“Lore! Loretta, wait up!” The voice rang down the street, cutting through the murmuring conversation of the rest of the Seattle citizens, the tone urgent but not panicky, interested in catching Lore’s attention without freaking her out.
Lore paused, turning and looking down the street, narrowing her eyes as she stood on her tip toes in an effort to see who had – oh. Cam was waving at her, a grin splitting his handsome face as he maneuvered his way through the crowded street toward Lore.
“Hey, Lore! Hey, how are you?” Cam made his way to where Lore was rooted, now, as she stared up at him, completely unsure as to how to act in this situation. He looked honestly extremely happy to see her, while Lore mostly felt bewildered.
She had honestly been ridiculously busy the past week, and she hadn’t meant to ignore Cam’s calls and not return them, but she had gotten so caught up in life, work and hero-ing. The sudden fervor on the SAS boards, as her friends both regurgitated and mocked the outflow of anti-Firebird sentiment being floated in the media by the Everymen, had caught her off guard, causing Lore to spend even more time at work on the boards, trying to surreptitiously defend her masked alter-ego without putting up too many red flags. Combine that with her father’s sudden announcement of a new girlfriend, Jack’s work schedule being ramped up so she was stressing out about their basically non-existent relationship losing more chances to become solidified as they were never able to see each other, and the death of Lore’s latest beta fish, and she honestly just … hadn’t thought of Cam since their catastrophe of a date.
“Uh.” Lore realized she was staring at the tall man and his smile was starting to falter, like he was worried she didn’t recognize him. “Hi, Cam. Sorry, I. I was miles away. How are you? Do you want to walk with me? I have to make sure I catch the bus.”
Cam nodded happily enough, burying his gloved hands in the deep pockets of his midnight blue sweatshirt. “That’s fine. I have to grab the 180 myself,” he said agreeably and started to walk.
Falling into step with him, Lore replied, surprise evident in her tone, “I didn’t know you took the 180. That’s my bus.”
“I just got some business downtown today, is all. I usually don’t go down that way, but lucky for me that I do, right?” Cam’s smile was warm, flirtatious and blinding in its natural intensity.
Returning the smile, albeit at a much lesser wattage, Lore looked away and used the slippery nature of the sidewalk as an excuse to avoid his gaze. “So how’ve you been? What’s been going on? I wasn’t meaning to avoid you, you know, I’ve just been really busy, you know how it is,” she tried to explain herself without sounding too much like an idiot. Maybe it was because of the week gap since she had last seen him or the influencing memories of the painful evening spent with Cam, but Lore found it hard to look at him for long without wanting to wince out of embarrassment.
“Yeah, I…. Lore, listen,” Cam stopped beneath the green pole marking the bus stop and rested a hand gently on Lore’s shoulder. She couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer, so she tilted her head up and eyed him thoughtfully, aware of the skepticism and wariness probably radiating off of her. “I had fun the other night. I get the feeling it wasn’t… it wasn’t really what you were expecting, though.”
His voice is so quiet and his expression so earnest, Lore seriously feels bad. Like she should’ve called Cam right after she and Jack came to something of an understanding, like she was almost leading on the tall, lean man without meaning to. “Cam,” she started, shrugging one shoulder up and pushing her dark brown hair off of her face. “Cam, I did have fun the other night. But … I guess I didn’t sense the connection that you seem to have.” Lore bit her lip and tried to think of a better way to phrase it, a nice way to brush him off without being straight up awful.
“So, maybe we can try again!” Cam bursts into her thoughts, his smile widening naturally again, making her heart ache a little for something that never really existed. “Are you free this weekend? Maybe we can grab lunch, go down to the Seattle Art Museum, they’re having this cool Pacific Coast native American art exhibit--”
God, Lore thought. Why can’t I like this guy? He knows the current exhibits at SAM. Why am I so picky, why am I so damned stuck on Jack? “Cam,” Lore said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. I… I’m sorry. I really thought I liked you, and I don’t know why there isn’t a connection, but there really isn’t. And, I. I kinda am seeing someone else.” She said the last sentence quickly, feeling awful, worried he’d think she really had been leading him on, that she’d been cheating on some other guy to go out with Cam or something even worse.
Cam’s expression certainly melted a bit, and he furrowed thick brows and looked away from her for the first time since they stopped by the bus stop. “Oh. Well, that sucks for me, I guess,” he finally responded, his voice stilted.
“Cam, I’m so sorry,” Lore repeated, reaching out to grasp his arm. He doesn’t move away, but she can sense the awkwardness in the hold, so she drops her hand relatively quickly.
Luckily, the 180 pulls up just then, giving her a better excuse for the awkward gesture. She jerks a thumb at it. “Bus is here,” because stating the obvious always gives situations something needed.
Cam looked past Loretta, up at the metro bus pulling near the sidewalk. “Yeah. Hey, listen, I just remembered, I got some stuff to do up here before I head south. I’ll see you around the building, okay?”
Before Lore could respond and try to say something to hopefully better herself in Cam’s eyes, he turned and walked away, his dark blue coat melding into the scattered clumps of people walking and standing and cluttering the street. Lore has to get on the bus, then, so as to not be late for work the second time this week, and her thoughts drift away quickly enough, distracted by trying to keep her balance without bowling over the small Asian woman hogging the steadying handles.
Dart spoke up from a corner, tilting her pointy chin at the new-comer, her long blond hair cascading down her back. “Thanks for joining us, Harkness.” Her tone dripped sarcasm.
Harkness didn’t seem to catch the vile tone and responded in a friendly manner, clearly grinning under his mask. “No problem, Dart. I live to serve, which is why I’ve been watching Firebird for the past six or so weeks.” He mock bowed, the flourish of his arm almost hitting Dart.
Before Harkness could provoke Dart into anything more of a verbal fight, though, Sunflower stepped forward as the unexpected voice of reason. “And I’m sure we’re all very glad for the service. Now, what’s going on with her? That is the reason we’re here, after all.”
Shadowgirl nodded, crossing her arms over her chest expectantly.
“Well, not too much. She’s still fighting evil, capturing criminals, ignoring me when I follow her on patrol--”
The Rabid Ransom said, “You’re following her on patrol? Does she know that? Did you know that, Shadowgirl? That seems feckless and reckless.”
Harkness shrugged. “I’ve only confronted her once or twice, but unless other business calls me away,” he explained, walking his fingers in the air in front of the Rabid Ransom’s handsome face. “I’m there! Following her, watching, taking notes. She’s really quite good, and more powerful than even she realizes, I think, as dastardly cliché as that sounds.” He laced his fingers together, stretching his arms out in front of him.
Shadowgirl didn’t sound impressed. “So that’s all you’ve gotten? At least I worked with her that one time, maybe put us a notch above the Everymen in her book.”
Harkness giggled, his insanity showing its face slightly even in the midst of his peers. “No, no, we’re way more than a notch above. We haven’t attacked her, called her evil, threatened her with death.”
That caught the attention of the other six members of the Seven. Zero One One twisted to face Harkness and even Obsidian, who had been quiet up until then, now seemed alert and interested.
“What’s that?” the Rabid Ransom said, stepping forward.
“You heard me,” Harkness said, creating and then nonchalantly tossing a ball of crackling white energy between his gloved, cupped hands. “The other night, almost all of the Everymen found their way into Green Lake and located our darling firebug, going so far as to charge her with working with us, when really they were clearly just jealous of her.” Harkness shook with silent laughter, shaking his head. “‘No, no,’ she cried,” his voice going squeaky for the Firebird parts of his speech. “‘I love the city just as much as you! I’m doing the best I can! Don’t hate me, don’t despise me, don’t hurt me – love me, accept me, let me be your leader!’ Although, of course, not in those exact words.”
The Rabid Ransom chewed on his lip thoughtfully, eyeing Harkness. He smoothed down his suit jacket. “I’ve always known those idiots wanted powers. It’s almost enough to have this proof, isn’t it? I wouldn’t mind calling this meeting short right now and going to find Bulleto, rubbing it in his face that I’ve been gifted with powers he can only dream of, with his stupid sombrero and misfiring guns…” The usual calm and sense of sophistication on the Rabid Ransom’s face seemed to dissolve into a wicked grin.
Similar thoughts seemed to be dancing through the heads of the other members of the Seven, as Zero One One’s neuron connectors fired with images of showing Princessnoid, her creator, just what happened to those who manipulated their previously harmless creations, and Dart imagined mocking the Shamaness’s weak herbalism knowledge with her own innate poison powers.
Shadowgirl shook her head. “No, focus. Yes, it’s perfectly lovely to have our suspicions confirmed that the Everymen are just a bunch of egotistical, jealous bastards, but so what? Really, our tactics aren’t going to change, and instead we’ll just feel even more sure that they are ridiculously huge idiots.” Everyone nodded, grins apparent on those without hidden faces or, in the case of Zero One One, faces that could have changing expressions. “What we need to do now… Is ensure that Firebird continues to see only the evil of the Everymen, which shouldn’t be too hard.” Shadowgirl grinned behind her mask, looking up at the shadowy ceiling in the office building as her thoughts wandered and created beautiful palaces of evil schemes. “She really would be right at home here in our little group, since no one else understands what it’s like to have powers… We’ll continue to coax her, to show her that we know the best way to do things here in Seattle, and then she’ll be ours, and won’t that show the Everymen what’s what?”
Filing his nails with a jagged piece of obsidian he pulled out of his own palm, Obsidian said doubtfully, “How can we be sure she’d even be interested in joining us? Firebird seems a little too… Barbie, too goodie-goodie to me.”
Shadowgirl looked to Harkness, tilting her head expectantly.
“Once the Everymen really start in on their diatribe against her – and you know that will happen – I think our little pigeon will be all too willing to band against the non-powered idiots of the city,” Harkness mused, cracking his knuckles.
---
Excerpt from the Seattle Times editorial page.
HAS FIREBIRD ALREADY OUTLIVED HER POTENTIAL?
Flame of Seattle’s newest hero seems to be dying.
It seems impossibly long ago that Seattle was included in the lonely group of cities without any powered heroes, powered or otherwise. Even Albuquerque has a trio of heroes decked out in cactus gear, shooting spines and somersaulting through their streets. The largest city in America without any powered heroes is still Charlotte, North Carolina, which supposedly was the hometown of quite a few heroes now calling New York home, but the twenty first largest city still has none of its own. Seattle, though, just a few spots down the list from Charlotte, is no longer in that category.
But what has this change in status done for the citizens of Seattle? Firebird’s registration and the public announcement of her existence in November excited intense fervor throughout the streets of Seattle and the rivers of the Puget Sound, leading to renewed hope that Seattle might get a spot on the map of heroes and adventures. While citizens of Seattle have always been grateful for the efforts of the city’s vigilantes and heroes, especially the beloved and continually good Everymen, it seemed like a new wind was blowing across Lake Washington when Firebird arrived.
Despite all that, there doesn’t seem to have been much of a change since Firebird started patrolling Green Lake. First off, Green Lake? Why would she choose an area like the residential based Green Lake? The police forces in this northern neighborhood have never been lacking and, in fact, the crime rates are consistently lower than other parts of the city. Some have suggested that Firebird must live in or near Green Lake and decided to focus her patrolling in the neighborhood just for her own ease. How selfish! Because she can fly and because there have been no reports of her powers faltering at any point during her service to the city so far, it is easy to presume that Firebird could easily get to any other part of the city, but she stays in the isolated Green Lake, where there is no real need for her services.
The Everymen consistently battle and tussle with the dastardly Seven, but there has not been one reported instance of a fight between any member of the Seven and Firebird since she came onto the scene. Yes, Firebird captured the Pied Piper, bringing dozens of lost children back to their families in the Puget Sound area, but even she reported this as mere chance. Firebird clearly simply doesn’t have a clear plan or agenda on how to help her city. She doesn’t know what she’s doing!
Even more importantly, why is she doing it? What motivates Firebird to go out and serve our city? Motivation and morals hold an important place for any hero, as every citizen knows. One cannot simply pick out a plastic mask and jump out into the world of vigilantism, for fear of sliding into the dark abodes and recesses of the Seven and acts of villainy. Firebird has never attested to any clear sense of moral obligation or motivation rooted in childhood horrors or recent turmoil in her life, so what trust can we put in her devotion to the cause?
In a recent interview, even the youngest member of the Everymen, Windwalker’s trusted sidekick Jade Boy commented on the newest addition to the heroes of Seattle. “I haven’t met Firebird,” he said, his cheeky and youthful voice full of sincere honesty, “so I can’t speak for her on a personal level. But despite that, she worries me. She pops out of nowhere with these powers, and she just expects us to trust her? To give her free reign of our streets? Lone vigilantism never ends well. Because I’m a member of the Everymen, I have a whole group to watch out for me and make sure I’m doing what’s best for the city, not what’s best for me. Who’s watching her?”
Well, Jade Boy, I trust that the Everymen are keeping a watchful eye on the antics of the Green Lake hero, and you can trust that this reporter is doing the same. I hope it never comes to it, but the moment Firebird slips up and considers the darker side of wearing that mask and cape, this reporter won’t shy away from saying, “I told you so.”
---
Excerpt from the sermon of Rev. James Whiddle, pastor of the Green Lake Presbyterian church.
My brothers and sisters, I would like to end my talk today with just a short note, a short notice, if you will. This may only directly apply to a small percentage of you, my congregation, only really to those who call Green Lake home, not just the area they come to for service every Sunday, but the place here in Seattle you live and work and buy your groceries.
I know there has been much talk and worry over the past week about the actions of Firebird, our resident hero. Earlier in the month, I lauded Firebird with praise and thanks for all her work, and I do not take that back now. I am not telling you how to think, but I would ask you to think. We are suddenly being told that she is wrong, she is evil, she doesn’t know how to help us. I would ask you to look back and – now, I am not putting Firebird on an equal level to our Savior – but please remember the hypocrisy present in the speech of the Pharisees at the time of Jesus’s death.
Firebird is not perfect, because she is human, but she is doing extraordinary things and we should thank her for whatever blessings she may bestow on us, even if they are not as amazing as things we may not dream up. She is not going to fix everything, but she may surprise us, if only we let her.
I’m sorry, I’ll step down my soap box now, but I’ve just been getting more than a little saddened by all the attacks thrown at our Firebird this past week, and I’d like to see it stop. She is a blessing and even if she is just a small one, let us be grateful for what we have.
Lore flopped down onto Jack’s couch, after having walked right into his apartment the moment he opened the door, despite his blank look and pajama pants. She had come over right after church, not even bothering to stop by her own place.
“And can you believe it? They kept on insisting that I was working with the Seven, when really they’re clearly only angry and jealous that I have powers and they don’t!” Lore didn’t bother explaining what she was talking about, instead just vocalizing the rants that had been going on in her head all day. “I actually had to defend myself in front of them, explaining why I would never do that, and it was so ridiculous!”
Lore waved her arms around, leaning her head on the back of the sofa and glaring up at the speckled ceiling. “It was so ridiculous. You know what this means? This means – well, I don’t even know what it means, but it’s--”
“Wait, wait. Wait a sec, Lore.” Jack perched himself on one of the arms of the sofa and frowned thoughtfully at her. “You mind backing up a bit? Remember, I don’t live in your head and I’m not quite sure what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Ughhh,” Lore moaned, not really feeling motivated to actually explain the details of that stupid scenario from last night. “Sorry, yeah. Okay, last night I was on patrol. And it was awful out and I really didn’t feel like being out there, but I was being responsible and nice and good, and then the stupid Everymen show up!” Lore sat up, shaking her head and glaring at Jack simply because he was the only person at whom she could glare at the moment.
Jack nodded, rubbing his eyes and encouraging her to go on as he slouched into a proper sitting position on the couch.
“And so, they show up, and Windwalker’s there, and Alpha Soarer, and Bulleto, and Princessnoid, and… I’m forgetting someone.” Lore closed her eyes and flopped her head back on the couch’s squishy back cushion.
“The Shamaness? Jade Boy? Uhh, Transtain?” Jack offered.
“Yeah, Transtain was there, too. So, they’re crowded all around me, and it’s raining like bitches, and then they start talking about how I’m working with the Seven and how I’m awful and horrible.” Lore shook her head. “It was ridiculous, like I said. They kept on calling my powers ‘false’ or something, and I called them on it, and kind of – just went off on them.” Lore winced, opening her eyes and glancing at Jack, who also had a pained expression on his face. “I know, it wasn’t the best decision. But I wasn’t thinking – I couldn’t think. I was just so angry. I didn’t even want to do this, Jack, and now these idiots are attacking me because somehow they think I’m – stealing their identity as heroes?”
Lore moaned again, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands. “It’s so stupid!”
She felt the cushions shift beneath her, then jerked a little at the strange feeling of Jack awkwardly putting an arm around her. Uncovering her eyes a little, Lore peered up at him. Jack smiled crookedly back, his shrug jostling her slightly. He didn’t say anything, though, and Lore soon returned the smile and leaned slightly on him, as he in turn shifted again in order to take her weight better.
“This might get, you know, dangerous, too,” Lore said a few minutes later. “They didn’t actually attack me or anything, but what if they do? I can’t fight them off, not even one-on-one, probably, much less a group. I don’t know what to do.”
Jack gently lifted one of her hands away from her face, turning it and asking, “What happened to your hands, then?”
Lore had put some bandages on her palms earlier in the morning, after cleaning the scrapes and rubbing some Neosporin into the ripped skin. Her fall onto the wet pavement had, as she expected, left her with some nasty scrapes. “That wasn’t… well, it wasn’t directly them. I got upset while I was flying and kind of lost my balance.” She shrugged, wiggling her fingers in his grasp and smiling at his gentle touch. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Oh,” Jack said, placing her hand softly on her bent knee, but didn’t move his own hand away from Lore’s. “You’re right, though. This really could get dangerous. I don’t think they would straight up kill you--”
“Windwalker said I had to be ‘terminated!’” Lore interjected, illustrating with finger quotation marks.
“Maybe you should go to the police.” Jack’s shrug rocked Lore in her seat slightly, then she settled back against his chest.
Lore shook her head. “That wouldn’t go over well. Even if I’m not disliked or anything by the public, the Everymen have years of connection with them. I’d be thrown out like week old meat.”
“You don’t know that.” Despite the reassuring words, Jack’s tone was nervous and guarded.
Tucking her head under Jack’s chin and closing her eyes, feeling more secure than she had in a long time, Lore said, “Maybe not, but it’s not a huge jump. I think I just need to deal with them on my own, but I have no idea how to do that.”
“Would it be too completely ridiculous to suggest maybe working with the Seven?”
Lore’s eyes flashed open and she sat up, narrowly avoiding banging Jack’s chin with her skull in the process. She twisted and gave Jack a Look, which from his own expression, furrowed brow and twisted lips, he saw coming. “Yes! I may be anti-superhero, but I’m not a villain, Jack. The Seven aren’t just against the Everymen, they’re against everything that’s good and – that’s a completely unbalanced suggestion!”
Jack shrugged, avoiding her gaze. He grinned a little crazily. “It’d sure knock the Everymen off base.”
Lore chuckled, tilting her head as she looked at him. “Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure selling my soul isn’t worth it.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Jack conceded.
Jack’s arm was still stretched out on the back of the couch, inviting, and Lore could easily have tucked herself back against him. But, instead, she pushed herself and stretched, rolling her head on her neck. “I need to go do some errands. Thanks for letting me rant about this a little, though. I’ll call you later, tell you if I think of any sudden ways to fix this stupid dilemma.”
Jack smiled easily and pushed himself off the couch, standing next to her, so close. “Alright, that sounds fine. I need to take a shower, anyway.”
“Yeah, no kidding!” Lore laughed, pushing him away with one hand on his chest, and bent down to scoop up her bag she had casually thrown to the floor earlier.
Jack smiled and escorted her to the door. Resting his hand on the tarnished brass handle, he paused and looked down at Lore. She raised an eyebrow and zipped up her coat as preemptive protection against the rain outside, which had continued since the previous night.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” Jack said quickly. But before Lore could figure out why he felt the need to impart that information, he leaned down and pecked her cheek, his lips warm and dry as they rested against her cheek for a second, two.
Lore felt her cheeks flare up in blooms of red, and she bit her lip and grinned as Jack straightened up, his own cheeks now boasting small flushed spots. “I’ll, um, I’ll call you later.”
Jack nodded and opened the door, flashing a brilliant, happy grin at Lore, that she was sure she was reflecting back at him. Lore waved, wiggling her fingers at his pajama’d figure as she trotted out into the hall.
Sure, the Everymen were trying to kill her, and the Seven – particularly Harkness – had some annoying special interest in her, and it was raining out, and her mom had left her four voice mail messages the night before, but at least there was this one good thing in her life, that could be purely untouched by the other drama going on. Lore rocked on her heels as she waited for the elevator to ding into its place on Jack’s floor and smiled.
---
They’re in the same empty office building as before. It’s dark, as before, with some candles dripping wax on the receptionist desk at the front of the office. The windows are streaked with a steady pounding of rain. The figures are, predictably, draped in black or dark blue or other dark colors, except for the large metallic robot and the angry Indian man whose green outfit tended toward the darker side of the spectrum but still stood out amongst his peers.
“This is stupid. Why did we trust Harkness with the mission of watching her? And why are we meeting in this stupid place again?” Sunflower said, his arms crossed over his skinny chest.
Shadowgirl sighed. “You’re just angry that we’re meeting at night.”
“Well, why do we have to meet at night? Especially when you all know that I only get my powers during the daytime!”
“That’s your own fault,” Shadowgirl shrugged, ducking her head. Her tone was clearly uninterested. “What kind of villain can’t work at night, anyway? That’s just stupid.”
The Rabid Ransom placed a gloved hand on Sunflower’s shoulder, pulling him back firmly. Sunflower seemed to resist the other man, but eventually gave in as the force of the Rabid Ransom’s grip propelled him away from Shadowgirl. The Rabid Ransom said, “Shadowgirl, don’t be like that. Sunflower has just as much of a right to be here than anyone. Do you know when Harkness is supposed to be here?”
“I gave him the same time as I gave the rest of you,” Shadowgirl said, her tone still surly.
“She’s just angry, because she wants to kick me out and adopt her precious little flaming pigeon, instead,” Sunflower spat out as he leaned against a wall, his dark brown eyes flashing with anger.
Zero One One growled, shaking her head. The squeaking of the metal scratching against itself accompanied her words, “That. Is. Not. Going. To. Happen.”
“No one’s leaving,” Shadowgirl said, straightening up herself and placing her hands on her slim hips. “Don’t be foolish, Sunflower.”
“Not sure that’s possible,” a new voice said as Harkness swung through the door in one easy motion, pushing the door closed with a click once he was in the room. A mass of dark blue material, he stood calmly in front of them, all nervous twitchiness gone. His voice was steady and his body language steadfast.
This sucked. It was raining and her flames were sputtering and her cloak was not as waterproof as she had been led to believe and she was cold and wet and miserable and it was only eleven at night.
Lore had already been in a bad mood when she went out to patrol, because Jack ended up not being able to make the meeting at Fado’s, which meant she hadn’t seen him at all since they decided to go on a date or start dating or whatever, and on top of that the meeting had just been a bunch of stupid boys talking about how much of a pain Firebird was. Lore was convinced it would not have been so bad if Jack had been there to shoot her sidelong smiles, but without him she felt wholly incapable of even starting to defend Firebird. Instead she had laughed along with some of the jokes and comments, feeling like she was betraying her best friend, feeling like standing up and shouting, “It’s me! I’m Firebird! I love being her, I finally understand why all the heroes do this, and you guys are just jealous jerks!” But she knew that, first of all, no one would believe her, and secondly that would be the stupidest mistake ever.
So she had sat and picked at her fish and chips and smiled awkwardly as cklug talked about dousing Firebird’s flames, completely unaware that Windwalker had used almost that exact phrase just a few days ago.
And now it was raining and windy and wet and cold, and she was on patrol. And her hair was both frizzy and coming out of her braid, she thought she was coming down with a sore throat, and she was standing with her bare feet in a puddle because Lore couldn’t even get up the energy to float a foot or two above the ground.
Standing in a shadowy alley, Lore looked up and down the street she was on. Even the criminals were being smarter than her tonight, because she hadn’t seen anything going on tonight. Everyone else was staying in and was nice, dry and warm, but she was stuck out here because she felt obligated and also like she had to show those jerks from the SAS boards that Firebird really was worth something. It was stupid, she knew, but Lore was stubborn and upset and wet.
Loretta blasted off to a nearby roof, trying to find a semi-dry spot with a good vantage point, scanning the area surrounding the building and – what was that? There was something coming in from the south, a little group of things moving at a very quick speed, on foot, flying, it was – oh, shit. It was the Everymen, Lore realized, as she recognized the swooping motion of Alpha Soarer on his Soarbot flying over the heads of most of his teammates, including Princessnoid on a motorcycle with what looked like Bulleto in a sidecar. What did they want?
Lore passively watched them come up the street she was on, not bothering to hide since they clearly were looking for her. Windwalker was there, too, she saw now, leading the group. He pointed up at her and shouted something, but the rain and wind drowned it out.
Sighing, Lore ignited her feet again and flew down to the street to face them.
“What? I couldn’t hear you.” She was still wet and uncomfortable, but now Lore felt like she couldn’t even begin to let that show. She stayed a few feet above the ground, resting casually in the air with her hands parallel to the ground and keeping her steady.
Windwalker stepped in front of the group – there were a lot of them, although Lore didn’t see the Shamaness or Jade Boy. Most of the other famous faces of the Everymen were present, though, from the tall, blonde Transtain to the petite and sly Dawn Widow, both of whom were known for their hand-to-hand fighting prowess, which was nothing Lore could hope to match. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to. Lore narrowed her eyes, looking over the assembled vigilantes and wondered what exactly they were there for.
Windwalker placed his hands on his hips, managing even in this downpour to send a few gusts of air so as to give his cape a dramatic rippling effect. “I asked you to come down and face us, ill-doer, so I’m glad you did so.”
Lore grimaced. “Are you still going on with that? I’m not a villain.”
“We’re not so sure. What sort of good, law-abiding hero wouldn’t automatically look to align herself with Seattle’s numero uno hero group?” Bulleto spoke up, jumping out of the sidecar elegantly, then making a disgusted face as he accidentally landed right in the middle of a large puddle. His large sombrero gave him a lot of cover, luckily, but the splash had soaked his cowboy boots and most of his black slacks.
“What sort of hero group doesn’t invite the area’s newest hero for a meeting?” Lore shot back.
“A smart one!” Windwalker rose one imperious finger and gave her a steely look. “Since it has now become clear that you are working against our aims and against the city, it is for the better that we hesitated in connecting ourselves to you!”
Lore shook her head, but wasn’t able to respond before the squeaky voice of Princessnoid, still perched on her motorcycle, interrupted. “Quite so, Windwalker, quite, quite so! It is not only due to your inability to successfully maintain a professional relationship with our most esteemed group of vigilantism inspired colleagues that we do not trust you and your supposed powers--”
“Supposed?” Lore interjected, her voice rising. “What do you mean supposed?”
Princessnoid didn’t seem to hear or, at least, care. “But it is most linked to the fact of your continual rendezvous with various members of the widely recognized, horrible and villainous group the Seven that has led us to believe you, Firebird, are most likely in league with this association and thus must be – what was the phrase you most artfully employed at an earlier date, Windwalker?” She turned her small, pink-pigtailed head toward Windwalker, who grinned first at her and then turned the nasty expression toward Lore.
“Must be terminated,” he finished for Princessnoid.
Lore’s eyes widened and she instinctively pushed herself back a few feet through the air, away from the Everymen. “What are you talking about? I am not in league with the Seven, which should be obvious through the facts that I’m not killing people – unlike you guys! – and instead devote all my evenings and weekends toward patrolling this stupid city!”
“Our beloved Seattle is not el stupido!” Bulleto disagreed loudly, twirling a gun on his index finger, the metal shiny and slick with the rain. “And you are most certainly in flagrante delicto for suggesting as much!”
“That’s not even Spanish,” Lore said, staring at him. “That’s Latin, you dumbass.”
Clearly affronted, Bulleto raised his chin and glared at her. “See, you must be working with the Seven, because no one else would be so rude as to contradict the word of a Spaniard!”
“You’re Italian-American!” Lore waved her arms in anger, forgetting for a moment that she needed them steady in order to keep a good distance above the ground. She fell in a wet heap in a puddle, catching herself with her bare hands and certainly scratching them up some. She grimaced. “Everyone knows that, Bulleto. I am not working with the Seven, but I wouldn’t have to be to know something like that!”
“See!” Bulleto pointed dramatically at Lore, his finger shaking, as he looked around at his fellow Everymen. “She echoes the very words of my nemesis the Rabid Ransom, insisting on a false heritage of myself!”
Transtain and Princessnoid shrugged, both looking a little unconvinced since it was common knowledge that while he posed as a Mexican American for some reason, Bulleto’s ancestors actually hailed from Sicily.
“This petty argument has no consequence,” Windwalker said, his fierce tone inviting no arguments. Bulleto stepped back and glared at Lore from under his sopping sombrero, both hands now spinning pistols. “The facts of the matter are that we cannot continue to do our work with you present and mucking up the minds of our citizens with your false powers, Firebird, and thus you either must pledge to end your time as a masked vigilante, leave our city, or suffer the consequences.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Lore said, holding up a hand in an effort to stem any more stupid words flowing out from the Everymen. “Why do you guys keep calling my powers false? Is that what this is all about? The fact of my powers?” She relit her feet and hands and floated back up a few feet into the air, enjoying the feeling of the rain water evaporating from her bare skin, although the rain was still coming down heavily and steadily, cold driblets making their way down her back.
Transtain and Dawn Widow remained quiet, both standing like various sized walls of silent anger near the back of the group, but the rest of them – Princessnoid, Windwalker, Alpha Soarer and Bulleto – all spoke at once, pointing and shouting and condemning her for – for, it seemed, having powers at all. Lore tilted her head to the side, watching their anger increase. It was true. They were angry at her and they hated her because she had powers, through no fault of her own. How ironic, Lore thought, trying not to smile wryly at them, knowing it would only anger the other heroes more, that Loretta Donald Darling, the girl who hated heroes and never once even played with the idea of being one, got the powers that these famous heroes of Seattle would kill to have. Especially if the origin of her powers was traced back to that weird bus explosion started by the Seven. Maybe she was, in a way, in league with the Seven, then, both the villainous group and her disrupting the work of the Everymen, although Lore wasn’t doing so intentionally.
Eventually, after many fingers were pointed and accusations thrown, Windwalker stepped forward again and, with a sweeping gesture of his arms, quieted the other noisy members of his group. Lore narrowed her eyes, somewhat impressed with his leadership skills or, at least, the amount of control he had over the other Everymen.
“Firebird, you have disrupted our city to a degree unheard of since the demise of the Good Brigade. You have distracted our citizens and upset the normal order of things in such a way that it is likely we will never regain the stability present in Seattle just a few months ago – no, no, let me talk,” he said, raising a hand as Lore opened her mouth to protest. “You claim your powers and your natural usefulness to the citizens of Seattle. But we are here to tell you that, indeed, even if your powers are real, as you claim, that you are unwanted and we will not support you.”
Lore shook her head slowly, looking at each of the heroes in turn, their open and wary faces so familiar from the countless billboards and posters plastered all over the city, reminding Seattle citizens that they were always under the watchful eye of the Everymen.
“You hate me because I have powers and you don’t,” she said. It wasn’t a question and she didn’t expect an answer, although Alpha Soarer reacted violently, his Soarbot rearing up off the ground a few feet. “You don’t care that I’m doing good and protecting the people of Green Lake. You know you don’t have any proof that I’m working with the Seven, because such proof doesn’t exist, but you don’t care, do you?” Lore didn’t look away from Windwalker, and he returned her gaze steadily. She resisted the urge to wipe her wet bangs away from her forehead, content in the knowledge that at least all of them were equally soaked. “You’re jealous and spiteful, even though I didn’t ask for this to happen. Even though I’m just doing what I have to do, you hate the fact that I have powers and you’re stuck with your – your stupid fans and faulty equipment and guns, come on, what hero uses a gun?”
Lore let out a breath, holding back the continued assault she felt boiling up inside of her. She knew it would be completely unproductive to just let loose on these idiots, with all the arguments and beliefs supported by the SAS community, and now her own personal complaints against them for attacking and hating her simply because of an uncontrollable mutation in her DNA. Instead, as they stared and glared at her, seemingly at a loss for words – in stark contrast with her own situation, where she was trying avidly to stop herself from talking – Lore pushed herself further up the ground, strengthening the flames.
“I’m going to go now. And you are, too. And we’re not going to fight or anything, but we are going to avoid each other, because I’m not doing anything to harm you while I protect the people of Green Lake, and you can just go off and be jealous somewhere else. Bye.”
Lore didn’t wait for a response, although she heard some vague shouts from the Everymen crowded around the wet street, and instead she turned quickly and, slapping her hands to her side, shot off into the night.
She could almost hear the shrug in Jack’s voice. “Got distracted by the forums,” he said, and she knew he meant the SAS forums. “And then they had an Indiana Jones marathon on television. Thought I’d see if you were back from patrol yet.”
“I just got back in, yeah. Ouch. It was pretty boring, though,” Lore said, wincing as she accidentally jabbed herself with the latch on her wrist armor.
“You okay? You didn’t get hurt again, did you?”
“No, just a slight wardrobe malfunction. So, you’re still planning on going to Fado’s tomorrow, yeah?” They hadn’t actually talked about their plans for the Irish pub, other than indirectly through the SAS forums, but if he wasn’t still planning on making an appearance, she didn’t want to be there alone with cklug. He was nice, yeah, but it’d just be awkward.
Jack coughed. “Yeah, after work. Not sure how long I’ll stay for, since I have a kinda long shift.”
“Fuck, Jack, why are you still up? Aren’t you opening tomorrow?” Lore put her hands on her hips and glared at her reflection in the mirror as if it were Jack.
At least he sounded repentant. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be dead tomorrow. But then I have two days off, so it’s okay. I just couldn’t really sleep.”
That’s not what he said before. “That’s not what you said before. Why couldn’t you sleep?”
He sighed, and Lore almost felt like going back into the cold night and going up to his apartment. It was late, though, and maybe that would be the worst decision ever. Finally, Jack responded, “I guess it was… just everything that’s been going on late. It just feels like everything’s changing all of a sudden, and it’s strange.”
“What do you mean? Firebird? You’re the one who wanted--”
“No, I know, I know. And I think it’s great, but you’ve changed so much since you started being her, a lot of it’s really good changes, like you seem so much more confident and happy,” Jack said, his voice tired but thoughtful and coherent. “And now… well, you went on that date with that guy, and it just got me thinking. And I realized how much I really didn’t like that idea, and that was weird.”
Lore shook her head, sitting heavily down on her desk chair. “You dated Jen a while ago. That was okay, but I can’t go on a rather crappy date with some guy I met?”
In her mind’s eye, she could see Jack straighten up and his eyes blaze. “It didn’t go well? The date, I mean? That’s – well, that sucks, but I--”
“You don’t have to lie, Jack. I knew you weren’t happy about it, even before just now.”
Jack chuckled breathlessly but didn’t say anything.
Lore bit her lip, then blurted out, “But why weren’t you happy for me? Do you think – did you have a better idea about how I could be happy?” She wasn’t sure where this was going, but there was a vague outline of something out there, something she could almost grasp, something awesome and wonderful and perfect. She’d known Jack forever and she never wanted to not know him. He had inspired her, not only to become Firebird, which had completely changed her life – for better or for worse, she wasn’t sure yet – but from the moment they had met, she had felt something different in him.
Now, maybe, that difference could come to the front.
Jack was quiet for a while longer, and Lore watched the digital clock on her bedside table click through from 2:59 until 3:03 a.m.
“I guess I thought it would’ve been better if you and me saw that movie together,” Jack finally said. Lore could picture him rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand, while holding his cell phone carefully with the other, long fingers splayed against the red metal of the phone. “If, uh, if we were going on a date.”
Lore swallowed, tugging absently on her braid as she tried to decide what she felt like. “Are you saying that you want to date me?”
“Yes,” he said with no hesitation at all.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Cklug’s going to freak,” Lore commented as she started to smile.
Jack sounded pleased, his voice a little lighter as he replied, “Yeah, there will probably be a ridiculous celebration all over the boards. That is, uh. If there’s something to celebrate.”
Lore took her time this time around, gazing down at her free hand, playing with flickers of fire along her knuckles. “Maybe.” She heard him take a quick intake of breath, but Lore pushed on talking before Jack could say something. “Maybe because that could be awesome, celebrating something and having something to celebrate. But maybe we should go on a date or something. Actually date, but not… be dating right away. Because what if that doesn’t work. And maybe this will work better, or at least let us stop without ruining everything, if it doesn’t work.”
He didn’t say anything, but the silence wasn’t angry or hostile.
Lore asked, “Does that sound like it might work?”
She heard his smile through the line, and not for the first time Lore wished their windows faced each other or at least were slightly visible from the other’s apartment, because more than anything else she wanted to see Jack right now.
“Yeah. I think that’ll work great.”
They hung up soon afterwards, Lore insisting that Jack get some rest before he had to go to work in a few hours, and because she needed to jump around her apartment like an idiot. This could be amazing and it was happening for all the right reasons, at the perfect time in her life. Lore didn’t think about her earlier, firm decision to never date a friend, because Jack wasn’t a friend – he was Jack, and he was the best thing in her life. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he had been responsible for everything good in her life and had been there to support her through all the bad, from flunking out of a class in high school to her parents’ divorce during college. This would be awesome.
This plan was working rather well for most of the night. Lore managed to locate and subdue two car jackers, broke up a fight outside of a liquor store and might have encouraged some hooligans to calm down simply by staring down at them from atop a handy nearby building. A productive evening, definitely, but boring. Lore was starting to regret deciding to focus her attentions on Green Lake. Maybe no other heroes had claimed the neighborhood because there was no need for active heroes. But it wasn’t like she could abandon Green Lake, not now that she’d pledged to protect it. Although maybe Firebird could expand her area of focus…
Lore’s thoughts were tangled up in opportunities as she hovered over an intersection, casually watching the cars go by, when someone flew up to her and spoke.
“You’re out late tonight, Fire-wire-bird-turd,” the voice said suddenly, causing Lore to jerk up a few feet suddenly as she accidentally, instinctively strengthened the power of her foot and hand flames.
“Who’s there?” Lore yelped, spinning and looking around. Only a few other known people in the area could have been there, and Lore was pretty sure she didn’t want to run into any of them. Especially not –
Harkness tilted his head to the side, spinning casually as he flew up to meet her at her new elevation. “Just me, me, me, me,” he sing-songed. His midnight blue bodysuit would have blended into the night sky perfectly if they had been out in the country, but set against the pollution ridden, grayish sky of Seattle, Lore was able to see him quite well. What was up with members of the Seven concealing their whole face? She could see his body well enough, as he flexed his feet and wiggled his elbows, but for all she knew he could be looking at her cross-eyed and sneering.
Pushing herself back a few feet from the floating madman, Lore spat out, “What do you want?”
“Why are you out so late?” Harkness didn’t seem to hear her question or, more likely, just didn’t feel like answering. Harkness scared Lore, more than any other member of the Seven, because of his incredibly unpredictable nature and how flat out insane he was.
“I asked you a question.” She wasn’t going to play these games. But Lore was pretty sure she couldn’t get away, if it came to that. Harkness had been flying and using his powers – kinetic energy manipulation, which basically meant he could throw bolts of lightning – for a much longer time than her, even if he was the most recent addition to the Seven, having replaced the member put out of commission by the Everymen just over a year ago – or so the public story went, although everyone knew Captain Facepuncher had been killed and not merely “put out of commission.”
Harkness shrugged, his whole body a mass of fluidity. “I heard you got in something of a tussle with Mister Double Double You.” As if to make sure Lore knew to whom he was referring, Harkness flexed his muscles in an exaggeratedly cliché fashion.
“You can remind Shadowgirl that I didn’t ask for her help in that next time you see her, and I’m not beholden to her in anyway.” Lore didn’t bother quelling the fierce flames licking their way up her arm now, instead being quite content to have something ready to attack Harkness with when – not if – he turned on her and started to randomly attack her.
“Shadowgirl,” he said, nodding his blue head quickly and fiercely. “Right, right, yes, of course.” He spun in another lazy circle, speaking as he did so, his tone surprisingly focused, “I wonder what consequences from the Everymen will come from your devastating attack on their most beloved and fearsome leader. I’m surprised they haven’t already condemned you from the rooftops – or, at least, the front page of the Times.”
Lore flexed her fingers, enjoying the feeling of the fire twisting and flickering over her costume, taking comfort in the heat. “I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll deal with the Everymen while definitely not dealing with you guys.”
“You don’t have to deal with me, that’s what he said, that’s what I’m saying, I’m not here to deal, drugs are bad,” Harkness said. His voice was warm and amused and although the words were insane and rambling, his voice and even his mannerisms – twitchy as they were – seemed more coherent than Lore would have expected. Not that she had much, if any, experience with madmen. Lore almost got the impression that the insanity was a façade, but considering how completely he seemed to have the rest of the world convinced of his madness, it didn’t seem likely that after only just meeting the man she’d see through the sham.
Lore shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the thoughts, realizing she had been just staring at Harkness, although he hadn’t seemed to notice. Not that she could really tell, considering his mask. She had spent her first month as a hero completely isolated from the other famous masked figures in the area, and now they couldn’t seem to leave her alone.
“What did you want, Harkness?” Lore tried to focus herself again.
“Just to say hi.”
Lore sighed, glaring at the still hovering, slightly bouncing figure. “A member of the Seven doesn’t just stop by my neighborhood to say –hi- to the local hero.”
“This one does, is what he would say if someone asked him that. This one thought it might be nice to see you because he’s heard a lot about you and maybe it’d be nice for this one to see you in action!”
“That one can’t,” Lore said, pointing a finger at Harkness. “You can’t just show up and then follow me around while I’m patrolling. Like I’ll allow one of the most famous villains in Seattle to watch me work.”
Harkness shrugged. “I’ll follow you, follow follow, how do you know I haven’t been already?” His voice squeaked a little with glee, but Harkness’s body language, at least, had finally calmed down and he was floating serenely, with his arms crossed.
Lore narrowed her eyes, adjusting her own arms position slightly as a gush of wind buffeted past them. “I’d know. You haven’t been, and you’re not going to start now.”
With that, Lore shot away, twisting her hands and focusing the flame rockets down toward her feet so her speed quickened exponentially. She glanced back and saw Harkness where she left him, his deceptively calm figure floating peacefully above the intersection. Lore made a note to be extra aware tonight, in case he really was determined to follow her – what if he even followed her to her apartment, after all? The consequences of that were terrifying – but also to check back in that area of town before she called it a night, to make sure he didn’t do anything to Green Lake.
---
Excerpt from the Seattle Times.
GATHERING OF FIREBIRD FANS IN CENTER HOUSE BRINGS TOGETHER SUPPORTERS
December 28, 2008
The Official Firebird Fan Club met for the first time yesterday in the Seattle Center House, and while President Gary Gerterson planned for a hefty group of people, even he was shocked when the Center House was filled to the brim with opinionated citizens looking to talk about Seattle’s powered hero.
From 11 A.M. until almost 5 P.M., the area was crowded with groups of supporters and protesters. Most of the group were hardy, good natured citizens looking to chat about their own run-ins with Firebird or share their thoughts on how useful she was to the community.
One woman witnessed and told a large group about the day Firebird arrested two thieves who had just ripped off her flower store. “She just swept in, and I really didn’t expect her because it was the middle of the day, and she’s usually around at night,” said Natalie Bishopric of Green Lake. “But these guys had just emptied out my cash drawer and then she just pushes the door open and grabs them. She was throwing fire around, of course, all naturally, but didn’t even crisp one of my irises.”
Others had similar stories, sharing their experiences with muggers or worse. The mother of one of the children kidnapped by the Pied Piper was there and broke down while trying to explain how much Firebird’s actions meant to her.
A few children and even some adults were dressed in Firebird costumes, including one young man with the complete outfit, from the bare feet to the long brown braid. Everett citizen Bryant Townsend explained, “It’s not that I’m gay or anything, but dressing like her makes me feel kind of almost as awesome as she is.”
Not all of the citizens gathered at the Center House were there to celebrate the adored Firebird, though. Some citizens bemoaned the fact that Firebird had limited her activities to just Green Lake, citing the higher crime rates in other parts of the city.
A few active protesters were present, too. Some of these simply stood outside the Center House with placards speaking about the futility of heroes and how Firebird was nothing but a “dying breed.” Some took part in discussions within the Center House, but rarely got to speak more than half of a minute before law-abiding citizens booed them into submission.
Firebird did not appear at the event, although many were hoping she might stop by. Fan club president Gary Gerterson said this was to be expected, as most heroes do their work not for adulation and recognition but simply because it must be done; he went on to say that this attitude was probably the main reason so many people turned out to support Firebird.
“The Everymen are so present in our city and kind of revel in our praise. Firebird’s different because she does what needs to be done because, well, that’s just the kind of person she is,” Gerterson said. Gerterson was chosen as the President of the Official Firebird Fan Club because he founded the organization, having registered the website domain only a few hours after Firebird’s registration was announced.
From the Seattle Against Superheroes web forums.
· Meeting this week at Fados
o By cklug
§ Hey everyone. I’m going to be at Fado Irish Pub this weekend because they have amazing pub food and I’ve been craving some fish and chips for a while. If anyone over 21 wants to join me I have some new ideas about shit to do about Firebird.
o By xxxNeXtSeVeNxxx
§ don’t they alow under 21s if its be4 a certain tiem or sumthin
o By cklug
§ I think so, but if you don’t show up, that’s fine with me.
o By xxxNeXtSeVeNxxx
§ F u
o By The Jster
§ What time ar eyou thinking, klug? I have work until mid afternoon but I could maybe swing by after that
o By cklug
§ Could do 3-ish or something. Could do later, too, although dinner food is always more expensive and I don’t mind getting cheaper fare.
o By The Jster
§ 3 sounds good. I’ll see if Darling wants to come.
o By xxxNeXtSeVeNxxx
§ Eff im so not comin then. Just gon be a group of fags talkin but how kewl fireshit is and shit
o By Darling
§ Grow up, Next. I was going to be downtown anyway with my dad for lunch, so I think I’ll drop by Fado’s around 3.
o By DocKHcool
§ I’ll be with the wife’s family this weekend, so I won’t be there. Be sure to post up any ideas you guys come up with here, please.
o By cklug
§ Will do, doc. Anyone else going to make it, other than Darling and Jster? I don’t want tobe the third wheel, after all!!
o By The Jster
§ Hahah shut up, klug
o By Darling
§ Ditto! By the way, should we come with ideas, too
o By cklug
§ Sure, do that. My ideas are mostly just … shit that bugs me about her, not really active ideas. see you guys there.
“I had fun,” Cam offered, scratching the back of his neck.
Glancing up at him, Lore’s smile widened and she nodded. “Me too.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He was definitely nice looking, but when they had ran out of things to talk about at dinner, even after they saw the movie, she had started to get worried.
His midnight blue windbreaker crackled as Cam settled his arms at his side and looked as if he was trying to forcibly not put his hands in his pocket, as he flexed and smoothed them along his jeans. “Yeah, that was nice,” he said.
Lore nodded again. “Thanks for the nice night.” She took a step toward her door, feeling torn. He was ridiculously cute, and clearly into her, but she didn’t really feel like sleeping with him, not only because of patrol. Lore wasn’t even sure, right now, if she wanted to go on another date with him. The food had been good, even if it had just been Dick’s over on Capitol Hill. But it had been… well, boring.
“Thanks for coming out with me. I had fun,” Cam repeated.
Lore met his gaze and made herself not shrink back from the unexpected intensity there. Maybe he really did have fun and wasn’t lying like she knew she was. Did he see some sort of connection there, something that she had totally missed?
Twisting her lips into something she hoped was a nice smile, Lore nodded again. “Yeah, it was fun. I’ll see you around, then?” She didn’t mean for it to be a question, but his sudden movement down toward her face, his lips puckered slightly, jolted her a little out of any sense of calm.
Lore turned her head just enough, just in time, so that Cam ended up kissing her on the corner of her mouth instead of full on. She smiled, knowing she was blushing even if it was just because of the fact of the kiss, not because of who was kissing her, and ducked her head again. Glancing up at Cam through her eyelashes, she saw him smile awkwardly and was unsure if he knew he was being turned down or not.
“Well, bye,” he said, his voice quiet but not unhappy. Cam waved at her, a stilted move, then occupied that hand by running it over his short cropped hair.
Lore waved back and watched him, one hand on her doorknob, as he turned into the shadowy stairwell and headed away, up toward his floor. Why hadn’t the date gone well? Fishing in her wool coat’s pocket for her keys, Lore realized she really wasn’t sure, as she stepped into her apartment and hung the coat up. They had chatted easily enough the other times they had run into each other, and even while waiting for their burgers. But he kept on bringing up sports and she would try to mention a book she had read, and they seemed to completely miss each other when throwing out darts at the board of conversation.
Smiling wryly, Lore moved into her bedroom and started to change into her costume, going through the now familiar motions of slipping into the slick, lycra suit and buckling the different straps and buttoning the different clasps on the armor she wore around her chest, arms, legs and waist. Flapping her cloak about, trying to shake some stray ash off of the material, Lore wondered if she had simply had her hopes too high for Cam.
He was just so damn attractive, she mused. So I figured he must be the perfect guy, but of course he’s not. There isn’t a perfect guy out there, which I should know by now. But he seemed so promising! Lore sighed, pulling her hair back and running her fingers through it, ruining the curls she had put an hour’s worth of work into earlier in the evening, then quickly braiding it into a foot long rope down her back. He’s cute, he’s nice, he can – well, could – hold up his end of a conversation. I guess I didn’t know much else about him, though…
Well, that’s why it was always better to date random guys than friends, something Lore had decided on sometime during college. If she never saw Cam again, it wouldn’t change her life too much. But if she had become close friends with the guy and then started dating him, she might be too scared to break up with him and lose an important friendship. It was something of a cop-out, she knew, but it seemed to work so far.
No time to ponder on the intricacies of relationships – or the lack thereof – now, though. Lore pushed her window open and then, clinging to the outside of the building, shut it almost all the way and dropped down most of the way toward the alley ground, catching herself with foot and hand flame rockets at the last moment.
She flew into the night, determined to get completely distracted and not think any longer on boys, not those who weren’t perfect and especially not those who were too perfect to be an option.
Somehow I totally missed this when it happened.
Does this make me a bad webmaster?
At least it wasn’t the real deal, although I don’t know how this “Gingerbread Village” place got the rights to all these costumes… maybe since it was for “the children,” Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman and Spiderman gave their okay?
I doubt it. I’ll be on the look out, now, to see if this group gets the pants sued off of them for copyright infringement.
LDDarling: and then I flew away and Shadowgirl let Windwalker up and stuff.
The JSter82: Holy shit
The JSter82: does this mean you’re in league with the 7 now?
LDDarling: NO!
The JSter82: no no no I mean like, in the eyes of the police/everymen/whoever
The JSter82: that could be really bad
LDDarling: Noo, I don’t think so
LDDarling: well, kinda
The JSter82: WHAT
LDDarling: Windwalker said that the Everymen were going to hate me now, but he didn’t say anything about the police
LDDarling: And as long as I keep, you know, NOT WORKING WITH THE SEVEN, I think everyone but the idiotmen should know that
The JSter82: I guess
The JSter82: still, wtf
Lore sighed, adjusting the laptop’s position on her couch as she leaned her side against the back of the sofa. She was sitting in her living room, a cup of hot chocolate nestled between her legs. It was the day after her run-in with Shadowgirl and Windwalker, and Lore was still reeling from the experience. She had awoken feeling very unsure about the whole thing, worried that if Windwalker was intent on hating her, the rest of the city would soon follow, but nothing had happened yet.
She had gone through the day hearing nothing but good news about Firebird, because the capture of the Pied Piper dominated the headlines. The Green Lake police had been quoted as saying that without Shadowgirl it never could have happened, that she had continued in her good habit of incapacitating but not hurting those she turned over to the police, and that he was cooperating with investigations. It didn’t seem like he had killed any of the children he had kidnapped, and most people seemed to be very happy with the way things were going.
But, despite that, the whole day Lore had felt haunted. She hadn’t exactly felt welcomed by the superhero community in Seattle before, since not a single one of them had greeted her personally since she first came on the scene, but that was a very different thing from being openly attacked by the leader of the Everymen.
There really weren’t many examples of actual fights between heroes. Batman and Superman always seemed to be arguing and coming to blows, but they were on such a different level from the Everymen and Lore, she didn’t feel right comparing last night’s tussle with their epic battles. Heroes usually seemed to get along, at least superficially, because otherwise one of them was considered a villain. But no matter what Windwalker thought – or what Shadowgirl wanted – Lore was determined to not be a villain.
LDDarling: I know, right?
LDDarling: I wonder if he really is jealous
The JSter82: of your powers, you mean
The JSter82: that’d be pretty funny actually
LDDarling: I guess
The JSter82: I mean, here’s this guy who insists that you dont need powers to do good, then you show up and his panties get in a twist cuz you have powers and he does nt
LDDarling: that just seems so weird, though, doesn’t it?
The JSter82: yeah, but you never know
The JSter82: it’s not like we didn’t already know that Windwalker is a huge douche
LDDarling: lol
LDDarling: true
The JSter82: Did you see cklug’s latest post on his blog
LDDarling: no, is it awesome
The JSter82: yeah. I guess he went on a trip to the East coast, so he spends the whole time ragging on the heroes over there, it’s hilarious. He saw Spiderman and goes on and on about how much of a gay little twig the guy is
LDDarling: hahaahah
LDDarling: poor spidey
The JSter82: HEY just cause you’re one of them now doesn’t’ mean you get to side with them
LDDarling: lol
LDDarling: oh brb phone
Lore’s cell phone had started to vibrate its way across her rickety coffee table, and Lore almost spilled her hot cocoa trying to get it before it hit the floor. She caught the mobile a moment before it toppled off the edge of the coffee table, and flipped it open with one hand while she used the other to steady the wildly tipping cocoa cup.
“Hello?”
The JSter82: kk, I’ll brb too. Getting something to drink.
“Hey, Lore. It’s Cam.”
Lore’s eyes widened and she grinned, picking up her mug of hot chocolate and setting it on the coffee table. She twisted on the sofa so she was sitting correctly on the cushions as she answered quickly, “Hi! How’re you?”
“Not bad. Headed home from work and thought I’d see what’s up. So, what’s up?” His voice was warm and friendly, casual yet Lore thought she noted some sort of worry there. Like he was worried about impressing her or that she didn’t really want to hear from him.
“Not much,” she answered, grinning into the phone. “Just floating around the internet and relaxing after work.”
“Great, glad to hear it. I thought of you today.”
Lore felt herself blushing. “Yeah? How come?”
The JSter82: Yess, got some cocoa. you inspired me.
The JSter82: are you still coming over for dinner tomorrow or are you going on patrol early
LDDarling: not sure, still on phone
“I went by that coffee place during my lunch break. I was hoping you’d be there, but I guess you were probably at work, too.”
“I thought you worked on the south side or something.” Lore fiddled with her coffee mug as she frowned thoughtfully.
Cam answered easily enough that Lore figured she was just overreacting or being suspicious for no reason. “I had stuff to do up here today. Hey, so… I was wondering. Uh, what are you doing Friday night?”
LDDarling: I should be able to make it, though
“What? I, uh. Nothing. Why?” Lore’s hands jerked away from the keyboard as she realized what Cam had just asked her. She almost felt guilty talking to Jack at the same time as Cam, but that was weird.
The JSter82: sweet. We should catch that new bond movie on Friday maybe
LDDarling: I mimght be busy
The JSter82: patrol patrol patrol
“Well, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner. Maybe see a movie. That new Bond flick is out. I don’t know if you like that stuff, though,” Cam said, his voice coming through her cell phone even more worried and adorable.
Lore bit her lip. “I really like Bond movies, actually. And, yeah, yeah that sounds great.”
LDDarling: not quite
The JSter82: huh?
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I’d really like that.” Lore ducked her head, smiling and glad no one could see her looking like a fool.
“That’s great. That’s really great. Hey, I gotta go, but you think, I can pick you up around six? How does that sound?”
Lore nodded. “That’s fine. That’s good, actually, ‘cause I can’t stay out too late, because I have, um, some family stuff early Saturday morning.” She hoped the lie passed, because even with a date – a date! With Cam! – Lore felt she should get in some patrol time that evening.
“Okay, that’s fine. Totally cool. We’ll get dinner then see a, well, not a real early movie, but we won’t be out too late. I’ll see you at six, then? Friday?”
“Friday. At six. Thanks.”
Cam laughed breathlessly. “Bye, Lore.”
“Bye!”
Lore clicked her phone shut, then leaned back on the couch, biting her lip while grinning widely. Cam just asked her out. Her. He was incredibly cute, with those broad shoulders and swimmer’s build under his blue sweatshirts, and short cropped hair, and big grin… And he was nice! And interested in her! Lore squealed and glanced at her laptop before twisting to face it again and respond to the waiting messages from Jack.
The JSter82: what do you man
The JSter82: mean^
The JSter82: hellooooo
The JSter82: if your not doing patrol, what are you doing
LDDarling: I’m going out with cam
She stared at her screen, her grin flickering a bit as Jack didn’t answer.
LDDarling: you met him at the coffeehouse, remember?
Jack was taking his time. Lore glanced out her window, toward his apartment building across and down the street, worried suddenly. He couldn’t really be upset about this, could he? Not after he was dating that girl a month or so back. She was allowed to have a crush and go out and be happy.
The JSter82: are you still going to patrol at all that night?
The JSter82: because you should
LDDarling: Yeah, I told him we can’t be out too late
Lore narrowed her eyes. Was that really his only problem with this?
The JSter82: cool. although you should probably be givin moar time to patrol and stuff.
LDDarling: you just invited me to a movie, bt I can’t go with Cam?
The JSter82: i don’t like him
LDDarling: well, I do
The JSter82: good, but he just bugs me
The JSter82: rubs me thw wrong way
LDDarling: well, he shouldn’t, because he’s really nice. A nd we’re going out and it’s going to be fun and I’m happy about it
The JSter82: k, but
Lore waited, scrolling through her email and some blogs for a few minutes before clicking back into the IM box.
LDDarling: but what?
The JSter82: i just dont like him
LDDarling: that’s probably why you’re not dating him, bozo
The JSter82: lol i gues
The JSter82: but you guys rn’t DATING, just goin on a date
LDDarling: yeah I guess
Jack didn’t say anything else, and an hour later when Lore was getting ready to turn off the laptop and head out on a patrol, he didn’t answer her then, either. Lore felt distracted as she tied on her mask, but figured Jack would talk to her if there was really a problem between the two of them.
---
Excerpts from the fanfiction of “Harkz Dark Guuuuurrrl”
Author’s notezz: okay this is my story about how Harkness and I meet and fall in love, because we’re meant 4 each other, but we’re not actually together SO DON’T GET MAD AT ME.
Also if u think harkness and sSunflower are gay together GO AWAY THAT IS SICK AND WRONG harkness is sooooo str8 and sexy unf unf, so don’t say those gross thingsz plz!!!!!
Kk her’es the story, tell me what you think, ESP. IF YOU LIKE IT!!!!
Harkness walked out on the roff of the building, his sexy body outlined by the moonlight shining through the night sky onto the roff of the building. He stood there and looked really sexy. He was dressed in his normal outfit which is dark blue and skin tight because he knows how very very veryyyyy sexy he is ((A/N: he’s so hot!!)) and altho it isn’t relly skintight because it has armor on it and stuf, it kind of looks like it is. You know what I mean, because you’ve seen pix, right? But the armor bodysuit thing covers all of him from his feet to his hands to hthe top of his head so you cant really see what he loks like
But when he sees me fly down from the night sky and land next to him and my beautiful blond hair is lit up by the moonlight like he is, too, and I’m wearing this really sexy black catsuit but not a real cat suit cuz its not like I’m catwoman or something LOLOL but im wearing this mask that covers my eyes and nose but leaves my mouth open (so we can kiss!!!!!!!!) and he says:
“hey girl you look hot”
and i say”
“hi, harkness”
And he takes of his mask and SURPRISE he looks just like jonny depp but younger and not like forty or something and also he looks kind of like oraldno bloom and kind of like brad pitt because ehe’s kind of hot and everyone else who was ever hot EVERRR
And then we kiss for a long time and he moans about how great I am and how hot
And I say “wait harkness we need to kill people now”
And he says “oh right thx 4 reminindg me”
So then we go find some people who are hnganing out and they’re going all “heroes are cool we’re =stupiiiiiid”
And then we show up and we go “hey guys we’re going to kill you cause we’re EVIL” and oh yeah I’m the new leader of the seven cause Shadowgirl is stupid and ugly
---
From Superheroes for Dummies.
Most government agencies separate superheroes into an extraordinary amount of subclasses and categories, but here we’ll simplify it for you. There’s two major groups of heroes (or villains): those with powers, and those without. Heroes without powers are easier to classify and will be categorized in the next section (see page 59).
As for heroes with powers, there’s two more easy separations we can do: heroes with “natural” powers and heroes whose powers came from an outside source. Heroes with natural powers are sometimes referred to as mutants or evolved humans. That assumes that these heroes are humans, though: another way for heroes to have natural powers is if they are simply not human, like Superman, Silver Surfer or a multitude of other heroes.
Most human heroes with natural powers, though, are born with these powers simply as a part of their DNA. These heroes are either referred to as “latent natural powered heroes” or “active natural powered heroes” depending on whether or not their powers have manifested. Mutants who obviously have powers or evolved DNA from birth are referred to as being “consistently active.” This most often happens when the power involves some sort of shape change, such as the Penguin (although he is not a hero).
Most other powered humans manifest their powers either during puberty or a moment of extreme stress. The X-Men famously recognize the connection between the hormonal changes present in the prepubescent years and the expression of powers. Sometimes naturally powered humans will not manifest their powers until later in life, though; Matt Parkman, the famous telepathic detective, reportedly had latent powers until his mid thirties.
Naturally powered humans are not considered superior to heroes whose powers came from an outside source, though. These heroes have their DNA changed through contact with some other source. Spiderman and the Fantastic Four are famous examples of this type of change. Some heroes have reportedly sought out an outside source to change them, such as the infamous and perhaps fictional case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Most often, though, this is an unplanned consequence of unforeseen events.
It is assumed by some that events such as these may occur more often than we know about. It is very likely that normal citizens who become altered later in life due to some exposure to radioactive material or something may keep their powers a secret, not wanting to disrupt their established life. This is a reasonable assumption, since most mutants and naturally powered humans do not pursue the life of a hero, instead more than content to live a normal life.
Just as Lore started to panic – although, some part of her mind pointed out, he wasn’t hurting her, just … airing her out – she heard a small sputtering from up above, then a shout as Windwalker’s fans and other equipment shorted out momentarily. Grabbing her moment, she quickly summoned a ball of fire and threw it at him, hoping it would at least knock him further off guard and maybe give her time to get away and figure out what the hell to do next, now that heroes were attacking her.
She didn’t have to resort to that, though, because Shadowgirl stepped in and threw what looked like a net made out of darkness on Windwalker, pulling him to the ground and trapping him. He struggled, clearly trying to restart his fans and blow the insubstantial darkness away, but they seemed to have overheated. Lore slowly pushed herself to a standing position and stood back, wondering at how the weightless shadow net was strong enough to keep down the large man.
Shadowgirl was standing over Windwalker and as Lore stepped carefully closer, she caught the tail end of what she was saying to him. “And you’re an idiot, on top of that. She’s not working with me, you big lug, so get over it. You and I both know you despise her because she’s lucky enough to have powers and you have to use your shitty little fans. Get over yourself and don’t be such a jackass.”
Windwalker didn’t exactly reply, instead struggling more and grunting while glaring through the indistinct web at Shadowgirl, who just looked uninterested, her shoulders slumped and her hands relaxed at her hips. Her expression was unreadable, because of her full face mask, but when she tilted her head toward Lore, Lore could almost think she saw a sympathetic smile coming through the dark material.
“I feel for you, kid. He’s an idiot, and at least I’m not on his side, so I can openly hate him. I’ll see you around.” She rose her chin in a salute. “You better get going before Windy McIdiot gets loose.”
Lore glanced between Shadowgirl and Windwalker. He caught her gaze and yelled, his voice muffled, “I know who you are, Firebird! I know you’re only here to destroy the city, and I’m not going to let that happen!”
Tightening her jaw and looking away quickly from the enraged, entrapped hero, Lore quickly rose into the sky, feeling the warmth of her fire spread through her body as it coated her feet and hands. She looked down once, just in time to see Shadowgirl step into some handy nearby darkness and disappear, at the same time as the dark net dissolved into nothingness, allowing Windwalker to burst up and look around wildly, in vain, for his foe.
Lore turned tail and flew toward home, her thoughts roiling and bubbling. She had always known Windwalker was an idiot. That had been one of the main hubs of thought on the SAS forums, after all. She had never dealt with him on a personal basis before, of course, unless she included yelling at him during protests or getting swept up accidentally or on purpose from his attacks and wind bursts. But she had never expected him to – just hate her, accuse her of being a villain.
Was Shadowgirl right? Was he jealous of her powers? There had always been scoffing and speculation as to why only villains had powers in the Puget Sound, but the Everymen had always been loud advocates of the idea of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Even Lore had been convinced that they, at least, didn’t think they needed powers to do what needed being done. But maybe, on some level, Windwalker felt inferior to those heroes with powers? Did he really just fight Shadowgirl because she had powers, like the villain had suggested? Lore didn’t know what to think. She had to talk to Jack.
---
Excerpt from the sermon of Rev. James Whiddle, pastor of the Green Lake Presbyterian church.
As we all know, Jesus has given each of us unique talents and gifts, through the Holy Spirit. In Acts, after Jesus leaves His apostles, we see the apostles in the upper room, hiding and terrified, and then the Holy Spirit sweeps in like a tongue of flame, alighting on each of the brothers and sisters, inspiring them to go out into the streets and speak of Jesus’s works, converting thousands of people to Christianity.
Every one of us has gifts and talents, because Christ calls us to do the same. He wants us to go out and do his work, so He equips us with the tools we need to do that. We’ll never come up against something Jesus hasn’t prepared us for, even if we don’t quite realize that at the time.
Now, I know everyone’s been talking non-stop about this new hero in town, in our little part of Seattle, Firebird. I think she’s a blessing, and we can all be sincerely grateful to have such a protector working for us. Those among us who are called to be heroes, whether they have powers like Firebird, or if they’re inclined toward vigilantism like our beloved Everymen, we must applaud these people for they do great things.
But is important to remember that we are all capable of doing great things, even if we can’t create fire or work a jet pad. Christ has called these specific people to do specific things, and given them very obvious tools. Their lot in life is easy to discern, even if it seems extremely hard to act out. It is the rest of us who must pray and think on and pray some more to see what gifts and talents the Holy Spirit has given us.
I invite us now to bow our heads and pray for God to enlighten us as to what path he needs us to journey down and how we may do His will.
Lore had almost forgotten about Shadowgirl, until Windwalker glared past Lore’s shoulder. “You’ve already corrupted her beyond all point of recovery, I see.” He shook his head sadly. “I knew I should not have let this potential for distortion fester so long, but I thought --- I suppose I had some sort of hope for your redemption, Firebird. I am sad to see I was completely and utterly wrong.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Lore tried to protest, but Shadowgirl stomped up to Windwalker and drowned out Lore’s voice with her own.
“You should have known, Windy, that’s right. You’re useless in this town, and you know it. Powered heroes and villains are always going to be more connected, intimately allied, before freaks like you even enter the equation.” She poked Windwalker’s broad chest with one thin finger, from which tendrils of dark smoke crept.
Swatting Shadowgirl’s hand away from him, Windwalker activated some of the fans in his gauntlets, dispelling the shadow still clinging to his chest by blasting it away from him. “Get your hands off of me, foul creature of the night,” he said. Lore was amazed at how cliché and scripted every thing that came out of his mouth sounded.
Shadowgirl hissed something at Windwalker, which Lore didn’t quite catch, but Windwalker reacted violently, shoving the woman away so she had to stumble to keep her balance, stopping in a defensive crouch six feet away from the man.
“Firebird, I am sorry to have to say this, but the Everymen hereby condemn your actions on our streets of
Lore shook her head, noticing that even Shadowgirl seemed bewildered by Windwalker’s insistence that Lore was a villain. “What are you talking about, Windwalker? I’m no more connected to the Seven than I am to your group! I’m not a villain!” Her anger materialized physically in bursts of flames around her fists, although she kept them controlled and didn’t give into her whims to throw the fire at Windwalker.
“Not a villain, but you threaten me with your powers!” Windwalker shook his head, blond hair waving gently. “Firebird, it’s time for your flame to be doused.”
Before Lore could protest at the action or the cheesy phrase, Windwalker activated his fans and propellers, rising swiftly into the air and aiming his arm jets directly at her. The powerful gusts of wind knocked her back, and Lore raised her arms to her face in a vain effort to protect her. All this managed to do, though, was blow out her fire and leave her with no way to easily catch herself as she fell back to the ground.
She struggled to push herself off the ground, but Windwalker was keeping a steady blast of wind power on her, trained on her even as she tried to roll away, her cape flapping and getting caught between her legs. Any flames she tried to form were immediately blown out of existence.
“What are you doing here, Windwalker?” Shadowgirl hissed, all the overt friendliness that had defined her tone just a minute earlier gone.
Without losing his heroic stature and arrogant tone, Windwalker strode toward the two women, easily a head taller than each of them. “I am doing what every good citizen should do when confronted with pure evil, madam. I am here to arrest you!” With a flourish, he flexed one muscled, blue spandex wrapped arm and pointed dramatically at Shadowgirl.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lore noticed that Shadowgirl looked unimpressed, although she was quietly shaking with what Lore assumed was rage. Lore felt more than a little like an intruder on the duo.
Just as Lore started to consider taking her leave, though, Windwalker turned on her abruptly. “And you!”
“What?” Lore responded without thinking, her tone surprised.
“I should have known you would band together with the Seven sooner rather than later, because of the corruption implicit in your powers!”
“What?” Lore repeated, this time honestly confused.
Windwalker gestured between Shadowgirl and Lore, who were still standing close by each other. “You’re working with her, Firebird! This is unimaginably horrible and a devastating blow to our community. Seattle’s first powered ‘hero,’” he said disdainfully, twitching his fingers in oversized quotation marks, “turns villain within a month.”
Lore shook her head, feeling her brow furrow and her voice turn high pitched. “What? Are you joking? She just approached me, just like you did. I’m not working with her or the Seven or anything. What are you talking about?”
Windwalker acted like he didn’t hear her, instead moving closer to the two women, his dark blue leather coat flapping in a dramatic breeze that Lore was pretty sure he created. “Firebird, everyone knows you’re a sham. Why, I wouldn’t be shocked if your powers turned out to be a complete lie, too, created by trickery or a homemade brew. Honesty is the key in vigilantism, Firebird, and the public won’t trust you if you insist your powers are natural.”
“What are you going on about?” Lore glared up at him, defiantly stepping toward the large man. “No, I never said my powers are natural – I’m not a mutant, but I have the right to keep my origin story private.” She frowned and continued, “What’s your problem with me? I haven’t done anything wrong, nothing you haven’t done. Like you haven’t had midnight run-ins with Shadowgirl. You’re just--”
Lore stopped, looking thoughtfully up at the flushed, angry face of Windwalker. He towered over her, his biceps the size of Christmas hams, his chin rivaling that of Jay Leno. But his eyes, which were a piercing blue, seemed scared. Scared worry hidden behind anger.
“You’re scared of me?” It came out a question, something Lore didn’t plan on. “Are you seriously threatened by me? Windwalker, I’m not here to usurp your place. Holy shit, I think the Everymen are a group of overblown, egotistical, attention-whoring jackasses, so I definitely don’t want to become you. I’m more than happy in my little neighborhood here in the north, Windwalker, and you and yours can dazzle downtown and the south end with your fans and jet pads and bows and arrows.”
She couldn’t believe this scumbag was responsible for the dozens of reported kidnappings over the past month or so, and now he was trying to nose in on Green Lake?
There had been speculations as to why the Everymen hadn’t figured out who was stealing children all over the greater Seattle area, and Lore was starting to think it was because the Pied Piper was smarter than his insane demeanor had first led her to assume: if he wasn’t on the news, if he wasn’t known, and certainly if he wasn’t a member of the Seven, he was practically invisible to the majority of the do-gooders, vigilantes and even the police force.
But Lore was different, because Firebird was different.
She threw a few quick balls of fire at the Pied Piper, who squealed and yipped in return. Lore saw at least one of the fire bolts connect with the motorcycle rider, but she was quickly distracted by the waves of rats rushing her and climbing on top of each other in rabid, rapid efforts to scratch and bite her bare feet.
Pushing herself quickly up another few feet in the air, Lore pointed down and waved her hand around in a circular motion, spraying and forming a floor of flame beneath her feet, something she hoped would keep the rats safely away from her – a few might be burned, but they were only rats, and were also pretty much disgusting. Once she was sure the rats couldn’t get to her, Lore snapped her attention back on the Pied Piper.
“Piper! You better tell me where those kids are, right now, because the police are not going to be as nice as I am!” To punctuate her sentences, she tossed a few more balls of fire in his direction, while also moving through the air closer to him.
The Pied Piper sneered up at her, his eyes swollen and foam dribbling out of his lips. “I don’t think so, girlie girl, because my ratties and I will be taking the children and will be using them, oh yes, oh yes,” he grinned, darting behind the motorcycle and crouching.
Lore noticed, grimacing while forcing herself not to retreat from the man’s dirty visage, that the lumps in his clothing that she had previously assumed were actually more rats crawling around under his clothing. “Eww, dude, you have rats on you. Here, let me help you out.”
Soon, the Pied Piper was jumping around, accidentally stepping on and tripping over his own rats as he tried to put out the flames spreading quickly over his cardboard and rawhide clothing. Lore circled the man carefully, making sure to herd him and keep him in the same alley, and then, just as he realized he had killed some of his very own babies, as the Pied Piper’s rambling turned worried, high pitched, and terrified, she came up behind him and – bam!
All those kick boxing classes had paid off as Lore slammed her heel into the back of the Pied Piper’s head, causing his rambling to abruptly stop as he wobbled and then quickly collapsed onto the street, his fall slightly cushioned by the rats who didn’t get out of his way in time.
Once the man was flat on his back, his eyes rolled back into his head, the rats which had begun to almost cover the street started to quickly disperse as the telepathic spell the Pied Piper had had them under melted away with his sense of consciousness. Lore let out a sigh of relief and, pointing a finger up this time, shot up the familiar interlocking rings of flame to hover up in the sky, visible to the cops in the area, so that they could come and take him away.
It took a squad car almost half an hour before they arrived, but Lore waited and explained quickly to the officers who lumbered out of their car the situation, that this was a powered villain, he had some sort of telepathy, but it seemed like it only affected animals, and – most importantly – he claimed responsibility for the kidnappings in the area. Watching one of the officers carefully pick up the Piper’s long pipe and dropping it into an evidence bag, Lore smiled briefly to herself as she shot up onto a roof of nearby building; the Pied Piper had at least been sane enough to choose a moniker that suited him rather well. Even if he did ride a furry motorcycle.
Lore settled down on the edge of the roof, sitting cross legged, and taking her bare feet in her still warm hands and rubbing the soles gently. It was a cold night in Seattle, as the winters tended to be biting and crisp, and although Lore’s fire kept her feeling comfortable most of the time, her body still was tired and sore. She might call it a night soon. Lore patrolled for four or five hours a night, around five times a week, but she didn’t feel bad about cutting it short sometimes. The police were still an active presence in Green Lake, and it certainly never hurt to encourage them to actually do their fare share.
Standing slowly and rolling her shoulders, Lore didn’t notice the growing shadows behind her on the roof, or the wispy pieces of darkness stretching out into the shape of a woman.
“That was well done,” a voice suddenly said.
Lore spun around, her relaxed frame going tense and her hands becoming fists of flame. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
Shadowgirl stepped more completely out of the shadows, although some strands of the dark still clung to their master. “Just me. Hi there, Firebird. Don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She stood there casually, just eight or nine feet from Lore. Lore couldn’t see her expression at all, as her face was covered by some sort of sheer material, her body also swathed in a clinging dark silk.
“Maybe not,” Lore said after a moment’s silence. “But I know who you are. What do you want, Shadowgirl?”
It was unbelievably weird to be having any sort of conversation with Shadowgirl, Lore thought as she desperately tried to hide any anxiety or nervousness she felt. She had briefly met a few of the Everymen, although none of the biggest names, a few weeks ago randomly, but although Jack had tried to prep her for an eventual formal meeting with Windwalker, it had never happened. Instead, Shadowgirl was approaching her? What did she want?
Luckily for Lore, Shadowgirl responded easily to that question. “Just to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, but I thought I’d give you some more time to get a handle on your powers and figure out how this whole scheme worked.” She waved a hand as if to take in the whole of Seattle at night. “Being a caped crusader is a big change from, well, anything else, so I didn’t want to barge in too early.” Shadowgirl’s tone was light and friendly. She stepped closer to Lore.
Before Lore could respond, Shadowgirl continued, “But, really, that was nice work with that rat guy. What was he calling himself?”
“The Pied Piper,” Lore responded warily.
“Right, you know, that’s actually pretty clever.” Shadowgirl shrugged, then shook her head as she said thoughtfully, “I really do think people like him need to be behind bars. Just like you heroes can’t do your work without being registered and known, villains need to follow some sort of rules. The Seven, we respect that, that’s why we’re rather public with what we do and why we do it. That guy, though… He’s really just a nuisance.”
“I think most people would say the same thing about you,” Lore said, raising her chin. Her voice barely wavered, a fact that Lore was rather proud of.
Shadowgirl shrugged, accepting that fact. “It’s possible.” She stepped closer to Lore, but moved in a roundabout fashion, going sidewise and staggered, walking as if she was balancing on a tightrope. “How are you liking being an Everyman, Firebird?”
Lore narrowed her eyes, turning so as to continue facing Shadowgirl. “What do you mean?”
Shadowgirl cocked her head to the side. “Haven’t you joined with Windwalker’s own personal justice league?”
“No,” Lore responded simply.
Shadowgirl sounded honestly surprised, although her tone was also just fake enough for Lore to dismiss any supposed wonder as some sort of attempt to anger or confuse Lore. “Really? Why not? I thought I heard you and the big blond fart machine had met a few weeks ago.” She didn’t wait for a response this time and instead slid over to stand even closer to Lore, close enough that they could touch. Lore felt her hands beginning to warm, and she closed them into loose fists, growing pint sized flames in the cup of her palm.
“How do you like being a hero, then, Firebird? How do you like your powers? How do you like--” As quick as a flash of light, Shadowgirl reached out and grasped Lore’s wrist in a steel strong grip. Lore couldn’t twist out of the hold, but all Shadowgirl did in the brief moment was raise Lore’s hand up and twist it so the flame was visible. “How do you like your fire?”
Lore swallowed and managed to tug her hand back, although she knew that only happened because Shadowgirl had let her. She wasn’t sure what the villain was getting at, but she wished she could see the other woman’s face, to be able to judge or at least have a better chance of guessing what Shadowgirl was thinking.
“I must admit, Firebird, I’m not too surprised you’re not a member of the Everymen. I mean… You wouldn’t exactly fit in, would you?” Shadowgirl shrugged and crossed her thin arms over her chest. “Really, the only reason Windwalker hates me so much is that I was gifted with powers and he has to rely on his dinky fans. Those of us with powers… we’re different than the others. Not just the citizens, but I think there’s even more of a gap between people like the Everymen and people like us.” She gestured between the two of them.
Lore found herself nodding before she started and replied quickly, “No! Don’t lump me in with you. I help people with my powers, and that’s the only reason I’m out here. You think you’re better than everyone else, but that’s just not true. Get over yourself, Shadowgirl.”
Shadowgirl didn’t seem fazed. “All I’m saying is that it can get lonely out here. Especially since the Everymen have shunned you. I am certainly impressed that you learned to control your powers all on your own,” Shadowgirl said. In an instant, Lore’s thoughts flew to Jack – please, Lord, let Shadowgirl never know about Jack. “But sometimes it’s nice to have company that understands, at least a little, how you feel.”
Before Lore could jerk away again, Shadowgirl placed a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. “If you ever want to talk--”
“Ah hah! Already cavorting with criminals, are we?” A booming voice interrupted them, something for which Lore was extremely grateful, and then the rooftop was filled with the whoosh whoosh of fans and electronic buzzing. Then Windwalker landed steadily ten or so feet from the two women, his hands fisted on his hips and a stern look on his chiseled jaw.
“You know, I wasn’t aware there were any villains in the area who weren’t in the Seven.” Lore frowned, putting her bare hands on her hips and canting her head to the side as she eyed the rag clad man glaring at her from twenty feet away.
“The Seven! You talk about them as if they are to be honored, as if I should be ashamed to not be in their foolish organization!” The Pied Piper cackled, lifting his hands and shaking his probably hand carved, two feet long pipe at Lore. He was wearing brownish “clothes,” if they could be called that, which were really nothing more than layers of burlap and what looked to be paper bags, his beard was long and scraggly, and he had large ears sticking almost straight out from his head.
Lore shrugged and took a careful few steps closer to the madman. “Well, you must not get much media play or anything, huh? I’d have never heard of you if you hadn’t decided to sic your disgusting rats on my neighborhood tonight.”
As if on cue – and, since the Pied Piper’s powers seemed to involve some sort of animal telepathy, it really might have been – a half dozen or so rats poured out of a nearby trash can, stopping and skittering over each other in between the villain and Lore, providing something of a barrier. The Pied Piper himself was riding – well, it wasn’t an actual huge rat, like Lore first took it to be, but it was almost as bad.
“And are you seriously on a furry motorcycle? That must smell so bad after it rains. And the grayish, brownish fur… That’s just gross, sorry,” Lore said, grimacing. “You’re not too good at this whole villainy thing, are you?”
The Pied Piper shuddered and twitched. “What do you mean, you’d never heard of me? Of course you’ve heard of me!”
He seemed to be a step behind Lore’s banter, so she tried to speak slowly. “That’s right. I have never heard of you and your disgusting little rats.”
“Th-th-that just shows how good I am at my job! The Seven, they’re too well known, they can’t be sneaky or get a pinch of havoc wreaked without the Everymen or the cops coming down on them. Me, they never know it’s me, because my ratties and I are quiet, sneaky,” the Pied Piper said, dismounting from his motorcycle and stroking its matted fur gently before blowing a tuneless hoot through his pipe.
Lore sneered in disgust, taking an involuntary step back, when even more rats poured out of the gutters and down the street. She automatically raised herself up using her hand and feet flames, hovering two feet above the ground, far enough that no rats could find her.
The Pied Piper continued, “See, if they knew it was me taking the children, they would’ve found me, found the children, but they don’t know who I am, they ignore the ratties because they’re normal, they ignore the ratty man because he’s normal, so I take, take, take the children.”
Lore snapped her head up, ignoring the rats and focusing instead on the now grinning Pied Piper. “What? You’ve been behind all those kidnappings this past fortnight? Oh, shit, that makes so much sense.”
The Pied Piper didn’t exactly respond, but he laughed and twirled his pipe between gnarly fingers.
“Well, I know who you are now, Pied Piper, and so it looks like your plan has failed,” Lore said, narrowing her eyes and allowing the flames to grow under her hands, preparing to throw them at the scraggly figure.
She listened to Carmen defend her deadbeat boyfriend for a while, sipping her latte and making affirmative, “yes, I’m listening” noises every once in a while. Life had gotten so busy since the Firebird thing started, Lore had barely had enough time to touch base with any of her friends other than Jack, and even if they couldn’t actually meet for coffee because of Carmen’s demanding graduate student slash research assistant schedule, it was nice to connect over the phone for a bit.
Carmen went on to describe some drama with plagiarism that turned out to be perfectly legitimate, and Lore enjoyed zoning out and staring out the window at a busy street, letting her friend’s everyday life wash over her. Sure, there was still her day job and her problems with rent and her squeaky pipes, but it seemed like her nightly superhero adventures colored everything else, leaving Lore feeling rather disconnected from the normal life she used to adore.
Lore suddenly realized Carmen has asked her a question. “I’m sorry, what? Sorry.” Carmen repeated her question, and Lore almost wished she had completely missed it. She winced, even though Carmen couldn’t see it. “I know I haven’t been at church these past few weeks. I’m going to come back! Don’t worry. I’ve just been so busy and – no, I haven’t been staying out too late on Saturday night dancing and doing heathen things.” She grinned, ducking her head at Carmen’s long, flowery accusation of how Lore spent her nights. Not quite, Lore thought.
“No, I’ll be there this Sunday. I promise! And then I’ll take you out to lunch. Okay? Are we cool?” Lore laughed, then responded to Carmen’s quip, “Yes, I’ll make sure Jesus and I are cool before I ask you, okay, okay.”
Carmen had to go soon after that, although she made sure to ensure Lore’s promise yet again that she’d actually make it to service this weekend. Lore hadn’t really realized she had been missing church so regularly until she got a text from Carmen last Sunday asking where she had been. So, Lore wasn’t out dancing until the wee hours of the morning every Saturday, but she was out protecting the streets and expending mass amounts of energy to summon fire out of nowhere. It hadn’t taken long for Lore to realize that being a superhero was more tiring than anything else she had ever done.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Lore finished her latte and started to open her laptop, thinking about checking her email and browsing the internet for a while before heading home for dinner. Before she could even press the power button, though, a familiar blue clad figure loudly scraped a chair over to her table and sat down backwards on it, his long arms folded over the wicker chair’s back.
Cam said, “We have to stop meeting like this.” He smiled at her from under the sweatshirt’s blue hood.
Lore laughed and shut the laptop closed again. “Oh, I know. People are talking.” She leaned conspiratorially closer to Cam, her ponytail dipping over her shoulder and brushing the wood table, the colors of her hair and the dark oak meshing. “Know what they’re talking about the most?”
Cam shook his head, his smile widening.
“How you definitely didn’t call me when you promised you would.” Lore kept her tone light and frowned jokingly at him, sitting up again in a quick motion.
“What?” He started. “You didn’t return my call! I so called you.”
Lore raised a skeptical eyebrow and twisted her lips into a wry grin. She was astounded at herself and how easily she was talking – flirting! – with Cam this time. “You did not. Because I would have returned your call, and I got none.”
Cam narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and eyed her for a moment before digging in his pocket and pulling out a devil red, slim cell phone. He glanced at her again, then down at the phone as he pushed some buttons. Then, turning the screen toward her and holding the phone out, he declared, “See! I called you the day after I last ran into you here. See? Right there.”
Lore tilted her head in confusion. “Let me see that.” Without waiting for affirmation, she reached out and plucked the phone out of his grasp, frowning. There it was, on his “calls sent” screen. He had called her the day after, like he had said. “But… I didn’t get a call.” She selected the details option of the call and – “Ah! You have the wrong number in there. Dork.” Now she turned the screen back at him. “It’s a six, not a five.”
“Oh. Shit, really? Dude, sorry. But, see, I did call.” He took the phone back and pushed a few more buttons rapidly, assumedly adjusting the number to reflect the correction. Cam gazed at the phone for a few more moments, then glanced up at Lore. “I’m glad you didn’t not return my call, then.”
She blushed, feeling the old insecurity begin to rear. “Well, no, I wouldn’t have done that. I’m glad you called. Even if it was the wrong number.”
Cam scratched the back of his neck, grinning. “Yeah, jeez, whoever got that message must have thought I was a huge freak.”
“You left a message! Wasn’t the voice mail message a dead giveaway?” Lore laughed.
“It was one of those automated things. It could’ve been anyone’s! And, jeez, I rambled and went on and on. I’m pretty glad, now, that you didn’t actually get it.”
“I might have to call whoever you called and ask them to play it back for me,” Lore teased.
Cam looked about to reply, a wicked grin dancing over his face, when Jack, of all people, walked up to their table.
Lore stared at Jack, completely unnerved and confused by his presence there. This wasn’t Starbucks. Why would Jack be here? He consistently only got coffee from Starbucks, and – “What are you doing here, Jack?” Once the phrase blurted its way out of her mouth, Lore realized how mean and distant it sounded.
Clearly Jack thought so, too. “Uh. Hi to you too, Lore. I saw you through the window on my way home.” He glanced at Cam and shifted to stand a little closer to Lore’s chair, angling his body toward the other man. “Hey,” Jack said, his tone blank.
Cam lifted his chin in greeting. “Hey.”
Lore glanced between the two of them, feeling embarrassed, like she was caught doing something she shouldn’t have, which didn’t make sense. “Um. Cam, this is Jack, my best friend. Jack, this is Cam. He lives in my building.”
Cam grinned and stuck out a hand, only a second or two too late. “Yeah, we were just consoling each other about our endlessly squeaky pipes.”
“Heh. Hah. Yeah, that’s cool. You just move in, then? Lore’s never mentioned you?” Jack took Cam’s hand in what even Lore could tell was an overly strong grip.
Shifting in her chair so she could easily and firmly press down on Jack’s foot with her own, Lore said, “No, but Cam and I are both busy so we don’t see each other very much. You wanna join us, Jack?”
Jack and Cam both shook their head at the same time, Jack taking a step back and Cam standing up.
Cam said, “No, I should get going anyway,” just as Jack interjected, “I was just seeing if you wanted to watch a movie.”
Lore was worried that, upon realizing the other was both planning on leaving, they would both offer to stay to keep her company, thus sparking a continued awkward overlapping conversation, but both men seemed resolute. Cam smiled at Lore, while Jack glared softly down at the ground.
“Well, I’ll call you again this week, Lore,” Cam said, holding up a hand in a friendly wave. “Now that I have your actual number.”
“Alright, that sounds great,” Loretta said, trying to keep her tone light. “I’ll talk to you later, then.” She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and waved back at him.
Cam nodded at Jack, who returned the gesture. Once Cam had stepped outside, Jack swung into the chair he just vacated. “Who’s he?” he demanded.
“Jack, I just told you that.” Lore frowned at him.
“Are you guys dating?”
“No! Jack, I barely know him. Plus, why would you care?” Lore raised her eyebrows at him and suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
Luckily, Jack didn’t seem willing to give her any answer, whether it be one that scared or pleased her, or both. Instead he shrugged sulkily and stood back up. “I’m going home. Come on over tonight if you wanna watch that movie.”
Before Lore could even ask what movie he meant, Jack was gone. Lore stared in his wake for a while. Watching the sparks fly between the two men was like a battle between Harkness and the Shamaness. They weren’t actually arch enemies, of course, but with Harkness’s natural electric powers and the Shamaness’s masterful manipulation of kinetic energy machines, whenever they met it was like a lightning storm. Lore was amused by the connection, and thought about who would be Harkness and who would be the Shamaness – Jack or Cam. Neither were overly evil or overly womanly, so she soon decided to abandon the train of thought as well as any brooding thoughts about boys and how weird they were. She turned on her computer, like she had meant to, and settled into the internet.
---
From the Official Compendium of Super Heroes and Villains, 2007 edition.
Windwalker
Leader of the Everymen, Seattle’s official hero group
Stats:
6’7”
250 lbs (approx.)
Blond hair; blue eyes; Caucasian
Size 12 shoes
35 years old (approx.)
Windwalker appeared in the Puget Sound scene in the late nineties and took the city by storm – literally! Windwalker uses manmade fans and propellers, providing both offensive and defensive maneuvers. He is extremely skilled at knocking enemies over with concentrated gusts of wind and can fly for a short period of time with the help of his machinery.
Windwalker’s costume is dark blue leather with bright yellow highlights on his boots, gloves, belt and cape. His logo is embossed double W’s encased in a graphic tornado.
~~~
Shadowgirl
Leader of the Seven, Seattle’s scariest villain group
Stats:
5’2”
120 lbs (approx.)
Dark auburn hair; dark blue eyes; Caucasian
Size 7 shoes
28 years old (approx.)
The leader of the devastating villain group, the Seven, Shadowgirl was one of the first powered humans in the Seattle area to go public with their powers, and she was by far the most destructive. Controlling the very forces of darkness and shadow, Shadowgirl can become invisible either by blinding others with summoned darkness or by slipping into shadow. She can also use shadow in offensive methods, attacking, choking and beating her targets with hardened shadow.
Shadowgirl’s costume has varied over the years, but is always dark, ranging from deep dark blue to mottled gray to pitch black. She usually wears a hood that covers most, if not all, of her face. Her outfit is usually rather skintight and she does not usually wear a cape.
It is believed that Shadowgirl and Windwalker have some connection outside of their hero villain, arch enemy relationship. This has of course never been confirmed by either party, but considering how desperately they seem to hate each other, some believe there is a reason other than normal antagonism fueling their hatred.
Lore took a moment to rest on the roof of an apartment building, breathing heavily. She had never really learned combat skills, and it was tough work dodging punches while trying to throw flames. Lugging unconscious criminals out onto the street, too, was wearing. She needed to hit the gym more regularly – although her nightly adventures really were work out enough. Good thing her day job was so mindlessly numbing, because for the past two weeks she had regularly almost fallen asleep at her desk, waking only when her forehead touched the cold wood or she heard the snick of Mr. Kirkendale's office door beginning to open. That was one thing Lore hadn't considered when she decided to try this superhero thing out: how much sleep she would necessarily lose because of the patrols and fighting and keeping watch.
Smirking to herself, Lore almost found it cute that she had planned on just "trying this superhero thing out" for a while. Like she could quit now. Even if she wanted to – she didn't love doing this or anything, but she didn't desperately want to quit or anything – Firebird was already way too famous and loved throughout the city to just disappear. There would be way too big of an uproar, another thing Lore hadn't planned on. Sure, the Everymen were admired by most of Seattle, but the Firebird phenomenon was ridiculous. Lore didn't like thinking on it too much, because no matter what the papers or blogs said or what the general opinion was, she hadn't ordered that lycra suit to garner attention and praise. In fact, she thought wryly, if that was her main goal, she was going about it the wrong way; even though it had only been two weeks, there were already some
outspoken critics, more than a few whom Lore knew personally, through the SAS boards.
That wasn't too unexpected, though, and Lore did her best to ignore all that. It helped having Jack to talk to. He was a pro at keeping quiet about Lore's secret identity, and was always enthusiastic and excited to talk about whatever was on her mind regarding Firebird. He had been adorably worried and panicked the first time she crawled through his window with a cut in her outfit and blood dripping down her arm, although then Jack had hit her when she called him Mary Jane. Lore hadn't felt this close and comfortable with her friend since college, when they used to spend all night on the phone, connecting across the miles separating them.
Shaking her head, Lore tried to dispel the rambling thoughts. She couldn't afford such distraction while trying to work out here. Luckily there were laws in Washington against the media trailing heroes on patrol (although a few adventurous photographers had tried it anyway, the first few days), so Lore didn't have to worry about that, but there were always burglars or muggers or, on one night
almost a week ago, a rapist. That had been tough for Lore; not like she had hesitated to go in and flame the guy a new asshole, but just the fact that it was happening in her city – that was the first time Lore had felt a blind protection for Green Lake and its citizens. Her flaming birds that night had been some of the best yet.
She had learned a few other things in the past few weeks, too, like the fact that it's very possible to hold someone with absolutely no force: just encircle them in some amount of flames, about their wrists or waist or legs, up against a wall, and they'll do all the work themselves. No one's going to move into flames encircling them, especially not ones glowing blue with heat.
Lore straightened up and rolled her neck around on her shoulders, wincing at the dull pain. She lifted off the ground in a now vaguely familiar move, hovering up a few feet before slapping her palms flat against her body and extinguishing their flames, moving into a more typical flying position, parallel to the ground, and zoomed away.
She scanned the ground as she imitated a shooting star, her red and yellow cape flapping rhythmically as Lore kept a steady pace and height. Just like some of the reporters had guessed, the criminals of Green Lake seemed to, on a whole, have gone into hiding once Lore showed up. In just the past two weeks, the reported crime rate in the neighborhood had gone down by almost sixty percent, but Lore was pretty sure that only half of that, if that much, was due to her direct interaction. Despite the scum of Green Lake retreating or moving to other areas of the city, though, she had already bagged two petty thieves and one drug dealer that night.
Maybe that’d be it for tonight, though. Lore estimated it was nearing two a.m., and she thought longingly of her bed and its squeaky twin mattress. Just as she started to twist gradually toward her own street, though, out of the corner of her eye she saw a flashlight blink out and heard a scuffle down a supposedly empty street.
She bent her body into a sharp ninety degree angle, her head pointed almost directly down, then straightened up and zoomed straight toward the road. Lore hadn’t perfected a good, stealthy way to do this quite yet, so the two people carrying televisions, stereos and other absolutely cliché pieces of merchandise out of the small electronics store saw her when she was still a good twenty feet above them and, accordingly, started to freak out.
In a move that freaked Jack out and, if she was honest, freaked Lore out even more, she did a one eighty degree turn while still shooting toward the ground so that suddenly, after the easy looking flip, her feet were pointed at the ground instead of her head. She hovered a foot or two above the ground, using her hands again to steady herself, and looked at the black clad men.
“Hi.” She smiled, hoping her red lipstick wasn’t smeared and that her braid was still somewhat intact.
(It wasn’t.)
One of the men gulped. He was short and bald, and he was holding a large flat screen television with two gloved hands. When Lore didn’t move, he took a step back shakily. His partner seemed frozen next to the window that they had skillfully removed a pane out of – nice work, really – with one hand still inside the store.
Gently alighting on the ground, Lore tilted her head to the side and started to enjoy the rush of feeling competent, secure in the knowledge that she was completely in the right in this upcoming fight. “Didn’t you guys hear? Green Lake’s really not the best place to be stealing from these days.” She pulled back a fist, already encased in roiling flames, and continued, “So maybe you guys want to put all that stuff back, and then I won’t have to actually light you on fire?”
The man still half in the store stuttered, “That’s police brutality! You can’t do that!” He was taller and younger looking, with a stern jaw and hard eyes.
“Guy, I’m not police, in case you didn’t notice. See, no badge. Just, you know, the icon of a flaming bird. Because I can set you on fire. And I can fly.” Lore twisted her lips in confusion. “Have you guys seriously not heard about me?”
The smaller one took another step back. “Oh, I heard, ma’am, I heard about you, and I’m sorry, but Reg and I, we just thought it couldn’t hurt, ya know, we just wanted to, ya know.”
“Doofus, you told her my name!”
“Guys, it really doesn’t matter if I know your names or not. You’re coming with me, and I’m going to get you in a police cab. They’ll know a lot more than your names there,” Lore said, her other hand becoming wreathed in flames now. She focused her attention on the shorter one, since he seemed scared already and much more easily subdued. “Now, I’m going to tie you up with these flames, so you don’t want to move, right? Else you’ll get burned.” She started to move some tendrils of the fire closer to him, then –
Reg, the taller one, pulled a gun out of his jacket in a quick movement that Lore almost didn’t catch. He brought the gun up, as if to fire, oh shit, oh shit, and Lore twitched without thinking, bringing the fire cords going toward the smaller thug straight at Reg.
The wisps of fire, strong and hot, curled directly at Reg, and he shouted, raising the gun as he shot twice, the reverb of the shots echoing down the street and causing both Lore and the shorter thug to dodge downwards and shriek. Neither of Reg’s shots connected with anything but the nearby walls, though, and Lore had just enough sense of mind to continue the flames’ movement toward Reg, wrapping neatly around his hands and squeezing just enough to burn so that he jerked away, dropping the gun with a clatter.
Without thinking, keeping one eye on the now trapped Reg and the other on the still crouching smaller thief, Lore sent another fire vine toward the gun and, through the fire, grabbed the gun by its handle and brought it quickly to Lore’s feet. One part of her mind started to scream with excitement – she had never even tried to move objects with her fire before, hadn’t even played with the possibility, but it had just worked, and that was ridiculously thrilling – but most of her stayed focused. Once the gun was under her feet, she twitched that tendril back to the shorter criminal, wrapping around his waist.
All three of them stared at each other for a moment, Reg clearly regretting his move, Lore wanting even more desperately to go home. A gun. She could’ve been shot, killed, there goes Firebird. She wasn’t invulnerable, not by a long shot, and not even a fire shield would stop a bullet. Holy shit.
“Alright, boys. You stay there, and the cops will be here shortly.”
She stepped away, leaving rings of fire around both of them, and jetted off into the sky. She hovered just above the buildings, and created a few rings of interlocking flame, which had come to be her signal to any police nearby that she had found and captured some criminals. Most of the Everymen liked to take the criminals to the police station themselves, getting as much glory as possible for each arrest, but Lore figured she was in the public eye too much as it was. Plus, really, she hadn’t chosen to do this, it had been forced on her, while the police officers had made a real decision to be out here every night, fighting and protecting their city. It only seemed right that they get glory for whatever happened.
Luckily, a squad car was only a few blocks away and before long, she saw the flashing lights coming down the street, headed right for the flame surrounded criminals. Without waiting to see the police actually make the arrest or acknowledge her or whatever, Lore shot off, to sleep.
----
Official Minutes from Everymen Committee Meeting of December 16th, 2008
Present:
Windwalker, Chairman and Leader of the Everymen (WW)
Princessnoid, Secretary and Recorder of Official Minutes (PN)
Bulleto (B)
Transtain (T)
The Shamaness (TS)
Alpha Soarer (AS)
Jade Boy (JB)
Dawn Widow (DW)
WW: I hereby call to order the three hundredth and thirty third – hey, that’s cool – meeting of the Everymen in this our Lord’s year two thousand and eight. We have already taken roll, as recorded in the minutes being, uh, recorded by Princessnoid. Thank you, Princessnoid.
PN: No problem.
JB: Yeah, thanks, ma’am.
PN: Yep.
WW: First order of business! This year’s Christmas party.
TS: Holiday party.
WW: Right. Now, we’re going to have it at our headquarters, like always, but I just want to remind everyone that this means you have to come in costume. Transtain, that includes you.
T: I was in costume last year.
WW: You were in drag.
T: That’s a costume!
WW: We have to wear our hero costumes. That’s what I mean.
JB: That’s what he means.
T: Well, the invitations should have made that more clear.
B: Why do we have to come in our stupid hero costumes, anyway? I wear this itchy suit and stupid sombrero most of my life. Why can’t I take it off for our own party?
WW: Because, Bulleto, not all of us know each other’s secret identities. Also, if we went in our street clothes, we’d then have to explain why our civilian personalities know each other and are going to a party together. But this way we can just enjoy the holiday season without that worry.
JB: I think that makes the most sense.
WW: Thank you, Jade Boy. Also, another reminder about that. No alcoholic beverages will be served, and please don’t try to bring your own.
DW: Why are you looking at me?
B: And me?
WW: Because you two got trashed last year, and that sets a bad example for Jade Boy.
T: (Muttered) And only he’s allowed to set a bad example for his sidekick.
WW: What was that, Transtain?
T: Nothing, Windwalker. Go on.
WW: Thank you. Any other comments on the subject of the Christmas party?
TS: Holiday party.
WW: Right. Holiday party. Right. Any other comments on the “holiday party”? No? Okay, next order of business. I know I’ve brought this up before, but please, if you finish the last of the milk, use the last coffee filter, or crack the last egg, buy some more. It’s only fair. Some of us have been dishing out a lot more than our fair share in groceries and supplies around here. Okay, next on the list, something I know we all have our opinions on, so I want to remind you that we’re heroes and we’re civilized and we need to deal with this rationally. So, let’s talk about this horrible little usurping bitch Firebird.
JB: Firebitch!
WW: Quite right. I mean, no, don’t swear, Jade Boy, you’re too young.
JB: Sorry.
WW: Anyway. Thoughts?
(Everyone started to talk at this point, it was very difficult even with my N.O.T.A.R.E. (Neo Organizer Technology And Recording Engine) device. Some snippets:)
T: We really don’t have anything to worry about, she’s just a fad.
B: I bet she’ll turn evil, anyway. We all know what happens to people with powers in this town.
TS: I heard she didn’t even really have powers, anyway, that it’s all pyrotechnics.
AS: We definitely can’t trust her, that’s my conclusion.
WW: She’s all the media’s talking about!
JB: All the kids at my school think she’s super keen, but I think she blows chunks.
(Eventually order was restored.)
WW: So we’ve decided.
(Everyone nods firmly.)
WW: I’ll get started, then, and report back as soon as I have made contact.
From the front page of the Seattle Times.
SEATTLE’S FIRST POWERED SUPERHERO!
FIREBIRD FERVOR SWEEPING THE SOUND
December 5, 2008
“It was very exciting, when she told me she had powers,” Officer Delores Peterson said. Peterson was the registering officer and, along with the North Precinct Chief Weber, performed the necessary tests in order to validate Firebird’s powers and prowess. “She was very nice and professional, and not at all cocky, like you might expect, like we’ve kind of come to expect from our heroes.”
Firebird’s costume is a recognizable red and orange, with fire emblems and stitching. Tests were done to ensure the validity of her powers, in order to make sure she wasn’t using rockets, flints or any other fire creating mechanism. “Everything checked out,” a grinning Chief Weber stated.
Firebird herself has declined to do any interviews or shows of powers, but since she’s expected to start regularly patrolling Green Lake, it is expected that will be revealed shortly.
The Everymen released an official statement on the revelation of the Seattle area’s first powered superhero, in which they applaud Firebird and welcome her into their circle. “While the Everymen have based their identity on being average citizens with additional drive and impetus, without any extraordinary powers, we as a group are thrilled to recognize Firebird as the first powered hero in the area. We hope to meet with her in the days to come, hopefully to discuss her becoming a part of our circle so that the whole city may benefit.”
No report as of yet on how Firebird has responded to this invitation, or if she has at all.
The Seven also sent out a press release regarding Firebird; while most of this nasty diatribe is unfit to print, the general gist of the message was one of doom and devastation, hinting that the Seven look forward to learning more about Firebird and thusly destroying her as soon as possible.
While no citizens have reported being aided by Firebird as of yet – all the better, since any hero work before being registered would land Firebird in some legal trouble – there are already rampant opinions going around.
Everyone is looking forward to seeing how she performs on the streets, although there are also concerns that now criminals know an actual powered hero will be protecting the neighborhood of Green Lake, that there might not be a lot for Firebird to cut her teeth on.
Excepts from the Seattle P.I. editorial page
POPULAR OPINIONS ON FIREBIRD
Thank God! We’re finally equal to Metropolis,
-- B. Valencia, Tukwila
I’m looking forward to how the Everymen and Seven deal with this new development. I can’t really see the Everymen being as happy as they’re pretending to be, since they had it pretty dang good before, and now the whole game is changed. Here’s hoping Firebird doesn’t get her flames doused real quick. Here’s also hoping she doesn’t regret going public, because all eyes are going to be on her for a long time to come.
--- T. Parry, Seattle
I’m so proud of Firebird. I’m not positive it was the same girl (although how could it not be!) but someone with fire powers saved me the other day, but she was saying she didn’t want to be a hero and wasn’t sure what to do. If you’re reading this, Firebird, thank you so much for helping me out, and thank you for taking that extra step and helping the whole city!
-- D. Artherson, Seattle
I wish Firebird had never gone to that police station. This isn’t going to end well. All of a sudden, the truth about the Everymen is being spouted from all media angles – the truth that they’re a bunch of aristocratic, self-centered snobs, and they’re going to be pissed. And who are they going to take out their anger on? That’s right, everyone’s favorite little flaming pigeon.
-- N. Tucker,
From a personal blog, belonging to Seattle Against Superheroes founder Cklug.
Are you fucking serious.
Dec. 5, 2008, 6:18 P.M.
The one thing going for Seattle this whole time in the fight against superheroes was that we didn’t have any actual fucking powered ones. Yeah, so it made the whole fight between the Everymen and the Seven way unbalanced, but I think it helped people realize how goddamn stupid heroes are and how they’re the cause of all our problems regarding villains. Every single one of the Seven hates a specific Everymen (well, except Harkness, but he’s like the goddamn definition of ‘exception to the rule’), so it was unbelievably easy to draw a line of causation from the fact of the Everymen’s existence to the fact of all our problems with the Seven.
Plus, it didn’t hurt our cause that the Everymen are jerks, especially Mr. Tub o’ Rotten and Jackassery Lard himself, also known as Windwalker.
But now this Firebird pops up out of the blue? I mean, God damnit, this ruins everything. She’s cute, she’s young, she’s bubbly, she has a nice ass – I mean, what? No one’s going to hate Firebird. Instead, we’re going to have everyone jumping right back on the superhero bandwagon that up until now they were starting to realize wasn’t quite as good as they thought, didn’t really get that great of gas mileage, and even had a leak in the trunk where the rain got in.
Now everyone’s going to forget the FACT that heroes are assholes, that they all get corrupted by power, that spandex never really looks good on anyone, and instead just gush about how great and perfect and helpful and amazing this damn Firebird is.
I can’t wait until her powers crap out on her in the middle of a fight and she gets a broken arm.
I can’t wait until her ex-boyfriend or someone figures out who she is, and either, one, outs her to the media who promptly dig up all the crap they can and ruin her image or, two, goes insane and becomes the worst villain ever seen in the Sound.
I can’t wait until she cracks under the pressure of being the only powered hero in the area and either joins the Seven or just disappears and tries to go back to being “normal.”
This isn’t going to end well, boys and girls, and I can’t wait to be here when that happens.
~
Comments: 6
What the hell, cklug. Yeah, she’s a hero and that’s shittastic on all degrees, but we don’t know anything about her and you already want her to die? Tht’s cold.
Posted by The Jster at 7:48 P.M. on Dec. 5, 2008
Lol where’d your sandy vay-jay-jay come from, Jster. I think this is hilarious, did you see her orange outfit. So awful and ugly. And way too obvious in the dark. She gon get TAZED.
Posted by xxxNeXtSeVeNxxx at 8:12 P.M. on Dec. 5, 2008
I kind of think it’s cool, I guess. Yeah, the Everymen are jerks, but maybe this girl won’t be. And if we’re honest, we’re really not “Seattle Against Superheroes” – we’re “Seattle Against the Everymen.”
Posted by Darling at 8:13 P.M. on Dec. 5, 2008
Oh, and Next, you’re a dumbass.
Posted by Darling at 8:14 P.M. on Dec. 5, 2008
I’m going to reserve all comments until we see this Firebird in action.
Posted by DocKHcool at 9:27 P.M. on Dec. 5, 2008
NO your a dumbass, Darling
Posted by xxxNeXtSeVeNxxx at 9:55 P.M. on Dec. 5, 200
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---
Lore groaned, pushing herself out of the mud for the fiftieth time that morning. “I hate you.”
Jack tried to cover his grin with one mittened hand, turning away from the dirt streaked girl. “No you don’t.”
“Yes. I do,” she said with emphasis, trying to brush the clotted mud off of her jeans. “This sucks so much.” She was standing barefoot in an Auburn area muddy field riddled with cow pies at three o’clock in the morning and she hated Jack with all her might.
They were practicing flying. Or, at least, Lore was practicing and Jack watched and offered completely unhelpful advice. After the first few wipe-outs, when Loretta actually listened to Jack and quickly landed face first in piles of dirt, grass and cow poop, she decided to almost completely ignore the man. Lore and Jack had decided earlier that week that this would be the best time and place to perfect her flying technique, since the city was too busy and filled with way too many potential hazards. But now Lore wasn’t sure that a few citizens getting burned wasn’t worth avoiding cow shit for the rest of her natural born life.
This wasn’t Lore’s first time this week terrifying the field mice and burning a few frozen crops in this field. Jack hadn’t accompanied her on all her way too early morning jaunts, though, since he usually was opening the Starbucks he worked at. Lore now felt pretty comfortable with “fire bolts,” as Jack called them, and some defensive measures, like walls of fire. She could light any part of her own body on fire, from her head on down, but she hadn’t tried a full body flame yet. That seemed a little too much like the Human Flame or whatever, from the Fantastic Four, and Lore was already too aware of the similarities between the two of them. But she had played around with creating shapes, like Jack had joked about, and while she wasn’t sure it was too clear what the creatures were, it was a start. If nothing else, a huge mass of fire was pretty scary, as evidenced by that mugger in the alley.
Now, though, they were practicing flying. Lore still wasn’t even convinced it would work, but Jack wouldn’t let her quit.
“Just… use your feet. Make them into little, you know, rockets.” Jack gestured awkwardly to his foot and made a blasting off sound. “Just raise off of the ground. Jump and then flame!”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she intoned, closing her eyes and trying desperately to ignore the grinning, bespectacled freak. “Plus, I’ve seen that Ironman documentary. That doesn’t work. I need to use my hands as well to balance or something. Like this.” She stood with her feet together, her arms straight down and her hands flexed perpendicular to her body.
Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Right, right. Do that.”
“I’ve been doing that. I keep on falling into this stupid, cold mud.”
Jack hid a crazy grin with a hand, chuckling. “I’m glad I came. Much more fun to watch this than sleep.”
“Oh, shut up.” Lore shot him a death glare, then closed her eyes and tried to focus again. The same amount of pressure coming out of her feet, slightly less on her hands, flames shooting straight down, controlled, steady… She felt herself rising a little over a foot off the ground and fought the instinct to wave her hands wildly to keep her balance. Instead, just a little bit of movement, keep her body stiff, careful, careful…
Lore opened her eyes slightly, peering down at the ground which was now a good three feet below her, the flames shooting out of her bare feet covering half the distance and flickering at the end. The fire was warming her feet while simultaneously drying the mud, resulting in cracks and pops as flakes of dirt fell off her feet and into the path of the fire. She had learned pretty quickly that while the fire didn’t burn her clothes, that meant it couldn’t burn through her shoes and the flames just stayed, sequestered in the rubber and cloth. It didn’t hurt, but it started to smell pretty quickly and, after a while, her shoes did indeed start to smoke. She had accidentally burned a dime size hole through some of her boots before even realizing that her feet were on fire.
Since then, she’d taken to going barefoot, even if it left her cold and uncomfortable, with mud squishing between her toes. She’d had to deal with Jack joking that she should go by Ape Girl or Fire Chimp, because of the bare foot factor, but other than that it seemed like the best option.
Once Lore felt pretty steady in the air, she risked a glance at Jack, who was grinning widely at her, the reflection of her self made rocket flames dancing in the lenses of his glasses. She shot him a quick grin in response, then tried flexing her feet and adjusting her hand position slightly. That small movement shot her into the air another five feet, leaving her way above Jack and their bags. Lore whooped with surprise, spun around and went higher into the air. She didn’t let herself go too high, afraid of losing her balance or suddenly having her flames die out – that had happened yet, but Lore always had the fear in the back of her mind that her fire was only a limited amount, maybe tied to her energy or something, and she didn’t want to be thirty feet in the air when she suddenly got cold feet.
Lore let down on the pressure of the flames, bringing herself to a gentle hover some twenty feet up, and then tried to gradually change the power from her hands to her feet, and moved into a lying down position, holding her arms out in front of her. Using only her feet to propel her through the air was much easier, Lore learned quickly, leading to quicker speeds and fast turns – maybe too fast, judging from the almost panicked sounding shouts from down below. So maybe she’d have to lift off like a helicopter, straight up, and then she could go horizontal, leaving her hands and arms free. That could be really useful, especially if she was ever involved in any air combat – or even if she just wanted to swoop down on an unsuspecting baddie.
Speaking of swooping – Lore suddenly changed direction and aimed for Jack, coming down on him full speed. In the misty dawn of the morning, he was more like a solid blobby presence than an actual person, giving Lore the impression of a thick, blue-ish stick propped up in the middle of the field. Not until she got close – five, ten feet away – could she see Jack’s worried expression, his mouth wide and his eyes tense.
“Loretta!” Jack finally shouted a few moments after Lore sped past him, just a few inches away, and then landed two feet behind him, carefully coming down using her hands as stabilizers.
“Yes?” Lore replied innocently, grimacing at the feeling of the mud under her feet again.
“That was – that was – that was kind of awesome,” Jack stuttered, running a hand through his wind blown hair and turning to face Lore. “But you – you should be more careful, you just figured out how to fly, you shouldn’t already be attacking innocent citizens!”
Lore laughed, punching Jack lightly in the arm. “You’re anything but innocent.”
“Yeah, yeah. So you feel more comfortable with all that?” He gestured up in the air.
Lore grinned. “Yeah. I was already thinking about how I’ll be able to use it. Like, of course just moving around and being awesome, but I can also, you know, attack from the air like I just did with you, and once I get going, I have my hands free so I can do some bolts and stuff.”
“Sounds great.” Jack smiled at Lore, folding his arms over his chest again.
Lore nodded absently, looking out over the field. The sun was getting ready to come up, and the false dawn was lighting the Auburn field enough that they would have to leave pretty soon; even if no farmers would be coming out this time of year to work on the fields, commuters would start to come by on the roads and might be a little suspicious if they saw random bursts of fire flying around the field.
As Jack and Lore packed up their stuff and started slogging back to Jack’s little blue car parked on the road, Lore mused on how quickly things had changed. For so long they had been against superheroes, but now they were training, well, she was training, and it all seemed a little surreal. Like it was a game, or like all their work before had been a game. She wanted to make it real, but she wasn’t sure how.
---
Five bolts of fire in quick succession knocked down a series of already charred soda cans, creating a loud, echoing clatter in the concrete floored and walled laundry room. Lore winced at the sound and grimaced at her aim.
“That one sucked. I’m getting too tired,” she moaned.
She and Jack were now in Lore’s apartment building’s laundry room, having locked the door and put up a “Maintenance” sign. So far they hadn’t been bothered at all, and she hoped it would stay that way. It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, anyway, a day Lore’s boss wasn’t going to be in, a day Lore skipped out on in order to make this appointment. She and Jack figured it would be the best time to get the room empty and remain unnoticed, and it’s not like they had an abundance of empty warehouses, like most heroes seemed to stumble upon when developing their powers. Any warehouses in Seattle were either being used or probably owned by the Seven.
Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Jack shaking his head. “Nah, that was good. You got all but one of the cans down, after all. And since they were all clustered together, it’s not like you would’ve missed an actual person.” He walked over to where the cans lay and kicked them gently before leaning down to tap the metal with his fingers quickly. “Damn, still hot.” He waited and looked back at Lore. “Why not try some other forms of, uh, bolts or whatever?”
Lore shrugged and nodded. “Okay.”
They spent the next few hours working on small bolts blasting out of her hands, rays of swerving fire overtaking and wrapping a laundry basket standing in for a villain, and even some fire appearing from somewhere other than herself. That was the toughest to perfect, as Lore felt almost natural when she called fire into being on herself. Any time the fire was covering her actual body or blasting out of her hands, it was almost easy now. Bringing flames into existence anywhere else, though, was almost impossible for a while. She felt the flames being pulled toward her, and it was difficult trying to convince them to stay away, to pelt down in a rain of fire or to just appear wrapped around some other figure and burn them immediately.
By the time they heard the first rumblings of people noticing the maintenance sign and turning away unhappily, Lore had blasted three dozen soda cans beyond all recognition and felt relatively comfortable with fire bolts of all size and intensity, more shield walls of varying size, and thought her fire lion – Jack had insisted – didn’t look too shabby, either. More like a meteorite than Mufasa, but Lore was happy with it.
---
Standing in front of the mirror, Lore wasn’t sure what to think. Jack was waiting in her living room, probably very impatiently, but Lore took her time. She stared at her reflection, swallowed, and smoothed down the material. They had ended up ordering more of it than Jack had wanted to, because making a workable superhero outfit was a lot harder than either of them had expected. Mostly it had just been because Jack’s sewing machine couldn’t handle the leather or even the lycra.
The outfit was simple, which had been Lore’s main contention. A full body dark orange lycra body suit, from her neck down to her ankles and across to her wrists, with faint yellow stitching outlining a vague flame design on the arms and legs, was the start of it and made Lore eternally thankful for two things: one, that she went to the gym on occasion and, two, that the other gear she was wearing hid most of the stretchy, clingy material. Most of the gear they had ordered from Neuno Wear was the same dark red, which Jack assured her looked fine next to the orange. Wrist guards, shin guards, and even a simple mask. Jack had also tried to convince Lore to leave off the cape, as they weren’t commonly worn by heroes or villains these days, but Lore couldn’t get the image of flying through the air, flames boosting her up, and a cape rippling in the wind. So they had gone with a yellow satin-y cape with the same flame stitching design and the red material inside. Lore’s chest was covered in a light armor, something a little heavier than the normal Tev-Lite, but more wearable than the Tough-Lar the Neuno Wear salesman had tried to push on her. And embroidered on the armor was, again, the small flame motif that defined her superhero personality, this time with additional small wings on either side of the burst of flame, because of the name she had eventually selected.
So, there she was in the mirror. Brown hair pulled back in a simple braid except for the uncontrollable wisps still floating around her face. Dark red mask covering her eyes and nose. She bit her lip, then rubbed at her teeth with one bare hand when the lipstick she was wearing marked them up. From the neck down, then, it was the orange lycra, the already slightly rippling cape, the protective gear, and bare feet. She still didn’t like having to have bare feet, not during the cold Seattle winter, but since she could easily warm herself up and there wasn’t any real other alternative, she had acquiesced and decided to put up with it.
Adjusting the mask one last time and burning away the damp on her palms with a quick burst of fire, Lore turned definitively away from the mirror and out to see what Jack thought.
---
“I’m here to register. As a hero.” Lore was proud of herself for keeping her voice from shaking as she stood at the front counter of the North Precinct Seattle Police Department station. She had gotten weird looks the whole time on the bus, even though she was wearing her long coat that hid most of the costume, but her red shin guards were still visible over the sneakers she had pulled on, and of course the mask was pretty obvious. Most people had probably figured Lore was going to a party, though. In the middle of the day. Whatever.
The police officer nodded, vaguely glancing up at Lore. Not an ounce of surprise registered on her drawn face when she saw Lore standing there in a red mask and cape. “Alright, just a moment, just be patient.” She looked back at the computer screen that had previously held all her attention, tapped for another minute or so on the dirty keyboard in front of it, and then turned away from Lore to riffle through some papers. Once the officer turned around, she was holding a clipboard and wearing reading glasses balanced on her thin nose.
“Right, then. Name?”
Lore blinked, fiddling with one wrist guard with the other hand. “Excuse me?”
“Superhero name, ma’am?”
Hunching a bit, Lore responded quickly, “Sorry, I thought you meant – um. It’s Firebird. Firebird.”
The officer pursed her lips. “Firebird, huh? One word or two.” She looked Lore over more obviously, supposedly noting the little winged flame design on Lore’s chest armor piece.
“One,” Lore replied, glancing around the front of the station, trying to quell the anxiety rushing through her. This was going to be so hard.
“Right,” the officer droned, and scratched the alias in. “Kinda close to Phoenix, don’t you think? Hope you’re not just a little pyromaniac looking to legalize your fire starting, missy.” Her gray eyes focused sharply on Lore.
Shaking her head quickly, Lore said, “No, no. Yeah, I know it’s kinda close to Jean Gray, to the Phoenix, but I. I liked it.” She shrugged. It had been Jack’s idea, and since Lore had found she liked flying more than she ever would have guessed, it made sense. Also making birds shaped out of fire was much easier than lions.
“Uh-huh. And where are you planning on patrolling?”
“Green Lake. I, uh, I don’t know of many other heroes, if any, that focus on it.” Plus it was close to home, but even if later deductions were made that Lore, or Firebird, or whatever, lived in the neighborhood, Lore had already decided she wasn’t going to volunteer such information.
“Great. And what do you do?”
When Lore didn’t answer, mostly because this was the moment of truth and she wasn’t sure how to go about announcing her powers, the officer looked dryly up at Lore and sighed. “What do you do, Firebird?” The name curled out of her mouth in a sarcastic tone. She set the clipboard on the counter in front of Lore, and Lore’s gaze was immediately drawn to it. Her name, or rather alias, then the area, a brief description of the costume, and a few check boxes, already filled out. Female, yes, that was right of course, and the officer had put her in the right age group, but she had also –
“That’s not right,” Lore said, pointing down at the box marked “No” in the Powers question.
The officer looked down at where Lore was pointing, then slowly back up at Lore. “What?” Her tone was disbelieving. “You don’t have powers.”
Lore licked her lips and nodded. “Actually, I do. I can create and control fire. That’s where, um, the fire part of the name comes in, you see.”
The officer inclined her head. She wasn’t half as impressed as Lore had been expecting. “You mean with matches and stuff? Honey, that isn’t a power. That’s just plain old manipulation.”
Lore shook her head and narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t really expected such blatant disbelief. “No, see. I make it.” She held out one hand, palm up, and pulled a burst of flame into existence right at the center.
Eyes widening, the officer took a step back, even though the counter top still separated them, and Lore wasn’t really reaching out with the fire or anything. “Girl, are you telling me that you – just – you have powers?”
Yeah, that was more the reaction Lore had been expecting. She shrugged and nodded, closing her hand into a fist and extinguishing the flame.
“Holy shit.” The officer stared at her for a few more moments, leading to Lore fidgeting awkwardly and glancing away. No one else was in the front room, but soon enough the officer called out, “Chief? Can you come here?”
Then Lore sighed. She would probably be here for a while.
Lore had just plopped down on the couch, having left her raincoat and boots in a wet pile by the door, when her cell phone rang. Lore sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and flopping her head on the sofa’s back cushion, then pushed herself back and found the phone amidst the clutter of her purse.
“Hello?”
“Are you coming over for dinner?” It was Jack.
“Oh, wait. Is it Thursday? Already?” Lore bent to look into her kitchen from the front hallway, squinting and peering at the calendar. “Dude, great. I need to talk to you. I’ll be over right away.”
“Talk to me? About wh –“ Lore cut him off with a snap of the phone, shoving the little flip phone in her pocket and stepping back into her rain boots. This conversation would have to happen sooner or later – the whole “you were right, I’m going to try being a hero, by the way, I saved someone today” thing, and Lore would rather she at least start it, instead of her friend finding out some other way. Like, you know, seeing her on the front page of the paper.
Trotting downstairs and then across the street to Jack’s building, Lore managed to avoid all the cars and most of the puddles, suffering only one severely wet pants leg by the time she knocked on his door. Jack’s building was about as nice as Lore’s, although her pipes squeaked and his lights tended to go out with the smallest burst of wind. Loretta also had access to free laundry machines, so Jack pretty commonly came across the street to her brick building to get his laundry done. The landlord had given Lore a few stern looks about it, but she had never gotten in any actual trouble.
Jack took his time opening the door, but Lore felt satisfied with the revenge she enacted for that, by leaving a good sized puddle in the hallway. Finally, he pulled the door open and smiled at her from behind a face of smudged flour. Thursdays were always Jack’s day off work, and he liked to cook so he usually made quite a feast for the two of them. Tuesdays were when Lore repaid the favor – a tradition that was scheduled to start up again the next week – but her meals were never as impressive as Jack’s.
“Jeez, what’re you making today? Smells awesome.” Lore stepped right into his apartment and out of her boots.
“I was lazy, so just, uh, some pasta and bread.” Jack shrugged, grimacing at the mess of puddle water Lore had left just outside his door. “Thanks for that.” He jerked a thumb in its direction then closed the door on the puddle.
“No problem!” Lore chirped and hung up her coat on the rickety, wooden coat stand Jack had gotten at a flea market a few years back.
Jack ducked past Loretta and went back to the kitchen. He immediately went back to stirring a pot and glanced over his shoulder. “So, you wanted to talk to me?”
Lore followed the man, noting with thoughtful eyes how tense he seemed, like he had no idea what Lore would want to talk about – and, well, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t guess this – but like it would almost certainly be bad. She had a few suddenly flashes of possibilities go through her mind, and Lore realized that Jack might think she was “breaking up with him,” at least as far as friends could, like maybe for the better of his relationship with Jen. She blinked at the thought, frowning and pushing herself up to sit on the kitchen table.
“I decided to do it.”
“Do what?” His voice was overly casual.
“Try this whole… hero business, I guess.”
Jack had been bent over the pot on the stove, tasting some of the pasta sauce with a tentative tongue. He froze, his back stiffening, and then he carefully put the spoon on the counter and turned to look at Lore. “What? Seriously? Why?” His brown eyes were wide and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Well. I kind of accidentally did it already. And the woman I saved, from a mugger, you know, she kind of… well, she basically said everything you’ve been saying, but hearing it from another, a random person. It kind of hammered it in more.” Lore shrugged, suddenly feeling her steam pour out of her like the bubbles of the boiling pot of pasta on the oven a few feet away. It was weird explaining stuff like this.
Jack shook his head in disbelief, smiling crookedly. “What, so you trust the opinion of some random chick more than me? Thanks, Loretta.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” she said, grinning up at him, thankful for Jack’s cool demeanor in any situation. “I just… I didn’t even think about it, but this jerk was trying to take her purse, and I just walked down the alley way and was like – foom!” To illustrate her point, Lore held out her hands and suddenly they were engulfed in flame.
As if involuntarily, Jack stepped back so that he gently hit the countertop. “Whoa! Warn a guy before you do that whole flame-y thing. A guy’s got fire alarms, you know.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She placed her hands on her lap, fiddling with the hem of her shirt absently as the flames died down. (Again, a small scientific voice in her noted, the flames weren’t burning her clothes. That’ll be good to know, and maybe even better to completely understand later.)
Jack scratched his cheek, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Well. Alright, so there’s that. You’re going to be a superhero.” His tone was calm and accepting.
Lore nodded, pursing her lips. “This is absurd.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
After a few strange moments of staring at each other, Jack turned back to the stove and started gently stirring his pasta sauce again. “So, you better get registered.”
“Yeah. You know, the SAS boards are going to hate me.”
“What? Well, it’s not like you can tell them who are you. So they’re not going to hate you.”
“They’re going to hate the hero me.” Lore looked around Jack’s kitchen moodily. The walls were bare except for a few posters that supposedly hadn’t fit into his small living room or smaller bedroom. The fridge was an ugly olive green and decorated with some obnoxious year round Christmas magnets his mom had given him one year.
Jack shrugged. “You could always become a villain to avoid that problem.”
“Aw, shut up.” Lore grinned easily. “Do you think I should get registered right away?”
Lore could only see a little less than half of Jack’s face, but he scrunched up his nose and then, with the back of his hand, pushed up his glasses when they slid down his nose because of the action. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I was thinking. If I’m the first powered hero to register in the area, there’s going to be… I mean, it’s going to be a big deal.”
“Yeah.”
“So shouldn’t I be prepared to be a big deal? Right away?” Lore felt unsure about this herself, but she had thought about it on the way home and while she wasn’t sure quite what she meant by all of this, Jack’s opinion on the matter would, well, matter.
“You mean… have a costume and stuff?” Jack glanced over his shoulder again at Lore. A smudge of pasta sauce was on his cheek now.
“Yeah, but also a name, of course, and maybe a better handle on my powers. Like… you mentioned flying.”
Jack abandoned the pasta sauce again, a grin nearly splitting his face. “Yeah! I think you could do it, definitely. And you could also practice fire bolts or something, maybe like area of effect stuff, and --”
“You’ve been reading up on fire spells from your Dungeons and Dragons book, haven’t you?” Lore tilted her head to the side, her smile fond.
“Hey, there’s some good ideas there! And, no, some of this came from World of Warcraft,” he said defensively.
Lore waved a dismissive hand, trying not to smile too widely at his rampant dorkiness. “I don’t know what to call myself. That’s going to be the most important part.”
Jack shook his pasta sauce covered spoon at her, resulting in more than one gobbet of tomato landing on Lore. “No, no. The most important part is going to be your costume. I can make it.”
“Jack, I’m not your drapes.” Jack had famously made his own drapes last year; they hadn’t turned out badly, but Loretta never ceased to be amused by Jack’s hidden domestic side.
“Hey. Where else are you going to get one? Value Village? I don’t think so. It shouldn’t be that tough. I have some ideas already.”
Loretta gave him a look. “I really hope you’re not implying that you’ve thought overly long on the subject of me in plastic.”
Jack chuckled easily, turning back to his pasta. “Nah. But, still. This’ll be good.”
Swinging her legs, Lore smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I think it will be.”
Watching Jack finish up the dinner, pulling the garlic bread out of the oven and spooning pasta sauce over the slightly al dente fettuccine, Lore thought about how quickly things changed. Just a month or so ago, her life was quiet, except for the occasional threat by the police or angry citizens when Jack and her went out to protest superheroes in the city. She had been average, normal, ordinary, and not only had Loretta been very aware of that, she had loved it. Now, suddenly, she had these blasted fire powers, and her best friend was pushing her to become the Superman of Seattle. Was this all supposed to happen? Was all her life, up to this point, just a precursor to this? She filled their glasses with tap water, and soon found her thoughts distracted by the food.
It was the first snow – first slush, really – and traffic was horrible the next week. The bus was moving along the Seattle streets so slowly, in fact, that Lore got off five stops early and decided to slog her own way home in her rubber boots, rather than sit for another forty five minutes in the stinky, rusty bus with the steamed-up windows and unhappy, wool-wrapped citizens. It was serendipitous, in a way, because otherwise she would have never seen the woman getting mugged down the alley.
She had been walking with her face down, burying her nose in the new knitted scarf her dad had made for her over the weekend, almost grateful for the fire power as she made very small, almost miniscule balls of warmth deep within each pocket of her coat, dancing the flames along her fingers and warming them up. Lore turned down a street that was empty except for a few cars sludging along; she had stayed late at the office in a vain effort to catch up on the filing she was supposed to have done the week she was in the hospital, and so she wasn’t seeing many other people out here. Everyone who could was probably bundled up in their condos or apartments or townhouses, and Lore stamped her feet in puddles in an effort to join the warm, huddled masses as quickly as she could.
Lore wasn’t moving too quick not to notice the woman fighting off the man down the alleyway, though, and she froze, staring down the length of the side street, her scarf falling down to reveal her wide mouth. Loretta had lived in the city almost three years, but she had never been molested in any way and definitely hadn’t witnessed anything.
She stared down the alley, frozen with fear and shock and worry.
The woman screamed suddenly, and Lore was shoved out of her stupor and, without thinking, she stomped down the alley toward the couple, her thoughts racing as she yelled.
“Hey! Hey, you, leave her alone! Get!”
She wasn’t really sure what she was doing, but Lore knew deep in her hindbrain that she couldn’t just walk away from this woman and live with herself. “Get away from her!”
The mugger turned on Lore, holding out a six inch long blade, his face an ugly sneer. Lore stopped short, six or so feet away from them, and the woman met Lore’s gaze, her eyes both thankful and terrified. The woman shook her head slightly, her long blond hair wet and sticking to her cheeks.
“What do you want, girlie? Wanna give me your purse, too? Drop it on the ground and run,” the mugger growled, shaking his knife at Lore. His eyes were unfocused, but his glare was mean.
Ducking her head for a moment, catching the scarf again on her nose and pulling it up so as to cover the lower half of her face – too late now, really, but Lore wasn’t thinking very clearly, if she was thinking at all – and yanked her hands out of her coat pockets, both of them now wreathed in flames.
She absently wondered how it was that the flames not only didn’t burn her, but managed not to even singe her coat – must be some sort of psychic instinct on her side, controlling the fire, she thought wildly – but mostly she was focused on just how to attack the mugger enough to get him to leave without hurting him too much. It’s not like he was a villain, just a creep.
Lore took another step toward him, fisting her hands and making the flames dance higher. “Leave her alone,” she said again.
The mugger gave a strangled yell and dropped the knife, trying to move away, backwards, tripping over his own feet in an appropriately satisfyingly cliché move. “No, no, sorry, I won’t, I’ll leave, don’t roast me!” His voice was still deep and rough, but his hands shook and he knocked over a trash can in his shambling efforts to get away from Lore.
Loretta watched the mugger run away down the alley, turning out of her sight, and found her heart racing and her breath quick. She was still holding her fists out, her arms bent as if she was ready to punch someone. Slowly and self-consciously, she lowered her arms and straightened her legs, and only then glanced at the blonde woman.
“Whoa,” the woman said, a few strands of her long hair in her mouth, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Whoa,” she repeated.
Lore looked away, the reality of what she just did hitting her like a fall from a tenth story window. “Uh,” she tried to speak, then swallowed, and pointed down at the handbag which the mugger had dropped. “There’s your purse. Better pick it up before it, um. Before the rain stains the leather.” The bag had been dropped perilously close to a puddle of slushy rain.
The woman nodded and moved to pick up the purse by its strap without taking her eyes off of Lore. Lore managed to look up and meet the woman’s eyes, even more grateful for the red scarf covering most of her face; she thought maybe she finally understood why heroes and villains wore masks – so they could hide from looks like these, this stupidly admiring, uncomprehending look of awe.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, stepping closer to Lore.
“I’m, I’m no one!” Lore protested, taking an equal step back and holding hands out in a weak effort to block the woman and keep her away. Lore was suddenly reminded of all the stories she had scoffed at in her life about heroes being swarmed by admiring masses, especially of the female persuasion, and how much they disliked it. While before she considered Spiderman a whiny brat who should’ve appreciated all the attention and not complained so, Lore wondered if she hadn’t completely misunderstood those articles.
“No, you – you have a power, and you’re not a villain, are you? Holy shit, you’re a powered hero,” the woman said, covering her open mouth with gloved hands. “Whoa.”
Lore looked away again, unable to really take in the woman’s admiration. At the same time, though, she started to feel pretty good about what had just happened. She hadn’t hurt anyone, she herself hadn’t gotten hurt – and she had saved this woman! Lore saved her or, at least, her purse. No one else could’ve done that. No one else had been here to do it. She had not even really had to do anything, just light her hands on fire and watch the mugger run away. She could do this, it’d be easy, it’d be good, it’d be the right thing to do –
No! Lore bit her lip to keep the word from exploding out accidentally, and she started to back away from the woman at a quicker pace. “I gotta go, you should get out of here,” Lore said quickly, shaking her head.
“Wait! What’s your name? What do you go by?” The woman, holding her purse to her chest, followed Lore. When they got out to the street proper, with the streetlights shining on through the wet sky, Lore realized the woman was older than her by a good ten years, and it was even weirder seeing an older woman look so admiring and awestruck.
Lore shook her head, burying her hands back in the pockets of her heavy coat. “Nothing. I don’t go by anything. I’m not a hero.”
The woman frowned, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Yes, you are. You just saved me. That man was insane – he – I really thought I might have died.” She reached out and grabbed Lore’s forearm with a firm grip before Lore could twitch away. “You didn’t even hesitate, you just saved me. That’s important, even if you don’t think so, and that’s heroic. Thank you.”
Lore swallowed. The woman seemed more reasonable now, now just dumb with hero worship, and it made Lore actually feel – pretty okay about what just happened. She shivered and, without thinking, pulled little sparks of fire out into the palms of her hands to warm her up again. “I don’t want to be a hero,” she said, looking the woman in the eye. They were about the same height, although only because the woman was wearing heeled boots, since Lore was wearing her rubber rain boots.
“Well, too bad. You are one.” The woman smiled, tilting her head to the side. Her blond hair fell in front of her green eyes. “Thanks.”
Before Lore could protest again, she turned away and walked down the street, the opposite way that Lore was heading. Loretta turned and watched the woman make her away amidst the puddles and potholes, her thoughts churning. She had been scared, terrified, during the whole encounter, but it had felt so natural. It was so easy to just walk up and turn the fire on – she hadn’t hurt anyone, but she had saved that woman. Lore looked down at her feet, feeling the fire turning over her fingers in little sparks. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been meant to get these powers, but she had them now. And maybe she could do something with them. Maybe she could just help out here in Green Lake, scare off muggers and thieves and creeps and stalkers. She wouldn’t get involved anything big, definitely not, but… maybe she could help out her neighborhood.
Her thoughts roiling and bubbling in circles, Lore started to walk up the street again. Maybe she could just give it a try. Go out this weekend, see if there was even a need for her to be out there, and then see how things went.
A small part of her mind felt excited at the idea and she gave in and jumped in a few puddles on the way home. She’d be the first powered hero in the Puget Sound, like the woman had said. She’d show everyone that the Everymen were big jerks with over-inflated egos. She’d be normal, just like she was right now, but more so. She’d be herself, with powers, just like she was right now. And since it was just a test and not anything like something she felt called to, or like it was super important, she could quit anytime. Grinning to herself, Lore walked up to her apartment building and went inside.
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