoke violence. Blood in the streets is the only thing that can save them now."
I’m with January and, as I learned later, Blood Raven in wishing this Crystal Death and its secrets could be simply destroyed instead of being learned –by anyone.
"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?’
- - This is an adorable paragraph!
"Oh, it's nice to finally 'meet' you," January said, unconsciously reverting to her perky phone voice. She winced, then realized that Blood Raven, and probably Cray, could see that. So she carried on as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. It worked for cats, why not her too?’
- - This is an adorable paragraph!
Yes, Morrowind has Levitate, and Fallout 4 has jet packs (or something such). Oblivion has that broom mod which I used in Sarah Phimm's game, just in case January / Cyrodiil wants to try that, I can provide a link. That's not on Nexus.
Oh okay, so that was crystal death the Death Dealer's brother ate. Well goodbye to you, loozer.
I also imagine Blood Raven does not need or want that ego boost BUT she wants for the larger picture to be seen. She wants people to appreciate the final effects of her work, right? She herself doesn't need any accolades though. "The peoples of Detroit have been saved," not "The peoples of Detroit have been saved because of Blood Raven."
Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.
Yeah but....
That would also destroy a lot of evidence, even though her intentions are thoughtful. The defense would easily jump all over that.
Blood Raven uses the word elsewise. I like that. My computer just underlined it in red ink, but Dictionary.com does have a meaning. My computer's so-called modern software is therefore wrong. Ha ha.
I love her perky phone voice.
Erasing the hard drive would be useless, right? Surely the Death Dealer made some copy. Well, maybe not, if he's not even careful enough to hide his chemical output. There was a scene in Breaking Bad in which they tried to erase someone's computer drive, which was located IN police evidence locker. They had to use a really big electric magnet of course, in the back of a cargo van.
Still, that's Tampering with Evidence. Again, a good defense would jump all over that. "What do you mean his hard drive got erased while in the police evidence locker...?" It's funny to read them all nerding out. Just.. be careful guys & gals.
Hey, at least she chose a celebrity from this century! Oh wait. Well, last century.
Yikes, the hate group is not done yet. Yeah, I imagine they're pretty pissed about Branwen ruining their parade. Ha!
Oh okay, so that was crystal death the Death Dealer's brother ate. Well goodbye to you, loozer.
QUOTE
Blood Raven of course, has no use for it at all. She'd much rather lurk in the shadows of a gothic steeple than be live streamed.
I also imagine Blood Raven does not need or want that ego boost BUT she wants for the larger picture to be seen. She wants people to appreciate the final effects of her work, right? She herself doesn't need any accolades though. "The peoples of Detroit have been saved," not "The peoples of Detroit have been saved because of Blood Raven."
QUOTE
Naturally the cops want January to do the most dangerous part, and act as a bullet sponge. She is the superhero! That is literally her job, because she can take the hits that will kill everyone else. That is one of January's core principles. She is there to save lives, no matter what it costs her.
Yeah but....
QUOTE
The only thing that stopped her from ripping open the sky and calling down lightning on the entire lab was the fact that it would not go over well with the state police.
That would also destroy a lot of evidence, even though her intentions are thoughtful. The defense would easily jump all over that.
Blood Raven uses the word elsewise. I like that. My computer just underlined it in red ink, but Dictionary.com does have a meaning. My computer's so-called modern software is therefore wrong. Ha ha.
I love her perky phone voice.
Erasing the hard drive would be useless, right? Surely the Death Dealer made some copy. Well, maybe not, if he's not even careful enough to hide his chemical output. There was a scene in Breaking Bad in which they tried to erase someone's computer drive, which was located IN police evidence locker. They had to use a really big electric magnet of course, in the back of a cargo van.
Still, that's Tampering with Evidence. Again, a good defense would jump all over that. "What do you mean his hard drive got erased while in the police evidence locker...?" It's funny to read them all nerding out.
Just.. be careful guys & gals. QUOTE
"I believe Frank Sinatra is a trifle long in the tooth for that," Blood Raven actually made a pop culture reference. Albeit one that January did not understand.
Hey, at least she chose a celebrity from this century! Oh wait. Well, last century.
Yikes, the hate group is not done yet. Yeah, I imagine they're pretty pissed about Branwen ruining their parade. Ha!
Actually, to revise, I am going to say that Blood Raven does not care if her ego gets stroked, but it seems that ideals are what's important to her. And in some cases these ideals are common, not always specifically hers. She wishes to see historical change, with peoples' rights and so forth. But it's not so important that she get recognized for these instances. Not specifically, anyways. She's more in the shadows. Seeing historical and political changes for the better are what pleases her.
How about that? In the ball park, or did I just get that wrong?
How about that? In the ball park, or did I just get that wrong?
Acadian: January is at her best when she is being awkwardly adorable.
Renee: It was the Death Dealer himself - Joshua Bleaker - who took the Crystal Death. His brother-in-law Lonnie is the gamer who shot at January.
You understand Blood Raven very well. In spite wearing a very gray hat, she is entirely driven by her sense of duty and morality. That is why she is so distrustful of Lighthammer. To her, he seems to be driven by passion, rather than principle. It is also why she is so trusting of January. She can see that Jan is motivated by a need to protect others from harm.
Elsewise was a late modification. I always have to work extra hard on Blood Raven's dialogue, to keep that sense of timelessness to her.
There maybe be hard copy backups of the Death Dealer's work, either in the lab, or at his home. Which the cops will find. He would not trust the web. That would be too easy for someone else to steal.
You are right that what they are talking about is destroying evidence. But if the police cannot crack the encryption, then it does not really matter as evidence, since there is nothing to use. Given that the Death Dealer suffered massive brain damage and is in a coma which no other Crystal Death user has ever recovered from, prosecution is kind of moot as well. But if the police can crack the encryption, that would mean the Pentagon would start manufacturing Crystal Death and passing it out to the troops. Or whoever else in the government got their hands on it first.
She did choose a celebrity from last century! She has no idea who George Clooney is.
Those nazis are indeed mighty pissed that Blood Raven made them look bad...
Book 5.20 - Crystal Death
"The deputy attorney general told me that you wanted to be a lawyer," January said. She sat on the back porch of the Mills home with their son, Wayne. Both held tall glasses of ice cold lemonade, which were beaded with condensation in the warm June air.
"Yeah," Wayne declared. "I'm going to be a civil rights attorney, like Thurgood Marshall. Especially after what happened yesterday."
"About that," January frowned. "I'm sorry I lost my temper around those cops. I shouldn't have let that happen."
"Are you shi- um, kidding me?" the fifteen-year old replied. "That was awesome! I wanted to bust those… people up."
"There are a lot of times you want to do that," January said. "But that doesn't mean we should, any of us. Otherwise we're no different. Those cops, they're like the old saying: 'when you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail.' Day in and day out, they see the worst in people, until it's all they can see. We need to remind ourselves to see more than that, and show people more than that in ourselves. I guess I need to at least."
"So you mean like, be Swiss Army Knives instead?" Wayne nodded, and took a sip of his lemonade. "You sound like my mom. She's the Michelle Obama of Sterling Heights: 'when they go low, we go high'."
"That's exactly what my mom said to me a little while ago!" January laughed. She took a sip of her lemonade. It was sweet, really sweet. She knew she would have a headache if she drank too much. Sugar always did that to her. But it was good, and cool, and even though it was still morning, it was shaping up to be a hot day.
"What did your mom say to you?" Mrs. Mills - Tanisha - stepped through the sliding patio door and onto the back porch. Her husband Jefferson followed her.
"That it's important to be a better person, Mrs. Obama," January smiled.
"Oh he's going on about that Michelle Obama business again," Tanisha laughed. "He only does that when he wants to butter me up for something."
"Hey, if I'm married to Michelle Obama, doesn't that make me the president?" Mr. Mills - Jefferson - chortled.
"We should be so lucky," January murmured.
"I have to say," Tanisha smiled and sat down on a chair beside January. "You aren't at all what I expected from a superhero."
"Yeah, you're so chill," Wayne declared. "I mean when you're not being all…" He raised his arms in a pantomime of wings, and set his face into grim line. Then he began cawing like a crow.
"I do try to be chill," January said. "I work hard at it in fact. So I don't go all stormtrooper like those state cops."
"So you really do Yoga then?" Tanisha asked. "Like Gilda said you were doing with those cops, and that old lady?"
"Oh yes," January nodded. "I love Yoga. Well, what we call Yoga in America at least. Let's face it, it's hardly the same here as it is India. But it really helps me de-stress, as well as stay limber. I'm starting to combine it with my meditation and energy exercises. I think everyone else thought it was mildly amusing. I thought it would be good way to pass the time while we waited for the warrant. But you listen to Gilda Gadfly too?"
"Everyone watches Gilda on TV, or listens on the radio, or her podcast," Jefferson mused. "Whether they admit it or not."
"I noticed the cops were a lot nicer to the old white couple than us," Wayne interjected.
"Because all cops are racists?" January said. "I can understand why you would feel that way, for very good reasons. But I don't know that it was that simple yesterday at least. The Emergency Team didn't know what color you were before they came in the door. As far as I can tell they didn't do any research on you are all. If they had gotten a tip saying that the Greenwoods were manufacturing a deadly drug, it probably would have gone badly for them too. The whole reason Swatting works is because cops like them don't care whose door they are busting down. Thankfully I had already found the real dealer by then."
"Wow, you really are as nice as they say," Jefferson shook his head.
"I have to say, you have a lot of patience," Tanisha also said. "Working with those same cops after what happened. I don't think I could have been so beneficent."
"I'm whiter than white bread, so I honestly have no clue what racism is like," January admitted. "But being lesbian, and trans, I have some ideas. That's why I try to be a kinder person. I know what it's like when people aren't nice."
A look passed between all three of the Mills family members. January knew that look well. It was the 'OMG, it's a trans person!' realization.
"Oh, did I say the 'T' word?" January forced a smile. This was always the moment of truth.
Mr. Mills just shook his head.
"Damn woman, you really are a 21st century cape." January noted that he said 'woman', which was always a good sign. He was also smiling, in what she thought was a good way. "Yoga, meditation, 'let's be nice', lesbian, transgender. Are there any boxes you didn't check? I bet you eat kale and avocados too."
"Oh you leave her be Jefferson," Tanisha declared. "I think you are exactly the hero this city needs, this country needs. If we had more lesbian transgender police, then maybe we'd have less people getting their doors busted in."
"Amen to that sister," Jefferson nodded.
"Wow, you're just like that girl in my school then," Wayne whistled. "She transitioned last year. That was wild!"
January was about to ask how his schoolmate was doing. Her own school years had varied from miserable to horrific. But then a crow landed on the little glass table between them. It stared at January, and croaked loudly.
January rose to her feet. Something was wrong. She just knew it. The crow leapt up as well, flew around her in a circle, and landed on her shoulder. It croaked into her ear, as if trying to tell her something.
Sága chimed with an incoming call. This must be it what the crow was warning her about. January looked down at her armored wrist, and saw it was not being forwarded from her regular phone. This had been made directly to her Stormcrow number. Her heart jumped a beat when she saw the name on the caller ID.
"Mr. Duquesne," she answered. "I am here with the Mills family. What can I do for you?"
"It is more a question of what I can do for you Ms. Crow," the deputy attorney general said. "I am afraid this is not a social call, so if we could speak in private, it would be appreciated."
"Sorry," January silently mouthed to the family. She strode across the backyard, to where she would be alone. The crow leaped into the sky, and winged its way southward, croaking all the way. January did not like that. It was warning her about more than just a phone call…
"It's just the two us now," she said.
"I have some information," Duquesne said. "Mr. Maguire - ThunderRhino - finally realized the depth of the trouble he is in. So he has decided to cooperate. We learned that yesterday afternoon he sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death. He does not know who the buyer was. Just that he was a white man with a shaven head, and a tattoo that looked like an awareness ribbon. He was in a van, and had others with him inside."
"It's an Odal rune." January pinched her finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose. Why did Nazi's have to love perverting her Scandinavian heritage so much? It made her regret being born with blond hair and blue eyes. "Blood Raven told me there were fifteen neo-Nazis at Motor City Pride yesterday."
"Are you sure about that?" Duquesne sounded somewhat nonplussed, perhaps due to the source. "There must be thousands of men with shaved heads and tattoos."
"That's it," January declared. She just knew it was the same Nazis who had tried to interrupt the festival day before. "It's the National Socialist League. Get the response team Downtown. Call the Detroit PD. We have to stop them."
"You believe they will attack the festival?"
"I know it. The parade starts in… frell, fifteen minutes." January glanced down at Sága's display to see the time. She had spent too much time with the Mills.
She looked over to the suburbanites and waved. Then she leaped skyward, and poured her mana into the image of her flying. Her arms transformed into wings, and she made that idea a reality. She darted south like an arrow, toward Downtown. She had miles to go, and no time to waste.
"I'm on my way now," she insisted. "I'm going to alert Blood Raven. We'll be ready."
January was thankful for the voice activation that Gadget had worked into Sága. Without it, she never would have been able to hang up on Duquesne and call Gadget.
"Gadget you need to connect us to Blood Raven and Cray, right away," she said as soon as he picked up.
He blearily mumbled an assent, and January imagined that he might have been sleeping. It was Sunday morning after all. She heard his feet thumping on stairs, then fingers clacking on one of his keyboards.
"Cray here," a male voice that was both deep and soft at the same time responded. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."
"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."
"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"
"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.
"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."
Both Cray and Gadget swore at the same time. Blood Raven was silent however. January heard a whoosh of flame over the audio link, and then a thunderous crash!
Renee: It was the Death Dealer himself - Joshua Bleaker - who took the Crystal Death. His brother-in-law Lonnie is the gamer who shot at January.
You understand Blood Raven very well. In spite wearing a very gray hat, she is entirely driven by her sense of duty and morality. That is why she is so distrustful of Lighthammer. To her, he seems to be driven by passion, rather than principle. It is also why she is so trusting of January. She can see that Jan is motivated by a need to protect others from harm.
Elsewise was a late modification. I always have to work extra hard on Blood Raven's dialogue, to keep that sense of timelessness to her.
There maybe be hard copy backups of the Death Dealer's work, either in the lab, or at his home. Which the cops will find. He would not trust the web. That would be too easy for someone else to steal.
You are right that what they are talking about is destroying evidence. But if the police cannot crack the encryption, then it does not really matter as evidence, since there is nothing to use. Given that the Death Dealer suffered massive brain damage and is in a coma which no other Crystal Death user has ever recovered from, prosecution is kind of moot as well. But if the police can crack the encryption, that would mean the Pentagon would start manufacturing Crystal Death and passing it out to the troops. Or whoever else in the government got their hands on it first.
She did choose a celebrity from last century!
She has no idea who George Clooney is. Those nazis are indeed mighty pissed that Blood Raven made them look bad...
Book 5.20 - Crystal Death
"The deputy attorney general told me that you wanted to be a lawyer," January said. She sat on the back porch of the Mills home with their son, Wayne. Both held tall glasses of ice cold lemonade, which were beaded with condensation in the warm June air.
"Yeah," Wayne declared. "I'm going to be a civil rights attorney, like Thurgood Marshall. Especially after what happened yesterday."
"About that," January frowned. "I'm sorry I lost my temper around those cops. I shouldn't have let that happen."
"Are you shi- um, kidding me?" the fifteen-year old replied. "That was awesome! I wanted to bust those… people up."
"There are a lot of times you want to do that," January said. "But that doesn't mean we should, any of us. Otherwise we're no different. Those cops, they're like the old saying: 'when you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail.' Day in and day out, they see the worst in people, until it's all they can see. We need to remind ourselves to see more than that, and show people more than that in ourselves. I guess I need to at least."
"So you mean like, be Swiss Army Knives instead?" Wayne nodded, and took a sip of his lemonade. "You sound like my mom. She's the Michelle Obama of Sterling Heights: 'when they go low, we go high'."
"That's exactly what my mom said to me a little while ago!" January laughed. She took a sip of her lemonade. It was sweet, really sweet. She knew she would have a headache if she drank too much. Sugar always did that to her. But it was good, and cool, and even though it was still morning, it was shaping up to be a hot day.
"What did your mom say to you?" Mrs. Mills - Tanisha - stepped through the sliding patio door and onto the back porch. Her husband Jefferson followed her.
"That it's important to be a better person, Mrs. Obama," January smiled.
"Oh he's going on about that Michelle Obama business again," Tanisha laughed. "He only does that when he wants to butter me up for something."
"Hey, if I'm married to Michelle Obama, doesn't that make me the president?" Mr. Mills - Jefferson - chortled.
"We should be so lucky," January murmured.
"I have to say," Tanisha smiled and sat down on a chair beside January. "You aren't at all what I expected from a superhero."
"Yeah, you're so chill," Wayne declared. "I mean when you're not being all…" He raised his arms in a pantomime of wings, and set his face into grim line. Then he began cawing like a crow.
"I do try to be chill," January said. "I work hard at it in fact. So I don't go all stormtrooper like those state cops."
"So you really do Yoga then?" Tanisha asked. "Like Gilda said you were doing with those cops, and that old lady?"
"Oh yes," January nodded. "I love Yoga. Well, what we call Yoga in America at least. Let's face it, it's hardly the same here as it is India. But it really helps me de-stress, as well as stay limber. I'm starting to combine it with my meditation and energy exercises. I think everyone else thought it was mildly amusing. I thought it would be good way to pass the time while we waited for the warrant. But you listen to Gilda Gadfly too?"
"Everyone watches Gilda on TV, or listens on the radio, or her podcast," Jefferson mused. "Whether they admit it or not."
"I noticed the cops were a lot nicer to the old white couple than us," Wayne interjected.
"Because all cops are racists?" January said. "I can understand why you would feel that way, for very good reasons. But I don't know that it was that simple yesterday at least. The Emergency Team didn't know what color you were before they came in the door. As far as I can tell they didn't do any research on you are all. If they had gotten a tip saying that the Greenwoods were manufacturing a deadly drug, it probably would have gone badly for them too. The whole reason Swatting works is because cops like them don't care whose door they are busting down. Thankfully I had already found the real dealer by then."
"Wow, you really are as nice as they say," Jefferson shook his head.
"I have to say, you have a lot of patience," Tanisha also said. "Working with those same cops after what happened. I don't think I could have been so beneficent."
"I'm whiter than white bread, so I honestly have no clue what racism is like," January admitted. "But being lesbian, and trans, I have some ideas. That's why I try to be a kinder person. I know what it's like when people aren't nice."
A look passed between all three of the Mills family members. January knew that look well. It was the 'OMG, it's a trans person!' realization.
"Oh, did I say the 'T' word?" January forced a smile. This was always the moment of truth.
Mr. Mills just shook his head.
"Damn woman, you really are a 21st century cape." January noted that he said 'woman', which was always a good sign. He was also smiling, in what she thought was a good way. "Yoga, meditation, 'let's be nice', lesbian, transgender. Are there any boxes you didn't check? I bet you eat kale and avocados too."
"Oh you leave her be Jefferson," Tanisha declared. "I think you are exactly the hero this city needs, this country needs. If we had more lesbian transgender police, then maybe we'd have less people getting their doors busted in."
"Amen to that sister," Jefferson nodded.
"Wow, you're just like that girl in my school then," Wayne whistled. "She transitioned last year. That was wild!"
January was about to ask how his schoolmate was doing. Her own school years had varied from miserable to horrific. But then a crow landed on the little glass table between them. It stared at January, and croaked loudly.
January rose to her feet. Something was wrong. She just knew it. The crow leapt up as well, flew around her in a circle, and landed on her shoulder. It croaked into her ear, as if trying to tell her something.
Sága chimed with an incoming call. This must be it what the crow was warning her about. January looked down at her armored wrist, and saw it was not being forwarded from her regular phone. This had been made directly to her Stormcrow number. Her heart jumped a beat when she saw the name on the caller ID.
"Mr. Duquesne," she answered. "I am here with the Mills family. What can I do for you?"
"It is more a question of what I can do for you Ms. Crow," the deputy attorney general said. "I am afraid this is not a social call, so if we could speak in private, it would be appreciated."
"Sorry," January silently mouthed to the family. She strode across the backyard, to where she would be alone. The crow leaped into the sky, and winged its way southward, croaking all the way. January did not like that. It was warning her about more than just a phone call…
"It's just the two us now," she said.
"I have some information," Duquesne said. "Mr. Maguire - ThunderRhino - finally realized the depth of the trouble he is in. So he has decided to cooperate. We learned that yesterday afternoon he sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death. He does not know who the buyer was. Just that he was a white man with a shaven head, and a tattoo that looked like an awareness ribbon. He was in a van, and had others with him inside."
"It's an Odal rune." January pinched her finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose. Why did Nazi's have to love perverting her Scandinavian heritage so much? It made her regret being born with blond hair and blue eyes. "Blood Raven told me there were fifteen neo-Nazis at Motor City Pride yesterday."
"Are you sure about that?" Duquesne sounded somewhat nonplussed, perhaps due to the source. "There must be thousands of men with shaved heads and tattoos."
"That's it," January declared. She just knew it was the same Nazis who had tried to interrupt the festival day before. "It's the National Socialist League. Get the response team Downtown. Call the Detroit PD. We have to stop them."
"You believe they will attack the festival?"
"I know it. The parade starts in… frell, fifteen minutes." January glanced down at Sága's display to see the time. She had spent too much time with the Mills.
She looked over to the suburbanites and waved. Then she leaped skyward, and poured her mana into the image of her flying. Her arms transformed into wings, and she made that idea a reality. She darted south like an arrow, toward Downtown. She had miles to go, and no time to waste.
"I'm on my way now," she insisted. "I'm going to alert Blood Raven. We'll be ready."
January was thankful for the voice activation that Gadget had worked into Sága. Without it, she never would have been able to hang up on Duquesne and call Gadget.
"Gadget you need to connect us to Blood Raven and Cray, right away," she said as soon as he picked up.
He blearily mumbled an assent, and January imagined that he might have been sleeping. It was Sunday morning after all. She heard his feet thumping on stairs, then fingers clacking on one of his keyboards.
"Cray here," a male voice that was both deep and soft at the same time responded. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."
"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."
"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"
"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.
"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."
Both Cray and Gadget swore at the same time. Blood Raven was silent however. January heard a whoosh of flame over the audio link, and then a thunderous crash!
That's a good point, about the nail and the hammer. Never thought of it that way.
I'm with Jan on the lemonade. It has to be "brought down" for me to enjoy. I always cut lemonade with spring water.
Whoa the mother's name is Tanisha? Has this been mentioned before? If so, I may have picked that up subconsciously. I was looking for a name for Vicious a couple weeks ago and was going for Taneequa or something such. But then I put that name into Google and some weird Urban Dictionary stuff came up. Taneequa has a double meaning which I didn't want connotated with my Vicious. But dang, I didn't mean to use the same name!
That is one thing I noticed right away about this story, she was doing yoga in public. I still remember that. One of those things which stands out.
That part with the T word is gripping. Phew. I thought she might be in trouble there. Phew.
Shoot, there's the crow. Always something going on in Detroit. Well, at least now she has an excuse not to finish that too-sweet lemonade.
Uh oh. That lawyer's calling. Well maybe he's got an agenda which is not so underhanded as I'm thinking. Nope, he does not. He seems like one of the Good Guys in fact.
I wonder what that crash is at the end. Goodbye sweet lemonade!
This is fine! Your hard work is appreciated! I love antiquated words like this, they immediately make me think of Raven as somebody from another time.
When I was writing Sarah Phimm's story a few years ago I'd constantly have Thesaurus.com up and ready. Especially any time she'd write one of her journals, I'd be looking for "modern" terminology, and then I'd squash this with terms from the past. Or words which aren't used anymore. Even sentence structure. I was looking to smash my usual sentence structure habits, and turn them into something which seemed more 'old-timey'.
Gah. I'll have to post an example later of what I mean.
I am glad I got Blood Raven's intentions down pat. Have a nice day, Florens!
I'm with Jan on the lemonade. It has to be "brought down" for me to enjoy. I always cut lemonade with spring water.
Whoa the mother's name is Tanisha?
Has this been mentioned before? If so, I may have picked that up subconsciously. I was looking for a name for Vicious a couple weeks ago and was going for Taneequa or something such. But then I put that name into Google and some weird Urban Dictionary stuff came up. Taneequa has a double meaning which I didn't want connotated with my Vicious. But dang, I didn't mean to use the same name! That is one thing I noticed right away about this story, she was doing yoga in public. I still remember that. One of those things which stands out.
That part with the T word is gripping. Phew. I thought she might be in trouble there. Phew.
Shoot, there's the crow. Always something going on in Detroit. Well, at least now she has an excuse not to finish that too-sweet lemonade.
Uh oh. That lawyer's calling. Well maybe he's got an agenda which is not so underhanded as I'm thinking. Nope, he does not. He seems like one of the Good Guys in fact.
I wonder what that crash is at the end. Goodbye sweet lemonade!
QUOTE
Elsewise was a late modification. I always have to work extra hard on Blood Raven's dialogue, to keep that sense of timelessness to her.
This is fine! Your hard work is appreciated! I love antiquated words like this, they immediately make me think of Raven as somebody from another time.
When I was writing Sarah Phimm's story a few years ago I'd constantly have Thesaurus.com up and ready. Especially any time she'd write one of her journals, I'd be looking for "modern" terminology, and then I'd squash this with terms from the past. Or words which aren't used anymore. Even sentence structure. I was looking to smash my usual sentence structure habits, and turn them into something which seemed more 'old-timey'.
Gah. I'll have to post an example later of what I mean.
I am glad I got Blood Raven's intentions down pat.
Have a nice day, Florens!
Jan’s magic continues to subtly grow as we see the familiar prescient crow that is acting rather like . . . well, a familiar.
Uh-oh, it’s the CrowPhone ringing with Mr Duquesne calling for Ms Crow.
Jan grows much more confident in smoothly transitioning to fully winged flight. Heh, she really does need hand free talking while flying and kudos to Gadget for crafting that into Saga.
The concept of fifteen drug-induced super-mutants on a binge is frightening indeed.
I wonder if they realize that buffing up on crystal death is a one way trip akin to that that of suicide bombers? I suspect not but who knows?
Uh-oh, it’s the CrowPhone ringing with Mr Duquesne calling for Ms Crow.
Jan grows much more confident in smoothly transitioning to fully winged flight. Heh, she really does need hand free talking while flying and kudos to Gadget for crafting that into Saga.
The concept of fifteen drug-induced super-mutants on a binge is frightening indeed.
I wonder if they realize that buffing up on crystal death is a one way trip akin to that that of suicide bombers? I suspect not but who knows?
Renee: I think it would have been cool if we had both used the same name for different characters! Talk about synergy.
Duquesne is about as a good a guy as a prosecutor can be.
We are going to see what that crash was this episode!
I usually have Thesaurus.com open while I am writing as well.
Acadian: Jan is getting better and better at this magic thing. We will see more evolutions of that later this chapter as well.
15 super mutants is indeed a frightening concept. Though of course as we saw with the Death Dealer himself, not everyone survives the initial use of the drug. So it won't be quite that many in the actual battle. But it will still be an awful lot of bad guys. They probably don't know that Crystal Death is a one way trip. But, it might not make a difference if they did.
A Google Map of all the Stormcrow locations
The Detroit Radiator Building
Capitol Park (The Radiator Building is the red building on the left edge)
Downtown Battleground 1
Downtown Battleground 2
Blood Raven's Theme
Book 5.21 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven stood atop the tallest point of the Detroit Radiator Building. It was not often that she had the opportunity to use her own lair as a vantage point. Given that the parade for Motor City Pride was organizing directly below, it was the obvious choice however. Griswold Street ran from north to south directly west of her building. Beyond it was Capitol Park, which was really nothing but a small, triangular plaza. It was surrounded by tall buildings on every side. From titanic skyscrapers such as her own Radiator Building and the Westin Book Cadillac hotel, to office and apartment buildings which only stood a dozen or so stories tall, but were still nothing to sneeze at.
She allowed her eyes to wander over the crowd of people gathered within the park. Like those who had attended the festival the previous day, they were a cornucopia of every ethnicity, age, and gender expression on the spectrum. Her gaze shifted from them to follow the parade route south down Griswold. It was lined with even more throngs of people. She saw that every street that crossed it was blocked off, all the way to Jefferson Avenue and Hart Plaza in the distance. She could even spy the waters of the Detroit River flowing ever southward beyond that, and the shoreline of Canada farther still.
Blood Raven closed her eyes, and stretched out her magical senses to the utmost. The physical world slipped away entirely. She became a purely magical being, aware of nothing but the brilliant auras that bathed the city below, transforming it into a vibrant sea of light and warmth. She felt along those auras, and searched for any that were brighter, more vivid. This was the sure sign of a magician. She also felt for any disturbances. For the dark clouds of one resolved to do murder, or the first tugs on reality that bespoke of calling Beyond, to the Creatures of the Abyss.
She found nothing. Oh, there were certainly magical auras down there. Some were so slight their owners probably only thought of themselves as lucky, or determined. Others were must have been consciously using magic to improve their daily lives. Such as those who read her books on Wicca and Witchcraft, and whom she met regularly at Neo-Pagan events. But there were none like her, or her great-granddaughter, who blatantly reshaped reality with their Power.
Time went by, and she felt the pent up expectations rising in the crowd of auras in Capitol Park below. The parade would be starting soon. Clearly, they were all looking forward to it. Some of the energy signatures were nervous. Perhaps they were cases of stage fright within those taking part in the parade? But most were expressions of jubilation and revelry, as befitting a festive event.
Something intruded on that purity of spirit, something dark and clouded. Blood Raven involuntarily twitched her head at the foul taste it left in her mouth. It was not a magical working. Rather it was a familiar taste, that of all-too mundane anxiety, revulsion, and bitter hatred.
It was a feeling she was acquainted with all too well. She had felt it since her childhood. Ever since she had first heard people whispering of her father's doings in hushed tones, when they thought she could not hear. The same when they brought up her mother's Irish heritage, and thusly her own as well. At first she could not understand the animosity. But she quickly learned better, both about her father, and about the race prejudice.
It would seem that someone was not pleased about all of the Queer people gathering to celebrate, along with those who supported them.
Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building. She slowly turned about to face the coming darkness. It was not a single individual. Rather it was a group of at least a dozen, perhaps more. She floated across the width of the skyscraper below her, and faced in the opposite direction from where the parade formed up.
She opened her eyes, and gazed down across Woodward Avenue. Her quarry was there, in the sprawling parking lot behind the broad thoroughfare, just north of the Compuware building. The lot was jammed with vehicles, and people went to and from it in little trickles. But none of them carried that stain upon their auras. The threat was somewhere else, somewhere lower.
Blood Raven locked her eyes upon the concrete ramps in the center of the lot, which led down into the bowels of the earth. Some of the parking was underground, as well as at street level. That was where this darkness festered, hidden from the light of day.
She floated down in that direction. It might be nothing but discontented individuals who would never do any actual harm. Or it might be something more. She had not paid close enough attention to the spirit realm the previous day. She should have felt the neo-Nazis when they had arrived. She had simply been looking for a summoning. Now, however, she was on her guard. She would not be so easily taken at unawares again.
"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.
"Do you have something?" he rumbled in his mellow voice.
"Perhaps," Blood Raven mused, "Perhaps not."
"Wait a minute," Cray's raised voice betrayed momentary surprise. "Gadget is calling, with Stormcrow. I am putting them through."
"Cray here," he said after a fleeting clacking of keys. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."
"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."
"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"
"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.
"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."
But Blood Raven was no longer paying attention to the conversation. She was busy dodging the bolt of fire that lanced up into the sky at her. A moment later a blur of motion and force rocketed up from one of the ramps that led down beneath the parking lot. This time she was too slow, and it struck her full in the chest. It slammed into her like a locomotive, and drove her back into the side of the Radiator Building. Black bricks and gold leaf chewed up beneath her shoulders, as she and the mysterious force gouged a trench through the skin of the skyscraper.
It was a living force, Blood Raven realized. It had blood, and a heartbeat. That heart was racing wildly out of control. Too much for even one thrilled and terrified by the threat of sudden death in battle. His blood stank of chemicals, of a perversion of the natural energies of life. She could feel it eating away at him, like termites slowly but surely hollowing out a tree. This could only be the touch of that drug January had spent the last week endeavoring to stop.
Blood Raven was able to grab hold of her attacker. Using his own momentum, she spun him about in a mid-air belly to belly suplex. Now her enemy crunched into the wall of the building instead of her. Blood Raven added more force, and sent them both through the wall, and into a deserted office space inside. Her attacker stumbled and fell to the ground. Now that he was no longer moving at tremendous speed, she could see that he was just a man. He had closely-cropped brown hair, and was built thickly and strongly. She remembered his face from the day before, and he still wore the same black faux Nazi uniform.
He gathered himself up in an instant. Then he sprang back at her. His body became a blur, and he seemed to transform into a rocket of motion and force. He blasted directly at her. This time she was ready however. She side-stepped, and threw out an energy whip from one hand. It wrapped around his midsection. She immediately felt his momentum try to rip her from her feet. But a simple tweak of reality ensured that she did not move an inch. She reeled in her whip, and pulled the rocket of force into a tight turn, like a ball on a string.
That sent him crashing directly into the second figure that Blood Raven had felt rising up into the hole that gaped in the side of the building. The newcomer seemed to be a living being of fire. Yet she felt blood racing through his veins as well, and a heart shuddering in his chest. So clearly he had not transformed his entire body into elemental energy. Rather he must have been using it as a sheath.
Blood Raven released her hold on the first Nazi, and allowed the tendril of force she had created to dissipate into nothingness. Both Nazis went tumbling through the air outside, and plummeted back down toward Woodward. They halted in mid-air however, as if some invisible force held them aloft. Blood Raven would have taken the time to trace that power back to its source, but she had too many other things to worry about.
Now there were more of the Nazis in the street below. One was what could only be described as a werebear. It was a furred humanoid standing at least eight feet tall, bearing clawed hands and feet, and a muzzle filled with slavering fangs. There was also a man made of concrete. He truly was entirely comprised of that material, for Blood Raven smelled no blood within him at all. Another stretched out his hands, and the iron ripped out of the cars nearby and clanged together around his body. It created a jagged suit of armor that completely encased his frame, and formed into a giant, spiked mace in one of his fists A fourth raised his hand in the air, and a sword of brilliant fire sprouted there. An inwardly curved, rectangular shield of sparking flames likewise formed in his other hand.
These four charged across Woodward, and headed for State Street. The latter was really just an alley. A ten story parking structure and the much taller spire of the Radiator Building rose up on its south side. A ten story tall office building rose up on the north side of the street, across from the parking structure. Farther west stood the Art Deco masterpiece of the Albert Building, directly across State from the Radiator Building. Beyond them lay Griwsold Street and Capitol Park, and the crowd gathered there for the parade.
Most of the Nazis shouted a plethora of bigoted obscenities, aimed at everyone who was not white, male, Christian, heterosexual, or cisgendered. It really was a rainbow of hatred, as ironic as that was given the circumstances. Some of them shouted out more specific things, referring to 'Power Levels', 'Normies', and 'Red-Pilling', which Blood Raven did not understand. She had not kept abreast on modern fascist colloquialisms. One even began going on and on about how white people were the true descendants of Israel, while Jews were the literal children of the Devil. Blood Raven blocked out the inane rhetoric. She was here to fight, not trade barbs with worms.
Blood Raven felt Selene's Curse rise up within her. She knew that her eyes glowed with their own red light by now. Her teeth and claws ached to rend flesh, and bathe her in the sanguine fountain of life. For a moment, she was back in France once more, slaughtering the Das Reich division. She was losing herself to the frenzy of murder and feeding. She was becoming the monster that the moon goddess' malediction had passed on to her.
But she was not that monster. She was not a beast. Selene was the light that fell from the moon. She illuminated the darkness, so that all her children could see the way. Blood Raven turned her face to that light, let it fill her spirit, and suppressed the animal that wished for nothing but to rend and murder.
She centered herself. She breathed deeply, and surrounded herself with a circle of glowing symbols from her mother's Celtic heritage. She felt the aion flow cleanly through her, and wash away her bloodlust. She let the magic circle spin about her for a moment, and fall to her feet. Then she was ready to rejoin the fray with a clear head.
Duquesne is about as a good a guy as a prosecutor can be.
We are going to see what that crash was this episode!
I usually have Thesaurus.com open while I am writing as well.
Acadian: Jan is getting better and better at this magic thing. We will see more evolutions of that later this chapter as well.
15 super mutants is indeed a frightening concept. Though of course as we saw with the Death Dealer himself, not everyone survives the initial use of the drug. So it won't be quite that many in the actual battle. But it will still be an awful lot of bad guys. They probably don't know that Crystal Death is a one way trip. But, it might not make a difference if they did.
A Google Map of all the Stormcrow locations
The Detroit Radiator Building
Capitol Park (The Radiator Building is the red building on the left edge)
Downtown Battleground 1
Downtown Battleground 2
Blood Raven's Theme
Book 5.21 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven stood atop the tallest point of the Detroit Radiator Building. It was not often that she had the opportunity to use her own lair as a vantage point. Given that the parade for Motor City Pride was organizing directly below, it was the obvious choice however. Griswold Street ran from north to south directly west of her building. Beyond it was Capitol Park, which was really nothing but a small, triangular plaza. It was surrounded by tall buildings on every side. From titanic skyscrapers such as her own Radiator Building and the Westin Book Cadillac hotel, to office and apartment buildings which only stood a dozen or so stories tall, but were still nothing to sneeze at.
She allowed her eyes to wander over the crowd of people gathered within the park. Like those who had attended the festival the previous day, they were a cornucopia of every ethnicity, age, and gender expression on the spectrum. Her gaze shifted from them to follow the parade route south down Griswold. It was lined with even more throngs of people. She saw that every street that crossed it was blocked off, all the way to Jefferson Avenue and Hart Plaza in the distance. She could even spy the waters of the Detroit River flowing ever southward beyond that, and the shoreline of Canada farther still.
Blood Raven closed her eyes, and stretched out her magical senses to the utmost. The physical world slipped away entirely. She became a purely magical being, aware of nothing but the brilliant auras that bathed the city below, transforming it into a vibrant sea of light and warmth. She felt along those auras, and searched for any that were brighter, more vivid. This was the sure sign of a magician. She also felt for any disturbances. For the dark clouds of one resolved to do murder, or the first tugs on reality that bespoke of calling Beyond, to the Creatures of the Abyss.
She found nothing. Oh, there were certainly magical auras down there. Some were so slight their owners probably only thought of themselves as lucky, or determined. Others were must have been consciously using magic to improve their daily lives. Such as those who read her books on Wicca and Witchcraft, and whom she met regularly at Neo-Pagan events. But there were none like her, or her great-granddaughter, who blatantly reshaped reality with their Power.
Time went by, and she felt the pent up expectations rising in the crowd of auras in Capitol Park below. The parade would be starting soon. Clearly, they were all looking forward to it. Some of the energy signatures were nervous. Perhaps they were cases of stage fright within those taking part in the parade? But most were expressions of jubilation and revelry, as befitting a festive event.
Something intruded on that purity of spirit, something dark and clouded. Blood Raven involuntarily twitched her head at the foul taste it left in her mouth. It was not a magical working. Rather it was a familiar taste, that of all-too mundane anxiety, revulsion, and bitter hatred.
It was a feeling she was acquainted with all too well. She had felt it since her childhood. Ever since she had first heard people whispering of her father's doings in hushed tones, when they thought she could not hear. The same when they brought up her mother's Irish heritage, and thusly her own as well. At first she could not understand the animosity. But she quickly learned better, both about her father, and about the race prejudice.
It would seem that someone was not pleased about all of the Queer people gathering to celebrate, along with those who supported them.
Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building. She slowly turned about to face the coming darkness. It was not a single individual. Rather it was a group of at least a dozen, perhaps more. She floated across the width of the skyscraper below her, and faced in the opposite direction from where the parade formed up.
She opened her eyes, and gazed down across Woodward Avenue. Her quarry was there, in the sprawling parking lot behind the broad thoroughfare, just north of the Compuware building. The lot was jammed with vehicles, and people went to and from it in little trickles. But none of them carried that stain upon their auras. The threat was somewhere else, somewhere lower.
Blood Raven locked her eyes upon the concrete ramps in the center of the lot, which led down into the bowels of the earth. Some of the parking was underground, as well as at street level. That was where this darkness festered, hidden from the light of day.
She floated down in that direction. It might be nothing but discontented individuals who would never do any actual harm. Or it might be something more. She had not paid close enough attention to the spirit realm the previous day. She should have felt the neo-Nazis when they had arrived. She had simply been looking for a summoning. Now, however, she was on her guard. She would not be so easily taken at unawares again.
"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.
"Do you have something?" he rumbled in his mellow voice.
"Perhaps," Blood Raven mused, "Perhaps not."
"Wait a minute," Cray's raised voice betrayed momentary surprise. "Gadget is calling, with Stormcrow. I am putting them through."
"Cray here," he said after a fleeting clacking of keys. "I've got Blood Raven on the line as well."
"Is it the Conjurer?" Blood Raven interjected. "I have felt nothing as of yet."
"There were fifteen Nazis yesterday right?" January asked, "exactly fifteen?"
"Yes, I have been working up individual dossiers on each since last night," Cray replied.
"The deputy attorney general just told me that ThunderRhino sold fifteen doses of Crystal Death yesterday afternoon," January said pointedly. "It must have been when I went back to get the glass cutter and camera, or before I got there in the first place."
But Blood Raven was no longer paying attention to the conversation. She was busy dodging the bolt of fire that lanced up into the sky at her. A moment later a blur of motion and force rocketed up from one of the ramps that led down beneath the parking lot. This time she was too slow, and it struck her full in the chest. It slammed into her like a locomotive, and drove her back into the side of the Radiator Building. Black bricks and gold leaf chewed up beneath her shoulders, as she and the mysterious force gouged a trench through the skin of the skyscraper.
It was a living force, Blood Raven realized. It had blood, and a heartbeat. That heart was racing wildly out of control. Too much for even one thrilled and terrified by the threat of sudden death in battle. His blood stank of chemicals, of a perversion of the natural energies of life. She could feel it eating away at him, like termites slowly but surely hollowing out a tree. This could only be the touch of that drug January had spent the last week endeavoring to stop.
Blood Raven was able to grab hold of her attacker. Using his own momentum, she spun him about in a mid-air belly to belly suplex. Now her enemy crunched into the wall of the building instead of her. Blood Raven added more force, and sent them both through the wall, and into a deserted office space inside. Her attacker stumbled and fell to the ground. Now that he was no longer moving at tremendous speed, she could see that he was just a man. He had closely-cropped brown hair, and was built thickly and strongly. She remembered his face from the day before, and he still wore the same black faux Nazi uniform.
He gathered himself up in an instant. Then he sprang back at her. His body became a blur, and he seemed to transform into a rocket of motion and force. He blasted directly at her. This time she was ready however. She side-stepped, and threw out an energy whip from one hand. It wrapped around his midsection. She immediately felt his momentum try to rip her from her feet. But a simple tweak of reality ensured that she did not move an inch. She reeled in her whip, and pulled the rocket of force into a tight turn, like a ball on a string.
That sent him crashing directly into the second figure that Blood Raven had felt rising up into the hole that gaped in the side of the building. The newcomer seemed to be a living being of fire. Yet she felt blood racing through his veins as well, and a heart shuddering in his chest. So clearly he had not transformed his entire body into elemental energy. Rather he must have been using it as a sheath.
Blood Raven released her hold on the first Nazi, and allowed the tendril of force she had created to dissipate into nothingness. Both Nazis went tumbling through the air outside, and plummeted back down toward Woodward. They halted in mid-air however, as if some invisible force held them aloft. Blood Raven would have taken the time to trace that power back to its source, but she had too many other things to worry about.
Now there were more of the Nazis in the street below. One was what could only be described as a werebear. It was a furred humanoid standing at least eight feet tall, bearing clawed hands and feet, and a muzzle filled with slavering fangs. There was also a man made of concrete. He truly was entirely comprised of that material, for Blood Raven smelled no blood within him at all. Another stretched out his hands, and the iron ripped out of the cars nearby and clanged together around his body. It created a jagged suit of armor that completely encased his frame, and formed into a giant, spiked mace in one of his fists A fourth raised his hand in the air, and a sword of brilliant fire sprouted there. An inwardly curved, rectangular shield of sparking flames likewise formed in his other hand.
These four charged across Woodward, and headed for State Street. The latter was really just an alley. A ten story parking structure and the much taller spire of the Radiator Building rose up on its south side. A ten story tall office building rose up on the north side of the street, across from the parking structure. Farther west stood the Art Deco masterpiece of the Albert Building, directly across State from the Radiator Building. Beyond them lay Griwsold Street and Capitol Park, and the crowd gathered there for the parade.
Most of the Nazis shouted a plethora of bigoted obscenities, aimed at everyone who was not white, male, Christian, heterosexual, or cisgendered. It really was a rainbow of hatred, as ironic as that was given the circumstances. Some of them shouted out more specific things, referring to 'Power Levels', 'Normies', and 'Red-Pilling', which Blood Raven did not understand. She had not kept abreast on modern fascist colloquialisms. One even began going on and on about how white people were the true descendants of Israel, while Jews were the literal children of the Devil. Blood Raven blocked out the inane rhetoric. She was here to fight, not trade barbs with worms.
Blood Raven felt Selene's Curse rise up within her. She knew that her eyes glowed with their own red light by now. Her teeth and claws ached to rend flesh, and bathe her in the sanguine fountain of life. For a moment, she was back in France once more, slaughtering the Das Reich division. She was losing herself to the frenzy of murder and feeding. She was becoming the monster that the moon goddess' malediction had passed on to her.
But she was not that monster. She was not a beast. Selene was the light that fell from the moon. She illuminated the darkness, so that all her children could see the way. Blood Raven turned her face to that light, let it fill her spirit, and suppressed the animal that wished for nothing but to rend and murder.
She centered herself. She breathed deeply, and surrounded herself with a circle of glowing symbols from her mother's Celtic heritage. She felt the aion flow cleanly through her, and wash away her bloodlust. She let the magic circle spin about her for a moment, and fall to her feet. Then she was ready to rejoin the fray with a clear head.
Another episode from the intriguing perspective of Blood Raven. I loved how, after she visually surveyed her city, she did so magically.
’Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building.’
- - Beautifully worded. You clearly spend much time crafting how to best display the differences and similarities between Blood Raven and her great granddaughter. That contrast the tone of your writing takes for each is skillful indeed.
"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.’
- - And another example of how differently this sentence would have been had you been writing it for Stormcrow and Gadget.
Fight’s on! Wow, these dudes are not just pumped up like on pcp or something; they are truly mutated into evil capes of their own.
A reminder that Blood Raven deals with her own demons bubbling below her surface and that her vast experience has taught her to control. I do note a delightful similarity here between Blood Raven and Stormcrow as each sometimes require a moment to center themselves. I can imagine one really must have their heart and mind properly focused to use potent magicks wisely.
This could be a real challenge with over a dozen supermutants to deal with. Hopefully, Blood Raven will get some help from Stormcrow and even from Crystal Death itself as it begins to eat and kill its own creations.
Edit: Oh, and Blood Raven's theme song is perfect for her! Haunting, with just the right aura of ancient about it.
’Blood Raven cast away gravity's embrace, and rose up into the sky above the Detroit Radiator Building.’
- - Beautifully worded. You clearly spend much time crafting how to best display the differences and similarities between Blood Raven and her great granddaughter. That contrast the tone of your writing takes for each is skillful indeed.
"Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze upon this parking lot," she said into her communications unit.’
- - And another example of how differently this sentence would have been had you been writing it for Stormcrow and Gadget.
Fight’s on! Wow, these dudes are not just pumped up like on pcp or something; they are truly mutated into evil capes of their own.
A reminder that Blood Raven deals with her own demons bubbling below her surface and that her vast experience has taught her to control. I do note a delightful similarity here between Blood Raven and Stormcrow as each sometimes require a moment to center themselves. I can imagine one really must have their heart and mind properly focused to use potent magicks wisely.
This could be a real challenge with over a dozen supermutants to deal with. Hopefully, Blood Raven will get some help from Stormcrow and even from Crystal Death itself as it begins to eat and kill its own creations.
Edit: Oh, and Blood Raven's theme song is perfect for her! Haunting, with just the right aura of ancient about it.
That part is nice, when she senses 'lesser' auras, belonging to people who probably don't even know they're slightly more magically inclined than the rest. 
I knew this girl in college who proclaimed herself to have some powers. She was scrawny, and she got teased in high school. Anyway, she focused on three of her tormentors, caused all three of them to come down with mono. Maybe that was a one-time thing (we didn't stay in touch... ) but I don't think so. But maybe she is the type of witch Raven can sense with a slightly brighter aura.
Really beautiful .... she defies gravity. I like when she says "Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze..." that is something nobody modern would say. Because the word 'electronic' is assumed by most of us, when it comes to matters of electric-driven technology.
OH no, she got hit by a flying fire elemental! Good gosh... what is going on in Detroit? Each one of these guys is like an evil Transformer. More than meets the eye! Except Transformers are robots in disguise. And these are ordinary humans. Could the Crystal Death be causing all of this? But how?
Cripes.
I knew this girl in college who proclaimed herself to have some powers. She was scrawny, and she got teased in high school. Anyway, she focused on three of her tormentors, caused all three of them to come down with mono. Maybe that was a one-time thing (we didn't stay in touch... ) but I don't think so. But maybe she is the type of witch Raven can sense with a slightly brighter aura. Really beautiful .... she defies gravity. I like when she says "Cray, I should like you to cast your electronic gaze..." that is something nobody modern would say. Because the word 'electronic' is assumed by most of us, when it comes to matters of electric-driven technology.
OH no, she got hit by a flying fire elemental! Good gosh... what is going on in Detroit? Each one of these guys is like an evil Transformer. More than meets the eye! Except Transformers are robots in disguise. And these are ordinary humans. Could the Crystal Death be causing all of this? But how?
Cripes.
Acadian: I really got to delve into Blood Raven's mystical powers in the beginning of that episode. Even though she is a superhero, she is also a wizard, which makes her a lot of fun to write for me.
I always go back through Blood Raven's scenes with extra care, and specifically look for ways to change not only her dialogue, but also my own prose, to give her that sense of being a person outside of their own time.
As Qui-Gon said: "Your focus determines your reality." One of the limitations I put on both Stormcrow and Blood Raven is that as magicians, they have to focus their will and energy to use their powers. Sometimes that is simple. But other times it can be difficult, if not impossible. In many ways their discipline, or lack thereof, determines their limits.
The truth is that Blood Raven is a monster too. Or she would be, if she let out that side of herself. That is what separates her from the Nazis. The same with all of us. Do we allow our worst instincts and reflexes to rule us, or do we rule them?
The Raven does indeed have a serious fight on her hands. But as you noted, help is on the way, perhaps from some unexpected quarters...
Renee: I like writing Blood Raven's very un-modern way of speech, and viewing the world. It can be a lot of extra work to make it happen, but when it makes her sing as a unique person, it is worth all the effort.
The Nazis bought Crystal Death from ThunderRhino the day before. If you go back a little Dusquesne called January and told her about the sale, and she put it together that the Nazis were the customers by the tattoo one of them had.
As always, the battlefield is in the Google Map of all the Stormcrow locations. Just look for the Detroit Radiator Building.
Downtown Battleground 1
Downtown Battleground 2
State Street looking toward the Radiator Building and Capitol Park
Chobham Armor
Boron Carbide
Dragon Silk
Blood Raven's Fight Music
Book 5.22 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven raced downward. Selene was not the only moon goddess who had bequeathed her with gifts. Hekate was the Queen of Witches, just as Selene was the Mother of Vampires. With Hekate's gift of magic, Blood Raven waved a hand from one side of State Street to the other. Aion rose from her fingers, and took form through her will. A wall of golden energy sprang forth to block the street. That would halt the earthbound Nazis until she could come to grips with them.
But before Blood Raven could even near the ground, a cloud of particles like sand or dust rushed in upon her. She smelled no blood, nor felt a living heartbeat in this one, so she had no advance warning of the attack. But clearly this was an individual, not a projectile of earth. It whirled and hissed and snapped, like a dust devil. It lashed out, and the fine grains of its body scored her armor deeply as they whipped through the air. It was like standing within a hurricane.
But she had defied hurricanes before. She could have contained the Dust Devil within walls of mystic force. But she had already deployed such a field to block off the street leading to the parade-goers. While there was no blood or heart within the fully-transformed body of the Nazi, it still possessed life force. She knew that she could take hold of that pneuma - that life energy - and devour it. But she had sworn that off decades ago. She had not consumed a human since France, not since she had ended the Das Reich... She was not going to start again.
Instead she gathered up a handful of aion and cast it forth in a bolt of searing power. It ripped through the swirling particles of her attacker's body, and incinerated great gobbets of it. Her attacker recoiled, and flew back. Blood Raven pushed forward, so that she hovered over her force field at the edge of Woodward Avenue. The earthbound Nazis were directly beneath her now, battering away at the barrier with no effect.
Blood Raven had no time to follow up with another attack upon the Dust Devil. More Nazis were coming up at her. The Fire Man was now roaring back through the sky, along with the Rocket. A female Nazi was literally running up on the air toward her as well. Her body was transparent, and it looked as if she was climbing an invisible stairway.
"Watch out, that new one looks like she can phase," Cray's mellow voice rumbled in her ear.
The Fire Man hurled balls of flame from his hands, at the same time that the Dust Devil snapped back at her with a long tendril of scouring grit. She dodged each, but that left her open to the attack of the third.
It was nothing but a simple punch. But it was far from ordinary. The transparent woman was indeed a phaser. Her ghostly fist passed effortlessly through the boron carbide Chobham armor of Blood Raven's chest plate, and the flexible dragon silk of her bodysuit underneath. It was as if she wore no armor at all. But the Nazi's fist was absolutely solid when it landed directly against her flesh, bursting blood vessels and snapping a rib. Blood Raven nearly doubled over from the shock.
"We will insure the future of the white race!" this Nazi cried exultantly.
Blood Raven's fingers transformed into long, jagged claws - Selene's Curse, now her Gift. She swiped at the other woman without form or balance. It was a purely reflexive move. Yet her magical talons slashed deep across the female Nazi's chest, sending that sweet, sweet blood splashing everywhere. Some of it dropped onto Blood Raven's lips.
If it had been clean, healthy blood it might have driven her back toward frenzy again. But the drug that polluted that divine flow had turned it to poison. Blood Raven spat it away in disgust. She could never feed upon any of the Nazis, even if she had been willing to do such a thing.
She briefly considered purifying their blood. That would purge the drug from their systems. It would also presumably deprive them of their newfound abilities. But the time and concentration that would require would leave her far too exposed to the attacks of the others. They would kill her before she had cleansed even one.
This would have to be settled through force of arms.
"She might be able to phase through solid matter, but she can't escape magic." Cray spoke in his gruff yet mellow tones. Then his voice rose several octaves, a sure sign of distress. "You've got new incoming from behind you. Looks like… Lighthammer?"
"He's a friendly," January's voice rang out in Blood Raven's ear now. "I asked him to keep an eye out, in case anything weird happened."
"I'm patching him into our comms now," January's friend Gadget said.
"Blood and Soil!" shouted the Nazi floating above the parking lot across the street. A car came flying through the air at Blood Raven. She dared not dodge it. If it missed her, it would sail right over her force field and into State Street. It might even reach the parade-goers, the next block over to the west. She could not allow that. So she met it with hands outstretched, and sunk her claws into its steel hide to get a firm grip on it. She briefly considered hurling it down atop the Nazis clustered at the base of her force field. But then she heard three wildly beating hearts within, and smelled the blood that flowed through their veins.
She pulled back, behind the force field, and prepared to lower the vehicle. But the Fire Man and Rocket were on her again. She spun around, and took a wash of fire down her back that clearly had been meant to set the vehicle alight. Agony seared through her. Fire was every vampire's worst enemy, Selene's one great bane. Yet she endured, and insured that the car, and its occupants, remained untouched. Her flesh however, was not so lucky. She could feel it wither away all along her spine.
She heard gunshots in the street below, and realized that several police officers had their weapons drawn and were firing upon the Nazis overhead. She was impressed. It was certainly more than she had come to expect from the Detroit Police. Yet their sudden zeal gave her cause for even greater concern. Gunfire in the center of a crowded city was a recipe for tragedy. She would have to find a way to dissuade them from more shooting.
But she had little time for ruminating on the issue of further civilian casualties. The Rocket was about to crash into her. Two beams of brilliant white light flashed by her and struck the Nazi full on. He went pin-wheeling away, no longer a blur of force, but now just a man again. His body crashed through one of the windows of the office building on the north side of State.
Lighthammer came roaring past an instant later, resplendent in his shining silver, white, and blue armor. An exultant "Hooah!" ripped from his lips, and he loosed another pair of solid light bolts from his palms. They took the Fire Man in the chest, but did not seem to harm him. A moment later Lighthammer crashed directly into the Nazi, and they both went careening through the air above the parking lot beyond Woodward.
Blood Raven moved down toward the ground, car still grasped in her arms. Something small flashed in her vision. She could not make it out, but she certainly felt it sting. Something hot and sharp lanced through the dragon silk of her mask, and plunged deeply into the flesh of her face. Again, she bit down a cry of anguish. Instead she concentrated on lowering the car to the street. She could not move too fast, or she would risk harming the innocent people within from the force of the impact.
She took another, and another of the stings. Cray's voice was in her ear, advising her that it appeared to be a Nazi shrunk down to the size of an insect, as Stinger from the Sentinels could do. She appeared to have the same armor-piercing quantum sting as well.
The first drops of rain came pattering down from above when the tires of the Impala touched the concrete. Blood Raven looked up for her tiny nemesis, and noted that the sky had turned solid gray with clouds. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled a low warning.
She smiled. January had such prodigious power, and still did not truly grasp its extent. It was power the likes of which Blood Raven had not felt in over half a century. Not since she had last faced her own father. She could only hope that January did not become as drunk upon it, or as corrupted by it, as him.
"You think this is funny libtard?" A female voice rang out from down the street. Cresting over the top of the force field was the transparent form of the Phaser. Coming up behind her was the Dust Devil, while the Shrinker continued to buzz around her.
"A storm is coming." Blood Raven grinned through her own blood.
Farther back in the parking lot, through the shimmering light of her force field, Blood Raven saw a male Nazi in black uniform rising up from the ground. "We are the warriors of the white race!" he cried exultantly, drunk on his newfound abilities. "Cultural Marxism ends here! Globalism ends here!"
The earthbound Nazis had given up on trying to batter through the force field. Instead they ran to the south, toward Campus Martius. They would have to be stopped. Cray's voice came over the comm a moment later, advising Lighthammer and Stormcrow of just that danger.
Blood Raven heard the racing heart of the Rocket above her. A moment later he came blasting out of the office building, and roared down through the air toward her back. She leapt skyward, spinning backward through the air, and he sailed impotently through the spot she had occupied just an instant before. That now put him in front of her, along with the rest of the Nazis.
She loosed her aion into a great wave of power. Not a single bolt of energy this time. Instead it radiated out from her in a massive, expanding cone, and roared down the street in front of her. It swept ahead like a tidal wave, filling the street from one side to the other. It struck the Rocket, Dust Devil, Shrinker, and Phaser, and burned through them even as it flung them back. All four of them were hammered against her force field, which her wave of energy washed up against and finally broke upon.
She allowed the barrier to fall after that, and dropped to the street. She strode forward toward her enemies. But she saw the Nazi floating above the parking lot beyond stretch out his hands. A tree uprooted itself from the sidewalk between the lot and Woodward. A moment later it came hurtling toward her.
I always go back through Blood Raven's scenes with extra care, and specifically look for ways to change not only her dialogue, but also my own prose, to give her that sense of being a person outside of their own time.
As Qui-Gon said: "Your focus determines your reality." One of the limitations I put on both Stormcrow and Blood Raven is that as magicians, they have to focus their will and energy to use their powers. Sometimes that is simple. But other times it can be difficult, if not impossible. In many ways their discipline, or lack thereof, determines their limits.
The truth is that Blood Raven is a monster too. Or she would be, if she let out that side of herself. That is what separates her from the Nazis. The same with all of us. Do we allow our worst instincts and reflexes to rule us, or do we rule them?
The Raven does indeed have a serious fight on her hands. But as you noted, help is on the way, perhaps from some unexpected quarters...
Renee: I like writing Blood Raven's very un-modern way of speech, and viewing the world. It can be a lot of extra work to make it happen, but when it makes her sing as a unique person, it is worth all the effort.
The Nazis bought Crystal Death from ThunderRhino the day before. If you go back a little Dusquesne called January and told her about the sale, and she put it together that the Nazis were the customers by the tattoo one of them had.
As always, the battlefield is in the Google Map of all the Stormcrow locations. Just look for the Detroit Radiator Building.
Downtown Battleground 1
Downtown Battleground 2
State Street looking toward the Radiator Building and Capitol Park
Chobham Armor
Boron Carbide
Dragon Silk
Blood Raven's Fight Music
Book 5.22 - Crystal Death
Blood Raven raced downward. Selene was not the only moon goddess who had bequeathed her with gifts. Hekate was the Queen of Witches, just as Selene was the Mother of Vampires. With Hekate's gift of magic, Blood Raven waved a hand from one side of State Street to the other. Aion rose from her fingers, and took form through her will. A wall of golden energy sprang forth to block the street. That would halt the earthbound Nazis until she could come to grips with them.
But before Blood Raven could even near the ground, a cloud of particles like sand or dust rushed in upon her. She smelled no blood, nor felt a living heartbeat in this one, so she had no advance warning of the attack. But clearly this was an individual, not a projectile of earth. It whirled and hissed and snapped, like a dust devil. It lashed out, and the fine grains of its body scored her armor deeply as they whipped through the air. It was like standing within a hurricane.
But she had defied hurricanes before. She could have contained the Dust Devil within walls of mystic force. But she had already deployed such a field to block off the street leading to the parade-goers. While there was no blood or heart within the fully-transformed body of the Nazi, it still possessed life force. She knew that she could take hold of that pneuma - that life energy - and devour it. But she had sworn that off decades ago. She had not consumed a human since France, not since she had ended the Das Reich... She was not going to start again.
Instead she gathered up a handful of aion and cast it forth in a bolt of searing power. It ripped through the swirling particles of her attacker's body, and incinerated great gobbets of it. Her attacker recoiled, and flew back. Blood Raven pushed forward, so that she hovered over her force field at the edge of Woodward Avenue. The earthbound Nazis were directly beneath her now, battering away at the barrier with no effect.
Blood Raven had no time to follow up with another attack upon the Dust Devil. More Nazis were coming up at her. The Fire Man was now roaring back through the sky, along with the Rocket. A female Nazi was literally running up on the air toward her as well. Her body was transparent, and it looked as if she was climbing an invisible stairway.
"Watch out, that new one looks like she can phase," Cray's mellow voice rumbled in her ear.
The Fire Man hurled balls of flame from his hands, at the same time that the Dust Devil snapped back at her with a long tendril of scouring grit. She dodged each, but that left her open to the attack of the third.
It was nothing but a simple punch. But it was far from ordinary. The transparent woman was indeed a phaser. Her ghostly fist passed effortlessly through the boron carbide Chobham armor of Blood Raven's chest plate, and the flexible dragon silk of her bodysuit underneath. It was as if she wore no armor at all. But the Nazi's fist was absolutely solid when it landed directly against her flesh, bursting blood vessels and snapping a rib. Blood Raven nearly doubled over from the shock.
"We will insure the future of the white race!" this Nazi cried exultantly.
Blood Raven's fingers transformed into long, jagged claws - Selene's Curse, now her Gift. She swiped at the other woman without form or balance. It was a purely reflexive move. Yet her magical talons slashed deep across the female Nazi's chest, sending that sweet, sweet blood splashing everywhere. Some of it dropped onto Blood Raven's lips.
If it had been clean, healthy blood it might have driven her back toward frenzy again. But the drug that polluted that divine flow had turned it to poison. Blood Raven spat it away in disgust. She could never feed upon any of the Nazis, even if she had been willing to do such a thing.
She briefly considered purifying their blood. That would purge the drug from their systems. It would also presumably deprive them of their newfound abilities. But the time and concentration that would require would leave her far too exposed to the attacks of the others. They would kill her before she had cleansed even one.
This would have to be settled through force of arms.
"She might be able to phase through solid matter, but she can't escape magic." Cray spoke in his gruff yet mellow tones. Then his voice rose several octaves, a sure sign of distress. "You've got new incoming from behind you. Looks like… Lighthammer?"
"He's a friendly," January's voice rang out in Blood Raven's ear now. "I asked him to keep an eye out, in case anything weird happened."
"I'm patching him into our comms now," January's friend Gadget said.
"Blood and Soil!" shouted the Nazi floating above the parking lot across the street. A car came flying through the air at Blood Raven. She dared not dodge it. If it missed her, it would sail right over her force field and into State Street. It might even reach the parade-goers, the next block over to the west. She could not allow that. So she met it with hands outstretched, and sunk her claws into its steel hide to get a firm grip on it. She briefly considered hurling it down atop the Nazis clustered at the base of her force field. But then she heard three wildly beating hearts within, and smelled the blood that flowed through their veins.
She pulled back, behind the force field, and prepared to lower the vehicle. But the Fire Man and Rocket were on her again. She spun around, and took a wash of fire down her back that clearly had been meant to set the vehicle alight. Agony seared through her. Fire was every vampire's worst enemy, Selene's one great bane. Yet she endured, and insured that the car, and its occupants, remained untouched. Her flesh however, was not so lucky. She could feel it wither away all along her spine.
She heard gunshots in the street below, and realized that several police officers had their weapons drawn and were firing upon the Nazis overhead. She was impressed. It was certainly more than she had come to expect from the Detroit Police. Yet their sudden zeal gave her cause for even greater concern. Gunfire in the center of a crowded city was a recipe for tragedy. She would have to find a way to dissuade them from more shooting.
But she had little time for ruminating on the issue of further civilian casualties. The Rocket was about to crash into her. Two beams of brilliant white light flashed by her and struck the Nazi full on. He went pin-wheeling away, no longer a blur of force, but now just a man again. His body crashed through one of the windows of the office building on the north side of State.
Lighthammer came roaring past an instant later, resplendent in his shining silver, white, and blue armor. An exultant "Hooah!" ripped from his lips, and he loosed another pair of solid light bolts from his palms. They took the Fire Man in the chest, but did not seem to harm him. A moment later Lighthammer crashed directly into the Nazi, and they both went careening through the air above the parking lot beyond Woodward.
Blood Raven moved down toward the ground, car still grasped in her arms. Something small flashed in her vision. She could not make it out, but she certainly felt it sting. Something hot and sharp lanced through the dragon silk of her mask, and plunged deeply into the flesh of her face. Again, she bit down a cry of anguish. Instead she concentrated on lowering the car to the street. She could not move too fast, or she would risk harming the innocent people within from the force of the impact.
She took another, and another of the stings. Cray's voice was in her ear, advising her that it appeared to be a Nazi shrunk down to the size of an insect, as Stinger from the Sentinels could do. She appeared to have the same armor-piercing quantum sting as well.
The first drops of rain came pattering down from above when the tires of the Impala touched the concrete. Blood Raven looked up for her tiny nemesis, and noted that the sky had turned solid gray with clouds. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled a low warning.
She smiled. January had such prodigious power, and still did not truly grasp its extent. It was power the likes of which Blood Raven had not felt in over half a century. Not since she had last faced her own father. She could only hope that January did not become as drunk upon it, or as corrupted by it, as him.
"You think this is funny libtard?" A female voice rang out from down the street. Cresting over the top of the force field was the transparent form of the Phaser. Coming up behind her was the Dust Devil, while the Shrinker continued to buzz around her.
"A storm is coming." Blood Raven grinned through her own blood.
Farther back in the parking lot, through the shimmering light of her force field, Blood Raven saw a male Nazi in black uniform rising up from the ground. "We are the warriors of the white race!" he cried exultantly, drunk on his newfound abilities. "Cultural Marxism ends here! Globalism ends here!"
The earthbound Nazis had given up on trying to batter through the force field. Instead they ran to the south, toward Campus Martius. They would have to be stopped. Cray's voice came over the comm a moment later, advising Lighthammer and Stormcrow of just that danger.
Blood Raven heard the racing heart of the Rocket above her. A moment later he came blasting out of the office building, and roared down through the air toward her back. She leapt skyward, spinning backward through the air, and he sailed impotently through the spot she had occupied just an instant before. That now put him in front of her, along with the rest of the Nazis.
She loosed her aion into a great wave of power. Not a single bolt of energy this time. Instead it radiated out from her in a massive, expanding cone, and roared down the street in front of her. It swept ahead like a tidal wave, filling the street from one side to the other. It struck the Rocket, Dust Devil, Shrinker, and Phaser, and burned through them even as it flung them back. All four of them were hammered against her force field, which her wave of energy washed up against and finally broke upon.
She allowed the barrier to fall after that, and dropped to the street. She strode forward toward her enemies. But she saw the Nazi floating above the parking lot beyond stretch out his hands. A tree uprooted itself from the sidewalk between the lot and Woodward. A moment later it came hurtling toward her.
What an intense fight this is as Blood Raven battles a superior number of foes imbued with powers she has not had time to fully assess. Thankfully, her foes have similarly not had the time to fully develop their own abilities.
Welcome help from Lighthammer!
’The first drops of rain came pattering down from above. . .’
With the first words of that sentence, I knew it heralded the coming of Stormcrow!
On the edge of my seat now and can’t wait to learn what happens next! Blood Raven certainly has her hands full at the moment.
I love your use of silk armor! In Buffy’s world, silk from spider daedra is tops for physical protection and the silk of ancestor moths is prized for both repelling magic and how beautifully it accepts color when dyed. The two silks can be interwoven to good effect. Like you, we started with a real concept and adjusted it to our purpose.
Welcome help from Lighthammer!
’The first drops of rain came pattering down from above. . .’
With the first words of that sentence, I knew it heralded the coming of Stormcrow!
On the edge of my seat now and can’t wait to learn what happens next! Blood Raven certainly has her hands full at the moment.
I love your use of silk armor! In Buffy’s world, silk from spider daedra is tops for physical protection and the silk of ancestor moths is prized for both repelling magic and how beautifully it accepts color when dyed. The two silks can be interwoven to good effect. Like you, we started with a real concept and adjusted it to our purpose.
QUOTE(Acadian @ Oct 10 2020, 03:41 PM)
I love your use of silk armor! In Buffy’s world, silk from spider daedra is tops for physical protection and the silk of ancestor moths is prized for both repelling magic and how beautifully it accepts color when dyed. The two silks can be interwoven to good effect. Like you, we started with a real concept and adjusted it to our purpose.
I want to get this out before I forget. Frostbite Spider silk might also be protective, and confer Frost Resistance. There might be some other creepy spiders in places like Argonia or Valenwood that are both strong, and offer other side effects, like perhaps a poison resistance, or even fire or lightning resistance.
And the giant silkworms from Summerset might have the strongest silk in the world, and confer magic resistance, or absorption.
Wow, you just sent me down a
Been quiet in the forums this weekend.
OH my gosh, poor Raven. She's getting all beaten during this segment. Why won't she 'consume' the human behind the Dust Devil?
Cray's voice remains mellow during all of this! He really is detached, even more so than the average 911 operator.
Bleagh, yeah, don't feed upon Crystal Death-contaminated Nazi blood. Yicch. I mean, I guess feeding upon any sort of blood is yucky. But from one of those fiends, even Serana or Lestat might take a pass.
Lighthammer says "Hooah!"
I highly doubt this. Jan's heart is too pure. And she's too .. I don't know. Clueless is a bad word. I can't think of the word I'm thinking of. Innocent? That's closer, but not exact. Anyway, Jan is too *Insert missing Word here* to become 'corrupted' by her power.
Is aion similar to aeon? As in Aeon Flux?
I wonder where Jan is. She's missing all the fun today!
OH my gosh, poor Raven. She's getting all beaten during this segment. Why won't she 'consume' the human behind the Dust Devil?
Cray's voice remains mellow during all of this! He really is detached, even more so than the average 911 operator.
Bleagh, yeah, don't feed upon Crystal Death-contaminated Nazi blood. Yicch. I mean, I guess feeding upon any sort of blood is yucky. But from one of those fiends, even Serana or Lestat might take a pass.
Lighthammer says "Hooah!"
QUOTE
She could only hope that January did not become as drunk upon it, or as corrupted by it, as him.
I highly doubt this. Jan's heart is too pure. And she's too .. I don't know. Clueless is a bad word. I can't think of the word I'm thinking of. Innocent? That's closer, but not exact. Anyway, Jan is too *Insert missing Word here* to become 'corrupted' by her power.
Is aion similar to aeon? As in Aeon Flux?
I wonder where Jan is. She's missing all the fun today!
Acadian: While Blood Raven does not know what to expect from each individual Nazi, she does have the experience to know what to expect from various kinds of supers. (Not to mention being insanely high level). So she's actually doing pretty well, all things considered.
Blood Raven definitely has her hands full. Even with Lighthammer's timely assist (now that scene where Jan asked him to hang around town in case something weird happened pays off). But you may have noticed that Blood Raven is holding back. She usually does against humans. Look back to the battle with the djieien to see what I mean.
I absolutely love using the rain and thunder as a way of foretelling January's arrival. It is nice and dramatic. Blood Raven already knows what it means.
As with my other armors like hagfish and cubic boron nitride, the Dragon Silk came about because it is a real life form of body armor. The same with the main battle tank Chobham armor that Blood Raven wears. I imagine that she owns the company that produces Dragon Silk.
Renee: January's weekend has not been quiet! Come to think of it, her weekends are usually jam-packed with action.
Blood Raven stopped eating people a long time ago. There will be more about that later in this chapter, and in chapter 6. It is a moral decision that she made, for reasons...
Cray is definitely Mr. cool and collected through all of the chaos. It is one of the things that makes him such a good partner.
The various branches of the Armed Forces all have their own unique war cry. The Marines have Oorah, the Army has Hooah, etc... It probably all goes back to the Union Army in the Civil War, which used a "deep and manly Huzzah!". Everything I have read says that the Air Force uses Hooah, like the Army does. So that is Lighthammer's signature.
I think the word you are looking to use to describe January is idealistic, or perhaps compassionate. But sadly, those things are still not always enough to save one from the corruptive influence of power...
Aion is a Greek word, the Latin version of it is Aeon. It can mean a lot of things, like life, or vital force, or a sense of unbounded time, or ages. That latter is where we get the word Eon from. There is even a god named Aion. I (and Blood Raven) am using it as a term for magical energy, like mana.
Jan is about to join all the excitement. The rest of the chapter is all from her pov.
Where Woodward separates into Campus Martius
The same place looking back north
Gott Mit Uns
Book 5.23 - Crystal Death
January's heart raced in time with her wings. She had found that she did not have to consciously think about the up and down-strokes any longer. It just came naturally now, like walking, or breathing. They beat furiously now as she willed herself to sweep faster and faster through the concrete and steel cliffs of the Downtown core. Her will carried her forward inexorably, and she banked and dove between buildings as she followed the streets to the scene of the battle.
She heard everything that had happened over the comms of course. Not being able to actually do anything drove her crazy. She wanted to reach out through the link and yank the Nazis off of Blood Raven. She could not imagine how Gadget could deal with being on this end of the communications, it felt so frustrating, so paralytic.
She soared over the crowd that had gathered in Capitol Park to form the parade. In spite of the grandiose name, it was just a small triangular plaza between Griswold and Shelby streets, with a few trees and long planters filled with greenery. The Art Deco stonework of the Albert Building rose up on its eastern edge, across Griswold Street. Just south of that, across State Street, rose the black and gold Neo Gothic majesty of Blood Raven's lair, the Detroit Radiator Building.
January banked tightly over the sea of people. She heard cheers and shouts rising from them. But she had no time to look down. It took all of her concentration to thread the narrow gap between the Albert and Radiator Buildings. One mistake would flatten her against the stone facade of either skyscraper.
She willed herself to turn into that narrow gap between the steel and stone titans at full speed. Her magic made it reality, and she banked steeply to make the turn. For a moment she tilted at a right angle to the ground. It felt like her belly was about to scrape against the black marble of the Radiator Building at any second. Then she straightened out, and soared through the artificial canyon with growing ease.
She darted the length of State Street, and saw Blood Raven facing down nearly half-a-dozen Nazis directly ahead of her. Worse yet, in the parking lot beyond where Woodward intersected with State, she could see another Nazi in black floating in the air. He raised his hands as if pantomiming lifting something. Then he thrust them forward.
An uprooted tree floated in the air before him, and shot forth at Blood Raven, and the crowd of Nazis around her. This apparent telekinetic seemed to have little regard for his own fellows. Somehow that did not surprise January. Thunder rumbled, seemingly in time with January's pounding heart, and lightning cracked overhead. She calculated the arc of the tree, and nosed down to meet it. At the last moment she disengaged her wings, and somersaulted forward into an airborne roll.
She felt first her legs, then the rest of her body, crash through leaves and branches of the flying tree. Then her boots hit the trunk hard. All of her forward momentum, all of her power, all of her will, transferred into the tree. It not only stopped dead in the air, but soared back a good ten feet, before crashing beyond the empty intersection.
January dropped to the earth with it, and landed with an ease garnered from years of gymnastics training. The parking lot and the telekinetic were ahead of her across Woodward and slightly to the left. The glass, granite, and limestone Compuware Building rose up high across the street to the right. Behind her right shoulder was the ten story parking structure that flanked the Radiator Building. A bakery and other shops within its lowest story lined the sidewalk. To her other side on State rose an office building, with an Under Armor store at street level.
"Lighthammer, deal with that telekinetic in the lot if you please," Cray rumbled over the comm. In spite of all the chaos, his voice was as calm and even as a sportscaster describing a golf game. "Blood Raven, stick with the ones you have on State. Stormcrow, head down Woodward and stop the foot-soldiers headed for Campus Martius."
"I kind of got my hands full with Burning Man here!" Lighthammer cried.
January saw flashes of white and red light out of the corners of her eyes, somewhere above the parking lot. But she had no time for that. She turned her gaze south, to the backs of the four Nazis running down Woodward. Campus Martius - Detroit's great downtown park - was just ahead of them. She could not let them reach the crowds of people gathered there.
"Lighthammer, I see a fire hydrant up by Woodward and Grand River…" Gadget's voice came over the comm.
"I read you," Lighthammer's voice turned sly. January heard metal tear, and a great roar of rushing water somewhere behind her.
"Hooah!" the vigilante crowed.
January had her mind on her own task however. She did not run down the street, so much as take a series of low, blindingly fast leaps along it. Her final jump arced herself higher into the air, above the four earthbound Nazis. She dipped one hand into her utility belt, and pulled forth a present for them as she sailed past overhead. The grenade dropped down to the street at their feet. An instant later it flared to life, and sent out a faint blue haze along the surface of the road in a roughly ten-foot circle.
The Nazis all came to a sudden halt within the energy field created by the grenade. They did not simply stop running. They stopped completely, feet glued to the ground. They all lurched forward, and would have fallen from the sudden stop, if not for the aforementioned adhesion of their feet. As it was they rocked violently in the air, and raised angry fists in January's direction once they regained their balance.
January performed a half-twist as she soared through the air and added a roll at the end. She dropped to her feet in the little triangular island in the road where Woodward split apart to make room for Campus Martius. Both sides of the road spread out widely behind her, creating a huge space in-between for the park. Within rose an expanse of trees and grass, along with a cafe and grand fountain. Back farther still was the tall Soldier's and Sailor's monument, topped by its sword and shield-armed Amazon statue. She could hear shouts and screams from at least a hundred people within the area, and the clatter of wildly running feet. Most of them, blessedly, moving away.
Before her now were the Nazis, all gathered in the middle of Woodward. The Iron Man: clad in metal that appeared to have been torn from various cars and streetlights. The Werebear: a towering bulk of fur and muscle. The Swordsman, who wielded a blade of blazing fire and carried a curved shield of the same material. Finally the Stone Man: whose body appeared to be literally made of concrete.
They snarled and spat impotently at her. A few strung together some truly florid examples of homophobia, along with accusations of racial treason, and dubious claims about her origins. But it was the Nazi floating above the street farther back, beyond the intersection of Woodward and State that caught January's attention.
This Nazi had noticed the plight of his brothers. He reached out with one hand, and made a motion like he was crushing an object in his fist. January's adhesive wave grenade crumpled into a shapeless mass, briefly sparking with energy before its final collapse. The blue haze that had blanketed the street vanished, and the four earthbound Nazis surged forward once more.
They bore down on her with huge grins on their faces. More slurs dripped from their mouths like poison. None were anything January had not heard a thousand times before of course. Outnumbering her four to one appeared to make them brave. Just as the anonymity of the internet made others of their ilk feel confident to spout their bile online.
January reached out with one hand and contemptuously curled her fingers inward, beckoning them closer.
"Valhalla Awaits," she growled.
She had noted that since no one else was near, that meant there was no one to get in her way.
January raised her other hand to the sky, and split it open with her will. Lightning spilled down in a tremendous gout of white fire and deafening thunder. It was an inferno of heat, and light, and sound. The cataclysm of power rent and blasted all within its blinding reach. Just like in Ferndale, the concrete of the road burst up in great chunks, showering them all with debris. The rain came pelting down afterward, and washed away the dust kicked up by the eruption.
Perhaps best of all, January was now bathed in electricity. It crackled and snapped all about her frame. It danced from the tips of her blonde hairs, ran down her arms, and leaped about her boots. She was wreathed in elemental fury, which hissed and snarled at every rain drop that fell upon it.
The Swordsman staggered away, clearly dazed by the lightning strike. The Iron Man too, had been driven to his knees by the elemental assault. The Werebear shook it off after just a moment however, and continued forward. The Stone Man seemed almost entirely unfazed, and was the first upon January.
"Globalists must die!" he rumbled in a literally gravelly voice.
She slipped aside as he lunged clumsily for her. She refrained from striking back just yet. She did not want to waste her gathered up electricity on someone who appeared to be relatively immune to it. She wanted to save it for when it would do the most good. She did not know if she could hit someone without discharging it all. She would have to practice that in the future.
Instead she reached back into her utility belt, and tossed out another party favor. She screwed her eyes shut, but even still, brilliant flares of light strobed against her eyelids as the flash grenade burst in front of her.
That caused the Stone Man to pause his assault as he rubbed his eyes. The Werebear sniffed the air, and continued on for her. She leapt over his head as his arms swept out to grasp her in a bear hug. The Stone Man leaned in, and swung blindly. He landed a solid hit as January dropped to her feet. His concrete fist struck the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate. His fist lost, and small chunks of his fingers literally shattered and fell away. He staggered back, clutching at his maimed hand.
But January noticed a strange shimmer pass through him, like a wave running through water. The concrete in his body vanished behind it, and instead his frame turned into silvery metal. She noted that it looked identical to the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate, before Gadget had painted it black…
The Iron Man came at her next, charging in with a gigantic, spiked mace that appeared to have once been a light post combined with the axles of several cars. He lumbered in a clumsy gait however, and had to pause several times to look around. Apparently he was still fighting the blinding effect of the flash grenade. January backed away, and he pursued, whooping with glee.
"Run while you can pervert!" he cried. "Gott Mit Uns!"
But January was not running. She was repositioning herself. The Stone Man looked up to see her just inches away. He punched at her with his good hand. She did the splits, and dropped to the earth with legs splayed out to either side along the pavement. His cubic boron fist met nothing but the memory of her. But it did land squarely on the Iron Man, who had been right behind January.
The Iron Man took the blow right in his chest plate, and staggered under the titanic blow. The Stone Man's fist sank deeply into his iron armor, dimpling it around his fist. But it did even more to the Stone Man. A shimmer ran through his body once again. As January had guessed it might, his body changed from cubic boron nitride to iron in its wake.
She had surmised right, he was absorbing the qualities of whatever he touched.
January punched up hard into the Iron Man, shattering the metal that girded his midsection. Her borrowed electricity blasted through his armor, turning him into cavalcade of energy. Better still, the Stone Man's fist was still buried in his chest armor, and that same lightning roared through his now ferrous, iron body. Both were hurled away, and landed at opposite sides of the street in unmoving, smoldering heaps.
Blood Raven definitely has her hands full. Even with Lighthammer's timely assist (now that scene where Jan asked him to hang around town in case something weird happened pays off). But you may have noticed that Blood Raven is holding back. She usually does against humans. Look back to the battle with the djieien to see what I mean.
I absolutely love using the rain and thunder as a way of foretelling January's arrival. It is nice and dramatic. Blood Raven already knows what it means.
As with my other armors like hagfish and cubic boron nitride, the Dragon Silk came about because it is a real life form of body armor. The same with the main battle tank Chobham armor that Blood Raven wears. I imagine that she owns the company that produces Dragon Silk.
Renee: January's weekend has not been quiet! Come to think of it, her weekends are usually jam-packed with action.
Blood Raven stopped eating people a long time ago. There will be more about that later in this chapter, and in chapter 6. It is a moral decision that she made, for reasons...
Cray is definitely Mr. cool and collected through all of the chaos. It is one of the things that makes him such a good partner.
The various branches of the Armed Forces all have their own unique war cry. The Marines have Oorah, the Army has Hooah, etc... It probably all goes back to the Union Army in the Civil War, which used a "deep and manly Huzzah!". Everything I have read says that the Air Force uses Hooah, like the Army does. So that is Lighthammer's signature.
I think the word you are looking to use to describe January is idealistic, or perhaps compassionate. But sadly, those things are still not always enough to save one from the corruptive influence of power...
Aion is a Greek word, the Latin version of it is Aeon. It can mean a lot of things, like life, or vital force, or a sense of unbounded time, or ages. That latter is where we get the word Eon from. There is even a god named Aion. I (and Blood Raven) am using it as a term for magical energy, like mana.
Jan is about to join all the excitement. The rest of the chapter is all from her pov.
Where Woodward separates into Campus Martius
The same place looking back north
Gott Mit Uns
Book 5.23 - Crystal Death
January's heart raced in time with her wings. She had found that she did not have to consciously think about the up and down-strokes any longer. It just came naturally now, like walking, or breathing. They beat furiously now as she willed herself to sweep faster and faster through the concrete and steel cliffs of the Downtown core. Her will carried her forward inexorably, and she banked and dove between buildings as she followed the streets to the scene of the battle.
She heard everything that had happened over the comms of course. Not being able to actually do anything drove her crazy. She wanted to reach out through the link and yank the Nazis off of Blood Raven. She could not imagine how Gadget could deal with being on this end of the communications, it felt so frustrating, so paralytic.
She soared over the crowd that had gathered in Capitol Park to form the parade. In spite of the grandiose name, it was just a small triangular plaza between Griswold and Shelby streets, with a few trees and long planters filled with greenery. The Art Deco stonework of the Albert Building rose up on its eastern edge, across Griswold Street. Just south of that, across State Street, rose the black and gold Neo Gothic majesty of Blood Raven's lair, the Detroit Radiator Building.
January banked tightly over the sea of people. She heard cheers and shouts rising from them. But she had no time to look down. It took all of her concentration to thread the narrow gap between the Albert and Radiator Buildings. One mistake would flatten her against the stone facade of either skyscraper.
She willed herself to turn into that narrow gap between the steel and stone titans at full speed. Her magic made it reality, and she banked steeply to make the turn. For a moment she tilted at a right angle to the ground. It felt like her belly was about to scrape against the black marble of the Radiator Building at any second. Then she straightened out, and soared through the artificial canyon with growing ease.
She darted the length of State Street, and saw Blood Raven facing down nearly half-a-dozen Nazis directly ahead of her. Worse yet, in the parking lot beyond where Woodward intersected with State, she could see another Nazi in black floating in the air. He raised his hands as if pantomiming lifting something. Then he thrust them forward.
An uprooted tree floated in the air before him, and shot forth at Blood Raven, and the crowd of Nazis around her. This apparent telekinetic seemed to have little regard for his own fellows. Somehow that did not surprise January. Thunder rumbled, seemingly in time with January's pounding heart, and lightning cracked overhead. She calculated the arc of the tree, and nosed down to meet it. At the last moment she disengaged her wings, and somersaulted forward into an airborne roll.
She felt first her legs, then the rest of her body, crash through leaves and branches of the flying tree. Then her boots hit the trunk hard. All of her forward momentum, all of her power, all of her will, transferred into the tree. It not only stopped dead in the air, but soared back a good ten feet, before crashing beyond the empty intersection.
January dropped to the earth with it, and landed with an ease garnered from years of gymnastics training. The parking lot and the telekinetic were ahead of her across Woodward and slightly to the left. The glass, granite, and limestone Compuware Building rose up high across the street to the right. Behind her right shoulder was the ten story parking structure that flanked the Radiator Building. A bakery and other shops within its lowest story lined the sidewalk. To her other side on State rose an office building, with an Under Armor store at street level.
"Lighthammer, deal with that telekinetic in the lot if you please," Cray rumbled over the comm. In spite of all the chaos, his voice was as calm and even as a sportscaster describing a golf game. "Blood Raven, stick with the ones you have on State. Stormcrow, head down Woodward and stop the foot-soldiers headed for Campus Martius."
"I kind of got my hands full with Burning Man here!" Lighthammer cried.
January saw flashes of white and red light out of the corners of her eyes, somewhere above the parking lot. But she had no time for that. She turned her gaze south, to the backs of the four Nazis running down Woodward. Campus Martius - Detroit's great downtown park - was just ahead of them. She could not let them reach the crowds of people gathered there.
"Lighthammer, I see a fire hydrant up by Woodward and Grand River…" Gadget's voice came over the comm.
"I read you," Lighthammer's voice turned sly. January heard metal tear, and a great roar of rushing water somewhere behind her.
"Hooah!" the vigilante crowed.
January had her mind on her own task however. She did not run down the street, so much as take a series of low, blindingly fast leaps along it. Her final jump arced herself higher into the air, above the four earthbound Nazis. She dipped one hand into her utility belt, and pulled forth a present for them as she sailed past overhead. The grenade dropped down to the street at their feet. An instant later it flared to life, and sent out a faint blue haze along the surface of the road in a roughly ten-foot circle.
The Nazis all came to a sudden halt within the energy field created by the grenade. They did not simply stop running. They stopped completely, feet glued to the ground. They all lurched forward, and would have fallen from the sudden stop, if not for the aforementioned adhesion of their feet. As it was they rocked violently in the air, and raised angry fists in January's direction once they regained their balance.
January performed a half-twist as she soared through the air and added a roll at the end. She dropped to her feet in the little triangular island in the road where Woodward split apart to make room for Campus Martius. Both sides of the road spread out widely behind her, creating a huge space in-between for the park. Within rose an expanse of trees and grass, along with a cafe and grand fountain. Back farther still was the tall Soldier's and Sailor's monument, topped by its sword and shield-armed Amazon statue. She could hear shouts and screams from at least a hundred people within the area, and the clatter of wildly running feet. Most of them, blessedly, moving away.
Before her now were the Nazis, all gathered in the middle of Woodward. The Iron Man: clad in metal that appeared to have been torn from various cars and streetlights. The Werebear: a towering bulk of fur and muscle. The Swordsman, who wielded a blade of blazing fire and carried a curved shield of the same material. Finally the Stone Man: whose body appeared to be literally made of concrete.
They snarled and spat impotently at her. A few strung together some truly florid examples of homophobia, along with accusations of racial treason, and dubious claims about her origins. But it was the Nazi floating above the street farther back, beyond the intersection of Woodward and State that caught January's attention.
This Nazi had noticed the plight of his brothers. He reached out with one hand, and made a motion like he was crushing an object in his fist. January's adhesive wave grenade crumpled into a shapeless mass, briefly sparking with energy before its final collapse. The blue haze that had blanketed the street vanished, and the four earthbound Nazis surged forward once more.
They bore down on her with huge grins on their faces. More slurs dripped from their mouths like poison. None were anything January had not heard a thousand times before of course. Outnumbering her four to one appeared to make them brave. Just as the anonymity of the internet made others of their ilk feel confident to spout their bile online.
January reached out with one hand and contemptuously curled her fingers inward, beckoning them closer.
"Valhalla Awaits," she growled.
She had noted that since no one else was near, that meant there was no one to get in her way.
January raised her other hand to the sky, and split it open with her will. Lightning spilled down in a tremendous gout of white fire and deafening thunder. It was an inferno of heat, and light, and sound. The cataclysm of power rent and blasted all within its blinding reach. Just like in Ferndale, the concrete of the road burst up in great chunks, showering them all with debris. The rain came pelting down afterward, and washed away the dust kicked up by the eruption.
Perhaps best of all, January was now bathed in electricity. It crackled and snapped all about her frame. It danced from the tips of her blonde hairs, ran down her arms, and leaped about her boots. She was wreathed in elemental fury, which hissed and snarled at every rain drop that fell upon it.
The Swordsman staggered away, clearly dazed by the lightning strike. The Iron Man too, had been driven to his knees by the elemental assault. The Werebear shook it off after just a moment however, and continued forward. The Stone Man seemed almost entirely unfazed, and was the first upon January.
"Globalists must die!" he rumbled in a literally gravelly voice.
She slipped aside as he lunged clumsily for her. She refrained from striking back just yet. She did not want to waste her gathered up electricity on someone who appeared to be relatively immune to it. She wanted to save it for when it would do the most good. She did not know if she could hit someone without discharging it all. She would have to practice that in the future.
Instead she reached back into her utility belt, and tossed out another party favor. She screwed her eyes shut, but even still, brilliant flares of light strobed against her eyelids as the flash grenade burst in front of her.
That caused the Stone Man to pause his assault as he rubbed his eyes. The Werebear sniffed the air, and continued on for her. She leapt over his head as his arms swept out to grasp her in a bear hug. The Stone Man leaned in, and swung blindly. He landed a solid hit as January dropped to her feet. His concrete fist struck the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate. His fist lost, and small chunks of his fingers literally shattered and fell away. He staggered back, clutching at his maimed hand.
But January noticed a strange shimmer pass through him, like a wave running through water. The concrete in his body vanished behind it, and instead his frame turned into silvery metal. She noted that it looked identical to the cubic boron nitride of her breastplate, before Gadget had painted it black…
The Iron Man came at her next, charging in with a gigantic, spiked mace that appeared to have once been a light post combined with the axles of several cars. He lumbered in a clumsy gait however, and had to pause several times to look around. Apparently he was still fighting the blinding effect of the flash grenade. January backed away, and he pursued, whooping with glee.
"Run while you can pervert!" he cried. "Gott Mit Uns!"
But January was not running. She was repositioning herself. The Stone Man looked up to see her just inches away. He punched at her with his good hand. She did the splits, and dropped to the earth with legs splayed out to either side along the pavement. His cubic boron fist met nothing but the memory of her. But it did land squarely on the Iron Man, who had been right behind January.
The Iron Man took the blow right in his chest plate, and staggered under the titanic blow. The Stone Man's fist sank deeply into his iron armor, dimpling it around his fist. But it did even more to the Stone Man. A shimmer ran through his body once again. As January had guessed it might, his body changed from cubic boron nitride to iron in its wake.
She had surmised right, he was absorbing the qualities of whatever he touched.
January punched up hard into the Iron Man, shattering the metal that girded his midsection. Her borrowed electricity blasted through his armor, turning him into cavalcade of energy. Better still, the Stone Man's fist was still buried in his chest armor, and that same lightning roared through his now ferrous, iron body. Both were hurled away, and landed at opposite sides of the street in unmoving, smoldering heaps.
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