Just Wing It!

October 10, 2014: Shayera Hol seeks out an ancient enemy of her people. Jim Reha loses his security deposit.

Queens, New York City, New York

The borough to the east, Queens is made up of many different flavors and
feels. It's the largest of all the sections of New York in terms of area, and
the second most populous. In addition to business and industry, Queens also
has many residential communities with those who work in the area and others
who commute over one of the bridges and onto the island.

Because it has more space than Manhattan, Queens is home to several of New
York's sports teams and houses cultural institutions such as the New York
Hall of Science and the Kupferberg Center for the Arts

Apartment 320, Queens, New York City, New York

This studio apartment has seen better days, and the walls have the amazing property of muffling only the important noises but not the noisy neighbors at all hours of the night. It has a kitchenette with a counter, a futon that's been spread out, and a small bookshelf with some books. Along the door and the window there are horse shoes with the 'open' end 'up' and various other folklore markings. A laptop on a small kitchen table is the Internet Window To The World.



Mood Music:

The Thanagarian people are proud. They dragged themselves up out of a Dark Age beholden to Gods that defied rational comprehension, and they beat them back through force of arms. But there has always been a haunting spectre in their past, a legendry that has plagued their goals and their plans. Long ago, in time almost lost to memory several times over a strange bird-being came to Thanagar, and the legend has it that it, too, was defeated… and its departure heralded a descent into an incredibly long age of superstition and fear.

It was thought to a very rare few as the Hawkfolk expanded outwards that perhaps it had fallen to the vagaries of time, or perhaps was an inflated myth stirred by ancient elders to cover their own inadequacies, their own failures.

Then there was a transmission. A primitive one, to say the least, but on at least one wavelength an entity that matched the ancient cave-markings far too closely to be coincidence. And… there was more. There were hints of *the* metal. The metal that the proud people had used to drive off their ancient foes…

How could this have ended up on such a remote world?

There were other factors involved, as well, but it was determined that the best tracker and scout of the Thanagarian people should be sent to investigate this potential issue.

As Shayera explored the signal source and the traces, she was able to pin them down to a major metropolitan region that had no dearth of 'super-powered' entities… and the traces were quite intense in the area referred to in the Terran tongue as 'Queens'.

Jim Reha is blissfully unaware of all of this impending doom about to descend upon his head, for the partner has been notably reticent of late… and for a change, he's been able to go out and enjoy himself doing all the nasty things that the partner Corvinus would raise a fuss about. Perhaps the Buddha Bird is gone for good? Perhaps… Or perhaps something has scared it so hard it is hiding?


There was really no safe place to land within the city, ship veered off towards the lake, set in the middle and cloaked with otherworldly technologies that were only a dream to these people, but reality to hers. In the middle of the ocean, cloaked then sunken to the bottom remotely by hand-held device tucked within her breastplate. Wings extend slowly with a crack, armor checked, coordinates and directional values in mind and then she's off.


Like a soundless shot in the sky, wings arching and slow flapping, a few quick whips draw the speed to mimic the urgency in which this scouting mission is. A nailed tip soon tapping upon her helmet as static comes through. No radio signal, she was here alone. It was all well and good however, she much preferred it that way, it was how she worked the best, with herself and no one to hamper her style.

Queens, it was quickly reached and.. not impressionable to say the least. Buildings were high and tall, often times stank of gas and pollutants that made the insides of her nose burn. On her world, coordinates were direct, exact.. so it was a wonder as to how she found the human suit the beast wore so easily. She lands hard upon the roof, skidding to a halt in a slight crouch against the edge of the building, armored fingers grasping ahold of the brick edge, brown eyes peering through her peoples helmet to watch like a demon from above.

She was unable to contact her people, to let them know that the target was in her sights, so she was going to play this one close to the chest. Instead of sacrificing innocents, starting a war of worlds, she was going to handle herself and kill it from above.

In, quick, easy. No one would ever know she was there.


The portly fellow has been out drinking. In fact, it is quite possibly the most sloshed he's been in… decades. He hasn't *quite* had enough to be a danger to himself or to his surroundings, but he is most assuredly feeling the reeling waves of intoxication much like he once felt the gentle rocking motion of the ocean decades past in the Navy. And some things don't change for an ex-sailor… once one has gained 'sea legs' one can always pick up the knack after a few clumsy steps.

So he meanders on back towards his cruddy little box of a studio apartment, completely ignoring the demon bugbear that his partner is always ranting about. They say ignorance is bliss, and this 'Terran' seems to be quite blissful, indeed. Of the Old One within *him* there is no sign, though. Could such tracking be wrong? Could there have been an error?


Shayera rises to a her full height (which isn't much, apparently according to Terran standards), her shoulders peeled back and wings a ruffled, hand lifting to peel off the helmet so that she could breathe properly. Why would such a being disguise itself as.. that. Yes, -that-. She could name many a god who chose Adonis' of their kind, but.. this chose.. -that-. She scoffed a little, perhaps the reports were wrong and she needed to find someone a bit more.. statuesque.

But Thanagarians were rarely wrong, never about something like this.

As the stout fellow stumbled about, she walked, following him along the rooftop, gliding towards the roof of his building only to walk along the edge with expert ease as she looks downward. Her lips purse just a touch as she steps away from the edge, her hand dropping down towards her mace to retrieve it from it's holster, twirling it about expertly between fingers as she makes way to the middle of the area.

If it were the Old God or no, she was prepared to pay for the cost of the building. By leaving.


The tubby man starts singing some sort of local doggerel as he stumbles. For being the host of an Old God, he surely is way too upbeat and… drunk. What self-respecting entity would allow its host to do that kind of thing? But at any rate the man mumbles a bit as he turns to head into the building that his stalker perched above, and fumbled with his keys for a few moments to get the thing to work in the lock… and a bit of a curse as he catches his shin on one of the stairs. Sea legs may be wonderful for walking, but sometimes stairs — especially fifty - plus year - old ones — are a bit of a challenge.

He enters his top floor studio with the widest of grins on his face as he goes through the procedure of re - applying the five locks on the door.

…lookin' for fun an'… feelin groovy. Got no deeds t' do an no promises t' keep… 'm dappled an' drowsy an' ready t' sleep…

The neighbors have been kind enough to help Shayera out by playing their own urban mixes into this late hour, so profoundly resonant that they nearly make the building shake but will clearly make it easy. The stars must truly be aligning for this in, out, gone, method…



She takes a step back towards the edge of the roof, still swinging the mace.


The adrenaline was rushing, this was about to be the moment that she either kills an innocent and suffers the consequence, or.. murder an old god and be akin to a savior to her people.

She breathes again, wings arching tightly.

The city was loud, loud enough for her damage to be covered, possibly not loud enough for her footsteps to be heard upon the roof, cause she starts off with a run, no build up, full blast, stopping right in the middle of the rooftop to jump high into the air, wings aiding her flight. The mace held high over her head and..

"EEAAARRRRRRGGG!" She hollers out, to add power to her strike…


The powerful mace she wields blows a large enough hole in the roof for her and her wings to fit through, debris crashing all around the floor as she lands within the studio apartment at a crouch. The floor bends from the speed at which she lands, threatening to crack underneath her light weight though luckily, it will not do so.

Helmet within hand was soon placed upon her face, hiding the scratches and marks that her descent made, mace pressed to the floor and glowing with otherworldly science as fingers grip the hilt to draw knuckles white. Teeth remain grit, eyes look upward though head remains forward to track the feet of.. this frumpy being.

Frumpy. Was that even a word?

Wings stretch, folding backward and lifting, and outward to shake off the plaster and dust from the ceiling. It was starting to itch; could possibly be fiberglass.



As the floor bends a bit before flexing back some the 'frumpy' guy is thrown to his hands and knees, and in the showering of plaster dust, wood shards, and goodness knows what else he makes a dive behind his futon, even as he tries to see what the heck caused that to happen.

Though he is so strongly and sorely tempted to confront whoever the intruder might be — if it wasn't a jet engine landing on the apartment, that is — something pulls him back. Some sort of caution makes him try to be 'small' and 'hide'… but he already tried that in a different scenario in Gotham last week and it Did Not Work. In fact, he'd gotten his butt sorely kicked during that situation. Part of the reason he'd been out drinking tonight, even.

Then there's the outline of wings… and that bird-like mask… and the fact that whoever it was just came down THROUGH THE FREAKIN' ROOF! He ends up coughing a bit despite his best efforts, completely giving away his position. Though it might be a bit hard to get to him due to the multi-purpose piece of furniture between the two of them… and the itchy chalky dust in the air.


Her wing gives a solid flap to blow the air from around her, a quick rise to her feet draws her closer to the sound of the cough.

"Do not hide from me." Her voice was cool, even and calm, feminine yet menacing all the same. Her approach took her towards the middle of the couch, yet she strafes left to swing her arm backward then forth, knocking the mace against the side of the couch to send it flying and punching through the wall.

He was revealed.

Back up. We're calling that thing a couch.

She reaches forward to try to grip the frumpy man by the collar, hoping to hoist him up towards his feet so that she could -really- look at this being, her head turning a little to release a weak little cough since she too, inhaled the dust.


If there was any trace of intoxication in the man's system, it is long gone. Thankfully, it's adrenaline purging it and not other means.

"Look… *cough cough* stop with the *hackwheeze* wings. You're *glarrkhh* making it worse. Whoever the *heackkhough* you are."

Jim has experienced the fear of being a target of the Devourer Wolf, and he's been a side-car brain passenger while the partner has dealt with the God of Mischief. He's almost trying to rationalize it around his hacks and wheezes when he realizes belatedly that his apartment Must Be Cursed. In less than three months this is the third visitor he's gotten that hasn't even had the manners to use the *freakin door* or at the very least *send word they were coming*.

That loud music from the neighbors has stopped with the eruption of a piece of furniture on their side of the wall, and there's the sound of some screaming and yelling about some numeric sequence. He slumps a bit as he's hoisted up, but he does manage to stare with dust - teared eyes right back into the eye - holes of the attacker's mask.

"Who the hell *cough* are you??!"


"Not for me."

Those words were said with a little hint of a joke, but nothing more than that. For she's back down to business, with him slightly slumped over, she drives him towards the nearest wall, back against it. Even though he's taller than her, she still holds him upright, fingers curled around his shirt, knuckles pressed against his neck.

"I am Shayera Hol."

She presses, knuckle digging just enough into his adams apple.

"From the planet Thanagar."

She presses harder now, intent on riling the man up so that if there was a beast within? It'll come out to protect itself. It always does.

"And you, my friend, are wanted for crimes against my people. Punishable by death." She leans her full weight into it, her gaze soon turning towards the left, hearing the screams of the neighbors and their frantic cries for help. She felt bad, but she had a job to do. And it didn't include them.


The man gets easily pushed into the wall, though it is clearly obvious that it is not some cunning disguise. He gags a bit as he bites out the words… "I did nothing to your people, and no friend comes through the roof. You are an illegal alien who is in violation of federal law if what you say is true. Turn yourself in."

Defiance is always the last resort of the desperate, like a rat cornered. Is it no wonder, then, that this pitiful excuse for a 'hew-man' is attempting bluster and bravado?

"Only warning, stand down."

Clearly he doesn't understand the dynamics here, or he must have taken a knock to the head somewhere?


"HAH!" She bites out, giving him one good push against the wall to release him. The mace still held within her hand was twirled once more before settled into the holster. The being wasn't here. The beacon, it was a fluke. She was frustrated of course, but it was hard to tell with the mask she wore. But as intended, she only came here for the Old God, not to start a war with a race of people who had done nothing to her and her people.

That she knew of.

There was a bit of reluctance in her movements, obviously something was not right, she couldn't tell.. but she does back away from him, both hands spread towards the sky and lowering, moving in that same pace towards the hole that she broke in on.

Sirens, she could hear them from the distance, and that alone causes her to turn and walk towards the window to look out of, the flashing lights drawing her nose to a wrinkle as she takes a sniff, lets out a slight cough, and an idle shrug of her shoulders. This wasn't over. If the being wasn't this man, then he was obviously more clever than she gave it credit for. Her stay would have to be longer than she had hoped.


A few things have become abundantly clear to Jim Reha as he slumps down into the ruins of his apartment. One: He's going to need a place to stay for a few days. Two: Buddha Bird's skeletons are much more dangerous and scary than he'd ever anticipated. Three: Everyone he's told needs to know that the Storm isn't just coming, there's an agent HERE, NOW, on Earth.

It takes a level of willpower and control that he never knew he had to keep the partner in check, to make the bird - thing heel and NOT compromise the very tenuous brief respite they have gained. It would be far too easy to fail in any sort of attempt of escape, and then where would this situation end?

No. It has to remain under wraps. For now. This Shayera Hol of Thanagar… she doesn't Understand. It was all mistakes. But… right now is NOT the time to discuss this. His apartment is destroyed, the few things he has left… probably not salvageable. And… we won't talk about the security deposit.

"I hope you find whoever you're looking for, ma'am. Good Hunting."

It's not a dig on the alien, but the most subtle of misdirections, partly empowered by the wisdom of the submerged sagely avian…


Emergency vehicles were outside. Pretty soon, Shayera had to be on the move. But, still. Something was not right. She felt it in her gut.

As the man spoke to her, she turns, one brow lifted yet hidden beneath the mask, her steps creating a militant about face as she marches nearer towards the middle of the room where she broke through.

"I am thorough. Make no mistake, I will find what and who I am looking for." Even though the words were spoken as assurance, they were a veiled threat as well.

She will be watching.

She will be waiting.

Military trained her to examine all points of a subject and move along once all obstacles were exhausted, innocent until proven guilty, justice above all else and personal vendettas. That stuff.

But now? Here in this apartment, her senses were going wild, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

So she was going to watch him from the shadows. Weeks. Months. However long it took, and she would make sure that he knew and felt that she watched him. He would probably see her fly away once she gets bored, or a flash of wings in the middle of the night illuminated upon the wall. She will not rest.

She crouches down and launches herself out of the hole that she created, hovering above that spot for a moment, before silently flying off into the night, headed towards Manhattan. Or possibly Metropolis. They're all in the same direction.


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