Renee: Lighthammer's not a cheater! He's an energy projector. An energy sheath/shield for defense is pretty standard fare for those types. Since he uses Solid Light in particular, a force field was perfect for him. Right now his force fields are small, as he is new to this. But they will improve over time. (This is what happens when you play Marvel Superheroes and Champions, you look at all supers in terms of how their powers fit together).

I liked writing the talk between Lightguy and Stormgirl very much too. There is some definite conflict there, which January is not shy about backing down from. But the fact they are both willing to talk also shows us something about their characters. If you recall, Lighthammer didn't fire on January first during their initial confrontation. He told her to get lost, and then she took them both out the window. Even then, he tried to grab her in mid air to keep her from falling to her death. Really, January was the aggressor (with good reason to be of course). This willingness to cooperate with others leaves a door open between him and January, which I intend to use in the future.

I think I get more bigotry on the internet than I get here in flesh and blood Michigan. That is not to say that it is not rife in Michigan. Until the Supreme Court overturned it, Michigan had an amendment to the state constitution not only banning same-sex marriage, but also any form of civil union or shared benefits between same-sex partners. That was of course voted for and passed by the people of Michigan by an overwhelming majority. It is also the reason I don't do tabletop RPGs anymore. There is always one person in every group who forces everyone to choose between them and me.

Really though, it is more of a generational thing. Younger people don't bat an eye. Then the older you go, the more likelihood there is for hostility. My mother cried when I came out (and not cried in a good way). My brother didn't care less ("Yeah, I know") is all he said. My father said he though I was brave. It's a whole gamut.

Of course it is called Pop! Soda is what you bake with silly!


Acadian: When I was looking over the name she would pick for herself, the fact that January shortens to Jan was definitely something I considered (along with January being the first month of the year, being similar to the Two-Headed god Janus, and the same name as January Jones). Jan works as a good nickname. I don't use it except in dialogue, as I want to keep a certain level of formality to my writing. And I think she thinks of herself more as January than as Jan. But she knows people are going to call her Jan, and it's a nickname she does not mind.

Worldwide Network News was inspired by the The HP Lovecraft Historical Society. In their Dark Adventure radio theater shows, they have a fictional radio news station called Worldwide Wireless News. I just took it forward in time from the 20s and updated the name. But I still imagine it is the same company.

Sadly, January's reaction to the crucifix was taken straight from my life. I have had to learn to always be on my guard whenever I see one, because I don't know how the wearer is going to treat me. Sometimes it is the same as anyone else, other times, not. I always have to be ready for the latter. That is just the unfortunate reality that people like January and I live in.


treydog: Now that she has committed to this super life, January has a clear idea of who she needs to be. She has not worked out all the kinks yet, or put the Buffy Doctrine down on paper. But she has a clear goal in her head of the person she wants to be. Reaching out to Emilia is part of that. She knows she needs the police on her side if she is going to be successful as a cape. That means forging relationships. Emilia was the obvious first.


Grits: Freya is way to busy being impressed by "Outside!" to pay attention to a nerd like her mother.

I will be working in more Detroit personality in today's episode in fact. Later in this chapter we will have a couple cases where we can fly along with January and see more of the city as well.

I did try watching John Adams again, since I get it free on Prime. I tried once before, but could not get into it. Sadly, I could not keep interested for too long this time either. It's the inaccuracies! Unfortunately for me, all the nits I see about the show are about actual events (like who was where at what time), or about things like officers having the wrong buttons on their uniforms, or enlisted men holding their rifles the wrong way on their shoulder. No one really had anything to say about the portrayal of life in general. But the good thing is I am almost finished reading the book I bought a few days ago, and it has been very helpful.

If you want to get more familiar with superheros I highly recommend the new run of Ms. Marvel with Kamala Khan as the protagonist. It is a great entry point, as it has a very well written main character. It is not just about her punching things, but navigating her life. Likewise with the (now) older Batgirl of Burnside era comics (Batgirl New 52 #35 and up) and her Rebirth era issues. The artwork is not that great. I guess they don't spend money making the girl comics. But the writing is excellent.

Of course I also recommend the two books by April Daniels that I keep flogging. They are what made me think I could actually write a superhero story in prose (as opposed to how we normally see them in comic or movie form).



This Episode's Links:

Oshun

Erzulie

Made In Detroit Tee


You can follow along with January's walk. Start at the Poletown Bus Stop

The Poletown Bus Stop (well close enough to it)

The Bus Stop from the air (the Hamtramck Cadillac Plant is on the right. Smaller steel mills on the left)

The bridge overI-94 and the Packard Plant (beyond in the left)


The Packard Plant

The Packard Plant aerial view

Another aerial view

A closer look from above

Down on the ground

Summer

Winter

Another building

Inside


The Man Living In The Packard Plant


Principles of Flight

The Tigers and the Old English D






Book 2.1 - Stormcrow Recycled

Mid May 2019


"Hey girl, that's a really cute jacket you got on."

January looked up from the book she was reading on her phone. Standing in the aisle of the bus was an African Goddess. Perhaps she was Oshun? However, Erzulie was a strong possibility as well. She was tall and slender, with a curly mane that spilled from her shoulders like an indigo waterfall. She was dressed in a tight leather jacket, and even tighter skinny jeans that glittered with rhinestones. Her silky skin was mellow brown, and her eyes gleamed in the morning sun.

"Umm, thanks," January glanced down at the soft pink fitted jacket that she wore over a "Made In Detroit" tee.

"That's like, a Lululemon right?" Oshun asked.

"I wish," January smiled wryly. "I can't afford one of those. It's a Clululemon, same as my leggings. Not even half the price."

"Now that's what I was thinking," the Goddess said as she sat down beside January, who was obliged to scoot over to make more room for the other girl. "I was thinking 'there is a girl who doesn't waste good money'."

"Um, I guess," January murmured. She did not understand why the Goddess was even talking to her. She must have been incredibly bored. Or maybe it felt like a safer bet than sitting anywhere near the four gang-banger wannabes in the back, or the old lady knitting socks the next seat over, or the woman with two sneezing kids in front.

"Oh you got some nice legs on you too, don't you girl?" To emphasize her words, the African Goddess put one hand on January's leg, and gently slid it along the soft fabric of her black leggings. January had to admit, it felt good. Better than good. Her touch was practically electric. "I bet you work out, don't you?"

"Yeah," January fumbled for words. "I do gymnastics."

January stared down at her boots. What on earth was this African Goddess doing talking to her? Was this some kind of butter-up before she tried selling her something? Was all this some kind of punked video? Was the other woman trying to pick her pocket? If so, she was going to be very disappointed. There had to be some reason for the attention, but January could not imagine what it could be.

The Goddess continued talking, and fawning over her. It made January more and more nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was relieved when the bus finally reached the Poletown stop. She lifted her backpack, and squeezed past the Goddess to get into the aisle and off the bus. Afterward, she immediately felt for her phone and her wallet. But nothing was missing from her purse, pack, or her pockets.

January could still remember how warm her hand had been, when it had gently slid across her leg. She could still feel it there, softly caressing her. That was not something she would soon forget…

January fought the urge to blush. She pulled her pack across her shoulders, and walked down the street. To her right a row of trees partially screened the looming colossus of the Hamtramck Assembly plant. Across Mount Elliott Street to her left were smaller steel plants, and a towering white building with no signs at all, or even windows.

January imagined that if she could get up on that roof, she could get a lot of air under her wings. She would have to change first. But that would be easy enough, given that her armor was in the pack across her shoulders. But a public street was not the place for changing clothes, not even as fast she could do it.

She made her way down the sidewalk, with only a few cars occasionally whipping past. One honked its horn at her, but she had no idea why. It was not like she was walking in the street or anything. She crossed a dilapidated bridge over I-94, and found herself standing in front of a gas station. The tall smokestack of the city incinerator rose up in the distance to her right. But she turned left instead, putting her back to it. She followed the service drive along the side of the freeway, past a big warehouse with semi-trucks parked outside.

She came upon a dilapidated railroad track, and turned right to follow it south. To her left was a parking lot fenced off with razor wire, with some sort of industrial building beyond. The sharp edges of the wire glinted in the sunlight, and the links of the fence were still shiny. That, and the handful of trucks and cars in the lot, told her that this was a place still in business. Though she could not guess what that business might be.

She ignored it, and headed down the railroad line. A thin bank of trees began on the far side of the tracks. She crossed over and ventured into the greenery. It was a nice, quiet spot, screened from any prying eyes that might be following her.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her Fire meditation.

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

An instant later she was clad from head to toe in her Stormcrow armor, and her regular clothes were tucked safely away in her backpack. She leapt up onto the bough of a stout oak, and looped one of the pack's shoulder straps through its branches. That would keep anyone from finding it, let alone stealing it.

She knew that she could have just taken the pack with her. But she did not want anyone seeing her wearing it with the armor. They might take pictures, then they might see her in her ordinary life wearing the same backpack, and put two and two together. It was paranoia, to be sure. But that did not mean there were not people truly out to get her. Everyone knew what had happened to Hailstorm after all. She was not going to end up like him.

She dropped to the earth below, and stepped out of the greenery and into a street that paralleled the trees and train tracks. Beyond rose the sprawling ruins of the old Packard Automotive Plant. One massive building after another rose like a line of rotted teeth in a blighted jaw. They reminded January of a row of megalithic dominos. Push on one, and all them would probably collapse one after the other.

Not one building retained a single door or window. Broken cinderblocks, cracked bricks, and other detritus were piled up everywhere. Yet nowhere was there anything of value. No iron or steel. No wiring. Certainly no copper pipes. The only remaining life was in the graffiti that splashed the decrepit walls, and the trees and brush that rose from some of the rooftops.

It made January think of pictures she had seen of cities bombed to ruins in World War II. Except no bombs had ever fallen here. No wars had marred this spot. It had been neglect, abandonment, and decay that had writ the doom of the Packard plant, just as it had done to most of Detroit's once-mighty industries.

She found the man she was looking for soon enough, standing on the roof of one of the taller buildings and gazing out over the edge. His blue, white, and silver armor glowed softly. He stood arms akimbo, in one of those classic superhero poses. Then he rose slowly into the air, a plume of white light erupting from each of his boots. January wondered if he practiced that in front of a mirror.

She leapt up to the roof of the nearest building. From there she jumped again to the top of a taller ruin across the alley. By the time she made it there he had jetted over, and hovered in mid-air beyond the edge of the roof.

"You're late," Lighthammer groused.

"Blame the bus," January shrugged her shoulders. "I got here as soon as I could."

"The bus…" Lighthammer shook his head. "Really Crowgirl? You're taking the bus?"

"This ain't Chicago or New York Lightguy," January countered. "It's not like we have a subway, or an elevated, or any real mass transit here."

"You know, I'm working a mission. Probably sometime next week," he said. "An extra hand wouldn't hurt. Your end would probably be 50k, if things go well."

"And how many people would I have to kill?" Now it was January's turn to rest her hands on her hips.

"Don't think of them as people," Lighthammer shook his head and waved one hand from side to side for emphasis. "It makes things easier."

"I can't do that," January shook her head. "I can't live my life the way you do."

"You too good for me White Hat?" There was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.

"I didn't say that," January insisted. "Everything I do is always being watched, measured, studied, by people yearning to vilify me. Not only me, but everyone else like me. I don't have the luxury of ever doing anything wrong. I have to be perfect, all the time, now more than ever."

"Sounds like an impossible way to live," the armored man said softly.

"That's what my therapist said, back when I used to see her," January shrugged. "But I'm not here to stretch out on your couch Doctor Hammer."

"A'ight," Lighthammer nodded. "I used the extra time to get ready. Step into my classroom."

He waved for her to follow, and flew back to the building he had originally been standing upon. But he did not return to the roof. Instead he nimbly zipped down through a wide aperture in the floor beneath it.

January leapt after him. She hit the triggers built into her gauntlets, and her cape snapped out into a pair of wings. She followed his path, just barely gliding through the gaping maw that had once been a window. Once inside she hit her triggers again, and her wings collapsed back into a cape. She hit the ground with speed, tucked into a forward roll, and bounced back to her feet.

She found that Lighthammer had indeed been busy. On one otherwise bare wall he had spray painted several diagrams. One was of an airplane with arrows pointed out from it in all directions. Another was the side view of a wing, with dotted lines to denote what looked like the flow of air across it. He also had several bullet points spelled out, which he began going over.

"Okay, flight is governed by a set of four principles," he said. "Lift, Weight (or gravity), Thrust, and Drag."

He pointed to the graphic of the airplane, and January noted that each of those principles was spelled out beside an arrow showing which direction it moved the plane. Lift for the up arrow, Thrust for the forward arrow, and so on. She listened with rapt attention as he went over each, and explained how they affected flying. For example Lift was created by lower pressure created on the upper surface of a wing, compared to the higher pressure on the underside of the same wing. As the name said, that caused it to be lifted upward.

After spending some time on such book learning, Lighthammer led her out the window and back into the sky. Here they put his lessons to practical use as January glided along, with him beside her to coach her on angling her wings, and her body, to make the most of each.

January could not stop herself from smiling. It was not that she did not take it seriously. She certainly did. It was just such undeniable fun that there was no containing it. There were no morals or ethics to consider. No uncertain future to angst over. No one to insult her. There was nothing to worry about at all, except falling to her death on the broken concrete a hundred feet below.

"We got company Crowgirl," Lighthammer's voice erased the smile from her lips. "Four o'clock."

January had to spend a moment working out what direction that was. Finally she craned her head back and to the right to see a skinny old man with white-hair and a beard standing on one of the abandoned rooftops. He wore a blue sweater that said: "God in the 313". He raised one hand to shade his eyes as he stared at them. A pair of dogs circled him, wagging their tails joyfully.

"Don't worry about him," January replied. "He just lives here. He won't bother us."

"He lives here?" the armored vigilante said. "Is he mental or something?"

"This is Detroit," January explained. "We are all mental here. All the sane people left decades ago."

"If he calls the police, it'll be more than a bother," Lighthammer warned.

"He won't," January replied confidently. "Like I said, this is Detroit. No one here calls the police. They know there's no point."

"Such cynicism in one so young," Lighthammer clucked. "I respect that."

January laughed. It would be funnier if it had not been so true.

"So what's the 313 he's got on his shirt?" Lighthammer wondered. "Is that some kind of gang you got around here?"

"It's the area code for Detroit," January explained. "Go past 8 Mile and into the 'burbs and it turns to 586 and 248."

"Uh huh," Lighthammer nodded.

"So if you're in the 313, you're in the D." January went on.

"The D?" Lighthammer asked. "Oh, you mean Detroit."

"The D is something we say here," January explained. "It's from the Old English D the Tigers have on their hats."

"The Tigers I know," Lighthammer nodded. "I saw them play the Indians down at Progressive Field with…"

The vigilante's words trailed off, and January guessed that he was about to say someone's name. She did not press him for more. Now she remembered that they were not just two ordinary people hanging out and talking. They were capes, and they had secret identities to protect, even from one another. Especially from one another.

It was a sobering thought. Did this barrier exist between all metas? She knew that they might be allies at the moment, when they each had something the other needed. But that could change in the future. Would she always have to think so strategically with everyone she met from now on?

They returned to their original rooftop. Now it was January's turn to become the teacher. She began with the most basic moves of Krav Maga. First she demonstrated them. Then she worked Lighthammer through each, repositioning his hands, arms, and body, until he could perform the attacks and counters flawlessly.

Still, her thoughts kept drifting back to the African Goddess' hand on her leg…

The thing (okay ONE thing) I like about this story is the excellent incorporation of "mundane" into "meta". The pictures most definitely help with that! But this is the part that so many shows (or even movies) and books miss out on- the characters are "human" first, with "super" as an aspect of their humanity. So they have lives and emotions and problems and everything else that goes with the "Homo" part- all of which can be complicated (rather than "fixed") by the "Superiorous". Being able to "leap tall buildings" does not relieve one of the need for sleep or to do laundry, for that matter.

And the location-specific parts add so much to the story, especially the industrial and urban decay. Since the first car I remember riding in was a Studebaker, I admit to having a particular nostalgia for Packards....

Flight lessons in exchange for fight lessons- and January continuing to define and refine her code... excellent.

And the ever-present adolescent (and post-adolescent) struggle over- does this person like ME- for ME? Or is it some kind of joke or game? All of which is even worse for our protagonist because of her dysmorphia.

Wonderfully written and a true treat to read.

The bus ride and encounter did a couple of things very smoothly. It reinforced the existence of mundane aspects in the lives of superheroes – especially new, young ones. In the face of attention from another woman, January somewhat awkwardly clung to her streetwise suspicions rather than seriously considering that another woman could be attracted to her. A rather endearing vulnerability actually. Hopefully, this African Goddess gave January a self-confidence boost in that area.

Happily for our superheroine, this vulnerability does not seem to extend to other areas, for she is certainly quick of word, wit and confidence when it comes to dealing with Lightguy. I love the idea of exchanging flight lessons for fight lessons. She is wise to build such an alliance, as Lighthammer does seem to have some redeeming qualities and clearly respects her as well.

Lastly, the entire episode was nicely furnished with bits of history and local flavor of Detroit.

I think I want an African Goddess next to me, if I ever ride the bus again.

I like that they don't know each others' identities. And it's so obvious Lighthammer comes from some where else. In fact he seems quite out of touch with everyday humans.



(bolded text)

Not Cthululemon? Good idea to stash the backpack. I like that January’s natural suspicion over the gorgeous bus girl gets another layer of concern over protecting her identity. She has a lot to consider when someone gets friendly, unfortunately.

The Packard plant description was awesome, I love the comparison to bombed-out buildings. There’s a lot to infer about growing up in an area with that kind of industrial decay that doesn’t have to be spelled out.


And here is a great divide between the two capes. (Not sure if they’re both supposed to be shaking their heads?)

Lighthammer’s flight moves are impressive. Flight school sounds as fun as January reports it was!

treydog: Inserting the human element into these stories is my primary goal. Writing about capes is boring. Writing about people is interesting. I was inspired by April Daniel's novels, and the more recent comics of Batgirl, Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan), and the new series Unstoppable Wasp. All of them put the people first, the supering second. It made me realize that this was a genre that could be about more than just problem-solving and fist fights. Just as Fantasy can be about more than just barbarians with mighty thews weaving a glittering web of steel about their half-naked, pantherish frames.

Tbh, the urban decay is not so bad anymore in Detroit. The Packard Plant is right about to be re-developed. The same is happening to long abandoned places all around the city, like Eloise, the Northville Psychiatric Hospital, the Pontiac Silverdome, the Book-Cadillac Hotel, and so on. Detroit really has been turning around in the 2010's. But I kind of like to hold onto that old urban decay, as it injects a certain harsh character into the story. It reminds us that just as things rise, they all eventually fall as well. Sort of like the slave standing behind the successful Roman general during his triumph (the parade that is), whispering in his ear "Remember you are mortal."

One reason I like putting January together with Lighthammer is that it forces both of them to take a hard look at their actions, and what they want to be. They are so alike in many ways, it is easy to forget their differences sometimes. Then their very different philosophies butt heads, and each has to look at the other's and acknowledge that it exists, and either reject it, defend it, or perhaps even think about it.


Acadian: I understand that when Spider-Man first came out back in the 60s, the reason he became so insanely popular was that people could identify with him. He was picked on in school. He barely eked out a living. His everyday, mundane struggles in life were exactly the same as those of all the readers. The Sam Raimi films certainly underscored all this, which is why I like them. I definitely want to show that with January. She's taking the bus the same as thousands of other people.

The African-Goddess was a great way for me to show that combined dumbfoundedness, uncertainty, and awkwardness that I think we all go through, when we do not realize that another person likes us. In my own life, I tend to figure those things out about 12 hours later... Though once it took over a year.


Renee: I want an African Goddess next to me too! We can all dream.

Struggling with secret identities is standard comic book fare. But it also makes sense in the world they live in. I like how it creates this artificial barrier between people who might be risking their lives on one another's behalf. Yet at the same time they cannot just go to a baseball game together or sit in a bar and have a couple of pints.

I would not say that Lighthammer is out of touch with people. Just with Detroit. He was an excellent foil for me to use to reveal some Detroit-centric info, without it coming across as an infodump.


Grits: Cthululemon: The Stars are Right for you to look good in our new summer fashions!

Sadly January has a lot of extra baggage when it comes to romance. Being a lesbian already adds one difficulty, then trans, and now she is a super with an identity to protect. When it rains it pours!

One thing about the urban decay and economic hard times Detroit has struggled through over the past 40 years is that it has driven out a lot of people. Those who remain, are either foolish to have done so, or too stubborn and stuck in their ways to move, too loyal to their roots, or just plain crazy. Probably a mix of all. It does create a unique character to this city though.

January does love to fly. Something I am sure Acadian can relate to. She is coming to discover that she never feels so free as when her feet are off the ground. There will be more of that later this chapter, when she gets some serous flight on.





The Laughing Man is an homage to Ghost In The Shell

Four Twenty

Victory Empulse TT

You can find Bloomfield Hills on the Stormcrow Map

Bloomfield Hills



Book 2.2 - Stormcrow Recycled

"What a piece of junk!" January stared at the heap of twisted machinery that had once been a motorcycle. "I can't buy this!"

Her heart plummeted like a balloon with no air. That was how she felt, as if all the air had been sucked out of her. She had been so certain that this was going to be her new car, well bike, or motor vehicle at least. It was going to be her freedom from constantly begging rides from Avery, or borrowing her mom's Mini Cooper, or taking the bus. This was going to be a whole new chapter in life. A chapter where she could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was all going to start now.

Or not.

She and Avery stood in a garage larger than her family's house. All around her were cars and trucks that she could not even name. But the bright colors, spoilers, and racing stripes said a lot about them, and the man who owned them. It all reminded January of her brother, whose narcissism was only equaled by his obnoxiousness. She instantly disliked the man.

"It just needs a little work." The bike's owner clucked as he hobbled a few steps toward the motorcycle's remains. One of his legs was bound up in a synthetic cast, and he had to use a crutch to walk.

"A little work!" Avery exclaimed. "The engine is wrecked, and where's the battery?"

"Hazmat had to haul it away," the owner murmured. "It was leaking all over the place after the accident."

"It looks like an elephant stepped on it," January frowned. One side of the engine was crumpled into a shapeless mass. Whatever had hit it, or ran it over, had been substantial. The rest of the motorcycle seemed to be in one piece however. The tires still had air, the handlebars were still straight, and so forth.

"Just a little fender bender," the owner contended. "Nothing you can't fix. If you're as good as the Laughing Man said you were."

"Oh I'm better than that Ricky," Avery insisted. "But look at this. The whole engine is shot. I'll have to rip it out and start from scratch, plus buy a brand new battery. What did you do to this thing anyway?"

"I may allegedly have over-celebrated slightly on Four Twenty," Ricky said. "I had to put it down. It may have hit a fire hydrant…"

"May have?" January fumed. "This is a giant paperweight. Come on let's go."

"Now just wait a minute, you said you wanted a bike," Ricky insisted. "I have a bike."

"The work I would have to do…" Avery rubbed the back of his head in thought. "We'll give you five hundred for it."

"Five hundred!" Ricky exclaimed. "This is a Victory Empulse TT! Sure it's a few years old, but I paid 20k for this thing!"

"It might have been worth that three years ago," Avery said coolly, "but not today. It's a pair of wheels and front forks. Five hundred, and I'll take it off your hands. Otherwise call the junkyard. That's all its good for."

"That's not even one hour of my lawyer's time!" Ricky fumed. He ran a thin and shaking hand through his straggly mane. "Fine, take it, it's yours. Let me get the title."

The thin man hobbled over a full size tool cabinet that was far too clean and gleaming to have ever been used. He fumbled with the lock, giving January time to turn to Avery.

"Are you crazy?" she was careful to keep her voice down, so Ricky could not overhear. "Do you know how long it took me to save that money?"

"Don't worry," Avery smiled. "All the stuff that's broken, I was going to replace anyway. I've been working on it for the last week. Now you'll have money left over for a helmet."

"I'm bidding on two on Ebuy right now." January bit her lip. "Are you sure about this?"

"Have I ever let you down?" Avery said confidently. "This bike is perfect. And this Gucci biker wannabe is right, it is worth twenty grand."

"If you say so," January was torn. On one hand, she really wanted something to drive. She needed something. She had no doubt that Avery could work miracles with tech. But every time she looked at the mangled wreck of a motorcycle her enthusiasm vanished into a lightless void of Lovecraftian doom. Still, she did trust Avery. So she reached into her purse, pulled out her envelope of money, and counted out five $100 bills. She imagined that this would be the last time she would see Ben Franklin's face for a long while.

Ricky fished out the title and brought it over. January looked over his signature to make sure it matched the name. She did not expect someone living in Bloomfield Hills to con her. But you never knew. There was no lien. This guy had probably paid the entire twenty thousand in cash when he bought it. She wondered if she should really check the odometer and compare the VIN. But she decided that was overdoing it. It was not like the Secretary of State was going to do that when they went there next.

She handed over the money with a feeling of finality. It reminded her of how it had felt when she handed Emilia Mercado that bag filled with diamonds. This was far less valuable. But she had worked long and hard for this money. She had earned it. She hated the idea that she might be wasting it.

"Good thing you brought a van." Ricky nodded to the beat up Ford that Avery had borrowed from his uncle Jerome. "I think I have some ramps over here somewhere..."

He shambled off, and while his back was turned January handed her purse to Avery. Then she picked up the motorcycle with one hand and tucked it under her armpit. She stepped lightly to the Ford, opened the back doors with her free hand, and hopped inside. She gently laid the bike down to avoid scratching the bare metal floor. She climbed back out just in time to see Ricky shamble back into view with a metal ramp clutched in his free hand.

"All set," Avery smiled, "pleasure doing business with ya."

Ricky was still gaping, dumbfounded, as they drove off.

A visit to the insurance company followed, and then the Secretary of State. The latter went quickly, as Avery had reserved an appointment. Whether that had been legit, or if he had just hacked their system, January neither knew nor asked. By the time they returned to his house January felt exhausted. She had never spent so much money in her life. It was very... deflating.

Yes, how apt a description, the handing over money part. There's this feeling like "damn... there goes the past X months!" And in her case, she can't really see the final result yet, like I'm sure Avery can.

A superbike for a superhero - hopefully. Unfortunately, a wrecked one is the only way she could ever afford such a potentially amazing motorcycle. You really delivered on showing us how hard this was for January to turn over all her hard-earned cash for what seemed a very poor prospect. What it shows me is the depth of her trust in Avery’s judgment and abilities. Something tells me that her trust is well placed, and we’ll hope Gadget is able to transform the remains of this machine not just into a runnning crowbike but into a magnificent Stormcycle!

Your portrayal of Ricky was every bit as unsavory as I'm sure you intended.

"This bike is perfect. And this Gucci biker wannabe is right, it is worth twenty grand."
-What Renee said.

Quotes first and then observations.



Have known a few (thankfully only a few) of those.



Naivete, thy name is “January”.

Wheels! Crowgirl is gonna have wheels! I still remember my 1966 Mustang fondly. She was not in great condition (some holes in the floor pan), nor was she a monster (in-line 6 with a 3-speed instead of the 289 V-8), and she had her quirks (the transmission would kick itself out of third if you slowed below what she considered "reasonable"). But she was my first vehicle, paid for with my own money and she did have that pony car handling... So I am right there with you, Jan. Or where you will be when Avery works his magic.

A good contrast between the "Gucci biker's" casual abuse of his fortune (and his toys) and Jan's awareness of the ACTUAL cost of things, because she has had to WORK for them.

Renee: I had no idea the 'Gucci Biker' line would play so well! I was casting about for a way to describe him, and that just popped into my head. The poorer you are, the harder it is to part with that cold, hard cash. I have been there many times buying cars, with my envelope filled with all the money I have in the world.


Acadian: As you noted, the only way January can afford a bike this cool (and it is a really awesome motorcycle IRL, I would love one) is to buy one that is wrecked. I was there when I was her age. Thankfully not anymore. But I can still remember having to do math everytime I looked at a menu in a restaurant, or a cd on a shelf, and figure out if I can really buy this.


treydog: I still remember my first cars too. The very first one never left the driveway, except on its way to the junkyard. So I don't count that one. The second was a 1972 Impala. I big old four door boat. The roof would leak, and sometimes the power steering went out when I was turning, which always made things exciting. I loved that car. It was my first taste of freedom. I paid $100 for it, which was a lot of money for someone making $3.30 an hour. It died after 3 months. I paid $200 for my second car, a 74 Plymouth Fury. It lasted 6 months. You can see where this is going... I did eventually get my pony car too. It was a 74 Javelin, with a 360 4bbl. It was so fast! My mother took it to the 7-11 on the corner and peeled out going around the corner in front of our house! That car was fast!

Crowgirl is going to finally get her wheels, and I am tapping into those feelings of both that first Impala, and that monster Javelin.







Laser Inertial Fusion Energy

Ultra Dense Deuterium

Plasma

Tesseract

Victory Empulse TT Pic

Victory Empulse Side View

Victory Empulse TT With Panniers

Victory Empulse TT Instrument Panel

Bell Helmet (it really is from the 1950s)



Book 2.3 - Stormcrow Recycled

After Avery gave her the all-clear, January picked up the motorcycle again and carried it through the back door and down into his Gadget Cave. There he went into full Gadget mode, and began to strip out the engine with a socket wrench.

"So how's your mutual training going with Lighthammer?" he asked. He strained at a particularly recalcitrant bolt. Then he slid back out of the way and pointed it out to January. She broke it loose with her fingers with no difficulty. Then she stood back to let him continue his work.

"It's going really well." January allowed a certain amount of satisfaction to creep into her voice. "He's taught me so much about the principles of flight already. He must be a pilot when he's not Lighthammering. He's picking up Krav Maga pretty well too."

"Just be careful around that guy," Avery warned. "You never know with Gray Hats."

"Is someone getting jealous?" January teased. "Don't you worry mi amigo, I'll always need you to fix my stuff."

"And here I thought you loved me for my body!" Avery grinned.

"Well your body is not that bad," January mused. "Except for all the... man parts that is."

"My man parts are my best parts!" With a grunt of effort Avery pulled the wrecked engine from the motorcycle's frame, and dragged it onto the cracked tile of the basement floor. January lifted it up with one hand and set it aside.

"I have some parts here that you'll like." Avery rose and went over to his worktable, where January saw a large lump concealed under a tarp. Avery yanked the covering off with the flourish of a magician performing his show closer.

Revealed beneath was a gleaming beast of an engine. It was all shining metal and bottled speed. While January stared at the wonder of machinery in amazement, Avery walked over to the downstairs fridge and pulled out a large metal sphere dotted with glowing led panels. It practically screamed "mad science". Gadget - the mad scientist himself - was completely unfazed by all this of course. He calmly opened up a compartment in one side of the engine, snapped the miniature Death Star inside, and then sealed it all up tight again.

"What in Freyja's name is that?" January looked at her friend in disbelief.

"You've heard of heavy water right?" Avery asked. "Well I made some back when I was working on the cold fusion reactor for my Geo. I never used it though, since Evian worked much better."

"You put a nuclear reactor in my motorcycle!" January stared at the engine in horror. "I thought you were going to make a fuel cell?"

"I was intending to go that route originally," Avery nodded. "But then I read that Zero Point and Stinger from the Sentinels are building a LIFE reactor for Chicago. It's laser inertial fusion energy. I reached out to them, and they gave me some tips. I use lasers to induce fusion in heavy water. There's no special cooling needed, and it can be turned on and off at any time."

"Isn't that dangerous?" January stared at the engine with the same caution she reserved for white supremacists and anti-vaxxers.

"Not at all," Avery insisted. "The only byproducts are hydrogen and helium. No gamma rays, no nuclear waste."

"You're sure?" January looked from the engine to its inventor. Mundane scientists had been promising nuclear fusion for all of her life, as well as cold fusion, and a host of other inventions. Yet they were all still promises. It was not that Avery was one to lie. Neither were those scientists. Anyone could be over-optimistic.

Granted, Avery had built a cold-fusion reactor for his Geo years ago. She had been there countless nights to listen to him swearing and pounding on it with a wrench while he tried to get it to work. But this was quite a leap beyond the innocuous spring water and coffee filter-driven power plant of his car.

"Oh yes, I've been testing this for the last few days. No issues," Avery crowed. "I have been reading about people doing this with ultra dense deuterium. So I might try that next. The energy output would be spectacular. I would just have to mitigate the extra weight."

"Extra weight?" January wondered.

"That stuff is more dense than the core of the Sun," Avery explained. "A four inch cube would weigh 140 tons."

"That's denser than most voters," January nodded. "You are actually thinking about that?"

"I just have to find a way to compensate for the weight," Avery reasoned. "Stinger gave me an idea about that too. She shunts her excess mass off to higher spatial dimensions when she goes down to the atomic level or lower. If I could do something like that, I could store most of the mass outside of the normal three-dimensional universe. Well, above it. Or in a different direction to it at least."

"You mean build a tesseract?" January tried to keep her voice neutral. When Avery got to brainstorming, his ideas could get pretty wild. But he did have a habit of making his dreams come true, even if it sometimes took a lot of swearing and wrench-wielding to get there.

"Ever since Panzer created the first suit of powered armor back in the 30's, people have been trying to generate more energy in a smaller package." Avery said. "Of course Zero Point uses zero point energy, Annihilator uses anti-matter, and who knows what Doctor Heisen is up to these days? No one has heard much from him since he came back from Jupiter. If I know the Technocrat, he's working on something big, maybe harnessing dark energy, or something even wilder."

January looked from Avery to the gleaming beast of an engine, and its fusion reactor. Was Avery planning on building a suit of powered armor? In that case her motorcycle engine was just the prototype for something much grander. She fought the smile that wanted to play across her lips. He wasn't talking about it yet, but clearly, that was in the back of the meta-inventor's mind.

She said nothing. She would play it cool, and pretend to be surprised and amazed when he finally did unveil it. But her inner fangirl squeed as loud as ever at the thought of him suiting up beside her one day.

"Anyway, even without the ultra-dense deuterium you could probably ride this bike to Pluto and back and not run out gas. Well... fuel."

"So this isn't going to go up like the Hindenburg is it?" January silenced her inner fangirl and paid attention. She stared at the engine, and her friend, with even more respect.

"Well, you don't want to crack the reaction chamber," Avery rubbed the back of his neck. "That might be bad."

"How bad?" January pressed him. He was rubbing his neck. That meant he was really uncomfortable.

"It's fine with it turned off, when no reaction is taking place," he insisted.

"What about when it's turned on?"

"Well that would be bad," Avery rubbed the back of his neck once more. "If the magnetic containment is disrupted… Well that's fully ionized plasma everywhere."

"Note to self, being splashed by the Sun is bad," January breathed. "But as long as it doesn't break, it's safe, right?" January hoped.

"Of course!" Avery insisted. "Like I said, no radiation, no toxic chemicals. It's completely eco-friendly in fact."

Following Avery's direction, January lifted the engine and carried it over to the motorcycle. She held it in place while he bolted it to the frame. Then she stood back while he hooked up the drive chain and made the final connections. In a few minutes it was ready, and he led the way while January carried it back up the stairs.

He stopped abruptly at the landing, and waved January back with one hand.

"Hey Nana, I thought you'd be sleeping." Avery spoke in his nice voice, the one he reserved for dogs and his grandmother.

"I was thirsty," a feminine voice as creaky as an attic floor floated out from around the corner.

"Here, let me get you some Ensure," Avery said diffidently. "I bought some strawberry this morning."

"You are such a sweet young man," his grandmother said. Then her voice lowered to a whisper that January could barely hear. "Do you have that white girl downstairs? I thought I saw her come in."

"Uhh, yeah, January's downstairs doing her homework," Avery said. January could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck.

"She's such a nice girl," his grandmother replied. "You should tap that thing. I bet she's a wild one in the sack. The quiet ones always are."

"Nana!" Avery cried in horror. January could not suppress a grin.

"She's such a nice girl," his grandmother said again. "You should marry her. She'd be good for you."

"Well, I'll take that under advisement Nana," Avery said. "Why don't you go lay down on the couch, and I'll bring out your drink."

"Avery!" his grandmother's voice rang out loudly a moment later, sounding surprised. "When did you get home?

"Um, I just walked in," Avery said. "I thought you might be thirsty, so I got you a drink."

January's smile faded to dust. Her heart went out to her friend. His grandmother Vanessa had her good days, and her bad ones. This was somewhere in between. She could not imagine how he coped with it.

Avery poked his head around the corner a moment later. "Go ahead and try it out," he nodded to the back door of the house, off the basement landing. "I'll try to catch up later. Oh, there's an old helmet in the basement."

January went back down to look for it, trying not to think about how her friend must feel. Most of the time he was so cool and self-assured. He seemed to know everything. His future seemed so certain. Then she was reminded that his life was not so perfect after all.

She found the motorcycle helmet half-buried under a pile of ancient issues of Popular Mechanics. Avery had not been kidding when he said it was old. It looked like a relic from the 50s. It had an open face, with a snap on visor to shade the eyes, and the word "Bell" written over the forehead. January blew the dust off of it, and immediately regretted the gray cloud of detritus that engulfed her. She fought down a cough and tried to wave it away, which of course just spread the dust around even more.

Since it seemed like things could not get much worse, she pulled the old Bell down around her ears. Her hair was not going to get any dirtier after all. She picked up the motorcycle with one hand and carried it back up the stairs. She paused at the landing to peek around the corner into the kitchen. When she saw that the coast was clear, she tip-toed out the back door and set the motorcycle down on the concrete walkway behind the house.

Why did this feel like a Scooby Doo episode?

She stared down at the bike with a rapidly drying mouth. Would it actually work? Or had she just wasted all of her money and half the afternoon? Would Gadget's new power source turn into a hydrogen bomb when she turned it on? She was afraid to find out on all counts.

Simply backing out was not an option. She needed wheels. Other cities had mass transit systems. But Detroit was the Motor City, so that had never been an option. The people here built cars, so the people here drove cars. No one could live here without one. It was time for her to live.

She swung one leg over the Victory Empulse's frame, and settled down on the seat. It was a little small for a motorcycle. But that suited January just fine. At five foot, seven inches, she was not the largest person after all. She ran her hands over the grips, and saw that just above the center of the bars was a dial covered in words and symbols. "Ignition" caught her eye. She turned the knob over and held her breath.

After a long moment the large round speed gauge lit up. So did the smaller led display to its right, with the Victory logo displayed on it. It worked! January stared at it for long moments, expecting something more to happen. But the bike just sat there. Then she noticed that the LED display said "Hold Start For 1S".

Feeling stupid, she looked over the instrument panel for a Start button. The center dial was already set to Ignition, and the other symbols on it did not look like a Start option. A bright red switch on the right handlebar caught her eye. She flipped it up, but nothing happened. Then she noticed another, gray switch underneath it. She held it down for a long moment, and a feeling of relief passed over her when she heard a loud click from deep within the bike. The speed gauge turned green, the word "On" flashed yellow, and the speed dial flipped up and back down again. A faint hum rose from under her legs, but otherwise the bike made no sound.

January had to continue studying and fiddling with the controls to figure out how to get the bike into gear. An unintentional goose of the throttle sent it careening across the back yard toward the driveway, and Avery's parked Geo. Only quick thinking got her fingers around the brake lever. Clamping down on it locked the front brakes, but not the back ones. She felt the entire back end of the bike lift up off the ground as the front tire came to an abrupt halt. She shifted her weight back and up out of reflex, and for a moment she stood in mid-air. The hood of Avery's car was just inches away. A moment later the back of the motorcycle fell down to earth. Only then did she find the rear brake under one foot.

January wondered if she should try downloading the user manual? She quashed that momentary ascent of reason. Who used manuals anyway? Hoping that she was not going to turn herself, or someone else, into a pancake, she took the bike into the street and learned what it could do.

It was glorious.

A nuclear powered Stormcycle emerges from the Gadget Cave – Holy crow feathers, Batman!

You did a wonderful job bringing some science fiction grounded in real stuff to life. It all came across as both fascinating and completely believable. I expect that is a result of some impressive research and, of course, your always impressive writing.

Nice job with Vanessa as well. Not only did the white girl get the Nana endorsement but the woman’s age-related challenges remind us that even though Avery is part of this superhero dynamic duo, his life is also shadowed by the mundane and sometimes heartbreaking challenges and uncertainty of real life as well. Growing old ain’t for sissies.

He put a nuclear reactor in her motorcycle?



Fission is dangerous, I think. Fusion is supposed to be safer. Still though..... goodness! Avery should be the next Nobel Prize winner! Or whatever prize is given out for scientific stuff. Because my gosh!

Nice touch with grandma there. I'm thinking: she'd be too old to know "you should tap that" phrase, but then.... I could technically be a grandmother myself if I'd started way earlier.

Wow, is that really true about Detroit having poor mass transit?

Lol moment: I love how Avery puts it all together, then he has to be somewhere else. He just created a literal marvel in terms of technology, yet leaves Jan to figure out hot to start it! "Oh, I think I got an old helmet in the basement. "

Loved all the dialogue- this is the way true friends can tease each other.



It is only like a miniature Sun- nothing to worry about. You will be sitting on top of it- but... good luck!

Evian water for cold fusion... sure, why not?

And you always have to just be happy when a mad scientist repeats, “That would be bad.”

And his Nana just had me laughing so hard it brought tears to my eyes. And then her dementia caused tears for another reason. And that was some world-class writing too.



Of course- instructions are for wimps!

Most excellent again, Sage Rosa.

Chapter 1 - Stormcrow Rising


What a great way to begin the story! January meditiating was a great way to tell us more about her character, we know she's spiritual in a sense, and very attuned to nature. A confirmation of this was the Introduction to Wicca book.

"The nice, neat suburban teens and adults that occasionally walked past were far from hard core. Nor were even the fuzzy, scruffy ones. They might be killers in Sword Science Online or World of Guncraft, but hardly in the real world."

The Legendary keyboard warriors! This had me chuckling quite a bit!

Jan had quite an audience as she meditated! Seeing the crows gather around her was pretty neat, and definitely shows that there's something special about our heroine.

"For not the first time, she wished for a better tablet, with a larger screen. Or even for an actual laptop. But the Fire 7 was all she could afford. Once it had been on sale for nearly half off that is. As with everything else in her life, she just had to make do with what she could scrounge up."
This stood out to me. I'm assuming Jan is young and living in modest means. I can tell she's adaptable and improvises as she goes along.

I'm already starting to like Avery! Reminds me of a good friend of mine.

"Visit? If one of those birds sat down on my shoulder, I'd be worried. That's like, a bad omen or something."
Indeed, bad omens and uh, bird presents

"I know they were bandits," January said, "but raiders sounds better. It's more... menacing. Besides these raiders are cannibals."

"Now we're talkin'!"

"And their leader is the champion of a dark, alien goddess. I even have a name for her already - Manaha. She's based on the Native American Wendigo lore. Somewhere in here I've got to use the word 'tenebrous'."

This was a refreshing passage, and did bring me back to your previous works/version on the Magnificent Seven. Ah, Tenebrous. I love using that word, don't you?

Despite being able to influence the weather, she has no control over the outcome. This was a great way to show her abilities, as well as her past history with bullies. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" doesn't really ring true, not entirely, especially not in her case. I think we may see some more of this further along? Perhaps the bullies had an effect on her that influenced who she is now? I'm curious to see where this will go!

Can't wait to see more of Jan/Stormcrow and Avery/Gadget! I'll return to catch up on the rest!

Acadian: I did a lot of work on developing power sources that would be in use in the Stormcrow-Verse. The first thing I did was I looked at comics and films to see what sort of energy sources they used. I was very disappointed to find that almost none actually come out and say so. For example, we know from the Marvel Cinematic Universe that Iron Man has an Arc Reactor that powers his suit. So what is an Arc Reactor? They never say. It is literal vaporware. It is the same everywhere else. No one will actually say "This is what powers our technology".

So I turned to predictions on future science, and almost every source there talks about power sources for entire cities and nations. Things like Geothermal, Wind, Solar, etc... Of course these things are not really going to be a whole lot of use in a vehicle or suit of powered armor. They are either stationary, or require too much size to be of any use. Imagine trying to put a solar farm on the back of a motorcycle. The bike would have to be the size of Delaware.

That left very little to look at. But I did come up with a few things. A handful of games point to Dark Energy as a power source (the Mass Effect games for one). This is kind of vague, since we don't really know what Dark Energy even is. But something exists that seems to be pushing the Universe apart, and we call it Dark Energy, so ok. I decided to just use it vaguely as well. Zero Point energy is another example of a science fiction energy. It might work someday, but would probably take more energy to run that it would yield up. I can wave my hand at that and say meta-inventors can turn that around. Of course matter-antimatter reactions have been around since at least Star Trek. And IRL we can make anti-matter in the lab. So that was instantly in.

I spent a lot of time poring over hydrogen fuel cells. They have the same problem as zero point, in that they are currently very inefficient. But again, I can say a super inventor like Gadget can overcome that to make it very potent. So that went in. It was originally going to be in the Stormcycle in fact. But then I came across ultra-dense deuterium in a fusion reactor. That seemed ideal. So I went with a 'standard' fusion reactor using only normal deuterium for the motorcycle. With Avery thinking about how to implement an ultra-dense version in the future.

I spent a huge amount of time on that.


Renee: Fusion is generally considered more safer than Fission. Of course in fusion you do have plasma that you are working with, and if that stuff got out of the reaction chamber... It is like January said: being splashed by the Sun is bad. OTOH, fusion does not require highly toxic materials like uranium or plutonium to work. Plain old hydrogen or deuterium works fine (Deuterium is not radioactive). Deuterium and Tritium is another common fuel source, and Tritium is radioactive. It is used in glow sights on guns to make them glow. That stuff is simply encased in glass, and supposedly that is all that is required to make you safe from radiation from it. That is bupkus compared to the horrifically toxic waste that comes out of a Fission Reactor. So Fusion is definitely what everyone hopes for. It is vastly cleaner, and can actually be turned off a simple as by throwing a light switch. You cannot do that with Fission either. You can just stick more control rods into the reactor to slow down the reaction.

Detroit has no mass transit. Unless you count buses, and cabs. There is no subway, no elevated. There is a People Mover downtown, but that just goes in a small ring around the city core. They just put in a Q line that runs 3 miles down Woodward (3 whole miles, wow!). The only way to get anywhere, like to work, is with a car. To have a job here, you have to own a car. To afford a car, you need a job. It is a vicious circle.

Avery's Nana might have learned about tapping asses from TV, or friends. It's where I heard about it first!


treydog: The Evian was my way of throwing a lampshade on something as proven false as cold fusion. It was also a way to show that meta-inventors like Gadget are not really scientists. The things they do cannot be replicated by someone else in a different lab, or copied on an assembly line. It is their superpowers that make their inventions work, not the laws of nature. So every one has to be built by them by hand. I will have more on that later this chapter, when January meets another meta inventor.

The Nana part was also wonderful to write. For one it showed us another side to Avery's life. It also showed us that life is not all great. It is something that everyone faces sooner or later. As Acadian said, growing old is not for wimps.

I never read the instructions! At least not until I tried everything I could think of and failed first.


Darkness Eternal: I like to start out in media res, to have some action to immediately grab the reader. I could not find a way to do that well in this story. So I was hoping the crows could do it for me, and create some mysterious implications that would make things interesting.

I deliberately used brand names with January's possessions, so that people could look at them and realize that this stuff is the cheapest of the cheap. Like you said, it is a subtle way of Showing that she is poor, rather than just coming out and blatantly Telling it.

Bird presents!

I love the word 'tenebrous' It is so dark, brooding, and mysterious. I love those rare occasions when I can put it to use. It's got legs!

I still remember the words and the teasing from high school bullies. But I don't remember the bruises from the few fights. I always found that 'stick and stones' things to be completely backward.






Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus

The Theme of Alienation in Frankenstein

Karategi

Yoga Crow Pose

Yoga Scorpion Pose

Sam Bernstein

Fitzgerald High School

Berenstain Bears


Book 2.4 - Stormcrow Recycled

Home was empty when she returned. Her parents were still at work, and her brother thankfully in Ann Arbor, as he always was on weekdays. That allowed her to move her Stormcrow armor down from its hiding place under her bed and store it in the fake gas tank bump on the Victory. That still left her the two panniers under the seat for more storage.

She made herself a quick dinner and was off again with her school backpack. Then she headed out to Macomb Community College. She was breathless the entire trip. She had her own car! Well bike, and what a bike! She still could not believe how quiet it was. The engine hum grew a little louder as she accelerated, and the sound of the chain was an aria. But it was nothing compared the earsplitting racket that gasoline-powered motorcycles made. It was mechanical perfection, a crow made wheels.

She had trouble concentrating in class. She could not wait to get back out onto the bike. Besides, the book they were going over was depressing. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus brought on far too many parallels to her own life for comfort.

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel." The professor read from the book. He was young, with a thick mane of raven hair swept back from a bespectacled face. Many of the young female students had a habit of waiting to chat him up after class. January could not see why. He reminded her too much of her father, only twenty years younger. "What do you think Mary Shelley meant when she wrote that?"

"Miss Ward," Mr. Easton said after a long silence in which no one volunteered to speak. His voice had a soft, upper-class English lilt to it. "Perhaps you might enlighten us with your thoughts?"

January blinked, and sat up straight. Had she been daydreaming about her motorcycle?

"Well..." she began, feeling the eyes of everyone in the class boring into her. Lighthammer's lasers had felt less threatening. "When she wrote the book, I think she intended the monster to be some sort of spiritual menace, or at least an allegory for the price of hubris. Victor had tried to take God's place as creator of life. In the very least he strove to a greatness beyond that which nature would allow. As a result he was punished by the horror of - and for - his own creation."

"But that is not what I felt when I read the story," January went on, and tried not to squirm. "I didn't relate to Frankenstein, and feel that he was tempting fate, or attempting to replace God. I identified with the creature: hated and feared by everyone in the world simply because I was born, constantly told I was a monster, rejected by my own maker, trapped in a world which I did not make, and could never change."

"I can imagine that anyone who was not born perfect might feel the same," January continued. "Anyone not born the right color, or the right gender, or the right sexual orientation, or the right anything. Anyone who is different, who isn't 'cool' enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or even happy enough might feel that way."

The class was utterly silent afterward. January could swear that she could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Then her teacher began to applaud.

"Outstanding Miss Ward," he exclaimed. "I'm tempted to give you an 'A' just for that. As you said, it is not a warning against Man defying God, or even playing God. By all accounts Mary Shelley was a very irreligious person in fact."

"She was nineteen when she began to write this. She was your age. In it she captures the essence of alienation, isolation, and loneliness. Not just in the monster, but also within Victor Frankenstein himself as well. Remember that both of them are cut off from the world around them. Victor willingly isolates himself with his obsessive work. The monster is alienated because of his appearance. Like you said, he isn't pretty enough. Even his own creator rejects him. People scream when they see him. They attack him. He never knows anything but hatred and fear, in spite of his very real need for love and companionship."

"Everyone has felt rejection and isolation at some time in their lives. This is why we still study this book, two centuries later," her professor went on. "It isn't just to bore students who thought it would be a lot cooler after seeing one of the films! This novel strikes deeply into our emotional cores. She was tapping into the feelings of loneliness and alienation that we can all relate to. That is the real monster in the story, and it is something that we all must face sooner or later. It is just as relevant today as it was in the summer of 1816."

January forgot all about her motorcycle. Could she really do this? Could she write stories about characters that people could relate to on an emotional level? If Mary Shelley could write a story about a man stitched together from the parts of corpses, and she could relate to him, could she do the same?

She was still thinking about that on the ride from the college campus to Adin's House of Pain, a.k.a. the Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts. She got there early, and used the time to change out of her school clothes and into the black karategi she wore for teaching class. Still with plenty of time, she found a relatively quiet spot and went through a yoga routine to loosen up, and clear her mind. Time slipped away, and she lost herself in simply breathing and moving.

"You know this isn't a yoga studio," a male voice eventually floated into her ears from somewhere behind her. January smiled, but did not reply. Instead she moved into a crow pose, placing all of her weight on her arms, while her legs floated in the air behind her. She continued through the pose into a handstand. Still upside down, she turned to face the speaker.

"Now you are just showing off Bear," the man said. "Your class is ready to start in a few minutes."

January turned the handstand into an elbow stand, then craned her legs back over her head into a scorpion. Finally she pulled forward, and rolled onto her feet.

"You aren't going to have your dad Sam sue me, are you Mr. Bernstein?" she laughed.

"I wish I was one of those Bernsteins," he smiled. He stood only a few inches taller than her, with curly black hair what was cut short, a hawkish nose, and olive skin. "I wouldn't be here being shown up by a teenager, that's for sure."

"I would never show you up Adin," January said seriously. "You taught me Krav Maga and Muay Thai. Whatever I do, only makes you look better."

"That's what I keep telling myself," he said. "Go on, your future victims await."

January greeted her first class of the evening, which was entirely of children. Looking out over their fresh, young faces, she was reminded of the first time she met Adin. She had just started tenth grade at Fitzgerald High School.

"Now ladies, I'd like you all to say hello to Mr. Bernstein. He's going to be here for a week teaching our self-defense unit."

"One of the Berenstain Bears?" January murmured as the curly haired man stepped out in front of her gym class, to stand beside the coach.

"Yes I am," he smiled, and looked directly at January. She closed her eyes. She would be hearing that for the rest of the year. As if things were not bad enough.

Worse, he remembered her when it came time for individual practice. With the entire class gathered around, he invited his "Bear" to step up and show how she would attack him. He was wearing pads, so January let him have it. She started with a tapper jab with her left hand, rapping his right glove with a light blow to give him a false sense of security. Then she followed with an uppercut loaded with everything her sixteen-year old body could muster.

She could sense his surprise as her fist drove deeply into the pads across his stomach. He held his fists out front to block another attack from that direction. So she continued with a roundhouse kick to his undefended side, then followed with another jab and a cross at his face. The entire time he steadily fell back. Finally she sent a particularly zesty power punch at his head. He effortlessly slipped to the side, caught her in an arm lock, and had her on the mat before she knew what was happening.

"That was outstanding," Bernstein said as he stepped back and helped her up. "Who taught you karate?"

"My mother," January murmured. She was still wondering which end was up as she clambered back to her feet.

"Remind me to stay on her good side," Bernstein said. "Have her bring you to my dojo after school. You have real talent. We can make you better."

After that, no one in high school looked at her quite the same again.

Yes, I was thinking of buses. Fusion-powered buses would be even better!

And uh .. yeah, I definitely think she'd be having troubles focusing on school, after all that she's done the past few days and hours! This is really awesome that she goes back to school at all.

It almost seems like January blurts out her own personal views because she's so distracted by all the excitement in her life, she momentarily has her guard down, does that make sense? Like maybe normally, she wouldn't say as much as she said in front of her classmates.

Aw, she's teaching kids. What a day she's had today.

This episode drew me in immediately and was a joy to read from start to finish.

Despite your amazing sci-tech research, what I get from the Stormcycle is that you stuff in a dilithium crystal and – voila - instant freedom! The exhilaration January feels astride her mount reminds me of when Buffy also plopped down her life savings to buy Superian. And the magical feeling of freedom, speed and power her precious mare provided – and still does. But forgive me for wanderdigressing and just know that January on her Stormcycle makes me grin. Handy too, that her uniform fits in the bike’s magic pouch and she still has saddlebags for even more stuff that a girl’s gotta have.

Miss Ward’s analysis of Frankenstein was indeed applause-worthy. More so since we know how in some ways January can identify with the monster’s lack of acceptance for being created inside a body that does not match the spirit of its owner. Her insight was plenty, but I was further delighted when you parlayed the story and its authoress’ young age into inspiration for January to seriously consider writing herself.

Then off to her martial artistry class. Here was a case where your pictures (crow and scorpion poses) were priceless as they instantly provided crystal clarity.

Chapter 1.2:

I get what you mean. The crows did it for sure!! There's also the fact that they're among the most intelligent birds out there.

Ah, Confusion reminds me of Comic-Con! Well, I mean aren't all Cons? I had no idea it was real! That's very cool. Seriously, this made lots of sense. What way for a Superhero to blend in? A place where people dress as heroes!

The fighting and flying you showed here was awesome! January has some courage to go headfirst into conflicts, but that's how a hero operates. She took the initiative for sure! And the idea of a person being harmed? That most certainly is her business as she's pointed.

[. . .]In an Indian accent so heavy you could spread curry on it.

This was a great and culturally accurate description of his voice!

Jan's a kickass fighter, too. What an absolute thrill! The flight to the air, along with that armored bastard, was intense. She did her best to try and control her flight, even as they crashed through the building!

And I'm sure that landing was a superhero landing! One only a talented gymnast as January could do!

Jan is certainly in a position to understand that alienation is the key to reading Frankenstein – sharing, for different, but no less painful reasons, Mary's obvious direct, personal understanding of that feeling....

Jan's being distracted by the fact she has wheels also rang quite true. Although I now rather dread the long commute to work in Gruening, I can still recall when the idea of getting behind the wheel (or handlebars) was magical.

Thank the powers for understanding and outstanding teachers, whatever their discipline, whether it be literature or martial arts.

A fine, thoughtful interval, filled with character-building goodness.

Renee: This chapter is set about a week after the first chapter, so January has had a little time to get adjusted to the idea of being a cape. There is a date at the start of each chapter.

January might not say as much as she did under normal circumstances. But then again, what she said is exactly what I think every English teacher is hoping to hear, a deep and thoughtful analysis of an author's work.


Acadian: Frankenstein (as in Mary Shelley's novel) recently came up in a literary podcast I listen to, so it was very top of mind. I read it about 20 years ago, and loved it. Maybe loved is not the right word. It really touched me deeply, just as it did January. It was just a happy coincidence that Mary Shelley was 19 that Haunted Summer when she first started writing the novel, the same age as January. In some ways it really throws down the gauntlet at January's feet, and dares her to do the same.


Darkness Eternal: Putting the superhero into their costume is one of those evolutionary steps in all super stories. Sometimes it can be hard to make that happen, especially in the more realistic depictions. Cosplay just leaped out at me as a option that never existed back in the day, so it was a great way for me to not only get January into her super suit, but also make the story modern.

Likewise, January's history of being bullied and on the receiving end of bigotry is what gives her the springboard into acting, rather than running and hiding. Her motivations are very personal, and baked into everything she is.

The gymnastics is something I have worked hard on not only incorporating, but keeping important to what she does, in addition to her martial arts. I remember in the old Marvel Superheros rpg that it was simply a skill that gave you a small bonus to your Agility tests. I wanted it to be much more than that. Here it will be a very big part of what she does, and how she succeeds.


treydog: Gaining those wheels is such a big step in everyone's life I think. It is one of the first steps to real independence. Here in Detroit it is even bigger than that. It is a simple necessity for living, as there is no real public transportation. So that was a nice way of emphasizing her growth as a teen into adulthood, completely separate from being a cape.

Jan's English teacher is based on Duncan from the old show VR-5. Adin just sort of took shape because from Krav Maga itself, and from the Bernsteins, who are very prominent lawyers here in Detroit. I enjoyed making a play on their name. I have another teacher coming up next chapter who is straight up my High School English teacher. He was a very influential early mentor for my writing. So I was delighted to find an opportunity to put him into a story, even if just in a tiny role.



The Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts (Adin's dojo) and Source One Metals are both on the Stormcrow Google Map


Gary Clark Jr. - If Trouble Was Money


Aerial View of Source One Metals (it is the big white building at the very bottom center)

Source One Metals (from the turnaround in Mound Road)

Source One Metals (from the parking lot)

Source One Metals (from the back)


The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman





Book 2.5 - Stormcrow Recycled

After her final class of the evening, January went to Adin's office to change. She could not fail to note the similarities to high school, where she had to change in the coach's office for gym class. Only these days she was the coach, or at least the assistant coach, and there were not nearly as many mean girls making snide remarks about her gender or giving her dirty looks.

Her phone blared to life with the soulful guitar riff from Gary Clark Jr's "If Trouble Was Money." She almost jumped out of the cargo pants she was halfway into. She fought to pull them up around her waist, and dove for the cheap Hamsung before it could go to voicemail.

"Hola! The bike is great Avery! It runs like a dream," she gushed. Then her voice took on a more somber tone. "How is your grandma?"

"Oh she's fine," he said. "She's been watching reruns of Jag and NCIS for the last few hours. I think she slept through the last one. But we did some crosswords earlier, and she played Luminosity for a while too."

"So you didn't crash the bike?"

"Of course not!" January exclaimed as she pulled on her top. Almost hitting his car a second after she started it up did not count after all. "I am a great driver, erm, rider, or biker, whatever. The shifting seemed kind of funny though."

"Yeah, I didn't have time to tell you that," Avery said. "I took the transmission out along with the old engine. There's really no need for one with an electric. It's a direct drive now. Zero does it with their bikes, I don't know why Victory bothered with a six speed in the first place. So the clutch and gear shift don't do anything."

"Great! I was kind of afraid I might have broke them," January murmured.

"So how fast is it?" Avery asked.

"I don't know," January replied honestly. "All the other cars kept getting in my way! I did get it up to about a ninety at one point. Then that bus came along..."

"I'm afraid to ask!" Avery laughed.

"I missed it!" January smiled, "even if I had to split lanes for a bit."

"You know that's dangerous right?"

"Yes mommy," January sighed, "and I won't talk to strangers, or drink the water, or have unprotected sex."

"Your mother told you that?" January could just imagine his eyes goggling as he spoke.

"No," January replied. "It's not like she would ever need to."

"Well, speaking of protection, I was wondering if you still had that cosplay outfit?"

"Yes, yes I do." January was instantly alert. Super-stuff was something they couldn't talk about on a regular phone. You never knew who might be listening. But her armor had its own scrambled earpiece. "Well, I gotta get out of here before Adin locks up. I'll call you back later."

She got her shoes on and was out the door as fast as she could make her goodbyes. She rode to a spot free of onlookers and cameras, and concentrated upon the element of Fire. A moment later she was clad from head to toe in her Stormcrow armor.

"You there Gadget?" she asked over her earpiece. Should she call it that? Should she call it the communicator? That made it sound like Star Trek. Why did so much of this tacticool jargon seem so pretentious?

"Got you Stormcrow," he replied. January started at the name. She had heard it said aloud plenty of times since she "came out" at the convention. But never spoken directly to her. It felt strange, but good. She really was that person people were talking about.

"I've been seeing a pattern of rare metal thefts lately." January wondered why Avery sounded like Charlie, from Charlie's Angels? "First it was zirconium, then iridium. I don't think it's random. I think someone is building something, and I think I know what might be next."

"What?"

"Titanium," Avery explained. "Iridium is highly resistant to corrosion and heat. It's used for the containment of plutonium in spacecraft, among other things. But it's brittle in its pure form. So guess what it's usually alloyed with?"

"Zirconium and titanium," Stormcrow murmured. "So what's our next move, stake out the local titanium shop?"

"You are catching on to this detective thing fast. I guess hanging with that state cop rubbed off on you. Trouble is there's a whole bunch of metal places that sell it. I've got drones or camera feeds out to watch them. But one looks likely, given that the other two were nearby."

"Which one?"

"Source One Metals," he said, "on Nineteen Mile and Mound. Stake it out tonight, and we might get lucky. I'll be watching the other ones."

"Got it," January replied. Her first stakeout! This was what being a real super was all about.

"Oh, I forgot the license plate switcher." Gadget said. "Come by tomorrow and I'll put it on. Until then keep off the bike while you're suited up. We don't want anyone putting two and two together."

"Of course not." January looked around for cameras once more. "I'm not stupid you know."

"You're on the bike right now, in the armor aren't you." Avery sighed.

"Umm, not anymore," January said honestly. She was so thankful for that fast changing ability. She did not need a superpower to see the facepalm Avery was undoubtedly making.

January took John R up to Nineteen Mile, then made a right and took it across to Mound Road. The latter was a divided highway, so she had to first go south and then through a turnaround to get on the northbound side. She found the metal shop just before the gas station at the corner of Nineteen Mile.

It was in a small industrial subdivision off of Mound. Really it was just two plain cinderblock buildings with a big parking lot between them. Each building went back from the road for hundreds of feet, and had been partitioned up into numerous individual businesses. The first one in the northern building was Source One Metals, according to the blue signs in the front windows.

Given the dark lights and lack of cars in the lot, all of the businesses were evidently closed. That made her stakeout easier. Still, she had to decide where to set up. Obviously she could not just sit in the lot on her motorcycle.

There were a few trees on the lawn between the road and the parking lot. But they looked rather sparse. There was an actual section of woods across Mound that looked promising. But she would like to be closer. Thinking of closer, she looked up and smiled. Yes, that would do nicely.

She rode off and found a dark spot without cameras to remove her license plate and change into her armor. Then she returned and drove into the lot. She took a driveway around to the alley behind the building with the metal shop. The entire building was lined with big metal rollup doors back there, along with some dumpsters and a bunch of empty parking spots.

Shutting off the bike, she cradled it in both arms. Then she leapt. She landed easily on the roof, which was surprisingly bare of equipment. She found what looked like an air vent in the corner by the back doors, and set her bike down behind it. Sitting down herself, she waited.

January learned very quickly that stakeouts were incredibly boring. She stared at the line of light industrial buildings to the north. Then at the gas station beside them on the corner of Mound and Nineteen Mile road, and the sandwich shop across Nineteen Mile from it. She stared at the 7-11 on the opposite corner across Mound, along with a veterinarian and a martial arts studio. She wondered what styles the latter taught. She stared at the woods directly across Mound from her. Then her eyes continued their counter-clockwise circuit to the doctor's office south of that, with its high, slanting roof. Mostly she just stared, and waited, and stared, and waited some more.

It did not take long for her to pull out her tablet and start on her schoolwork. The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was their next assignment. She started reading, and created a text file to write down some of her basic impressions as she went. Time dragged by, and she found herself licking her dry lips.

The lights of the gas station at the intersection called out to her. There was no point sitting here thirsty after all. She tucked the tablet away into the panniers of her motorcycle and leapt down to the pavement below. She walked across the back lot of one of the industrial shops to the north, and the small patch of grass beyond to the gas station at the intersection.

There was only one car at the pumps, and its driver stared at her with amazement as he filled his tank. She gave him a polite smile, and went inside. The store was empty except for her and the clerk. He was a pudgy, bearded man just a few years older than she was. He looked at her with amusement as she stalked across the aisles of snacks to the back of the shop, where the refrigerated case was. She found a bottle of Fae Cola Ultimate, and brought it up to the counter.

"That is a really cool costume," the clerk said as he rang her up. "That's Stormcrow right, the new hero? You make that yourself?"

"No," January said as she fished her wallet out of her utility belt and paid him. "A friend of mine did it for me."

"It's a really good job," the clerk said. "It looks just like the real thing. Say, I'm off at midnight if you want to..."

"Sorry, not into guys," January smiled. She could be dense. But even she could tell that he was trying to pick her up! It must have been the armor. It did outline her body in an agreeable way.

"Damn, hot lesbian cosplay..." she heard him murmur as she walked out.

The beginning of another Crowventure assigned to her by Charlie Gadget.

"It's used for the containment of plutonium in spacecraft, among other things." - - Yikes! Sounds serious.

“You're on the bike right now, in the armor aren't you." Avery sighed.
"Umm, not anymore," January said honestly. - -

Hmm, I’d imagine that superbike is pretty unique – even unmistakable. I hope Gadget’s license plate switcher is able to more fully transform Jan’s wheels into the Stormcycle than just a simple license plate changeroo. Hmm, if only her magicks could craft a ‘summon Stormcycle’ spell. . . .

Heh, I have visions of every time she self-distracts (reading, getting a soda, etc) she’s gonna miss the action! You do a great job, however, of capturing how boring I’d imagine a stakeout is while emphasizing that Stormcrow is a newbie at stakeouts.

Yeah, totally. He's like that voice over the intercom at this moment.

Awesome. She's going to do a stakeout!

Oops, yeah, I have heard they are mostly boring. 10 hours of boredom, 10 minutes of excitement, according to all the crime shows I've watched.

Hee hee she's doing schoolwork! WHOA she just walks into the convenience store in her gear. Lol what a dense cashier. Then again, I guess the way she moseys in is very nonchalant. Everyone expects a superhero to be doing superhero stuff. Nobody expects them to be buying a soda. So she flies under the radar just for that moment.

"

The interactions between Gadget and Crow-Jan are brilliant as always. And for me- this humor (and reflection of true friendship) is what makes for great writing instead of "good" writing.

As always, loved the mundane as mingled with the meta. (Contented sigh).

Chapter 1.3:

I like how you mentioned how deep-rooted her passion is for justice, and having been a victim herself, she understands the importance of helping others. This indeed is what being a hero is about.

That hagfish-slime covered armor did the trick in preserving our brave heroine. It was fun to see the real metas mentioned, who I'm sure will be shown later on.

"Now water can flow, or it can crash. Be water my friend."
Wow! This had me cheering! Jan did good to take inspiration from one of the greatest Martial Artist in history.

'Some fled entirely, but most remained to watch, albeit from a distance. Many produced phones and began recording them. A few even had old-fashioned camcorders.'

The battle continued amidst the Con members! And this was so spot-on that if something like this were to happen in today's society, plenty would stay behind.

Lighthammer was a tough one but Jan kicked his rear pretty good. I have to say the battle here was a great read, and I felt thrilled just reading it. His lasers were no match for her fistfuls of justice and kicks! I'm sure we'll see more of him; his little ceiling trick won't happen again. Hopefully.

I love that super exit!

Acadian: I had not really thought of doing more beyond a license plate changer for January's motorcycle. I think because I am looking ahead at things you cannot see yet. Her motorcycle will not fit into the Crow life in a meaningful way. It will be part of her Jan life. She will be working on a travel power for getting around.

That is one of the side effects of having played some superhero RPGs. You start to lump powers into categories based on their purpose. Heroes often have a travel power, who purpose is to get them to where the story is taking place. Flight, teleportation, a quinjet, a skycycle, web-slinging, a Batwing, and so forth. The transporters in Star Trek is another example. I am sure it was originally thought up simply to move the characters to where the story is. The same with the Enterprise itself as well.

January is quickly realizing that even being just a city level hero means that she needs a way to get around town quickly and reliably. She has had a taste of that with her gliding, but it is not enough for long distances. But she has something to work on there.



Renee: I enjoyed writing January's boredom on the stakeout, and her quickness to jump at finding anything to do. I would never be able to do a stakeout. I get bored too quickly, and have too many options to find a way to take up my time, like reading books on my phone.


treydog: Its even more fun writing Jan and Avery than Aela and Loria. With J&A I can draw upon real world culture to make it all feel so much more accessible to the reader.


Darkness Eternal: Eventually we will be meeting some of those superheros who have been name dropped. Blood Raven will play a major role in future events, and January's life.

I have always loved that Bruce Lee quote about water. As odd as it sounds, I found it to be the key to understanding how to use horse archers in the Total War games. You cannot use them like other units, who either want to rush into melee, or always keep away from it. Horse Archers want to get close, but not too close. When the enemy retreats, they advance. When the enemy advances, they retreat. They flow, and they crash, just like water.

Social media is filled with all sorts of fights and disasters on film. Because pics or it didn't happen after all. I am not the only one to note that whoever that is recording it on their phone is also just standing there not doing anything to help. Which is pretty parasitic really. These days everyone is so obsessed with getting their 15 minutes of internet fame, they don't think about the danger other people are in, or themselves.





Aerial View of Source One Metals (it is the big white building at the very bottom center)

Source One Metals (from the turnaround in Mound Road)

Source One Metals (from the parking lot)

Source One Metals (from the back)


The Face Bot

The Face Bot again

The Face Bot rear view



Book 2.6 - Stormcrow Recycled

She returned to her stakeout post and went back to her English assignment. Only now she had a cool drink to wet her dry throat. She did not know how much time passed while she waited. She had become engrossed in the story of isolation and creeping madness when the sound of an engine below pulled her back to reality.

She put down her pop and tucked the tablet away into her motorcycle's panniers. Then she looked over the edge of the roof, and saw a garbage truck pulling into the front lot. The cab was green and yellow, and seemed proportionally larger than the trailer section of the vehicle. It was not a normal green and yellow paint scheme either. Rather it seemed that part of a green cab and part of a yellow cab were simply thrown together. The rest of the truck was the same. January even noticed thick weld marks running down one side of the rear bay, as if the pieces of two vehicles had been melded together into one.

Floating in the air above was a large drone of some kind. It reminded her of an eyebot from the Fallout games. It had a smooth front end, that almost looked like a face, especially given the two large glowing circles that looked like eyes mounted within it. The bottom was separated from the rest of the face in what looked like a mouth. What seemed almost like a cap or visor of metal was attached over the top, further adding to the human look it bore.

Its body stretched out behind it, and angled up from the bottom, to give it a triangular shape, with the point trailing away behind it. What almost appeared to be two stubby arms or legs also stretched out directly behind it from two round shoulder sockets. Or maybe they were exhaust pipes, or rocket nozzles? The upper side of the body was a relatively smooth combination of plates scalloped over top of one another. But the bottom - the hypotenuse of the triangular frame - was all spiky knobs, antenna, and protruding cylinders.

January could not see how it flew. There were no rotors like a mundane drone required. Nor were there any obvious metatech options like jets. It just floated through the air like a jellyfish in water.

January was struck by the incongruity of the two machines. The truck was a Frankensteinish collection of old vehicles welded together into a single whole. But otherwise it still looked like an ordinary garbage truck. The drone was a Rembrandt of mechanical artistry, though obviously constructed from diverse parts as well.

That is when she noticed that no one was driving the garbage truck. The cab was entirely empty.

"I think our friend has arrived," January said into her suit's comm system. "Or at least his robo-minions have." Well that was it, she was officially calling it the comm now. She guessed that made her Captain Pretentious Tacticool.

She turned on the video system built into her cowl so Gadget could get a better look. She heard him whistle a moment later.

"That flying drone is a real work of art," his disembodied voice floated in her ears. "I can see its kitbashed, like most of my own stuff, but someone put a lot of TLC into that. The truck, less so. It looks like someone just took spare parts from four or five junks and made one good truck out them. There's no style to it at all. Maybe it was just a rush job."

"So how do we know they're really the bad guys, and not just some mecha-hipsters out for a drive late one Tuesday night?"

The garbage truck rolled around to the back of the building. It turned and backed up to the rollup doors. Then its whole tail end garbage smashing assembly swung up, revealing the empty box of the truck's body behind it. Well, it was almost empty. A trio of metal men leaped out. January could see they were made from car axles, leaf springs, shock absorbers, shopping carts, office chairs, plumbing, and a multitude of other junk parts.

One of these anthropomorphic robots pointed a hand toward the building. A cherry red laser sprang out from its wrist, and sliced through one of the rollup doors like it was warm butter. It took only a moment for a huge piece of the door to be sliced out, and clang loudly as it crashed to the cement.

"They're bad guys," Gadget said dryly.

January sized up the ground bots and prepared to leap down upon them. That is when she realized that the Face-Bot was missing. She heard a slight hum in the air behind her, and wheeled around to see it staring at her from just a few feet away. Now that she was closer to it, she noted an odd distortion in the air beneath it. It reminded her of a heat haze on a road, or how water warped light.

"Well hello there." January did not really know what to say. She practiced things like flying, gymnastics, and fighting. But she never had looked into raising her Speech skill. Just what did you say to a supervillain when you first met?

The Face-Bot took over the burden of conversation. Its eyes filled with an ominous blue glow. An instant later a bolt of lightning exploded out of each. The twin arcs of electricity slammed into January like a truck. Her eyes danced with bright spots, and she was vaguely aware of tumbling through the air.

She tried to right herself, but really had no idea how to orient herself. All she could do was pull her arms and legs in and hope for the best. She hit something hard a moment later. She shook her head in an effort to clear the lights that danced before her eyes, and realized that she was on the ground now, in the alley behind the metal shop. She sat on the blacktop, with her back against one of the dumpsters. No, not simply against it, but into it. For her body had dimpled a Stormcrow-shaped silhouette into the steel.

Thunder rolled overhead, and the stars vanished behind a sheet of gray cloud.

"Yow." January shook her head. It took a few moments for the world to stop spinning. Then she peeled herself out of the depression her body had bent into the dumpster. The harsh smell of ozone stung her nose. When she turned her head, she noticed tiny wisps of smoke curling up from her helmet. She glanced down at herself, but did not see anything on fire. She reached back to grab her hair with one hand, and it seemed fine too.

"Looks like I got a little cooked, but I'm okay," she said into her comm. "Gadget, did you see that?"

There was nothing but silence in reply.

"Gadget, Gadget, you there?" She tapped at the earpiece in her helmet. But there was nothing from the comm. January imagined that either being launched into the dumpster had broken it, or the twin lightning bolts had shorted it out.

The Face-Bot loomed over the edge of the roof and looked down at January. In the meantime, the three humanoid robots on the ground had clanked into the building, and were just now emerging with sheets and bars of silvery metal. January had never seen titanium before. At least not that she was aware of. But it did not take a genius to figure out what that pilfered metal was.

She leapt at the nearest man-bot, covering the thirty or so feet between them in a single bound. At the same time the eyes of the Face-Bot glowed blue once more. Twin bolts of electricity sprang from them. They lanced through the spot where January had been standing an instant before, and blasted a short trench through the asphalt underfoot.

But by now January was upon the ground-bots. They were clearly not living people, not even ones in armor. So she saw no need to hold back.

She gave the first a power-punch. Standing at an oblique angle to the robot, she started with her left hand forward and her right back at her chest. She brought her right fist forward with blinding speed. She used her body as a fulcrum by twisting her hips and shoulders, putting all of her mass behind the blow.

Her fingers sank into steel flesh. The face exploded under her fist, and the rest of the head snapped clean off the body. It went sailing into the depths of the metal shop. The robot's headless body continued on however. That obliged January to follow up with a side kick to its midsection, folding it over in two as its metallic spine cracked in half. With that it finally collapsed to the cement in a resounding clatter.

The Face-Bot circled around, and took another shot at January. This time its eyes glowed crimson, and bright fingers of laser light stabbed out for her. She ducked, and the ruby red energy sliced effortlessly through the second ground-bot. That cut it neatly in half. The legs still walked toward the garbage truck. But the torso fell to the pavement, spilling stolen titanium from its arms onto the concrete.

The metal men did not seem to be very impressive at fighting. In fact, January noted that they had not tried to dodge once. Their only show of offensive inclination had been to burn down the shop's door. That led January to conclude that they were basically just worker bees, while the Face-Bot was the warrior. Normally she would have simply ignored the workers. But this was a robbery, and they were clearly the means for said robbing. Unless the Face-Bot had some sort hidden arms or force fields that could lift the titanium and load it onto the garbage truck.

So she sprang at the final man-bot, and did something she knew that she never should. She executed a flying kick. Sure, it looked great in the movies. But in reality your opponent could see it coming from a mile away, and only had to step aside to avoid it. Worse, once you were in the air you were committed. There was nothing you could do until you landed, leaving you wide open to a devastating counter.

But she gambled that the ground-bots were not savvy enough to either dodge or counter-attack. She was right. She crashed foot-first into the final robot. Steel exploded beneath her, and the entire torso of the mechanical man disintegrated as she flew through it. She landed inside the metal shop, tucked into a roll, and bounced back to her feet.

January heard the air brakes of the garbage truck hiss, and its engine rumble to life. She reacted without thought, and leaped after it. A single jump put her on the tail section, which was still raised up over the back of the truck. She grabbed hold of its edge, and effortlessly swung herself back up and over, so that she was standing on her hands above the truck.

For a moment she was back in gym class, and doing what she loved best, flying through the uneven bars. January could not help but show off, and performed a back flip through the air. She landed with both feet on the roof of the truck's body, and raced to the cab.

The Face-Bot swung around after her however. January saw it out of the corner of her eye. It glowed red with energy in preparation for another shot. She knew that she would not be able to reach the cab without taking a hit. So instead she leapt up and out of the way. Brilliant twin lances of crimson flashed through the air behind her. They sliced through the cab of the garbage truck, turning half of it into slag.

January performed a back flip with a twist in mid-air, and came down on the pavement facing the Face-Bot. She even stuck the landing. It was just like being back in gym class. Except for the lasers of course.

January wished for some way to strike back. She really needed some kind of ranged weapon. Now she wished she had taken one at character creation. She would have to talk to Avery about making some kind of crowarangs, or maybe just buy a few baseballs. As it was the drone could shoot at her all night, and all she could use against it in return was harsh language.

She saw the eyes on the Face-Bot light up red again, and knew another laser attack was coming. The twin red beams reached out for her, but she was ready, and easily slipped to one side. The lasers gouged up a line of turf in the small field between the industrial subdivision and the gas station.

With that the Face-Bot spun about and whizzed out of sight around the corner of the building. January leaped up after it. She caught sight of it when she was on the high arc of her leap. But she could do nothing until she came down upon the rooftop. Once she landed, she sped after the robot along the edge of the roof. She quickly ran out of real estate, and leaped out once more when the roof ended. Her fingers stretched out for the drone, but it jinked to one side, and she could not correct her flight to follow it.

Thinking of flight gave her another idea. She flung out her arms to either side, and straightened out her torso and legs, as if she were performing a Maltese Cross on the rings. She pushed both buttons in her gauntlets, and her cape instantly cracked out into a pair of wings. Thankfully they had not been shorted out with her comms.

She remembered Lighthammer's instructions about gravity, lift, drag, thrust, negative pressure, and so on. She also remembered her Elemental Mantra.

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

She felt the wind lifting her wings, and soared through the night sky. Cars sped by underneath her as she winged out over Mound road. Given the blaring horns, they must have seen her. But January was more interested in the Face-Bot. She banked, and circled back to where she had last seen it. Something moved in the trees below, between the parking lot and the road. She went into a dive, and her eyes searched the darkened foliage.

The Face-Bot darted from the trees, headed away from January. It spun around, all the while continuing its forward motion. January saw those large eyes turn red, and knew what was coming. She hit the triggers for her wings, and instantly dropped like a rock. Twin lasers lit up the sky above her, but clawed ineffectually at the clouds overhead.

She tucked into a forward roll in mid-air, so that she could come down feet-first. She barely even flexed her knees on the landing, in spite of the twenty foot drop. She must be getting better at this super business. But she was still not good enough. For she could do nothing but watch the Face-Bot vanish into the darkness.

Thanks for your peek/insight into the future of the JanBike - that makes sense.


Stormcrow’s boring stakeout turns into a robo-robbery with more than enough excitement! I loved your concepts and descriptions of the motley robo-crew.

Once that face-bot picked up on having an unwanted observer, Stormcrow was on the defensive as she painfully learned the little fellow’s impressive offensive capabilities. By the time she took out the three metalmen (cleverly using the face-bot to help), she had turned the tables somewhat and put the deadly little face-bot on the defensive. As Stormcrow shifted from prey to predator, the little thing still managed do elude her. Nevertheless, she did stop the robbery and acquitted herself as the superheroine she has become.

’January wished for some way to strike back. She really needed some kind of ranged weapon. Now she wished she had taken one at character creation. She would have to talk to Avery about making some kind of crowarangs, or maybe just buy a few baseballs. As it was the drone could shoot at her all night, and all she could do was shake a fist at it.’
- - Love this whole paragraph! I’ve also no doubt that Gadget is up to the challenge.

More excellent Crow-Girl action! The fight was believable and showed the limitations of her (current) abilities AND her experience. But the only way to get experience is to... go through things.



Reminds me of a friend who was taking a self-defense class and tried a snap-kick on the instructor. Unfortunately, it was not "snappy" enough and he caught her foot and led her, hopping, around the mat, explaining why a kick that fails to land is a really BAD idea.

Nice. She plays Fallout (or at least knows of this game).

Oh crap. It is flying, that face bot thingie is flying. [censored]. She's been hit. Good thing her suit probably protects her.

Okay, Face Bot is gone. So now I wonder if that face bot can has cameras in it, and somebody watching her.

Acadian: I enjoyed writing the fight between January and the Robo-Villains. It shows how much she has grown as a super, and how far she still has to go. It was a great sophomore effort.

Gadget is up for the challenge. January's lack of a ranged component, and what she might do to fix that deficit, is something I have spent hours turning over in my head. Guns are right out. They are just not in Jan's character. I thought about various thrown weapons, like shuriken. But I keep shooting them all down. A piercing weapon is not like her. I guess she is just a blunt instrument... I thought about bean bag rounds from shotgun, only used as a thrown weapon. But even those are sometimes fatal, and she can throw hard enough to put one through someone's chest. Baseballs have the same problem. A boomerang (or Crowarang) is too exotic. When is she going to have time to learn how to use that effectively?

You will see my solutions in Chapter 4, which I am in the middle of writing right now. Both Gadget and January step up. One with gizmos, and one with magic.


treydog: January is definitely earned some experience points in that fight, and in the aftermath we will see today.

I recall Dee Foxy's Of Blades, Assassins (and something else?) thread on the old Beth forums. One of the things he pointed out is that kicks are always a gamble, because they make your foundation unstable. The higher the kick, the greater the danger is to your balance, and the more vulnerable you are to a counter. The safest ones are down low, at the other person's ankles or knees.

That is always on my mind when I am writing kicking in my fiction. Back in Seven Reimagined Perspehone faced an opponent who tried a front kick at her face, and she broke his leg. January is an expert in Karate (among other things), so kicks are part of her arsenal. She usually goes for the high ones only as part of a combination, where she tries to distract the opponent with punch to one part of the body, then follows with a kick somewhere else.


Renee: Jan has definitely been exposed to Fallout. Though it is probably Avery who was always playing it. He is the computer nerd after all... We will see him playing one of the Portal games in Chapter 3 in fact.

Of course the bot is flying! In many was the Face-Bot is the antithesis of January. It has no arms, and so cannot fight in melee at all. It flies effortlessly, which January still struggles with. Finally it is all about ranged combat, which Jan is completely lacking in. He is an opponent who forces Jan out of her comfort zone, and forces her to adapt.




Michigan has a 10 cent bottle return law


Book 2.7 - Stormcrow Recycled


"Gadget, can you hear me yet?"

He still did not reply. She did not like that. It was not the broken equipment that bothered her. It was not hearing his voice in her ear. She had only been in real action three times now, not counting the recon at the hotel. He had only been there to talk to her once. But it had given her so much more confidence, knowing he was out there watching, thinking, turning things over in his head. She had not been alone, like she was now.

A small fire was burning in the garbage truck now, adding a flickering orange glow to the pale white fluorescents hanging over the street and parking lot. Several cars had pulled over, and people had run out of the gas station on the corner of Nineteen and Mound to watch. January knew the police would be coming soon. She debated whether to leave, or stick around to explain.

She did not have legal empowerment. Not like the Sentinels in Chicago did. That meant that technically she was a vigilante. But everyone knew that the reality of super beings had long since taught the law to play things fast and loose where metas were concerned. White Hats were generally given a lot of leeway by the police. So long as they did not kill people, or destroy too much property. Like Emilia Mercado at the airport the week before, most of them knew who their friends were. Or they at least knew when not to poke the wrong bear. But still, you never knew who you were going to meet.

The orange-red light grew brighter, as the paint on the garbage truck's body caught flame. January bit her lip. If the wind picked up, the fire from the truck would spread. That could set the nearby building on fire. She could not allow that.

The cab was now blazing merrily. January wondered where the gas tank was. If it was even gas that powered the truck, and not something more exotic. Then again, it was probably diesel. What had Avery said about diesel vs. gasoline? Gas explodes, diesel burns? No, that was gasoline burns, fumes explode. But she did recall something about diesel being less likely to explode than gas. If only she could reach him on the comm…

She looked around for something to put it out. Her eyes lit on the gaping maw cut into the rollup door. She dashed inside the metal shop. Her hands went to turn on the night vision in her helmet. But nothing happened. Apparently that had been knocked out too, along with her comms.

She squinted in the dark until she found a light switch and flipped it on. Racks and bins lined the walls, and were stacked row after row deeper into the building. They were filled with metals in many shapes: sheets, ingots, big pellets, rods, and so forth. Some shone with lustrous silver, like the titanium that littered the ground. Some were burnished bright reddish-orange, and others were dark, almost black.

But metal was not what she was interested in. The fire extinguisher hanging from one wall was. She leaped over to it and lifted it from its cradle. It was light as a feather in her hands. She jumped out through the doorway, and back into the alley. She fumbled with the handle of the extinguisher while she puzzled over how it worked. She had it sorted out after a few moments, and began spraying the burning truck with foam.

This would be a great time for some rain, she mused. But the slate gray sky had not a single drop of water to shed. January guessed she was just not sad enough for it to rain, or stressed enough, or whatever it was that made her affect the elements.

She had just finished putting the fire out when the bright red and blue lights of a police car illuminated the alley. January looked up in time to see a patrolman step out of the car, one hand on the pistol at his hip. Now she noted that at least half a dozen onlookers were clustered around the edge of the alley as well, watching and recording with their phones.

"Holy shit!" a familiar voice exclaimed. "It's the real Stormcrow. I sold Stormcrow a pop!"

January recognized the clerk from the nearby gas station, looking positively ecstatic. She started to wave at him, but stopped when she noticed the policeman draw his gun and point it at her. That made her realize that the motion of her hand might have been misconstrued. In a world where some people could shoot bolts of energy from their fingers, a simple wave could be a lethal attack after all.

She stopped, and gave her full attention to the cop. The bright red and blue lights flashing from atop his car made it hard for her to see him clearly. She imagined that was the idea behind them. He looked young. But who was she kidding? He was still older than she was. He had that square set to his face, and that tight, hard way of standing that always made her think of the Army

"It's ok officer," she said. "I'm Stormcrow. I was just putting out the fire."

"Did you do this?" he asked. He did lower his gun to a forty five degree angle. But he did not put it away either.

"I busted the robots," January nodded to the wreckage of the three ground bots. "But not the truck. The last robot did that before it got away."

"Where's the driver?" the cop stepped nearer, looking from her to the burned out cab of the garbage truck.

"There wasn't one," January shook her head. "It's fully robotic. They were all robots. They were trying to steal titanium. I think it's related to two other thefts of rare metals."

"She stopped them!" one of the onlookers shouted. "It was awesome! I've got the end on video!"

"Yeah, Stormcrow kicked ass!" another person cried.

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

More police cars rolled up, along with a fire truck. January found herself explaining what had happened again, and again. The original cop holstered his gun. January wondered if the reinforcements made him feel safer around her, or if he just finally trusted her. In any case, the police gave her a cool reception, but they were not hostile either. She imagined that they did not know what to do with her, just as she did not know what to do with them.

On the other hand, the firefighters barely gave her a second glance. Instead they immediately started going over the truck. They made sure the fire was truly out, and spent a few moments searching the surrounding area for any injured people. One of the firemen pointed out the dumpster, and wondered what had caused the deep, Stormcrow-shaped impression within its steel frame.

"That dent is me," January admitted sheepishly. "Their warrior-bot sort of got the drop on me. It packs a real punch."

Now the bystanders began to crowd closer. Some were asking for selfies with her. One asked if she was single. The clerk told the questioner that she was a lesbian. Obviously they did not know she was trans. Given the experience she had in avoiding bulges in the wrong places, that was no surprise however.

The police moved to block them, which January imagined was probably the prudent thing to do. She must still be a big unknown to most people. For all they knew she might snap at any moment and start punching people. Not to mention it was still a crime scene after all.

One of the cops gave her an imploring look. "You had better fly Stormcrow," he said. "Things are all under control here."

He did not say "they might not stay that way if you stick around," but January could imagine the words easily enough. She had never thought that fame, whatever tiny amount of it she now possessed, could make things more difficult for her as a superhero. She had just hoped that it might make people more willing to cooperate with her. But it seemed the whole super world was more complicated than she had thought.

"Stormcrow likes FaeCo," she heard the clerk declare to someone else in the crowd. "Come back for more!" he cried to her.

January shook her head. That did remind her of the pop. She must have dropped it when the fight had started. She leaped back onto the roof, and found it rolling along, now empty of its contents. She picked it up and put it away in the panniers of her motorcycle, beside her license plate. There was no sense leaving any DNA evidence laying around. She was not going to end up like Hailstorm…

Besides, there was a ten cent deposit on that bottle.

Yes there is some reason why our armed forces often uses diesel in the field. I read that in a Jack Reacher book a couple years ago. Can't remember what that reason is now! Oh well.

Michigan is still ten cents? There was a Seinfeld episode which featured Michigan I think, because their bottle law pays more.

Hopefully that warehouse won't catch fire, her bike is still on its roof!

I like how she keeps getting recorded by onlookers with their phones. It makes her more accountable when she explains to the cop what just happened.

Neat, so she's worried about her DNA possibly because then people might try to figure out who she is. Not that she's in the system now, but some day she could be.

That clerk is all proud. He sold her a Pepsi Ultimate!

Another wonderful episode!

I liked how her broken comm made her uncomfortable – really shows that Stormcrow is a duo and that she relies on Gadget.

Speaking of Gadget, he is wise indeed and it was perfect how January struggled to recall that diesel is less flammable than gasoline and therefore much safer to work around and with. I also liked that she didn’t automatically know how to use a fire extinguisher – a great touch to highlight her youth and level of experience in some areas.

Similarly, you tantalize us with more hints that her unusual relationship with stormclouds may at some point transition to some level of control. It would certainly be handy if she could indeed make it rain sometimes. . . or cause a lightning bolt to hit a foe.

The cop’s tactful invitation for Stormcrow to leave was perfect – and wise. Fortunately, she is astute enough to know and understand that he was simply trying to regain control of his crime scene from the Stormcrow groupies.

Her closing dual but incongruous concerns about the pop bottle were absolutely perfect – not to leave any DNA and recover her darn ten cent deposit!

Chapter 1.4: There was plenty in this chapter that I enjoyed! What an exciting adventure so far! Gadget's/Avery's gizmo cavern seems like a futuristic bat-cave! He makes a great companion to Jan! Her recollection of battle and his data-gathering ways was both fun and informative.

'"Funny how a company doesn't get investigated when it has billion dollar contracts with the government.'
Gadget made a fine point here. Seems very convenient, doesn't it?

January, though young, is wise enough to understand that old popular saying: with great power comes great responsibility. Having powers is great, but the true test of a person is what they use those powers for, and how they use them. I can imagine one may be tempted in using their power in scenarios where, perhaps, it would have been better to exercise restraint. Its good that she's focused on the positive aspects of meditation and purging all the negativity, which no doubt can cause turmoil to spill out. Especially with a weather-wielding hero like her. Yoga was very beneficial.

Avery is, too, and he's the friend she really needs right now, especially after the battle she just had. Not only was he there to help analyze the situation but he also gave her some inspiration words of support.

Jan does seem to struggle with some thoughts many heroes do, too. I really am liking this story! Can't wait to find more about Lighthammer, as well. Great chapter!


Chapter 1.5: Wow. So Lighthammer's reason to steal the diamonds was not for something as simple as money. Its used to empower him! Somehow that makes him even more deadlier!

'January could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Fighting was not just throwing punches. It was moves and countermoves. It was playing to your strengths, concealing your weaknesses, exposing your enemy's, and exploiting them. It was like chess, just with sweat and bruises. That had been check and mate. He had completely outplayed her.' Very good observation here! I suspect the next time they meet again(assuming they do) she'll remember this well, and might turn the tables on him. Using strength and speed can only take one so far, sometimes you have to use your noggin, too.

We learn that the diamonds, despite being beautiful, are often the cause of so much misfortune and evil! Seems even the baser baddies have need of them. Seems that our Indian friend wasn't entirely a victim; he had his hands involved one way or another.

Things are picking up for sure! The story unfolds!

Chapter 1.6:

I just had to laugh. This entire chapter was very fun throughout.

"I bet Blood Raven doesn't have to make excuses to her mom when she goes out fighting evil."
Or when she's playing Call of Cthulhu

I have to echo Acadian. If the last few chapters wasn't enough, this one truly showed us that these two are nigh inseparable and fit nicely like peas in a pod. He's really helping her out, and she's making progress and getting things done!

The two employees talking about the fight was absolutely hilarious. I would have reacted just the same as she did if I heard something like that. Men will be men, right?

'Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and her mouth was suddenly as dry as Tatooine.'
LOVED this bit here!

Though the portly cop may have given her a brief delay, it hasn't stopped her from going forth with her plan to gain access to that room.

Renee: Gasoline is much quicker to burn and explode than diesel, or jet fuel for that matter. In WWII our Sherman tanks had gasoline engines, not diesel. One hit from a shell and the entire tank would go up in a ball of fire. They called them Zippos. In contrast every other tank made by every other country had a diesel engine.

Michigan is still ten cents. I amazes me that so few states have returnable laws. What do you people do with your empty bottles? Just throw them out?
People even try to smuggle their empty bottles into Michigan to get the returns. The State govt. made some pretty stiff laws against that, because it costs businesses the return money.

Everybody records everything on their phones these days. It is like life did not exist before video to prove it happened.

The acknowledgement of her DNA being on her saliva on that bottle is a nod to the utter stupidity of so many TV and movie writers, whose characters do things like walk into homes and rob them. Not wearing gloves, or a mask. Their fingerprints would be on everything, and their faces on the homeowner's Nest cameras. You could not make it easier for police. The fact is there are cameras everywhere today, and the police can get your DNA off just a single hair that fell from your lion-like mane. If the police actually make an effort to find you, they will, unless you take extreme measures to protect your identity. That is a reality supers like January have to deal with (and we will see some ways they circumvent detection in the future).


Acadian: January is definitely not a lone wolf hero. We will often see her reaching out to others, and creating alliances, if not friendships. Lighthammer was just the beginning there. I even have some vague, really long term ideas of her creating a team from the diverse supers she unites.

We have fire extinguishers at work. They are so heavy I can barely lift one. I use them for door stops. The fire marshals love that, btw.

January definitely has a powerful influence on the elements. Keep watching the skies!

January is still learning this super business. Her interactions with the Sterling Heights pd there was one example of that. She is getting better though, and making an effort to create those alliances.

10 cents is 10 cents! That is such a Michigan thing...


Darkness Eternal: Crow and Gadget are most definitely a partnership. They each complement the other. The Gadget Cave was fun to write about. It is a tech geek's paradise!

That will not be the last time that January will be outplayed by an opponent. It happens again in Chapter 4. She is still learning after all, and has a long way to go. I know you were concerned that Raven might seem really overpowered and Mary Sueish. By definition, superheros are overpowered! So this is one way I am trying to mitigate that, and show that January is still fallible. The same as everyone.

I loved the idea of a superhero having to deal with their mother! It is another one of those things that brings them right back down to earth, and gives us a way to relate with them.

One thing I really love about writing January is that with her stories set in the modern (albeit super) world, I can finally draw on all those nerdy pop culture references my real life is filled with.




January's theme song - Illusion - is very appropriate for this episode

Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken

January's Parents House

January's Parents House Aerial View

MSU is Michigan State University

U of M is University of Michigan

The Lower Peninsula of Michigan



Book 2.8 - Stormcrow Recycled

It was late when January turned onto her street. So late she could not stop from yawning. But she had things to do before she could go to bed. She rode past her house, and saw that the lights were still on. That meant her parents were up, which was not a good sign. Were they waiting up for her? It was not like she was fifteen any more. Not that she had ever sneaked out and went to parties or anything else teenager-like. Being trans had a wonderful way of insuring that no one ever invited you to those kinds of things. Unless you counted gaming night with Avery and the Dungeons and Dragons guys.

She glanced up at her darkened bedroom window. Somewhere in there was a soft bed with an even softer pillow. But that would have to wait. She had promises to keep, and while not miles, still a few more feet to go before she could sleep. With all deference to Robert Frost of course.

So she rode down two more houses to Avery's home. All the lights were off except those from the basement. She saw his mother's car in the driveway. So she was finally home from the hospital. She worked so many double-shifts as a nurse that January was not used to seeing it there.

"You're ok!" Avery exclaimed when January walked down into the Gadget Cave, carrying her motorcycle under one arm.

"Of course I am," January said. She opened up the storage space under the fake gas tank, and pulled out her armor. "But I think I lost the comm in the suit. The night vision too. I got hit by some serious electricity."

"That flying drone? It was the last thing I saw before the link went dead." Gadget took the cowl and began studying it. He walked back to one of his workbenches, and put it under an illuminated magnifying glass. "It took a few minutes for me to get into some security cameras to see the rest of it."

January explained what he had missed, and Gadget used a set of tweezers to pull out the burned circuitry in her cowl. She tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. Gadget told her to go home, and she took his advice. She left the motorcycle and armor with him. She walked home, and leaped up onto the roof. She did not feel like dealing with her parents right now.

She was about to pry out the screen of her window when a light washed across the street behind her. She glanced to the side, and saw that a car was coming. The last thing she needed was someone calling the police on her for breaking and entering. So she was obliged to scramble over the roof and duck behind its peak until the car passed. Having a front-facing window was definitely not ideal for superheroing.

Once it was safe, she returned to her window and jimmied it open. She tossed her pack in her closet, and laid back on her bed without even taking off her clothes. A glance at the glowing numbers on her clock revealed that it was barely past one o'clock. That was not so terribly late. But it had been a big day, and she was exhausted.

She closed her eyes and just relaxed. But strident voices immediately set her heart racing. She could not place them at first, so she rose and walked to her door. Then she realized that it was her parents arguing, though she could still not make out the words. She opened the door, and cautiously stepped into the hallway. Now their voices became clear as crystal, rising up from the ground floor.

"I can't believe you hid this from me!" her mother's voice rang out. "Really, how do you go from history professor to slinging porn online?"

"Do you know how many people bought my book about Greco-Roman Architecture? Or the Crisis of the Third Century? Or the Greek Tyrants?" Her father cried. "I made more money on my last erotica e-book than I did on all my history books combined."

"And that's how you've paid for Julian's way through Michigan? There were no student loans." Her mother's voice dripped with incredulity. "At the same time you and I have been telling January that we can't afford to send her to anything other than community college. She could be going to MSU right now, or U of M herself!"

"You know what student loans are like," her father contended. "Julian would be paying off the interest alone for years. It would take him at least a decade to get out from under it. So I wrote some smut to pay his way. It's not my real name on it. And it's not like you've never read anything like that before."

"That's not the point!'" her mother cried. "You have been lying to our daughter for years. You have been holding her back this entire time. And worse of all, you made me a party to it by lying to me!"

"Because I knew you'd react like this!" her father argued. "Julian deserves it. He's going to make something of his life. It isn't fair to him how August is holding him back."

"What on earth are you talking about?" her mother's voice rose with incredulity. "January isn't going to make something of her life? She is holding Julian back? How can you even talk like that about your children?"

"Because it's true." January barely heard her father's voice over the pounding of blood in her ears. "You know it is. August has always been a troubled boy. This pretending to be a girl is just a sad cry for attention. Just like that suicide attempt. He has to make everything about him. He's been an albatross around our necks since he was born. It's pathetic really. It's why I never made full professor. It's why I have to write all these insipid books in first place."

"An albatross? Oh, you are not going there!" her mother's voice was so loud the windows practically rattled. "Do not put your own career failings on her. On her damn it! You know full well that almost no one teaching college ever goes beyond being an adjunct. Your job is your own damn responsibility. And Julian? Most kids wish they had it as good as him. I never had the opportunities he does, neither did you, nor either of our parents!"

"Julian's last three girlfriends left him because of August." There it was again, that male name that cut so deeply to January's core. Her father just could not bear calling her by her real name, as if that would give her some sort of power over him. Simply acknowledging her gender seemed to frighten him more than facing a supervillain with an antimatter cannon. "His grade point average slipped the last two years because of him too."

"Are you crazy, is that your problem?" her mother's voice became lower, but with a sharper, harder edge. "What next, she is responsible for global warming? The fall of Rome? How about we blame Jesus dying on the cross on her too? Hell, let's just go back further and rename it January's Box instead of Pandora's, since apparently our daughter loosed every misfortune that exists in the world."

"Man up and grow a pair of damn balls," her mother growled. "Stop trying to blame someone else for your failures, or for Julian's. It's cowardly, and beneath you."

"No, everything in the world is all my fault, isn't it!" her father's voice became more strident. "I am sick and damned tired of having to bear every burden in this family. My life was pretty good until I met you. I didn't have to marry you. It's not my fault you wouldn't get the damn abortion. I could have been someone! But instead I-"

The piercing crack of skin against skin rang out.

January did not hear anything more. The pounding of her heart blotted everything else out. She ran back into her room, and slammed the door behind her. She could not think. She only knew that she had to escape. She went straight for the window, and leapt into the deluge that now poured from the sky by the bucketful.

* * *

"Where were you?" Avery's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The next thing January knew, the taller man had her wrapped up in his arms. "We were so worried about you?"

"We?" January blinked. She stared around the empty Gadget Cave. The early morning sun slanted in through the windows placed along the driveway above. The rest of the house was silent and still. Even his mother's car was gone, as usual. It was just the two of them, like always.

"Your mother was calling and texting me all night, looking for you." Avery finally let go of her. "Did you really jump out your bedroom window?"

January nodded sheepishly, and stared down at her shoes. Like the rest of her clothing, they were completely soaked. She absentmindedly noted that it would make most people miserable. But being the Weather Witch of Warren, she was used to being rained on. It was just a normal part of life.

She allowed Avery to guide her to the couch, where she plopped down in a very unladylike pose.

"What happened?" he asked as he sat down beside her. "Have you been out all night in the rain?"

"I don't want to talk about it," January murmured. "Not now."

"Okay," Avery's voice had the caution of a person navigating through a minefield. "That bad eh?"

"I have to get out of that house," January blurted out. "I'm going to get an apartment, or rent a house. Will you come with me? Split the bills?"

"Whoa, that's sudden," Avery stared with shock. "What happened to saving money for surgery?"

"I just can't live there anymore," January reiterated.

"I... I wish I could," Avery frowned. "I'd love to have my own place. Our own place. But I can't leave my Nana. My mom's gone almost all the time at work. I have to be around to take care of her."

January nodded, but could not restrain a frown of her own. "I knew you would say that."

"Hey, why don't you dry off and change, and I'll make some breakfast," Avery offered. "Things might look a little different once you're dry and have something in your stomach. Oh, excuse me, you girls have 'tummies' don't you?"

Avery's smile was as forced as it was beautiful. January put her arms around him once more. Then she remembered that she was soaked, and was now getting him wet as well. She pulled away, and a growl squirmed from her stomach.

She went to the basement bathroom to dry off and change into some of the spare clothes she kept in the Gadget Cave for emergencies. Then she went upstairs to binge on waffles and sausage links with Avery. The news droned out of the small TV he kept on the kitchen counter. The weather came on, and the meteorologist informed everyone that while the rest of the Lower Peninsula would be enjoying a sunny spring day, the people of Warren would have to endure steady rain. At least until the Weather Witch decided to give them a break.

January had started to feel better. Now she was the reason why no cat could lay in the sun today.

"You texted my mother when I was changing didn't you," she finally said.

"Of course I did." Avery rubbed the back of his neck. "She needs to know you're ok."

January sighed. She did not want to deal with that right now. She did not want to think about last night. She needed to focus on the future. The words of her old therapist rose up in her mind.

"What are you going to do about it?"

She nearly ran into her mother when she walked out the back door. She had her motorcycle tucked under one arm, as easily as one might carry a pillow. The sight of that seemed to take all the words from her mother's mouth.

"Mom, I'm sorry," January choked out. She dropped the bike to the driveway with a weighty thump. It splashed rainwater over her feet, while her new clothes began to slowly soak through under the steady drizzle from overhead. "But I can't do this right now."

"How much did you hear?" her voice was low with equal measures of dread and sorrow.

"Enough." January pulled the ancient Bell motorcycle helmet over her head and fastened it tight. The next thing she knew her mother was holding her tight.

"Mom, I'm trying to storm off all cool and melodramatic like," January heard herself say. "It doesn't work with you hugging me."

"Ok honey," she stepped back, forcing a smile. "When you're done storming, just remember that I'll always love you, no matter what."

"I know," January said.

Gosh, I'm learning a lot about Michigan and Detroit from this story!

Predictable that Jan would, after her mission, head straight for the Gadget Cave to update Avery.
"It took a few minutes for me to get into some security cameras to see the rest of it."
- - Here you ‘show’ us how brilliantly creative Gadget is. Quick thinking on his part, upon losing comm, to tap into the building security cameras.

Well, that was an argument at home she didn’t need to hear. . . . Some powerfully effective writing there, my friend. Her father’s a real butthead. If there is a silver lining though, her mother quite shined here in Jan’s defense.

Magnificent how Jan literally ‘stormed’ off into that downpour of her own creating.

We recycle. At least I do. Where I live it seems like every one does, it seems like all the houses in my neighborhood have their blue bins out on recycle day. Ha, so that is real, when people try to bring bottles into Michigan!

Thanks for explaining about diesel and gasoline. I used to work at a gas station and it's funny how little I knew about it... I was merely a cashier / office lady. I remember we did not sell diesel. At least once a week I'd have explain this to some grouchy customer, and tell him or her to drive halfway across town to one of our competitors at the time.

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

Uh oh. They're fighting!

"Jan isn't going to make something of her life?" Oh yes she is.

I got really uncomfortable reading their argument, but that's what happens to me in real-life too, when I hear people argue. So in other words, good job portraying their fight.

Phew. Poor January.

A lesson my A and A team are learning (slowly). Counting on someone else is not dependency or weakness; it is a way for both to be stronger.



The downside to fame that many famous people have learned to their cost- a small, but dangerous segment of their “fandom” thinks they “own” the celebrity they venerate, and worse yet, that the famous person reciprocates their feelings.



A perfect wry ending to a great after-action moment.

The fight was... terrible- and as Renee said, perfectly written. Begin to see where Julian gets his attitudes and irresponsibility....



You manage once more to relieve the tension from before with a perfectly placed dry observation.



Moms- they always know how to ruin a perfect dramatic exit...

Most excellent once again. Mrs. Treydog the Painter and I often say that good art makes you "feel." It may not always make you feel "good," but it doesn't just leave you without any particular impression, either. Your writing is most definitely good art.

Chapter 1.7: Heh. Good question honestly. What is it? Uniform? Outfit?

"Note to self, Fire is cool," she murmured.

Fire is definetely cool! And so are her powers.

Again I have to say just how great it is to have Gadget on her side. He's a handy man for sure! It was neat having him check the database to find out if Sub was arrested. Gave her more than enough time to find that elusive little black book.

"No wait. If he comes back and it's gone, he'll get suspicious."

This was perfect. Though its common sense, this was a good way to avoid her getting into trouble and both of them potentially being discovered later on.

Hehe, a selfie with a Trekkie is far better than an unpleasant outcome! I was happy this happened. Sure brought a smile to my face.

Great chapter!


Chapter 1.8: How great it was to see January at her house. I always find it interesting to see a character's lifestyle back home when they aren't on dangerous missions and adventures. You gave us such a great description of her house(well, her parent's house), that it was as if we were actually there with her.

That was a total Peter Parker-esque moment, sneaking in through the window to get into her room!

'In the past she had always put that down to her being more focused. She didn't waste time going to parties, or binge-watching TV, or surfing YouTube, or spending hours talking and texting friends, or shopping for clothes, and all the other things that seemed to preoccupy teenagers so much.'

Which makes her stand out. This worked well in her favor.

'January had to admit, she did not look her fifty years of age. Or was it fifty thousand? It was so hard to tell the difference with parents.'


How tough it must be for January to be called something she isn't. That, and coupled with the fact of her being the 'oddball' of the family certainly can create tense situations. We get a true in-depth view on the day-to-day habits of Jan as she settles in her room and searches herself online.

"Stormcrow does not simply walk into Mordor. She leaps!"

This. Is. Pure. Gold!

Seems to me that Julian does gravitate toward his father Romulus a bit, doesn't he? You captured this quite well with him echoing the other. January had some very good points regarding the difference between heroes and law enforcement and their efficiency.

"She might not even be from here. She could have been any one of those people staying in that hotel. For all we know she might be in San Francisco right now, or New York."

Or, you know, right in front of you. I love moments like these!

"I may as well work at Burger Baron, for all the money I would make doing that. I am sure that's where you will end up, but not me."

What a douche!


Chapter 1.9:
Her brother's less-than-inspirational words hung like a storm in our hero's mind. How terrible it must be to have a brother who doesn't have your back, and worst, discourages her with words.

'She knew from bitter experience that the last thing normal people wanted to was to be reminded that someone like her existed. But even given that, January knew that she would never compromise her ideals. She would rather be homeless.'

This was some great insight! Despite the weight of the world's views upon one's shoulders, they should never shed away their resolve, and remain strong despite the negative and judgmental views of others.

Jan has some major problems! Dealing with parents who have yet to see you for who you are, financial challenges, as well as personal doubts creeping in to potential sibling favoritism, all seems to be against her. The best thing she could do, though it may be hard, is remember:

'Never ever give up, no matter what.'

Oh! Something is about to go down! When Gadget calls, its urgent!

I will be back for the rest! Great story!

Acadian: I know you were joking, but the reason I set this in Detroit is that I know this city and state so well. Right down to the Bernsteins and bottle deposits. I can bring that out in the stories in a way I could never do with a fictional setting.

Tapping into nearby security cameras is going to become a staple of Gagetology. I get a lot of that from Shadowrun, where cameras are an even larger part of life than today. The Decker (hacker) character would commonly hijack the local security cameras to wipe their shadowrunner team from them, and use them to tell the runners where the bad guys were.

The last episode was one of those really blatant displays of how January's emotions shape the local elements. As difficult it was to write the argument, being able to show Jan's feelings through the pouring rain was wonderful.

I decided to go this route with Jan's family because so many Queer people face these very same (and often much worse) issues with their own families. It is just one of those Truth in Television moments that I felt I could not ignore and still be true to reality. From a purely nuts and bolts storytelling point of view it also introduces an extra sort of conflict. Conflict is what drives all stories. Without it, things are just boring.


Renee: Wow, except in a few neighborhoods we don't have recycle bins for every house in Michigan. Just garbage cans. You have to put your paper and other recyclables aside yourself and take them to the city recycle center.

I was uncomfortable writing the argument as well. I had to break it down into individual story beats, and cover them one at a time in an analytical fashion in order to get through it.


treydog: So you would say Blood on the Moon is a story about the A-Team then?

The darkside of modern media culture is one of the things I specifically wanted to put on display in that scene with the crowd wanting to get every closer and closer to the new media sensation.

Like I said in the past, it's ok to dislike Julian. His attitudes definitely run from his father, and are in fact amplified by the preferential treatment he has received from Romulus.

I just cannot resist those little wry observations like the ten cent deposit or cats laying in the sun. That is one of those examples of the author being reflected in what they write.

A few months ago I read the Screwfly Solution, and I commented about it on the HP Lovecraft Literary Podcast's Patreon comments section. I said pretty much what you and Mrs. Dog did. Good fiction makes you feel, even if you don't particularly want to. That story was very much in mind when I wrote that fight between Jan's parents. I am sure it was not easy for Alice Sheldon to write it, because it is so emotionally brutal. She slogged through it to create an outstanding story. So I did too.


Darkness Eternal: I think selfies are now the new autograph. I don't think any fan wants anything signed anymore, do they? We all have cameras on us all the time, so we all want pics. Otherwise it did not happen after all.

Peter Parker/Spider-Man is an inspiration for these stories. Back in the 60s when the character first came out he was a big hit, precisely because he was not rich, or famous, or desired, or even cool. He was an ordinary schlub, facing ordinary problems. Someone everyone can relate to. January is a bit exotic in that she is trans and lesbian. But what I am hoping to really emphasize is just how ordinary she really is, but showcasing these ordinary issues and situations she faces in her everyday life.

Given today's Meme-centric internet culture, a Stormcrow Meme had to be in the offing. Who can resist the Sean Bean classic of walking into Mordor? I cannot watch the scene in Fellowship of the Ring without thinking of the memes.

I am digging way back to my own youth with Jan's feelings about older people. 30? Wow, what an ancient! 50! They must have rode dinosaurs to school!

Julian does indeed take a lot of his personality from his father, and from the preferential treatment he receives. Something we will see a lot more of in the future. He is indeed, a douche. Well, he's a lawyer after all. Or will be.

I used to keep a printed out copy of the Viking Code on my door when I was younger. I would always look at that whenever I left my home, especially the final part. "Never give up, no matter what."



Wilhelm Wundt

Macomb Community College (the Max Thompson Learning Media Center is the library)

The high school January lands on

The giant factory beyond 696 she lands on

Broadsword Calling Danny Boy

Counting Crows - Four Days

Global Titanium from the air

A closer view of the battleground

Global Titanium from the ground

Global Titanium from the ground again




Book 2.9 - Stormcrow Recycled

January sat in class, trying to remember who Wilhelm Wundt was, and why he was important to the history of psychology. Try as she might, all she could think about was Willy Wonka. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Oompa Loompas and chocolate were not going to be on the final exam.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She prayed to Freyja, the Morrigan, and any other deity who would listen that it wasn't her mother, again. She sneaked a peek at it when the professor was not looking. It turned out to be a text from Avery.

Another Robbery.

Global Titanium Inc. North of Seven Mile, between Van Dyke and Mound.

Right Now!

January bit her lip. What was she supposed to do? Blow off her Intro To Psychology class? But how could she sit there when another robot-army was on the loose? How did Blood Raven handle this kind of thing?

There never really was any question after all. She slid her phone into her pocket, and her book and notes into her backpack. She stood and walked briskly for the door. The professor turned his balding head toward her and gave her a quizzical look.

"Sorry, family emergency," she said. Then she was out the door, and looking for a secluded place to change into her armor. It turned out to be no farther away than the croaking of a crow. The black bird was perched in a cluster of trees beside the nearby library, and stared at her intently as it called out.

Thankfully the rain had stopped, but the grass was still wet when January raced across it to get under the cover of the trees. It turned out to be an ideal spot. January's elemental mantra was second nature to her now. She simply thought about it, and willed the change to happen. An instant later she was in her armor, and the tee, jeans, and fitted jacket she had been wearing were tucked safely away in her backpack.

The trees also gave her convenient cover for a leap to the roof with no one noticing. She tucked her pack away behind a row of upraised bricks in one corner. Given that it was the tallest building on the campus, no one would ever notice it. Or at least she hoped so.

She did not bother with the motorcycle. It had been too much trouble the last time. Besides, there would be traffic at this time of day. Instead she leapt high into the sky, and snapped out her wings. She remembered everything that Lighthammer had told her about the principles of flight.

"I keep forgetting that so much of this is not like flying a jet," the armored vigilante had told her. "Even a glider doesn't compare. You fly like a bird. Well, like a crow. But they flap their wings to generate thrust. I don't know how you do it. It's not even gliding. Not really. Your glide ratio is way better than any glider or wingsuit. You've got some mojo for this. You need to keep working on developing that."

She flew south across the campus, willing herself to remain in the air. She concentrated on reshaping reality, on creating a world where she could soar like any bird. Her focus, her energy, went into that. Muscle memory gained under Lighthammer's tutelage also taught her to angle her wings. She would create the most negative pressure on the upper surface, and the most positive on the lower. That would generate lift the old-fashioned way. The same as a bird did.

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

She soared all the way across the campus before she began to lose appreciable altitude. Finally she was obliged to come down on the roof of the high school nearby. She disengaged her wings and hit it running. At the edge of the roof she leapt back up into the sky, and redeployed her wings. Then she was sailing through the sky again.

"Broadsword calling Danny Boy," she said into the brand new comm Avery had installed in her helmet the previous night.

"Got you Broadsword," Gadget's voice came back loud and clear in her ear, sounding decidedly amused. "Are Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood driving you? I see traffic backed up on Groesbeck."

"Take a look," January carefully reached up to her head, and clicked on the video unit. A moment later she crossed over I-696 and came down on the roof of a massive factory. It was so large that she could do more than run across it. She was able to take numerous horizontal leaps, covering over thirty feet in each bound. She built up speed all the while, so that when she finally launched skyward she gained more altitude than she ever had before. She cracked out her wings, and rejoiced in the view.

"Hot damn girl," Gadget's voice was soft amazement. "That is lit!"

"Okay, that's Groesbeck down to your left," he declared confidently. "Keep following it to Outer Drive, then go right. It's just before Seven Mile."

January continued her routine of leaping and gliding, and ate the miles up in the bright blue sky. She noticed a single crow ahead of her, seeming to fly in the same direction that she was. She followed it out of reflex. Soon there was another crow, and another, and she found herself part of a large murder of the birds.

January laughed out loud. The clouds were gone, both in the sky overhead, and within her heart. In spite of all the disturbing revelations of the previous night, in spite of whatever was waiting for her at the next titanium shop, this was a perfect moment. She knew that, and did her best to live in it forever. Or at least whatever passed for forever these days.

She even imagined that she heard "Four Days" by the Counting Crows playing in her ear. Then she realized it was not in her mind. She really was hearing it.

"A little something by Counting Crows to go with your crow pals," Gadget's voice came in over the alternative rock.

The crows led her right to Global Titanium Incorporated. It was a compound of large buildings on the far side of a set of railroad tracks that ran from north to south. The complex was laid out in a rectangle, the perimeter being marked out by large, windowless buildings. A pair of structures bisected the layout about one third of the way from the south. That made it more of a figure eight, with a larger open square on the north side, and a smaller one to the south. Most of the buildings seemed to be two story sheds or warehouses, massive in size. Large doorways - big enough for multiple trucks to drive through at the same time - yawned open in them.

The center of the big open square to the north was taken up by a collection of large, open-aired storage bays. They were constructed from massive concrete blocks that looked for all the world like giant Legos. Each bay was blocked off on three sides by high walls of the white blocks, leaving one end open. Four of these bays were lined up with their open ends facing south. Another four butted up opposite them, sharing a single, center wall. Their openings faced north. That created eight enclosures in all. All were filled with metals in numerous forms. There were loose chips piled up in mounds, heaps of what looked like powder, and neatly stacked crates of packaged materials. Even more of these storage bays were spread around the edges of the courtyard, and against the sides of the massive sheds and warehouses. Everywhere January looked, there was metal. It was a Mountain Dwarf's paradise.

It was here that January saw another Frankensteinian garbage truck. Like the one from the previous night, it was made up of parts thrown together from several other trucks. The varying colors made that plain. Half the cab was green, the other half yellow, and the storage bay behind was brown and blue.

January could see several more of the humanoid robots walking from one of the large metal storage bays to the truck. They carried ingots of shining metal in their iron hands, which they loaded into the open back of the garbage truck. Smoke rose from the wreck of a semi-truck nearby, but there were no signs of any people. Whoever had been working down there must have either ran off, or be hiding.

"Whoa, what happened?" Gadget's concerned voice came over the comm. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," January puzzled out. "No one's even shot at me yet."

"I just lost the video," Gadget explained. "I've got nothing but haze coming through."

"Everything looks fine," January assured him. "Maybe it's just still on the fritz from the other night. I'm going on according to plan."

"That can't be," Gadget insisted. "I completely replaced all the wiring with shielded circuitry. It's immune to electrical damage, or even an EMP."

January looked for the Face-Bot, but did not see it as she approached. She took advantage of its apparent absence, and plunged down toward the garbage truck. It grew larger and larger by the second, and she had to give it her fullest concentration. Moments from hitting it, she triggered off her wings. She went into a forward roll as she fell, and hit the blacktop still moving.

She rolled under the truck. As the chassis passed by overhead, she clipped one of Gadget's contraptions to its underside. Without slowing an instant, she rolled out the other side of the truck, and sprang to her feet.

"GPS attached," she said quietly.

"Got it pinging," he said. "Just make it look good now."

One of the metal men stepped out from around the back of the garbage truck. Its hands were empty, so January imagined that it had just dropped off its load of titanium. It raised one hand toward her. Remembering how one had cut open a metal door during the previous attack, January ducked. Crimson laser light splashed through the air above her, and lanced through a storage bay across the court.

Apparently they were no longer just worker drones. Now they could fight. Someone had been doing upgrades overnight.

January dove into a forward roll, and bounced to her feet in front of the android. Her Krav Maga training came to her naturally, and she sprang up directly into the metal man's face. Her armored helmet smashed into its head, sending photoreceptors and other bits and bobs of electronics out in a shower of metal. She followed with a knee to its groin. While it lacked the usual soft spots there, the blow did send it off balance. She grabbed its shoulders with both hands and pulled them down toward her, even while she lifted her knee up into its head. That cleanly decapitated it.

January lifted the still moving body of the robot in her arms and whipped it around. She flung it at a second android that had lumbered around the back of the truck. The headless bot took it clean in the chest, and both were sent tumbling to the blacktop.

January was about to leap onto a third when the raucous cry of a crow snapped her head around. Rising over the outer wall of the compound was the Face-Bot, its twin eyes glowing with malevolence. January leaped after all, but not to attack a robot. Instead she bounded over the large collection of storage bays, and put her back to the concrete blocks that made up their walls. Twin lasers scored the air behind her. Then a moment later they gouged into the blocks that she hid behind.

"I found the Boss," January said into her comm. "He's got me pinned down."

"Good, just keep your head down," Gadget replied. "I'm trying to find a security camera to see with, but I'm having the same problem as with your suit cam. I think something's jamming all the cameras in the area."

"How can that be?" January wondered aloud.

The Face-Bot came sliding around the side of her hiding place. Thinking quickly, January leaned over into the storage bay and picked up an ingot of steel. She flung it at the Face-Bot, and hit it dead between the eyes with a loud clank! She could swear that she heard it squeal in pain, and it danced away. Before it shot out of sight, January noted with satisfaction that her missile had left a large dent in its casing.

She peeked around the corner, and ducked back as a bright red laser scored a line across the concrete wall. That had come from one of the man-bots. Their creator had definitely improved their AI. They had not been nearly so combative the other night.

"I don't know how they are doing the jamming, but they are," Gadget said. "It apparently only effects the visible light spectrum. Though it might go up into infrared and ultraviolet as well. We are talking, so it doesn't affect radio waves. This is something I'm going to have to work on. We could use this in your suit."

"Well, I don't think the man-bots are doing it," January noted. "Maybe it's in the truck, or that Face-Bot."

She picked up another steel bar, and darted around the other side of the storage bay. The coast was clear over here, so she leaped down to the end of the row of enclosures, and came around the truck from the other side. The Face-Bot was waiting for her however. She flung her steel, and it fired its lasers at the same time. The metal erupted in mid-air with a shower of molten steel. But not all of it was liquefied. Some of the solid bits continued on, and pelted the flying robot.

Once again, it squealed, and dodged back and to one side. It fired at January again, forcing her back behind the cover of the storage bays. She heard the garbage truck's engine roar to life. A moment later she heard its tires grinding over the blacktop. She peeked around the corner, and saw that the truck was rolling out the main entrance of the compound, and onto the street outside. The Face-Bot sent one last blast at her, then darted off after the vehicle.

January ran out from cover, searching for more of the metal men. Aside from the one she had decapitated, and the other one she had struck with its body, there were no sign of them. Those two were still twitching, but a vigorous application of her boot soles fixed that. She imagined that the rest had loaded themselves on board the truck along with the metal they had stolen and escaped.

"Is anyone hurt?" January called out. She turned in a circle, searching for people. "I chased them off. It's safe to come out now."

Heads began to poke out from behind open doorways and around corners. January made a quick circuit, looking into storage bays and into the warehouses. But of all the people she saw, no one had suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises. She imagined those were more from flight than actual attack. She had seen what the robots could do. Their weapons could melt steel. Humans would have been vaporized under their lasers. Thankfully, she did not see any piles of goo on the ground to suggest that had occurred.

With a name like Wilhelm Wundt, it is indeed hard to not conjure images of Willy Wonka and the shrink factory.

Wonderful how you brought up the dilemma of stay in class or cut class for a superhero mission. On the other hand, she’s getting more and more of this superheroine stuff down as she wills her armor onto herself and continues to improve her thrust generation mojo. ‘Willing’ the air to decrease pressure on the upper surface of her wings is a perfect way for Stormcrow to use her elemental superpowers to influence aerodynamics. Nicely done!

Cool! Stormcrow and Gadget now have official callsigns! And flipping her camera on earns access to her very own talking gps/nav system - with crow redundancy from her winged pals. And music even!

‘The clouds were gone, both in the sky overhead, and within her heart.’
’…this was a perfect moment. She knew that, and did her best to live in it forever.’
- - There are indeed – when things are going well - moments of pure joy when flying high performance aircraft. Helps make up for the hours of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror.

Quite a landing as she hits the ground, rolls under the Frankentruck and slaps a gps tracker to its chassis. Then into quite the fight as both sides have upgraded since the last encounter. The Metaldudes with lasers and Stormcrow with her high tech steel ingots for throwing.

Turns out that getting a tracking device onto Frankentruck is likely to prove very helpful. And no collateral piles of goo on the ground is always a good thing.

Way back when we were reading Gawain and the Green Knight (in Middle English- which was still almost in use when I went to school), the word “wlonk” was used. Which one of my fellow grad students immediately decided was a version of “Willie Wlonka.”

Excellent insight by Light-Guy about Jan's flight dynamics.



Words to keep close by- and hard to remember sometimes.

I like the fact that the "intelligence" behind the thefts demonstrates actual "intelligence"- evolving its minions and their tactics based on the previous encounter.

Acadian: I still remember my Into to Psychology class, and Wilhelm Wundt was one of the people we covered. My instructor himself raised the similarity to Willy Wonka! El Gordo was a cool teacher.

Thankfully it was only her attending class. If it was her teaching a class at the dojo it would be even more difficult to just duck out of it. That is the problem of having a day job and trying to be a superhero. Eventually they will be at odds with one another.

Those aren't really official callsigns. I just read a short story named "Broadsword Calling Danny Boy" that was loosely inspired by Where Eagles Dare, so that, and the movie, were forefront in my mind. Plus it is a pop culture reference that I cannot use in most of my writing.

January is slowly but surely improving her flight. I am sure it will come as no surprise when she no longer simply glides, but flies outright. That is one of many improvements I want to show her working toward.

I did say that January and Avery were going to upgrade her long range arsenal!


treydog: Where would our culture be without Willie Wonka and his amazing rhyming name?

I have often told myself to hold on to those rare, wonderful moments for as long as I can. January is now learning that life is just a string of moments all lined up in row. Many forgettable. Some to be cherished.

The intelligence behind this all is indeed, pretty intelligent. We will be meeting him in a few episodes.


January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 01

January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 02

January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 03

January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 04 (Her Bus Stop before the Packard Plant)

January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 05

January's Route To The Junkman's Lair 06



Book 2.10 - Stormcrow Recycled

"I've got them on the tracker heading south on Mount Elliott," Gadget said over the comm. "Just for shits and giggles I'm trying traffic cams. But they all go dark before the truck comes along. This is some really good electronic camouflage."

"But at least the GPS is still working," January said.

She leapt up to the roof of the tallest building in Global Titanium's complex. Then from there a second leap took her into the sky. She snapped out her wings, and began to glide along a pair of train tracks. They went in the same direction that Gadget had indicated, parallel to the street the garbage truck had turned on after it left the metal shop. This time she did not try to go too fast. She did not want to catch them after all, just follow their trail, hopefully out of sight.

"GPS uses microwaves," Gadget explained. "Some would say they are a subset of radio waves. Others put them in their own category. In any case, a different wavelength in the electromagnetic spectrum."

"You just love to nerd out like that," January laughed. She was flying again. No one had been hurt, and their plan was going, well, according to plan. Things were good.

"You know it babe!" Gadget exclaimed.

"Careful, I might start quoting Carl Sagan on you," January said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep baby," Gadget deepened his voice into his sexy-man tone.

"We are star-stuff, which has taken its destiny into its own hands," January declared in her sultriest tone.

"You are such a tease," Gadget laughed. "If any aliens are listening to this, they are mighty confused."

After that January went silent, putting her full attention back to her routine of leaping and flying. Thankfully the railroad tracks were lined by factories and warehouses. They provided her with plenty of rooftop space to land on, build up some steam by running, and then leap back into the sky again.

Her eyes scanned for signs of the truck and flying robot. But she was too far away from the road, and there were too many buildings blocking it from her view. That was just as well, because if she could see them, they could see her. Instead she relied on Gadget to give her updates on the GPS signal's progress.

"Ok, its veering south-west now," Gadget said.

Soon January soared over what looked like a junkyard for broken semi-trucks. Beside it the railroad tracks fanned out into half a dozen different lines, many filled with rusted train cars. The tracks veered south-west, and forced the parallel street to do the same. January followed, eyes open for danger.

"I've got the video back," Gadget said. "You must be out of range of the jamming. Turning mostly west now. It looks like they're cutting through a neighborhood."

January kept on her south-west course, and followed the wide swath of train tracks. She hoped the robo-thieves were still planning on going back south eventually. She could cut across their path, and gain ground. Well, gain sky at least. Soon the landscape became very familiar. She was back in Hamtramck again. The massive complex of the Cadillac plant rose up to her left, and beyond it the towering smokestack of the Detroit City Incinerator.

"Turning south again, on Conant," Gadget said. "I just lost video again, so you must be close."

January dropped down onto the roof of an abandoned factory to her left, just beyond the railroad tracks. She stepped behind a large water tower, and stared out toward the west. Not too far away the street crossed under a railway bridge, and continued south toward Downtown Detroit.

"I see it!" January exclaimed as the garbage truck briefly came into view, only to vanish beneath the bridge again. The rest of her view was blocked by a warehouse, so she could not see it emerge. She gambled that it would not stop and turn back around to shake any pursuit, and launched herself into the air southward once more.

She found herself out of industrial parks, and over a residential area. The meant smaller rooftops and power lines. It slowed her progress, as she had to always watch for trouble. It also brought fingers pointed toward the sky, and cars that stopped to watch her pass. That made her wish for the run down factories and warehouse again. The last thing she needed was to be blamed for someone rear-ending someone else.

She found a three-story school with a wide roof to land on. She got a good long run out of it, and was back into the sky once more. The giant Hamtramck Plant lay just past a few more blocks to the west, and she was obliged to bank more to the left, to leave room between her and Conant: the main street headed south.

"It's passing over 94, still heading south," Gadget kept the steady updates coming.

She recognized her bus stop from her training sessions with Lighthammer right up ahead. Beyond it was I-94, and the sprawling decay of the Packard Plant. She headed toward the latter, knowing that it was filled with both rooftops and convenient places to stay out of sight. She had just passed over the highway when Gadget came back on the comm.

"It just turned west again on Medbury," he said.

January had to turn once more, and followed Gadget's report back over another large residential area south of the freeway. The homes here were not all crowded together like in a normal subdivision however. Most of the lots were empty. Some entire blocks only had four or five homes in all. January imagined that all the other houses had either burned down, or been abandoned and torn down. She had to admit that the added greenery from the grass-covered lots and extra trees did look nice. Even though the maples and oaks made gliding more tricky.

"Back in Poletown again," January noted. "It looks like we're headed for the incinerator."

"Those trucks were thrown together from scrap," Gadget thought out loud. "Maybe the Robo-Boss has his lair in the city dump? Oh, turning south again on St. Aubin."

January alit on top of a tall church, with ornate minarets that capped two of its corners, and a third spire in the center of its roof. All were made of bronze turned green with verdigris. She landed atop one, and eased down into a crouch. For a moment it struck her that it looked just like a classic comic book pose, of the Dark Avenger protagonist perched upon an appropriately Gothic steeple. All she needed were some crows to swirl around her for dramatic effect.

She almost jumped out of her skin and fell off the building when one of said crows croaked loudly in her ear. She was thankful that she was already hanging on to one of the minarets for support. Turning her head, she saw the bird leap into the sky, and followed its black figure across the cityscape.

That brought her eyes directly upon the garbage truck again. She swung back around behind the minaret to stay out of sight. The truck was headed down the street just a block ahead of her. Beyond was a sprawling lot belonging to another metal company. But where the previous businesses had been nice, relatively neat places to stockpile new metals, this was where the scrap went to die. It was a junkyard of rusted iron and twisted steel piled high into heaps. Farther still lay the city dump, whose single, tall smokestack rose high into the sky.

She kept her eyes glued to the truck and waited. She was too near to go back into the sky now. It drove down to the next intersection and turned toward the incinerator. But before it could reach the city dump, it turned into the driveway of a building set adjacent to the scrapyard instead.

Yeah, I don't think she'd be able to concentrate in Psych 101 after that sort of text!

Crap. Thar Face Bot thingie is back. I was gonna say.

I love reading about her smashing up those worker bots.

Have you ever had dreams in which you can fly? I am lucky enough that I've had at least two in which I was also lucid. Therefore I could will myself to fly. And the sensation was scary to me since I am afraid of heights irl. But I remember thinking I had to do this! Because it was only a dream (and I knew this) so it couldn't possibly hurt the physical me.

I really get this 'edgy' feeling as Avery communicates over the comm. Every time they speak back and forth I tense up. Crap. I wonder if they're allowing her to follow the truck. Some sort of trap.

Okay, phew. Cliffhanger.

Another fun episode as you ever so smoothly show us the gradual but continuing evolution of Stormcrow’s flying ability.

I can imagine the reassurance and comfort she gets from having Gadget in her ear as a potent force multiplier.

Thinking about a crow and one shows up. . . coincidence? I think not and now believe she is somehow connected to the birds, just as she is somehow connected to the weather in some fascinatingly mysterious way.

This piece of the mission – to track RoboTruck to its lair – seems a success.

Chapter 1.10: Great thing you provided us with the Google Maps!

'Someone was out mowing their grass, kids rode past on bikes, and ordinary life went on as if a supervillain emergency was not about to unfold. It felt somewhat surreal to January, knowing that something was going to happen, and that she was going to be part of it. Yet the rest of the world was utterly oblivious.'

I often wonder how things go on behind the scenes. Jan is very well a part of this other side of things that ordinary people usually aren't a part of. Its both fascinating and frightening the prospect of being "blissfully" ignorant in a world where superheroes exist.

So our Indian buddy is trying to catch a flight out, eh?

"A vagina cipher?"


'Rising into the sky, she put her arms out and hit the twin triggers in her gauntlets. Her cape snapped out into a pair of wings a moment later, catching the wind underneath them.'
This was a superb part! Badass visual!

Chapter 1.11: Wow. Pure chaos! Unsurprisingly Lighthammer was the cause of all the ruckus. I was wondering when he'd return. Those mercs put up quite a fight, but in the end they were matched by LH's weaponry. There was plenty of things happening, and one of the things I noticed was the very real dangers of bullets ricocheting back. In a crowded area, these are extremely lethal to anyone within range. Jan was wise enough to get them out of there.

'But this wasn't dinner. It was a person, all hot, wet, and torn apart.'
I'm sure every time she's participating in a Thanksgiving event she'll see a bullet for every Turkey leg

The revelation that the victim was an officer was great! I, too, was wondering what was she doing packing heat in the airport.

Krav Maga is one of my favorite martial arts out there, and how great that she put it to good use against Sub's Thugs. She's resilient, that's a given! Took her some time but she finally got to him, and gave him a lasting impression

Great chapter!

Chapter 1.12: There is power in teamwork; strength in numbers. Seeing Lighthammer struggle against the Mercs in their tactical combat was telling, and Jan able to save him just in time was very refreshing to see, as well as watching Sub getting his due.

That was an intense fight! Wow.

The dialogue between Jan and Lighthammer was great! Light is more or less an antihero, I suppose, seeing as he only harms criminals and the scum of the world and is out for himself.

"Okay Qui-Gon, we'll play it your way this time."
And she did a great 'mind-trick' on him by having him hand the diamonds. 'Credits will do fine!'

Crowgirl and Lightguy! Yes, these are a team now!(I hope)


Chapter 1.13: Jan must have been proud of her accomplishments as they retell the details of the battle. Until of course Blackwater/Merryweather Whitewater Security bought their way out of any involvement or incrimination. Bastards. Great exchange between her and Emilia.

"It's funny, I never got a scratch in Iraq. But I go to the airport, the safest place you think you could be, and I get shot. By another vet of all people."
The world is full of these funny little ironies.

Emilia and Jan had some good chemistry before, and I'm sure that they'll have even more now with Emilia revealing about her sexuality and upbringing. Glad to see that she's making friends, even when she has such a weight on her shoulders that she must burden, including members of her own family.

Renee: You are right, even if she tried to ignore Avery's call to arms, how could you go back to Wilhelm Wundt?

We will be seeing much more of the Face-Bot in the future, and even learning its name.

Many, many moons ago I used to sometimes have dreams of riding my bicycle. Then I realized I was not riding in my dreams, but flying along the ground. I am afraid of heights too. Scratch that. I am fine with heights. I am afraid of falling to my death from heights... But I still loved those dreams. I have not had one in a very long time though.

Admiral Renee


Acadian: One of these days, January might even be able to fly outright...

An interesting thing is that if you look at old superhero tv shows, films, and even comics, the lone hero was always truly on their own, with no lifeline out there to know where they were, what they were doing, and able to call in backup or even just offer advice. But these days that is completely different. Now what appears to be the lone hero commonly has a least one person like a hacker or scientist backing them up across the internet, through a suit camera, etc... The Arrow-verse tv shows are big on this. Sometimes for every single person out in a suit, there are half-a-dozen people at the other end of their suit camera working things out in their heads, making strategy, offering advice, providing information, and so on. I think that is partly because of the proliferation of technology. We truly do live in an information age now. But as a writer, it also gives you an opportunity to bring in more characters for your lone hero to interact with. So they are not truly alone after all.

I do keep going back to those crows, don't I? I do not have anything specific in mind for them, at least so far. But just like with Teresa of the Faint Smile, they are January's spirit guide. So they will always turn up when something important is happening.


Darkness Eternal: I am hoping the Google Map can make things more clear when I go off on my landscape porn binges. I am hoping that in the end the city itself will come alive as a real place to people reading. Rather than being as vague as Metropolis or Central City.

I have faced many vagina ciphers. Sadly, I am no crytographer.

The big airport fight was a lot of fun to write. I originally only had two mercs for Crowgirl and Ligthguy to deal with. Then a week before I posted the first episode of the fight I realized that did not give as much of a challenge as I would have liked. So I doubled it to four mercs.

I picked Krav Maga because unlike January's other martial arts - Karate and Muay Thai - it is does not have a specific focus on one or two different styles of striking. Instead Krav Maga is a collection of so-called 'dirty tricks' that work in all kinds of situations. It gives her a lot of diversity in her fighting ability, rather than just punches, kicks, and elbows.

I had a lot of fun writing Crowgirl and Lightguy. Look for more interactions between them in the future. They have very different philosophies when it comes to supering. That creates an opportunity to each to challenge the others ideals, and examine their own. Fertile ground for developing character in both. They also do have things in common, which makes it possible for them to disagree and still retain an alliance. Or at least a relationship of some form.

Emilia is another character to watch for. We will be seeing her appear more in the future, as January begins reaching out to forge alliances with the 'authorities'. She knows she does not want to be a rogue outlaw type like Lightguy. That means building trust with people like Emilia.



Beatrice Grand Trunk Warehouse & Cold Storage Building

The Junkman's Lair, adjacent scrapyard, and City Incinerator (top)

The Junkman's Lair, adjacent scrapyard, and City Incinerator (left)

The Junkman's Lair 01

The Junkman's Lair 02

The Junkman's Lair 03


Archimedes



Book 2.11 - Stormcrow Recycled

It was a massive, white building. January guessed it was at least nine stories tall. A square block of concrete, its lower two stories were pierced by the wide bays of a loading dock that ran the entire length of one wall. The yawning black abysses of smashed out windows loomed for three stories above. The remainder of the building over that was an uninterrupted wall of solid white, like the face of a snow-bound cliff. She noted a rusted out water tower on the roof, along with four structures the size of small buildings themselves. January imagined there might be air conditioners, or heaters, of other machinery within them.

A lower, two story annex branched off from the nine-story cube of the building. This abutment also had smaller structures rising from its roof, along with actual trees that had somehow taken root there. One of these structures was particularly large, and rose up a good six stories. This portion of the building was entirely windowless. The only way in or out seemed to be a metal roll up door in its back wall. January saw this clank open to allow the robo-truck to drive within.

"I have them," January said. "It's a big abandoned building beside the Incinerator. I can see some old writing that says 'Division of Beatrice…', the rest is too faded to read."

"Ok, I've got it on Googol Earth," Gadget replied. "But I just lost the GPS."

"You think they found it?" January bit her lip. Her sneak attack might have just turned into a trap.

"Or maybe they just have better jamming around the building," Gadget speculated. "How do you want to play this?"

"You mean should we just sit back and call the cops?" January asked. "You know my answer to that."

"Yeah, well, the lasers those bots have are pretty dangerous," Gadget warned, "and they're probably not going to hit you with electricity again. As far as they know, that didn't hurt you the last time."

"All the more reason for me to be the one who goes in," January insisted. "These things will turn a SWAT team into a puddle of goo."

"Ok, so maybe you can try to sneak in?" Gadget offered.

"You mean rather than just bust down the door and shout 'Stormcrow Smash!'" January chuckled. "I'll consider it…"

Most of the ground around the building was wide open. But January's eyes gravitated to the scrapyard directly north of the building. The graveyard of iron was lined with trees, which led directly to the white building. That would make for her best approach.

January leapt back into the sky and skimmed over the treetops. She sailed across St. Aubin road, and after it the fence that rimmed the eastern border of the junkyard. There she disengaged her wings, and dropped to the earth amid the piles of metal. The sounds of heavy machinery filled her ears, along with the pungent stench of diesel fumes. The giant orange claws of excavators rose up over the piles of scrap, digging through them like children scooping up sand at a beach.

January trotted through the mountains of tortured iron and hoped that no one would notice her. There were a few trees, and she leaped to them for cover. They thickened as she continued south, where she eventually came across another fence. The tall, white, Beatrice building loomed beyond. The fence was lined with trees, so January followed the cover they provided around to the side of the building.

That brought her within just a few feet of her target. A single leap took her up through a gaping window in one of the lower floors. She found that the interior was just an empty, open space. She wondered if it might have once been an office in the past, or a warehouse? It was now so bare that there was no way to tell. She took her time and tried her best to remain silent as she moved through the building, one barren floor after another. She looked for cameras and alarms that might betray her presence, but found nothing.

"The main building is empty," she said softly. "I'm going to check out that smaller area off the back."

"Copy that Stormcrow, no sign of activity from the outside either." Gadget's voice came in her ear. "I did some digging, and found that this was the Grand Trunk Warehouse and Cold Storage of Beatrice Foods. They were a huge company once, but went under back in the 80s and their pieces got bought up by other companies. The building's been abandoned since then."

"A perfect place for a lair," January murmured.

Eventually she came upon a steel door that looked very new, and very solid. This did have a camera perched over it, and a keypad beside it. Obviously the bad guys were on the other side. Given its position, it had to lead into the smaller annex that branched off from the main building. Rather than try to break it down, or make a futile attempt at guessing the code, January turned around and went back up.

She leaped over to the roof of the annex. Using the trees that sprouted there for cover, she snooped around the small structures up there. All were empty. But she did find a promising air shaft leading down. It was no trouble at all to pull out the wire mesh that covered it. Then she slid down the narrow metal passage, and soon found herself dropping into a gigantic open room.

It was a mad inventor's lair. The edges of the space were lined with a mesh of copper wire. Walls, ceiling, everything. She even saw that the copper vanished into the cement floor, and imagined that it must stretch beneath it as well. She wondered how many abandoned buildings must have had their copper stripped out to outfit the room with so much of the metal?

A great iron scaffolding rose up five stories tall. It was made of a mish-mash of metal parts all welded and bolted together. Hanging from chains within it was the skeleton of a giant robot, or perhaps a mecha. It was humanoid in shape, and built from gleaming steel. Metal conduit was welded to the bones, and sprouted bared wires at the joints where the limbs separated. Rubber hoses ran up and down the metal frame as well, disappearing into what may have been pumps or generators of some kind. A lattice of steel rose up from around the bared bones, outlining what might have been the eventual skin of the colossus. January wondered if that stolen titanium might be destined to clamp onto this framework, and create an armored hide?

The other side of the room contained a design lab. The walls were covered in diagrams, and even more blueprints and schematics hung from portable chalk boards. There was a giant drafting table, and several bins filled with PVC tubes, which January imagined might contain more rolled up diagrams.

A box-like office rose up from the floor along one wall, with a wooden stair leading up to it. A single window was cut into its side to look down over the floor. Beneath it was a small kitchenette and dining space, with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and microwave behind a long table and plastic lawn chairs.

However, most of the space was piled high with what January could only describe as junk. Partly disassembled car engines, household appliances, an old lawnmower, a rusty bicycle, pipes, conduit, wires, hoses, levers, knobs, chairs, windshields. It was a phantasmagoria of cast-off machinery. Some of it was bursting from metal and plastic bins. Some was loaded into buckets and barrels. But most of it was just piled about like a dragon's treasure hoard. Some of those piles were even taller than January was herself.

Avery would have swooned from envy.

The garbage truck was parked near the scaffolding and the unfinished mecha, and several of the man-bots were clanking around unloading the stolen titanium. The Face-Bot floated around from behind the truck, its twin eyes glowing red. Alongside it was an old man.

His brown skin was lined and cracked, like a dried up river-bottom baked in the sun. His short hair had gone dull gray, and a pair of small bifocals hovered above the tip of his nose. He was dressed in plain blue coveralls, and he carried a wrench in one hand. His eyes looked as worn and tired as his skin. It was like they had seen far too many miles, and now just wanted to sit down and rest beneath the shade of a sheltering willow tree.

The Face-Bot immediately opened fire. January tried to dodge, but this time its cherry-red lasers caught her in the side. It was hot. Really hot. Touching a frying pan hot. Enough for her to cry out in spite of herself. She concentrated on Earth, and its strength and resilience. Just as it persevered, so too would she.

She bounded forward, and was on top of the Face-Bot in an instant. This time it was not quick enough to escape. She grabbed hold of both of its backward-flaring shoulders and sent a devastating head butt directly into its faceplate. One of its eyes cracked and went dark. The other set off a shower of sparks.

The Face-Bot tried to fly out of her grasp, but she held on. Its final eye glowed red once more, and January pulled her head down out of its line of fire. She continued the motion and swung her entire body around the robot, until she was literally doing a handstand atop it. Then she doubled over and brought her legs down. Her feet crashed into the top of the flying machine. More sparks erupted, and its cowling was clearly dented inward.

"Enough!" The old man cried out. "Stop it! Leave Archie alone."

"Archie?" January leaped off the robot, and could not resist adding in a forward flip and sticking the landing on the concrete floor. "You named your killer robot Archie?"

"He is not a killer robot!" the old man snapped, "and Archie is short for Archimedes."

Then he turned to the Face-Bot, and ran a soothing hand along its dented cowling. "It's ok Archie, the mean girl won't hurt you anymore."

"Mean girl?" January bristled. "I'm not the one who started shooting!"

She glanced down at her side, where the robot's lasers had struck her. Smoke curled up from her armor, but otherwise it still appeared to be intact. Gadget had said that the hagfish fibers were fireproof. She hoped that her flesh had fared as well underneath. She probed with uncertain fingers. It was hot, but everything still felt solid underneath.

"You scared him," the old man insisted.

"I scared him?" January stared incredulously. Then she realized that he was not holding a drone controller, or even a phone. "Wait a minute, you're not flying it. That's an actual AI, isn't it?"

"Well of course Archimedes is an AI. He's a person." The old man gestured at the man-bots who were still unloading the stolen titanium, oblivious to all that was unfolding. "He's not a brainless drone like those other things."

Looks like the stealth approach was a good call as January quietly made her way all the way into the heart of this crazy junk lab.

Once Archie opened fire though, it was time for some Stormcrow Smash and I’m sure January was happy to finally get her hands on the elusive little face bot.

Wow, this really raises plenty of questions. Who is Old Man? He sure doesn’t seem like the arch villain I imagined might be behind this. The concept of a giant mech warrior roaming Detroit does seem disturbing though.

See, where is Lighthammer during all of this? It makes me wonder if he's .... somehow not as forthcoming as he seemed when he and the crow met amicably.

Whaaat??? Wow, what an odd conversation she just had with that man. I wonder where that is all going. Like, maybe he's just really smooth with his offhand conversation (at such an intense moment), and he's about to try shooting her, or something.

And where is the African Goddess too? Maybe she was just in that one scene. I keep thinking she's eventually going to come back to rock Stormcrow's world.

(ignore me I'm just rambling...) But yeah, that is really offhand at the end.

Caught up again- yay! And also phooey, because now I have to wait again. Most excellent writing once more.



Indeed. “If the enemy is in range, so are you!”



I also remember those rather creepy “We're Beatrice” television spots. There was always something alarmingly Borg-like about that declaration....



Or perhaps the alien parasites all found human hosts?

And somehow, the partially constructed bot or mech is even more frightening than seeing it in its completed state. Numidium in Detroit?

.

To paraphrase the Nac Mac Feegle- “Have a face full a' dandruff, ye wee robut beastie!”

Archie is... a person? And will we be seeing Reggie and Jughead? Or Betty and Veronica?

A quite excellent start to the reveal of the brains behind the activities the Crow and Gadget team have been investigating.

A minor note. Thanks to tredyog correctly identifying Beatrice as a food company, I was able to find exactly what the building was used for. I even found an urban explorer's blog post describing his exploration of the ruin, with lots of pictures. I went back and added in a paragraph about the building, and added the above link.

Chapter 2.1:Ah, Jan has been meeting some ladies as of late, eh? First the officer, and now the Exotic Goddess that's quite blatantly flirting with her. It was a random encounter, at least for her, so I can relate to her doubt whether she was being pranked or pick-pocketed. I have a feeling this woman is going to show up later, perhaps I'm wrong.

You beautifully painted the not-so-pretty picture of modern-day Detroit. I know little of the place, but what I do know I have through the story(with those awesome references), and of pictures I have seen. The comparison to WWII battlefield was very appropriate.

Great seeing Lighthammer again! She makes a fine point. Unlike him, she's tethered to her morals and responsibility as a super. Engaging in conflict in a certain way, well, could very much tarnish her image. 50K is good money, though!

"This is Detroit. We are all mental here. All the sane people left decades ago."


I like the training in the end, and though she's busting out some Krav Maga moves, her mind was on that Ebony Goddess. I know mine would've been!

Chapter 2.2: Heh the Wannabee Gucci Biker tried to pull a fast one. Made sense why she would be reminded him of her brother, heh, what a turd. He oozes narcissism.

Jan trusts Avery very much, and so far he's been very sound in his decisions. He's great!

I like how the chapter literately ended with her feeling like a deflated balloon.

Chapter 2.3: Avery is that one friend we all need when our stuff breaks down, or we need something working far better than it does.

"My man parts are my best parts!", "I have some parts here that you'll like."

His humor and wit are always amusing! I love this guy

Avery is a good friend, and like all good friend he shows the proper concern to her regarding her new partnership with Lighthammer. As a Grey Hat, I'm sure he can be quite unpredictable.

Though they are usually prepared and ready for anything, they weren't ready for good ol' grandma making a surprise.

"Do you have that white girl downstairs? I thought I saw her come in."
Hahaha!

"You should tap that thing. I bet she's a wild one in the sack. The quiet ones always are."
LMAO. Well, damn, Vanessa!

This was a very humorous part that went very sad with her condition. Its never easy to have a loved one of that age suffer through something like that. On a positive note, Jan is always there for him as I am sure he will always be there for her. The two are always there to support each other, even in the worst of times.

Wow! The bike is indeed good as new!