Bird Hunting

<November 12, 2014>: A hawk hunting a crow, hunted by an (American) eagle… and Aspect is brought into the fray as well

New York

It's better than Gotham



  • Bystanders

Mood Music:

Jim Reha lost his apartment in Queens about a month or so ago thanks to a misguided woman bursting in and destroying any hope of him recovering his security deposit. Thankfully, both of his employers have been more than reasonable, and one of them has even temporarily given him a place to stay. Extreme emphasis on the temporary part. The food is pretty amazing, the support services are great too, but… a body needs to get out and get fresh air and not on the rooftop of one of New York's skyscrapers.

So it is that the portly fellow is making his way along New York streets in slightly chillier weather, a black denim jacket covering his normal clothing as he goes 'for a walk'. And after the first block or so, he breathes a welcome sigh of relief… he's not being stalked today, it would seem…

After all of the chaos, the recovery, the near murder of a.. human thing. Shayera needed to refocus her efforts. Her stay on this planet was beginning to get a little bit complicated, and she nearly lost the reason that she was here to begin with. For the Demon.

Thankfully, she had learned about this place; how to access things that she never really had thought of before, to keep watch, to follow.

It was all definite now, this was the man that she needed to look after, and this was the man that she needed to follow.

Her helmet, being equipped with her homeworld technologies allowed her to fly high above the sky, in the thick of the clouds so that she wasn't seen, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch and grab, to take the portly fellow back to her ship and off to Thanagar. Persecution, not death by her hands, is fitting for true justice for this beast.

"I got you, sucker of mothers." She mutters to herself, she was going to get her prize and finally go home.

America Chavez did not need technology to keep her high above the clouds. She was a princess of the Utopian Parallel. She was magic and flight.

An exile always carries a part of her home with her, even when that exile was voluntary. America indulges in the landscape of clouds, at times imagining -when she is this high and no-one can observe her- that she flies in the wake of her mothers, who fly ahead of her. Sometimes the daydream was weak, and sometimes it was unusually strong.

The young woman frowns, as she spots Shayera in the distance. Her heart had skipped a beat for a moment, just for one moment, when she believed that perhaps-

Her expression hardens to its usual detached one. No. Her mothers were never coming back- even when they came back as the pawns of the Mother Parasite, they hadn't really been them.

She speeds up, heading in the general direction of this other flier who, for the time being, has intruded upon what she considers her space. What is she up to?

The salt and pepper'd fellow is strolling casually along the streets of New York. If someone were actually close enough, they might even hear him humming some old '80's tunes as he made his way along on this slightly brisk day.

A day off that wasn't wasted watching television or surfing the Internet, a chance to get out, live, be free and sort of… forget about life for a while. La da de da… Or something like that, anyway. He's not a piano man, but he was in the Navy and definitely not for life.

There's a brief pause in his journey as he takes the chance to engage in the utter decadence of a pastry and a properly scratch-made hot cocoa. Yep. Today is going to be an awesome day!

Or not.

Unaware that anyone was behind her, silly Shayera for that, her wings arch threateningly, then slam together as she begins that dive. To power that dive, arms strike out, wings cutting through the cloud to bring the trail down to follow her feet, like a fighter jet aiming for home..

Where ever that was..

She was intent on scooping that donut eating fucker up and dragging him towards the seas, unsuspecting and unknowing.. and..


Small hands (Shayera is actually a tiny thing, larger than life personality) grasp upon the leather jacket by the shoulders, her back arching as wings expand and flap to lift him up off of his feet. There was a little struggle at first; not because of the fight that he puts on, but the sheer size of the man is not what she was expecting. Okay.. readjust. Use your wings Shay, steele your arms. The flight was going to be a long one and she had to steele herself indeed.

And America frowns.

"Did you just…" she says to herself. "Yes. You just went Winged Monkey on some guy below," she mutters. This was tricky- she couldn't exactly attack the birdnapper without risking her captive falling to a squishy death.

She keeps up her speed from above and decides to follow this bird-woman first, to see if she will go up again. Higher up, there's a better chance that she can hit the bird and have time to catch her falling captive.

Donut goes flying one direction, hot cocoa another… and Jim in yet another assisted by someone he can't quite see. But the voice… yes, it's the voice of nightmares, the thing that's haunted even his waking moments for the past few weeks. And its natural that anyone would struggle when they're pretty much abducted off the street out of the blue like that.

But then Jim remembers another encounter a couple of weeks past, when some machines attempted to impersonate his boss and her bodyguard. The best tactic he had in that scenario, oddly enough, didn't sound like much of a winner when he thought of it then, and given that his captor is apparently really pushing the wings to get some altitude… well, he does the counter-intuitive thing… and goes completely limp, rendering himself as close to dead three hundred pounds of weight as he can manage. He's pretty confident if it gets dicey the partner will bail him out. At least, he HOPES the partner is paying attention and not curled up in his brain somewhere gibbering to itself in terror.

Wings struggle to beat against the air, arms holding on to that dead weight as she tries to break her back to get him off and into higher ground. Of course, crowds of people scream and scatter, some taking pictures and running there after, possibly to the latest news outlets to get paid for their finds.

Shayera doesn't care. Her eyes were on the prize, so with a loud grunt and a hurl forward, she throws the poor sod into a canopy of fruits and oranges, making quite the mess. She'll have to do this the hard way, beat him senseless, stash, get her ship and come back for the prize after binding him tightly so that he can't move. Maybe stuffing him halfway into a sewer hole would work.

When Shayera throws Jim into the canopy, America dives down and becomes a blur of red, white and blue. Her gift of speed and high maneuverability aid her here, as she aims to land a little ways from Shayera and the fruitified Jim (now part of your complete breakfast) with an earth-shattering stomp.

Theatrics are very effective, in her experience, even if she doesn't have a use for the more flamboyant end of the spectrum.

"You need to stop doing that." America says flatly, as she stands up from the crouch in which she had landed.

On the up side, he's no longer captive to the whacko winged woman. On the down side, getting flung into a vendor's display with momentmum hurt a fair amount.. not to mention drenching all of his clothes and generally leaving him shaken. He slowly groans and stirs as he tries to get up. The superhuman attributes are the partner's, not his for the most part, so as he gets to a knee he gives a very apologetic glance to the grocer before his face hardens.

""Look, lady. Yo—"


He's got nothing after that entrance, and the rant he was about to go on is sort of short-circuited as he tries to think of something useful to say.

Shayera remains in the air, preparing to fly down and swoop the gangly man to continue to toss, rick and roll until he passes out. Maybe a few broken bones and the shock of pain will do it. That was until, she was intercepted by a blur that drives her back a fair amount, her brows furrowing beneath the mask and a hand reaching to pinch fingers where the bridge of her nose would be.

"Christ of Jesus'." She mutters to herself, her eyes closing as she attempts to woosah herself into calming. She's had no ill will against the heroes of this world, she's fought amongst them and saved them from the criminals just hours ago.

And here she was, being interrupted from saving them from an even bigger threat. The demon bird who tore her peoples beliefs and lives asunder.

"I will only speak this once. That thing that hides beneath flesh and bone is a criminal to my people. He will be tried and judged for his crimes. Stand aside, and no harm will come to you." They seemed to be a reasonable sort. Right?

Knuckles crack as fingerless leather gloves encase each other. America begins to walk forward, craning her neck to one side until she hears a 'pop'.

"You're not among your people, princess," the tan woman says, her expression hard, "And you are roughing up my people. So this is what we're going to do," she says, "Is that you're going to fly home, and I stay back to clean the mess you've caused. Or we could do this the hard way and I use your wings to mop up the mess you've made. Choose."

There are times to speak up, and there are times to not speak up. When two super - powered sorts are dead - set on ultimatiums, it usually is NOT the time to speak up.

However, Jim has a partner. And the partner is about enlightenment, intelligent discourse, and personal development. It also doesn't want to see resources of this world destroyed for 'petty bullshit'.

"Ladies, please, could we do this somewhere else? There's a lot of folks here and hasn't there been enough damage already? Say, maybe a park or something where there isn't a whole bunch of folks that could get hurt when you start throwing down? I mean, seriously, all cool you're all into me and all of that, but… think of the community, please?"

OKay, so probably not the most diplomatic of overtures, but give the portly fellow a break, he's coated in fruit remnants and sore from getting flung.

Her hand lifts slowly, pressing against the emblem that connects her harness at the chest. Fingers were tapping along the surface, punching in an unknown code as she keeps her eyes narrowed upon the young woman. Quite frankly? Shayera has had enough of the world and the interferences that it provided.

"You sure you want to take a ride on this jetboat, little girl?"

The Nth metal begins to spread quickly, covering her wings to protect them from projectiles, these people here? They were good at flinging them. Jim's words? They were going to be ignored one way or another, for Shayera will be the one to make sure that the casualties weren't on /her/ hands.

Her hand drops down to swoop the mace from it's place, swung and slapped against opposing palm as the electricity fires through the prongs. "You have no idea of that which you fucked."

Alright, it sounds better when Samuel L. Jackson says it on television. She's totally out her element in this.

Jim's suggestion is actually not a bad one. Unfortunately, America notices, the bird-creature is having none of that. She, however, does not fail to notice the electricity. She crouches momentarilyand picks up a manhole cover as effortlessly as if it were cardboard and, in a fluid movement, sends it flying in a blur. Not at Shayera, but at the fire hydrant near them, aiming for an eruption and a distraction.

She doesn't make a quip about cooling down. She doesn't do that.

Jim makes the connection faster than the ancient entity riding side - car in his brain does, and he takes off running.

"Get clear.. get clear!" Whether or not people listen to him is anyone's guess, but he can't say he didn't try and he's sure as heck not going to stand around and let himself get electrocuted. A nice alley-way, though, is in order. And he doesn't care if it has other denziens, because this whole situation has finally tipped him to another mindset, and his partner is in full agreement.

No. More. Running.

When he's free and clear of the sight of most onlookers, he lets the partner out. If this woman wants a war, she needs to know what she's fighting against.

It ends on this world.

Shayera was ready. As ever a brilliant tactician was.

As she spies the woman reaching for the manhole cover, she flies up, not too high, but enough distance to land a striking blow. This will be all ended in one fell swoop, or would it?

With Jim's screams to clear the way, Shayera could give him that. The human suit cared for the people where as in this instance? She trusted the citizens to know when to cut out running; or they'll be counting the bodies like sheep.

That electified mace raises high above her head as she drops her weight, landing down feet first to slam the mace into the ground. It creates a shockwave.. but it also creates this:


The water that spurts forth from the fire hyrdant connects with the electricity, and Shayera was in the thick of it. She was no fool however, she knew that this would be a possibility, being electrocuted by her own devices with the hopes of taking the other girl out right along with her.

The ground caves, creating a dent into the cement, narrowing the water and allowing the path to flow directly towards Miss America, whether she moves or not, is left to be seen.

But what is seen is the electric-volt that travels up towards Shayera's arms, coating her body full in a zap that causes a shrill cry in pain and a flop towards the side. Unconscious.

The greater the risk.. they say.. is not often times greater than the reward.

America is incredibly resilient. Her young frame in many way does poorly to telegraph the sheer power underneath. She needs no armor to swat aside energy bolts, she's headbutted Asgardian gods through buildings.

But still, you know, fucking electricity- whether or not you can stop a blast, electricity will course through you. She focused on Shayera's movements and did not see the water coming her way, and so -


She survives, of course, but slumps to the side, flying clumsily the moment she can release herself from the electrocution. The Priuss into which she flew ends up having an America-shaped dent on its left side, and it is a blessing that the car was parked instead of occupied.

When she pries herself out of the dent, she takes a knee, hands on the ground, and starts breathing again. Her anger is now dangerously close to the 'Kick Loki Through The Wall' level, but it's going to take some effort to recover from that zap.

A strange bird-like entity strides out of the alleyway. If the Corvinus would have anything close to 'Christmas', this would be it. But it is not proud, it is simply an agent of Enlightenment. It takes in the fallen Thanagarian, assessing her condition. At least several minutes, plenty of time to restrain her for transport if need be.

Then it tilts its head and looks at America.

"This one is appreciative for one's consideration for the welfare of the city. Zero casualties should always be the goal." The tone is somewhat serene and contemplative, and it bows respectfully to the patriotic girl.

"This one wonders if one has a means of incarceration for the fallen opponent? Clearly there are concerns that need to be addressed, and best it be done in a properly controlled setting?"

"Not… at the moment." If America had a say, she would open a portal into an unpleasant dimension, and toss Shayera in. "Too dazed." She slowly gets to her feet, leaning on that Priuss. That poor Priuss. And then she remembers the Outsiders.

"But I think I know someone who does."

"We should expedite this contact situation at earliest convenience. The legendry this one has heard of her people would indicate that she will be up sooner rather than later. This one would be appreciative, though this one does not have currency to offer for such a boon."

What a strange bird-thing. But… polite.

Jericho doesn't often do the Batman lurking on the roof act when he's not in Gotham but the Bat does have a few things right. Rooftops give you a good view and more importantly, no one bothers you up here. Which is why he's taking his lunch - chinese food - up on top of a skyscraper while he finalizes plans to deal with his Russian investigation, pokes at processes running about that odd Dimensional Tech and plans another trip into Limbo. Multitasking, for the win.

A red, white and blue blur is passing just above the rooftops in the area. This is part of the regular route, but she also seems to be searching for something. America Chavez's flying is very specific, maneuvering through the city in a grid, conducting a meticulous search.

Noting said blur Jericho stands up. She's moving too fast for even his recognition software to figure out what the hell he's looking at. No one's screaming, so it can't be all bad… this may bear investigation. He knwos a search pattern when he sees one. The hacker sprouts glimmering bat wings made of amber light, flares them and takes a flying leap off the edge and down toward… whatever that is.

The young woman barely registers the amber glow at first, intent as she is on her search, when suddenly…

The blur coalesces into a figure, which then flies towards Jericho after a second of recognition. She stops several feet away from Jericho's dive, arms crossed in mid-air.

"Finally. I've been looking for you."

Jericho pulls up info a hover, wings flapping. They used to be feathered. Ever since he came back from his Limbo adventure to get part of himself back from a demon lord they've been bat like. And that's not the only alteration either. "Me?" He tries to remember this woman's name. America… yes. America Chavez.

"Why are you looking for me?" He's suddenly a bit wary.

She raises an eyebrow, but remains otherwise inexpressive. "You look different. What's the matter with you?" In her years of experience, she has come to know that sometimes the cover can betray a book. Changes should always be questioned.

"Mmmmm… long story." Jericho says. Which it is. The leather case behind his back is also new. "Cliffs notes, I got assaulted by a demon and had to get a piece of me back, which wasn't quite the same when I got it back." That's not entiiiiirely true. More like, to get it back he wound up bound to a woman who is herself part demon. It's not the kind of thing one goes casually mentining though.

Demons. Lovely. She begins to reassess her original intentions. "And you are still with the Outsiders?" That's important to know, because she was pretty sure that the woman with the golden skin would probably not keep someone who could turn I AM BECOME THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS on the roster.

Or, at least, she was willing to bet on that, anyways.

"I am, yes." Jericho tries to remember… ah yes, he's fairly sure he's mentioned them to Chavez. And also, it's possible she's met others, particularly if Koriand'r or Skaar have been about. Which often they are. Especially here in Metro. It's only chance or business that brings him up usually. "Why… do you ask?"

America looks at Jericho for a few moments. She considers the man, the difference in aspect and the small differences in demeanor from the last time she encountered him. What if he is an impostor?

A test is in order. "Because you promised me that I would be one of them. I haven't heard anything from you in weeks."

A slightly dirty trick, perhaps. But if the man was not whom he claimed to be…

Jericho folds his arms. "I'm fairly sure I said no such thing…" How on earth did she get that idea? His hand drifts back to the opening of that leather case, hovering there. America may note the veins of silvery metal in the mans forearms, not present before and different from the circuit traces already there. "So that might be why you've not heard back…"

Alright. She is convinced, for now. "Had to make sure it was you. I'm looking for a place to stash a certain someone. I don't have anywhere to put her, myself." America tilts her head, looking at Jericho. "She's got wings. Pretty strong, too."

"You need to hide someone with wings?" Jericho blinks. "Er, hawks wings by chance?" Because wouldn't that be his luck. He'd fought with a Hawk-girl, nearly killed her, or been killed by her when Wonder Woman intervened. He's not sure how she felt about the whole thing.

"Why do you need to hide her?"

"Hawk wings, yes. I take it you have an approximate notion of who this is?" The young woman isn't surprised, really. From the reports, it seemed that the winged woman had made a lot of 'friends' in the city.

"She decided to start something up with a man. She seemed about ready to kill him until I taught her not to."

"Oh dear." Presumably America is not talking about his confrontation with Hawkgirl. "I take it this was rather public, hence the need to hide her?" He thinks, carefully. The woman may not be happy with him, but if she hasn't gone on a murderous rampage she may be worth hiding. "I think I do know who you're talking about… and I think I can help. I have a number of places set up that are secure… some of which are even in this city. I could give you the location of one of them."

"I think you misunderstand. I don't want to hide her. I want to lock her up," America cuts in. "Because it's either that, or I will end up punching her halfway through the core of the earth. She is hell-bent on hunting this man, and it is either someone locks her up…" and here America grins. "Or I will throw her into a dimension at random and be done with her."

Okay, maybe she was tempted to do that from the beginning. But she at least had to give the woman a chance not to be crazy, remote though that hope may be.

"Hrmmmm…" Jericho thinks, actually calling up the replay of their fight. "Well, that might be doable… a lot of her power seems to stem from that staff/mace she was using. And she definitely seemed to be vulnerable to bullets, so she's not impossible to take down and contain…" Jericho's curious in any case what the woman wants and why. "Any idea who she's hunting? All I got out of her was something about a demon."

America's mouth twitches slightly into a smirk. "Middle-aged man. Apparently turned into some sort of bird-creature as well. Speaks like a fortune cookie." It reminded her of her aunt, back at the Parallel. "As to what she wants with him, I wouldn't know yet. She hasn't recovered consciousness yet. It's why I was looking for you or any of the Outsiders in the city."

"Well you found me. I suppose we could haul her up to the ship. You knocked her out then? And, I take it, are holding her somewhere?" Jericho's not privy to the full range of the flying woman's capabilities - either of them - but he's somehow not surprised considering what he saw America do to Columbia once.

"Electrocuted her." America says. "I saw the sparks from her mace and cracked open one of the nearby hydrants." Because America, despite the appearance of being a young woman who solves everything with fists, is more tactically-minded than that.

Still. A lot of her tactics do end up with something being broken. Preferably other people who deserved it. She does not mention that she got zapped herself because Shayera had a very definite kamikaze approach to things.

"She's tied up," with several girders, "But I don't count on it holding her for long."

"Hrm… we could try to apply a little high tech…" Jericho muses. Ramping the tech up tends to work fairly well. "Or a little magic. I know people who might be good for both. Certainly I think Starfire could probably handle her." Especially on her own ship. Not she can fly in space… he hopes.

"I wonder what has her so upset…" Could be she's a psycho sure, but… "Hrmmmmmm… Alright. You're correct, she's got to be contained, or reasoned with and I haven't yet seen any hope for the second. I can go with you, see about a more permanent solution than whatever you've got holding her." If nothing else, Jericho's quite sure he can arrange for the woman get some attention from SHIELD, though he's not sure they have the right facilities to hold her. Trouble with dealing with metahumans.

The young woman nods, "Sounds good to me. I'll take you where she is and you can take it from there. After that, I am going to have a talk with bird-man and get to the bottom of this." Because she believes in being thorough with more than just her fists.

"Stark Industries is where you can often find him." That's where Jericho sees him, usually, when he's not teleporting into his apartment with large guns. "You mentioned the other Outsiders, by the way. Have you met them?" He's assuming yes, but he's also quite curious about which ones.

"I. was. there." America says flatly. "In the spaceship? I may not speak often, but I am not that invisible." She gives Jericho a look which might almost be amused. Almost.

Jericho coughs. "Sorry. I didn't mean the crew. I meant Roy and Skaar and Lunair and Jake and Nancy." The heart of the outsiders. A more ecclectic group of people he's never met but they do manage to get things done. Hilarity and Orn's bad cooking occasionally ensues. It's… a thing. Yeah, that's about the only way to describe it. "Mmmmmm… speaking of, you haven't seen any more of those weird Psyborgs since that day have you?"

"No, not since that day. Have you?" America asks, she had been wondering if there had been any more sightings. None had been reported, to her knowledge. This didn't sit well with her- invasion forces didn't simply cancel…

"Yes, but only in small groups." Jericho frowns. He's been thinking rather the same thing. This has to be connected to the network of tech he's been discovering. It's important that he figure out how extensive that network is and what it does. "Mostly they've been seen near these odd mind altering devices that keep turning up."

The young woman hmms. "Interesting. I believe you can catch me up on this as we go- we should go and get your 'friend' ready to transport."

The hacker nods. "Yeah, won't do to have her busting out and going to hunt down Jim, I suppose. Lead on, America." He's strongly tempted to call her 'murica. But he likes having his internal organs remain, you know, internal.

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