Monday, July 6, 1:15 PM EDT
As she coasted through the top of her leap, Raye closed her eyes and savored the sensation of the sun on her skin, the wind in her long hair and the zero-gee stomach-drop that came with beginning the downward plunge. While the invulnerability was useful and the sword had always been just fucking cool, it was the jumping that she loved most -- the roller-coaster leap-and-drop never failed to cheer and excite her.
It helped, too, that she was in her favorite, original costume -- half medieval armor, half private school uniform, with its winged headdress and the big pointy epaulet-things that even Alistair didn't have a name (or an explanation) for. There was a familiar comfort in it that gave her the confidence that she could handle the latest life-altering weirdness that fate had thrown her way.
That she was also invulnerable to just about anything short of an artillery shell was also a comfort and a reassurance she needed.
She opened her eyes again and looked down at the landscape laid out below her.
To her left, a broad, slow river, deep blue with threads of muddy brown woven through it, lined with brilliant green trees and paralleled by a narrower thread of shining water that looked like a canal. On that side, she'd just passed a high-rise apartment building that seemed out of place among all the one- and two-story buildings that surrounded it.
To her right, a maze of squirming suburban streets was giving way to the regular gridwork of a slightly more urban area. The dividing line was a busy road, wider than a simple neighborhood street, that ran straight as an arrow for a mile more before curving around what looked like it might be a high school. It intersected almost directly beneath her with another arrow-straight street -- Easton Avenue, Bob murmured in the back of her head -- which she was doing her best to follow.
Immediately ahead of her, about where she anticipated she'd rebound, was a large park. Bands and stands of old, large trees bordered and defined great expanses of lawn, and ran alongside of a few narrow roads that wound their way through the green. One section held a baseball field and a gazebo, while a mansion stood at its furthest edge from her, overlooking the river.
Buccleuch Park and mansion, Bob footnoted in the back of her head. Your typical "rich guy leaves his estate to the city so everyone he'd locked out while alive can run around on his lawn after he dies" situation.
Raye giggled and looked further ahead. In the distance, maybe two or three leaps away, she spied the skyline of a modest city, with only a few buildings that one might call "skyscrapers". The most outstanding one -- though not the tallest -- was a structure of glass and purest white.
Her cape -- although she liked to think of it as a cloak, it was a cape, properly earned and bestowed -- fluttered as she hurtled toward the ground. Hm. Despite being a work day, there were more civilians in the park than she'd expected. She adjusted her trajectory in a manner that would have had a number of physicists working less than a mile away tearing out their hair had they seen it, and touched down lightly, knees bending and muscles coiling, a good ten feet from the nearest normal. Without a moment's hesitation she leapt again, leg muscles uncoiling explosively to propel her upwards into another graceful half-mile-long arc.
You know you're probably going to be all over the Internet before an hour's up, Bob chuckled.
Raye shrugged. "I'll cope. Between the news stories we've seen and your friends' posts in the Legendary forum, we know I'm far from the only 'immigrant' from Paragon in the last day." The rush of the wind past her mouth tore the words from her and threw them far away, but sound wasn't really needed for her to speak with him.
I'm just surprised you don't want to keep a low profile for a while, that's all.
"What good would it do? It's a safe bet that there are other players nearby, just from Rutgers by itself. Some of them are going to be villains. Better to announce that they're going to have some tough opposition before they try anything."
That's my girl. Straightforward, direct and proactive. Oh, and speaking of Rutgers, that's it below us now.
Raye looked down between her feet. The park had ended abruptly at the edge of another residential area, which itself gave way after only a couple blocks to an obvious college campus. At this end it was mostly modern-looking brick buildings, but further along she could see older structures of grey and dark red stone, in classic "collegiate gothic" style.
"Wow. You know, I was thinking of going to Rutgers when I graduated from AP Regional." Over the campus she reached the top of her arc and began the dizzying, thrilling plunge back down.
Inside she somehow sensed Bob was "nodding". Good choice. If it hadn't been a state university, Rutgers would probably have counted as part of the Ivy League.
Scanning ahead for her next landing/launching spot, she noticed something odd. "Hey, Bob? What're all those trucks doing in that parking lot, with the crowd around them?"
Oh, those are the grease trucks.
"Grease trucks?"
Another mental chuckle. Mobile food vendors that cater to the students. Surprisingly good food -- a couple times we've had friends over, the trucks've been the restaurant of choice for take-out dinner.
At the mention of food her stomach growled. Hungry, are you?
"Oh, yeah. We skipped lunch, remember?" Seized by a sudden impulse, Raye adjusted her trajectory and dumped some momentum. A moment later, she touched down lightly on top of one of the trucks.
Well, we were distracted. Did you remember to grab the cash I left out? You don't have any influence in this town yet to cadge free eats with.
"Well, duh, I'm not stupid, Bob."
Sorry.
"Don't worry about it." Realizing that dozens of students -- not just those around the trucks, but also another dozen or two at the nearby bus stop -- were staring at her, she hopped off the truck and nonchalantly tried to get in line, only to have everyone ahead of her back away. A few had their cellphones up and were obviously taking photos or video of her.
She blinked. That was an unusual reaction. Usually civilians didn't make much of a fuss over heroes.
In Paragon, maybe. You're in my world, though, where people aren't used to glowing girls with blazing golden stars for eyes dropping out of the sky.
"Oh." Raye bit her lip as she considered that, trying to imagine how she'd react if she'd never seen a super before. She looked up at the staring bystanders. "Um. I just want a sandwich, I don't want to cut in line."
No one moved back in line. Cringing a little, Raye glanced around at the wide eyes and staring faces, before hesitantly stepping up to the window of a truck proudly labelled "Mr. C's" in bright red on silver. "What can I get y... holy crap."
Raye winced. "Um, can I have a..." She glanced at the menu board affixed next to the window in the side of the truck.
The Fat Boy's good. A whole lunch in a sandwich, except for the drink.
She nodded. "...a Fat Boy and a can of Coke."
The proprietor of the truck stared at her for a couple seconds, then shook himself. "Fat Boy and Coke. Right." He burst into activity at the grill and fry bins that lined one entire side of the truck, even though he kept glancing over his shoulder at her.
Behind her, a sussuration of voices too low to distinguish individually flowed through the crowd. Raye tried her best to ignore it, but having so many people actually paying attention to her was making her a little nervous.
Finally, the proprietor set a brown paper bag and a familiar aluminum can before her. "That'll be $8.50."
Raye raised her arm and pressed the button on her vambrace that ejected Bob's money from where she'd stored it in her salvage space. Thumbing the bills, she located a ten, pulled it out, and passed it through the window. "Thanks!" she said with all the perkiness and bright smile she could manage under the circumstances. She dumped the change in the jar that had a ragged multicolor "TIPS" sign taped to it, took her lunch, and turned to go.
She got maybe eight feet away before the proprietor called out, "Miss! Um, Miss?"
She turned back, curious.
"Who are you?" he asked.
For the first time since touching down, Raye managed a broad, genuine smile. "I'm Magical Princess Evangelia, defender of Beauty, Love and Justice!" She threw him a boy scout-style salute, held it for a beat, then turned and launched herself into the air once more.
"When you said a whole lunch on a sandwich, I didn't think you meant literally!" Raye growled as she studied what was left of her Fat Boy. "Who puts french fries and mozzarella sticks in a sandwich?"
The Rutgers grease trucks, that's who.
"And ketchup, and marinara, and... geeze! I'm going to have to transform to get these stains out of my costume, you know?"
Big deal. Seven words and 30 seconds. I ache for you.
Raye just blew a raspberry before taking another bite of the horribly mutated cheesesteak she'd been duped into buying. She held it up and examined it again. Mutant, yeah. "This thing is the Aberrant Eremite of sandwiches," she declared. "The Rikti are mutating sandwiches to turn them into devastating shock troops that will invade restaurants all over the city."
There was a long silence inside her head.
Finally Bob said, And I thought I could be silly.
Raye giggled.
So, how do you like the view?
She drew a deep breath. "It's pretty, the river and the bridge and the parks and, well, everything. I'm not quite used to so many cars, but yeah." She was sitting crosslegged at the edge of the roof of the white tower she'd spotted earlier. The Johnson & Johnson corporate headquarters, Bob had said.
And the world in general?
Raye considered that for a while. "I'm going to have to get used to a world that needs to get used to me. There are so many heroes in Paragon City that we're almost anonymous, you know? The folks on the street don't even really look up most of the time when you go through. Oh, one of them might wave or say hi once in a while, and you'll occasionally hear a couple of them talking about you, but... we don't surprise anyone." She reached for her Coke and took a swig. "Or scare them."
They need to get used to the idea of you. It'll come.
Taking a final bite of her sandwich, she chewed slowly while thinking about that. Swallowing, she said, "I hope you're right. 'Cause them being afraid is real freaky."
You'll just have to show them that you mean them no harm.
She nodded to herself. "You know, you're almost as good at the advising thing as Alistair," she said as she crumpled up the wrapping and napkins from her lunch and wadded them up in the brown paper bag. Then she swallowed the last mouthful of Coke and stood, crushing the can absently in one hand and adding it to the bag.
That's high praise, considering I don't have a teenaged daughter to have practiced on.
"Well, you've got one now," Raye grinned.
No, I have a niece, Niece.
"Details, details." Pushing the bag into her salvage space, Raye stepped forward again until she stood on the very edge of the roof. With a flourish she summoned her sword, holding it up and studying it. It was the third sword she'd had in her career as a hero, the weirdly futuro-Roman weapon she'd taken off the battered body of Nictus-Romulus: steel blued to a hue that matched her costume, with gold filigree and decorations running the length of the blade.
She brandished it once, then twice, then held it out so that it pointed southeast, downstream along the river toward the ocean. "I am Magical Princess Evangelia," she declared, and magic entered her voice to send it echoing across the city. She swept the sword sideways to encompass all of New Brunswick, ending with it pointed up the river to the northwest. "And I declare this city under my protection!"
When her voice finished reverberating off the buildings below her and faded into the normal noises of the day's activity, Raye smiled to herself. "Well, you think that'll do it?"
I think it's a good start, Bob replied.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
As she coasted through the top of her leap, Raye closed her eyes and savored the sensation of the sun on her skin, the wind in her long hair and the zero-gee stomach-drop that came with beginning the downward plunge. While the invulnerability was useful and the sword had always been just fucking cool, it was the jumping that she loved most -- the roller-coaster leap-and-drop never failed to cheer and excite her.
It helped, too, that she was in her favorite, original costume -- half medieval armor, half private school uniform, with its winged headdress and the big pointy epaulet-things that even Alistair didn't have a name (or an explanation) for. There was a familiar comfort in it that gave her the confidence that she could handle the latest life-altering weirdness that fate had thrown her way.
That she was also invulnerable to just about anything short of an artillery shell was also a comfort and a reassurance she needed.
She opened her eyes again and looked down at the landscape laid out below her.
To her left, a broad, slow river, deep blue with threads of muddy brown woven through it, lined with brilliant green trees and paralleled by a narrower thread of shining water that looked like a canal. On that side, she'd just passed a high-rise apartment building that seemed out of place among all the one- and two-story buildings that surrounded it.
To her right, a maze of squirming suburban streets was giving way to the regular gridwork of a slightly more urban area. The dividing line was a busy road, wider than a simple neighborhood street, that ran straight as an arrow for a mile more before curving around what looked like it might be a high school. It intersected almost directly beneath her with another arrow-straight street -- Easton Avenue, Bob murmured in the back of her head -- which she was doing her best to follow.
Immediately ahead of her, about where she anticipated she'd rebound, was a large park. Bands and stands of old, large trees bordered and defined great expanses of lawn, and ran alongside of a few narrow roads that wound their way through the green. One section held a baseball field and a gazebo, while a mansion stood at its furthest edge from her, overlooking the river.
Buccleuch Park and mansion, Bob footnoted in the back of her head. Your typical "rich guy leaves his estate to the city so everyone he'd locked out while alive can run around on his lawn after he dies" situation.
Raye giggled and looked further ahead. In the distance, maybe two or three leaps away, she spied the skyline of a modest city, with only a few buildings that one might call "skyscrapers". The most outstanding one -- though not the tallest -- was a structure of glass and purest white.
Her cape -- although she liked to think of it as a cloak, it was a cape, properly earned and bestowed -- fluttered as she hurtled toward the ground. Hm. Despite being a work day, there were more civilians in the park than she'd expected. She adjusted her trajectory in a manner that would have had a number of physicists working less than a mile away tearing out their hair had they seen it, and touched down lightly, knees bending and muscles coiling, a good ten feet from the nearest normal. Without a moment's hesitation she leapt again, leg muscles uncoiling explosively to propel her upwards into another graceful half-mile-long arc.
You know you're probably going to be all over the Internet before an hour's up, Bob chuckled.
Raye shrugged. "I'll cope. Between the news stories we've seen and your friends' posts in the Legendary forum, we know I'm far from the only 'immigrant' from Paragon in the last day." The rush of the wind past her mouth tore the words from her and threw them far away, but sound wasn't really needed for her to speak with him.
I'm just surprised you don't want to keep a low profile for a while, that's all.
"What good would it do? It's a safe bet that there are other players nearby, just from Rutgers by itself. Some of them are going to be villains. Better to announce that they're going to have some tough opposition before they try anything."
That's my girl. Straightforward, direct and proactive. Oh, and speaking of Rutgers, that's it below us now.
Raye looked down between her feet. The park had ended abruptly at the edge of another residential area, which itself gave way after only a couple blocks to an obvious college campus. At this end it was mostly modern-looking brick buildings, but further along she could see older structures of grey and dark red stone, in classic "collegiate gothic" style.
"Wow. You know, I was thinking of going to Rutgers when I graduated from AP Regional." Over the campus she reached the top of her arc and began the dizzying, thrilling plunge back down.
Inside she somehow sensed Bob was "nodding". Good choice. If it hadn't been a state university, Rutgers would probably have counted as part of the Ivy League.
Scanning ahead for her next landing/launching spot, she noticed something odd. "Hey, Bob? What're all those trucks doing in that parking lot, with the crowd around them?"
Oh, those are the grease trucks.
"Grease trucks?"
Another mental chuckle. Mobile food vendors that cater to the students. Surprisingly good food -- a couple times we've had friends over, the trucks've been the restaurant of choice for take-out dinner.
At the mention of food her stomach growled. Hungry, are you?
"Oh, yeah. We skipped lunch, remember?" Seized by a sudden impulse, Raye adjusted her trajectory and dumped some momentum. A moment later, she touched down lightly on top of one of the trucks.
Well, we were distracted. Did you remember to grab the cash I left out? You don't have any influence in this town yet to cadge free eats with.
"Well, duh, I'm not stupid, Bob."
Sorry.
"Don't worry about it." Realizing that dozens of students -- not just those around the trucks, but also another dozen or two at the nearby bus stop -- were staring at her, she hopped off the truck and nonchalantly tried to get in line, only to have everyone ahead of her back away. A few had their cellphones up and were obviously taking photos or video of her.
She blinked. That was an unusual reaction. Usually civilians didn't make much of a fuss over heroes.
In Paragon, maybe. You're in my world, though, where people aren't used to glowing girls with blazing golden stars for eyes dropping out of the sky.
"Oh." Raye bit her lip as she considered that, trying to imagine how she'd react if she'd never seen a super before. She looked up at the staring bystanders. "Um. I just want a sandwich, I don't want to cut in line."
No one moved back in line. Cringing a little, Raye glanced around at the wide eyes and staring faces, before hesitantly stepping up to the window of a truck proudly labelled "Mr. C's" in bright red on silver. "What can I get y... holy crap."
Raye winced. "Um, can I have a..." She glanced at the menu board affixed next to the window in the side of the truck.
The Fat Boy's good. A whole lunch in a sandwich, except for the drink.
She nodded. "...a Fat Boy and a can of Coke."
The proprietor of the truck stared at her for a couple seconds, then shook himself. "Fat Boy and Coke. Right." He burst into activity at the grill and fry bins that lined one entire side of the truck, even though he kept glancing over his shoulder at her.
Behind her, a sussuration of voices too low to distinguish individually flowed through the crowd. Raye tried her best to ignore it, but having so many people actually paying attention to her was making her a little nervous.
Finally, the proprietor set a brown paper bag and a familiar aluminum can before her. "That'll be $8.50."
Raye raised her arm and pressed the button on her vambrace that ejected Bob's money from where she'd stored it in her salvage space. Thumbing the bills, she located a ten, pulled it out, and passed it through the window. "Thanks!" she said with all the perkiness and bright smile she could manage under the circumstances. She dumped the change in the jar that had a ragged multicolor "TIPS" sign taped to it, took her lunch, and turned to go.
She got maybe eight feet away before the proprietor called out, "Miss! Um, Miss?"
She turned back, curious.
"Who are you?" he asked.
For the first time since touching down, Raye managed a broad, genuine smile. "I'm Magical Princess Evangelia, defender of Beauty, Love and Justice!" She threw him a boy scout-style salute, held it for a beat, then turned and launched herself into the air once more.
"When you said a whole lunch on a sandwich, I didn't think you meant literally!" Raye growled as she studied what was left of her Fat Boy. "Who puts french fries and mozzarella sticks in a sandwich?"
The Rutgers grease trucks, that's who.
"And ketchup, and marinara, and... geeze! I'm going to have to transform to get these stains out of my costume, you know?"
Big deal. Seven words and 30 seconds. I ache for you.
Raye just blew a raspberry before taking another bite of the horribly mutated cheesesteak she'd been duped into buying. She held it up and examined it again. Mutant, yeah. "This thing is the Aberrant Eremite of sandwiches," she declared. "The Rikti are mutating sandwiches to turn them into devastating shock troops that will invade restaurants all over the city."
There was a long silence inside her head.
Finally Bob said, And I thought I could be silly.
Raye giggled.
So, how do you like the view?
She drew a deep breath. "It's pretty, the river and the bridge and the parks and, well, everything. I'm not quite used to so many cars, but yeah." She was sitting crosslegged at the edge of the roof of the white tower she'd spotted earlier. The Johnson & Johnson corporate headquarters, Bob had said.
And the world in general?
Raye considered that for a while. "I'm going to have to get used to a world that needs to get used to me. There are so many heroes in Paragon City that we're almost anonymous, you know? The folks on the street don't even really look up most of the time when you go through. Oh, one of them might wave or say hi once in a while, and you'll occasionally hear a couple of them talking about you, but... we don't surprise anyone." She reached for her Coke and took a swig. "Or scare them."
They need to get used to the idea of you. It'll come.
Taking a final bite of her sandwich, she chewed slowly while thinking about that. Swallowing, she said, "I hope you're right. 'Cause them being afraid is real freaky."
You'll just have to show them that you mean them no harm.
She nodded to herself. "You know, you're almost as good at the advising thing as Alistair," she said as she crumpled up the wrapping and napkins from her lunch and wadded them up in the brown paper bag. Then she swallowed the last mouthful of Coke and stood, crushing the can absently in one hand and adding it to the bag.
That's high praise, considering I don't have a teenaged daughter to have practiced on.
"Well, you've got one now," Raye grinned.
No, I have a niece, Niece.
"Details, details." Pushing the bag into her salvage space, Raye stepped forward again until she stood on the very edge of the roof. With a flourish she summoned her sword, holding it up and studying it. It was the third sword she'd had in her career as a hero, the weirdly futuro-Roman weapon she'd taken off the battered body of Nictus-Romulus: steel blued to a hue that matched her costume, with gold filigree and decorations running the length of the blade.
She brandished it once, then twice, then held it out so that it pointed southeast, downstream along the river toward the ocean. "I am Magical Princess Evangelia," she declared, and magic entered her voice to send it echoing across the city. She swept the sword sideways to encompass all of New Brunswick, ending with it pointed up the river to the northwest. "And I declare this city under my protection!"
When her voice finished reverberating off the buildings below her and faded into the normal noises of the day's activity, Raye smiled to herself. "Well, you think that'll do it?"
I think it's a good start, Bob replied.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.