5.10 Carcosa
7th of May, 2011
Dean had been overtaken by an immense and sudden urge to groan out loud – professionalism and PR guidelines be damned – as soon as Nightflyer showed up, in plain daylight, on the boardwalk, and apparently with the only goal to mess with Vicky.
Saying that his girlfriend's encounter with the young thief treating the Bay as her personal playground had left its mark on her psyche would be downplaying it something fierce, what with how Vicky had ranted on more than one occasion about her. Or not-so idly fantasized out loud about putting her behind bars. Or more simply wanting to throttle her for giving her the fear of her life by making her believe she'd nicked her artery.
And he didn't need to give his girlfriend a good look to know what she's feeling right about now as the – rather scantily clad – preteen cape walks back and forth the length of the railing while making chicken noises while flaunting her wings to further taunt her. He's perfectly aware that she's nearly apoplectic, mostly on account of the weight of her aura on his shoulders.
Now, if it was only Vicky present, the situation would be complex, but he's nearly certain that he'd be able to maneuver through and successfully diffuse the brewing tension. Except they aren't alone, far from it.
"Gallant, I swear on all that is holy, if you don't manage to make Glory Hole stand the fuck down, I will personally make your life a living hell," Insight hisses right in his ear via his communicator, and while he'd normally feel obligated to shoot back something cutting for the frankly disgusting moniker the Thinker used, the near panic in her voice makes him clamp down on his immediate reflex.
Because he is aware of the whispered comment and laughter at his back, of the continuous presence of the crowd surrounding them, and, beyond all that, of how tense Arachne is, concern, fretfulness, and anger diffusely wafting around the newest Ward in the corner of his eyes.
Really, Dean's only two saving graces are that the thief clearly isn't about to pick a fight if the bubbly colors he can see in her aura hints at what he's inclined to think are mirth and amusement, and that he can count on Vista not to screw the pooch, if the equal mix of readiness and focus swirling around her are anything to go by.
"Vicky," he hears himself say, "Drop the aura, please."
"What?" his girlfriend asks, a hint of disbelief in her voice, "Why would I–"
"It's clearly doing nothing to her," he answers in a low tone while letting go of her shoulder, earning himself a petulant scowl for his words – and a future chewing in private later, he'd bet money on it, "And we have orders not to provoke her unnecessarily, especially when there are civilians on the scene."
One hard look later, the aura of awe lifts off, and Vicky looks away with a huff and her arms crossed.
"What are you doing here, Nightflyer?" he asks as he takes a step forward, positioning himself as the face of his group.
The bird-like mask snaps in his direction at a speed that simply cannot be healthy for the cape's neck, the two lenses set deeply inside her mask glitching once again as they stop displaying a duo of red carets and returns to being two baleful red pools shining somewhat ominously.
"This little Nightflyer is merely saying hello," the thief answers somewhat enthusiastically as her wings snap back in what he assumes is a standby position, the sound of an entire armory worth of blades getting sheathed at once making him grit his teeth even as the preteen gives a little wave, the gesture instantly getting followed by a myriad of camera flashes, "She was trying her new super-duper suit and saw–" she takes a step to the left in an almost bird-like way atop the railing, "–something interesting. Plus, she–" she takes a couple of steps to the right, "–still had words for this meanie in particular!"
The accusatory finger jabbed in his girlfriend's direction almost wrench the groan he has been successfully repressing so far.
Of course, Vicky takes the bait, even as the thief keeps stepping alternatively left and right on her perch without rhymes or reasons.
"You have words for– Oh, that's rich!" the Brute hovers forward, only stopping when Dean blocks her path with his power armor clad arm, "You're the one who injured me while I was trying to apprehend you!"
"And this little Nightflyer got injured too!" the girl shoots back, arms crossed petulantly across her chest as her lenses glitches once again to display two narrow dots even as she keeps hopping right, left, jumping and flying to the right instead of merely stepping for once, "If you had simply ignored her, we both could have gone our respective ways that night!"
"Ignoring– You're a villain! I'm a hero! I can't just ignore–" Vicky sputters, before bulldozing on.
"Guys," Dean tunes out the childish argument as Vista's voice rings in his communicator, "We might have an issue."
"What is it, Vista?" Insight replies near-instantly, preempting him from asking.
"I can't lock her in. She's forcefully resetting my power," the Shaker pauses, before adding, "I don't know how, but she knows when I try to surround her, and she keeps countering me by stepping right inside my power's path."
Another pause, and it's only because Dean has been doing this for a long time that he manages not to gape like a fish even as the argument between thief and hero keeps heating up.
"Fuck," the Thinker swears at the other end of the line, "It's her suit. It allows her to see the boundaries of your Shaker effect. You won't be able to do anything meaningful to her unless she gets distracted if it somehow comes to blows."
"What about me? I could make her blind," Arachne enters the chat, her tone cold and resolute.
"Won't work. From what I'm getting, her sensor array is bordering on nonsensical, so powerful and versatile it is. I'd bet my right arm that she won't have any issue fighting 'blind'," comes the grumbled answer, and Dean can almost hear the quotation marks.
"What if I lock the entire zone?" Vista clips.
"Then you'll be locked inside that same zone with a combat Thinker who can turn all of you, Glory Girl included, into sashimi before you can cry uncle," Insight answers just as fast, "Please, don't."
"–theless, this little Nightflyer demands reparation!" Dean apparently manages to tune back into the conversation right as things seemingly come to a head, the thief now standing with her index pointed straight at his girlfriend and her free hand balled against her hip.
"The only reparation you'll get is me bashing your empty head in, you little–" Vicky growls, which really isn't the image she should be giving right about now.
"What do you have in mind, Nightflyer?" he forcefully interjects in a bid to take back the control of the conversation and gain some time.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjt-MffQysc&list=RDjjt-MffQysc&start_radio=1
"This little Nightflyer demands a race!" the deadly pipsqueak asks proudly in her toneless voice, nothing-to-see-here chest proudly jutting up as she crosses her arms, "A wager, to see to whom those skies truly belong!"
"Oh, you're on, you insufferable pipsqueak!" and of course, because nobody can have nice things in Brockton Bay, Dean's girlfriend instantly flies into action, launching herself at the thief–
–who merely, very lightly jumps as the blonde missile barrels her way, wings snapping fully open once again at her back, before angling herself just the right way–
"Ow!" Vicky yelps, right as the crowd explodes in laughter.
–to slap the Brute's rear in passing with a loud, meaty 'thud'.
"Tag! You're it!" the preteen cape chirps in her eerily flat tone before darting away with a flap of her wings.
"Vicky, wait!" Dean tries to stop his girlfriend from rising to the bait, but she's already gone by the time the first syllable leaves his lips.
First his hand comes down, then his head as the crowd starts truly getting into it, the two fliers already darting all over the seafront, with the thief apparently having zero issues staying in the lead.
"So, that was Vicky," he distantly hears Vista say to Arachne, "She means well, but she can be a little hot-blooded at times."
This time, Dean does groan out loud.
***
I let out a witch-like cackle as I dart away from the irate blonde, angling myself and the aerial game of tag away from the passers-by.
I mean, to me, it is undoubtedly an innocent game of tag. To Victoria Dallon? I honestly can't say. Seems I left an impression when we crossed paths last time, and she hasn't forgotten.
Mind, I didn't either, and she one hundred percent earned the humiliation I'm going to inflict on her for forcing me to wall-slide down Medhall's facade and busting my shoulder in passing.
Shame she can't go any faster, I muse to myself while slowing down just a little in the hope that she catches up somewhat, this isn't really a challenge.
"Come back here, you little shit!" the tiara-wearing cape snarls.
I snicker even as I brake in a loop-de-loop, managing to easily outmaneuver her, and landing feet first on her back.
"What–?!" she low-key balks under my feet.
"This little Nightflyer," I kick with both of my legs and all the strength I can muster, "Is asserting dominance!"
With the sound of shattering glass, the Brute's aura breaks.
Woah! I'm the one who's balking this time as I fly in the opposite direction we previously were going, guess all of my enhancements are starting to show some results. That would have hurt a normie pretty badly.
On the one hand, it means that I haven't been dosing myself with DAoT muscle enhancers, bolstering my Preyer constitution through daily rituals, and made my Naniteskin for nothing.
On the other hand, I probably should start being more careful than I usually am when hanging at the Barnes, because it'll only take one slip of focus for me to break something without meaning to.
A look over my shoulder quickly confirms that the local Alexandria package's recent brush with grievous injuries hasn't deterred her one lick, so it's probably time I take things to the next level.
I brake once again, my wings flaring at my back as they flap powerfully downward, and make an abrupt turn upward, going straight for the cloud cover for the second time of the day, not even blinking at the g's I'm supposed to struggle against.
Now that I think about it, I don't even know what my top speed is, I realize, I should probably test that further at sea though, if only for privacy's sake.
I mean, it's not like I mind terribly at giving the goody two-shoes a good look-see at my new suit, but it's another to give them an accurate idea of its specs. Though I kinda had to let the cat out of the bag about my utter groxshit sensor array since Missy kept trying to discreetly box me in.
I blink, then grin deviously under my mask right as I breach inside the cloud, stopping cold as soon as I'm hidden.
I think a certain Ward has earned herself a little prank, I silently cackle as I keep track of Victoria's approach, Emperor knows how far the stick up her ass is wedged.
I shake that line of thoughts away as my pursuer finally dives into the cloud–
–my hand blurs–
"Ow! Fuck!" comes the slightly muffled yelp.
–and I laugh, loudly, and very obnoxiously.
"You're so bad at this!" I taunt, before diving back down toward the city once again.
The scream of incoherent anger trailing behind me is music to my ears.
***
"Is it just me," Taylor hears herself ask aloud, "Or is Glory Girl–"
"Oh, she's losing," Gallant is the one who answers, something in his voice telling her that the usually collected older teen is thoroughly done with this, "And badly at that. I don't know how, but Nightflyer has her on both maneuverability and speed, and it's not even a contest."
She lets his words sink in as she watches the duo of fliers zip all over the sea in increasingly complicated stunts that invariably seem to end with the younger girl slapping the older blonde on the posterior.
"...Should we try to stop them?" she eventually asks.
"Well, if you find a way, be my guest," he grunts back, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw set, "But I'm not risking hitting either of those with my beams and worsening this mess even further."
"Honestly, let them get… whatever this is out of their respective system," Vista comments, her PR-approved smile now back on her face as she hands a child her autograph, "They're not hurting anybody beyond making a spectacle of themselves anyway."
Taylor finds herself somewhat disagreeing with the younger girl's point of view, a sentiment that only doubles as she sees Nightflyer somehow managing to kick Glory Girl downward and into the drink.
She blinks.
"Nightflyer's coming back!" she clips, gathering her swarm once more.
Then her apprehension worsens as she realizes something.
"She's getting faster," she yells anxiously, but to no avail.
An immense rush of air banishes most of her insects, forcing her to take a step back, and it's only because she's never without eyes that she sees what happens next.
One instant, the Bay's most prodigal thief darts amid the crowd, somehow managing not to hit anybody, the next, the girl stands next to a dumbfounded Vista.
"This little Nightflyer declares herself the rightful Queen of the Skies!" she exclaims, both hands punching skyward, "And as such, she claims her prize!"
Before Taylor or even Gallant can react, the thief swoops the Bay's mascot into her arms, to the loud protests of the latter.
"She shall bring the city's darling atop its tallest building, and blow soap bubbles with her!"
Taylor's jaw drops in bafflement right as the thief flies up, up, and away, to an entire array of not-so-much PR-approved swear words from Missy, her voice getting distant very rapidly.
She turns herself a little woodenly toward Gallant and a visibly drenched and scowling Victoria Dallon.
"Erh, what do we do now?" she asks, feeling completely lost.