Shutdown was stunned for a moment when she headbutted them. They placed a hand over the cover of their mask, slowly processing that she had indeed just done that. They felt a bit of blood begin to drip down the inside of their mask. For a few seconds, they were frozen. Confused. Then a jolt of electricity hit their spine, and they knew there was work to be done.
They spun and began running after the woman, unsure of where she was going, but knowing that they had to prevent her from getting away, or at least to knock her out for a bit. It would be preferable if sheâd never seen them in the first place, but they had to make sure the place was empty, otherwise they wouldnât be able to get away with what they needed.
They began gaining on her, and reached out to try and yank her back by the arm.
Lyra ran as fast as she could, not even daring to look behind her to see if she managed to even stumble Shutdown for more than a second. Her eyes narrowed in on the alarm and pushed herself harder. She would make it. She was going to make it.
She heard them catching up to her and she had a minute at best. But she was so close. Her hands reached out for anything it could touch, knocking over chairs to try to slow them down. Just when she was sure she was going to get caught again, she jumped forward and pulled down the alarm.
Turning on her heel, she faced Shutdown as the alarms blared, the emergency light spinning as she was sure the police were being alerted at that very second. She hoped they would be diligent because Lyra knew Shutdown was going to turn it off as soon as she could. But not if she could help it. Before her brain could remind herself how stupid this was, she dove toward the vigilante, tackling her to the ground in a weak attempt to distract them.
Bela hadnât been to Newhaven since the government had picked up the slack on rebuilding after the invasion. When her help wasnât needed to stitch the physical world back together, she noticed very quickly that certain people in charge were unusually cold. So sheâd kept her distance. The things and people who had tied her to the city were beyond her reach now, and it hurt less to stay away.
Walking down the busy streets again was enlightening. Some people knew her, recognized her from news programs, but not all. It was nice to get lost in the anonymity of the crowd again. Of course, the reason she was here couldnât be found with the sun still in the sky.Â
So as the lights of the city flicked on and set their own glow into the sky, Weaver took to the streets. There were people here she was looking for, people she needed to check on, and as always, people to meet. Pulling herself from the ground to the roof and bounding from building to building was easy enough with pouches full of materials that could stretch away from her on a whim.
It was mostly luck sheâd seen the figure in the darkness. Her habits of checking corners had remained after the invasion, but this wasnât her turf anymore, and not knowing who ran the scene made things tricky. But a glance at the right angle as sheâd been about to scan the next block over made her pause. A few more lengths of rock and metal rose from where sheâd stored them as she touched down gently. Better safe than sorry.
âWell, itâs always nice to meet the locals. Do you mind letting a visitor tag along for a bit?â
When it came to anything, Ivy tended to be bad at it. His reading skills were that of a middle schooler, his coordination made klutz chuckle and try as he might as drawing, the best he has ever been able to do it a solid stick figure. Even with animals, he lacked the ability to comprehend biology enough to become a vet like he originally wanted to.
It should have come as no surprise to him that he was equally horrible at being a vigilante. From the moment he stupidly gave his middle name as his hero name, he had been trying to be better at it. It was difficult to do when all he really did was scare people into running away. Still, he wore the scarf to cover his face now and that seemed to be an improvement on its own, even if he still wore normal street clothes.
He walked down one of the few streets that he recognized in the city--despite living there for most of his life--and started down an alleyway. He sensed rather than heard the little brown bird come toward him and sure enough, Skittles dove straight toward his shoulders. Food boy, she greeted him, nipping at his ear lobe. He smiled at her and pulled a little seed from his pocket to give to her. "Wanna help me find a way on the roof?" he asked her, placing the word fly into her mind. She chirped and took off into the air. He stared at her before closing his eyes, letting himself see through hers instead.
She flew above the buildings and he could see the fire escape not too far away. Before he could tell her to return, movement caught her attention and she dashed away. Fly away. Danger. Fly away. Ivy could barely make out the dark figure heading toward him and he forced himself to open his eyes. He glanced up just as she touched onto the ground.
"Uh..." he muttered awkwardly. "S-sure. I don't see why not. I'm not a great tour guide. I'm..." His eyes went to the roof and then back to the ground. "How did-- Does everyone have the power to just jump off of rooftops?"
âThatâs a pretty good promise, and must be a pretty good friend if youâre offering her a hover board.â Hannah could only imagine the uses for hover boardsâŠespecially for anyone with one of the cityâs ânight jobsâ, as they were jokingly referred to.
She paused a moment and thought, but nodded. âSure, a corporation would probably love it, but corps areâŠtricky Iâd imagine, especially with something powerful like that. Although now Iâm picturing, likeâŠgovernment officials driving around on hoverboards and it just sounds silly.â
Lyra shrugged. "I guess? She's been asking for a hover board ever since I started working on the theory so it's only fair that I actually fulfill her expectations." She paused and smiled. "Besides, it's fun."
She sighed heavily and nodded. "Corporations do suck. Once I publish the paper on my theory, it will technically be accessible to anyone who would want to use it and they could make their own hover boards if they wanted." She paused, her grin growing a little brighter. "That's assuming they could get an engineer who could understand it." She laughed with her and shrugged. "It only sounds silly because it hasn't happened yet. It'll happen. Just watch."
She was at an underground lab when the sirens were blaring. Her mind was on the new gauntlet she made to help a young pyrokinetic control his powers at Hyperion and the disappointment that she wouldnât be able to share it with her mentor. She had tried to reach out to Professor Berners several times since his wife passed away, but he has ignored her efforts. Still, she wanted to call him, her finger hovering over his name when she was told they were under lock down.
Scientists and engineers ran regardless of where they were told to go, but Lyra stayed put. Their underground research facility was made to survive worse than whatever emergency was going on above ground.
She was correct, of course. The lab was untouched and the engineers who remained were perfectly fine. After several hours, she volunteered to see what was going on. She climbed up the steps to the surface, hoping that whatever happened had passed and that first responders were already at the scene to help with the damage.
What she found was a battleground and creatures sheâs never seen before pouring onto the streets.
ii.
They stayed underground for as long as they could survive, but given their shortage or resources, they had to leave eventually. Lyra had plans already written down, ideas and safe areas that might still be accessible to them. She assumed that there are places outside of the city for them to escape to, but she didnât want to run without knowing where she was going. A few others decided to stay with her, more so because she had a plan than because they believed in her.
When they surface, it was a lot worse than Lyra had thought. Buildings were decimated, whole blocks turned into rubble. Her plans went out the window.
iii.
She stayed in the lab, surfacing only to grab supplies. Only two engineers chose to stay with her, Lydia and Caesar. They donât particularly like each other but Lyra figured that they want the company. Someone is better than no one. She figured out how to make a small garden down there, but she knew it wonât last. Through a radio and a lot of tinkering, she found a list of the people pronounced dead. She couldnât breathe when she saw her parentsâ names on the list.
Lydia kept track of the Unity attack while Lyra found things to keep her mind busy. She thought of inventions and ways to rebuild the city. Her thoughts went to the electromagnetic levitation theory she had mulled over but never got around to finishing. She did her best to not think about her parents, her friends, and all the people who were dead several feet above them. The pain in her chest when she thought about them always brought her to tears and if this was even a fraction of what Professor Berners felt, she understood why he was so distant.
Still, she worked. Working was better than thinking about what was going on above them.
iv.
Lydia was taken by Unity when she went to look for supplies. Caesar knew it immediately and forced Lyra to leave. âUnity will be there to take them next. We have to run!â
She didnât want to, but she did. She left the safety of the underground bunker and ran. She didnât know where she was going, but she ran as fast as she could anyway.
She found a hole to hide in and hoped Caesar got away.
In her hole, there was nothing for her to occupy her mind with, nothing except the pain that was overtaking her. She wanted her mother to tell her that she could get out of this. She yearned to have her father pull her into a hug. She wanted to quit so badly, to go to Unity and accept whatever fate they would give her.
But she saw Lydia. She saw what they had done to her. She didnât want to be a mindless drone. She was the smartest person in the city. Lyra was determined to maintain that.
v.
She survived. Surviving alone is easier than in a group. You find what you need and hide out until you have to find more. She had never fashioned herself a thief, but she was smart enough to figure it out. She busied herself with whatever books she could find, occasionally making notes the way she used to--plans for a counteroffensive the world was in no shape to make. Planning it made her feel a little better, as if she could get the revenge she wanted if she made it perfect enough.
From her hiding places, she observed her enemy. She noted the way they walked, how silent they seemed. It wasnât difficult to recognize their hive mind, but combating it was another issue. She worked with frequencies, hoping that there was one that might cause some discomfort. There were a few that triggers a reaction, but none sufficient enough to keep them away. Regardless, they were a unit that could see everything and anything all at the same time.
She wondered what it would take to break down that connection. She saw the people taken by Unity, their walks not quite human even if they did their best to appear so. Â Sometimes, she saw Lydia among them.
Her mind focused on her research to the point where she forgets how long she had been working on it. Years? Months? Days? Lyra wouldnât know. But she had her theories and her notebooks full of Unity and ways to combat them. She was never quite the tactician, but she found a couple books since then. Now, she put herself to sleep at night, dreaming of how she would take them down.
Being alone had never bothered her before, but she felt it at night, when there was no one else to talk to or bounce ideas off of. On those nights, she looked to the stars, imagining that there was something out there better than the aliens that invaded her home.
vi.
They called themselves the Resistance, which Lyra thought was a stupid name. They were a small group in Newhaven, composed of the few survivors left in the city. She was grateful to see Caesar among them.
For a group called the Resistance, they didnât do much. Lyra shared her research with them, but they had already come to similar conclusions, albeit without the technical terms she had used. Nothing changed that there was little they could do other than take Unity down one alien at a time.
Lyra saw the impracticality of that plan, but she didnât argue with them. She didnât want them to toss her out so she played their game.
Along with Caesar, they made their living situations livable with water and a reasonable amount of electricity. They built tunnels and escape routes in case of an emergency and tried to make themselves useful. She used the alien technology to make new things. Weapons came by easily, but she studied the way they are run and came up with a more efficient form of energy for their power generators.
For once, Lyraâs heart wasnât in rebuilding. It was in the work the scientists were doing, inspecting and figuring out how the aliens worked. Whenever she could, she found herself talking to the duo of scientists, Mackenzie and Yoshi, although, Yoshi was more of a physicist than biological scientist. Regardless, they talked and discussed theories and it almost felt like old times for her.
viii.
It might not have been Lyraâs idea to bring in the alien body for a proper dissection, but she was vocal about her approval. She stressed that they couldnât fight something they didnât know about and it shouldnât be too hard to drag back a body of an alien they already killed.
No one else liked the idea of bringing an alien into their base of operations, but they compromised. Lyra prepared a building for the experimentation far away from the base and they got to do their experiments.
The alien had clearly been dead a long time before it reached the table, but Lyra still made sure to use extra force when cutting it open. She made thorough notes as Yoshi drew out anatomy as best as he could. The three of them talked little as they worked, almost as if they were afraid the alien would come back to life on the table. Lyra just wanted to make sure she wasnât missing anything.
ix.
Their research sent them to dead ends. They understood some of their basic organs, but their brains were too complicated for them to figure out how the hive brain works. Yoshi wanted to call it quits, but Mackenzie was adamant that there has to be a way to break the connection. Words were whispered about her husband and daughter who were unified, but Lyra paid them no mind.
Lyra came up with an idea.
They called her insane. The Resistance called the plan ridiculous and claimed it definitely wouldnât work. Caesar told her personally that she should let it go.
She didnât.
A few gunho soldiers agreed to her foolish plan. They memorized the routes Unity took and cornered one. Their unified came for the attack, but Lyra was already there, stabbing Unity with enough electricity to burn an average human alive. The unified screamed along with their master, but then they attacked, despite the pain. The unified took out the soldiers and Lyra was forced to run with whoever survived.
She was reprimanded when she returned to the base and they threatened to throw her out. Lyra couldnât bring herself to argue otherwise, but they let her stay, if only because she was the only one who could fix the generator.
Mackenzie asked if it worked, but Lyra refused to tell her. Even if it did, she vowed to never do something like that again.
x.
A boy nearly blew up the entire base when his powers came in and they were forced to move to a more secure location. The leaders questioned their safety and his parents begged them not to throw him out. Lyra offered an alternative.
Her equipment was rudimentary at best, but with alien technology, she managed to figure out how his power worked biologically. From there, she only needed to create a way for him to channel his powers. They manifest in a pair of gloves that absorbed the heat he created and converted it into energy that could be distributed back into his body. He was much more hyper than normal, but otherwise completely safe.
The success with him resulted in others going to her for help. Lyra did what she could for them. Not everyone had a gift that she could create something for, but she tried anyway.
Her name made its rounds through the underground resistance and those with powers began to seek her out. A teleporter named Percy offered his assistance to her after she figured out a way to stop him from teleporting in his sleep and she went wherever she was needed.
xi.
Lyra has all but given up on the world by the time she meets the young man by the name of Royland B. Giver. The resistance was almost completely dead, most of the friends she had made having been unified or killed. The only way she was still alive was through Percy.
Roylandâs powers are different than everyone elseâs and she finds herself obsessed with them. She feels like a child again when she asks him questions and tries to figure out a way to help him recall the abilities that he learns. Itâs through the research done by her long dead friend, Mackenzie, that she begins to put things together.
If she can replicate the hive mind, she can save the powers.
The hive mind was beyond Lyraâs ability in her youth and she had given up her attempt to understand Unity when the remaining super people asked for her help. But Mackenzie continued her research up until her own death. Through her notes she saw theories of how the hive mind worked, more than enough for Lyra to play with.
xii.
She comes to the conclusion that she needs fresh Unity bodies if she is going to make this happen and she canât bring herself to do so. The Resistance asks her what her next move is and she keeps evading their questions. She knows the only way she might be able to help him would be brain fluid, but how can she ask for soldiers to die for one man.
She tells Royland and he says he understands.
He returns a few weeks later with a body of Unity in tow. Lyra is furious at him, but he assures her that no one was hurt too bad. He promises that he was careful and that no one followed him back. When her anger dies down, she asks him why. He insists it is because she needed it.
xiii.
The first suit is rudimentary, but it works. He keeps two powers in it and it is more than enough to keep them safe at the least. Lyra tells him how it works but he only gives her a smile. She figures it doesnât matter if he knows how it works as long as it does work.
She is working on improvements to it when he asks her why he canât understand what sheâs doing.
âItâs not a power, kid. Itâs just stubbornness and lots of reading.â
She is able to add two more powers.
xiv.
He becomes more powerful than anyone of the Resistance can imagine. She receives praises for her work, but she keeps saying that it isnât finished yet. There is more to be added.
No one says anything when she begins coughing too much. She claims it is a cold, but she recognizes the signs. Mackenzie had been coughing a lot too after a while. She takes a break from researching, but the cough stays. She is technically an old woman now, older than her mother ever was. Itâs normal for her to be getting sick, possibly even dying. Sheâs trained a few to follow in her footsteps, though none are quite what she was at their age.
After several months, her cough remains and Lyra works on his suit again. If she was going to die, she wanted to at least get his suit working properly before then. By the time she finishes it off, he is no doubt the soldier they need to take on Unity.
If only he wasnât so outnumbered.
xv.
The Resistance has a plan and Royland volunteers to go.
Lyra is already bedridden, not the spry young woman she once was. But she adds him another slot anyway. Her hands are too shaky to complete and she has her protegee build it into the suit for her. She can see the defects her protegee has created as she installs it and is incredibly annoyed that she canât fix it herself.
âItâs a one way ticket. Thereâs no way her horrible work will be able to maintain the power for you to use it twice.â
Royland is grateful anyway.
xvi.
She is there when he poofs back to 2018. She wonders if he would see her there, a woman with a million ideas and not enough time to put them together.
Sheâs confident that he will fix it, that there will be a timeline somewhere where they are happy.
Ivy can hear and communicate with animals with his mind. He has been capable of this since he was a toddler and, by default, he can hear the thoughts of animals at all times. Over the years, he taught himself how to turn off his power and also to manipulate animals. With effort, he can enter their minds and see through their eyes. He can communicate with any animal as long as it has a brain, meaning that some sea life are immune to his powers. Animals with more complex brains are harder for him to manipulate, such as primates, dolphins, and whales, but he can still hear their thoughts. Humans on the other hand are completely out of his range of control.
Occupation: Accountant for Blakely Investments
FC: Grant Gustin
Background:
The Blakelys have had sizeable control over the city for many generations. Ivyâs great-grandfather had built up their family name buy purchasing land and buildings and growing on it. Now, they own several properties in the city and actively try to improve it alongside the mayor. They have made quite the name for themselves and amassed a wealth that triggers the envy of many.
It didnât help that their family could be considered idyllic to the average outsider. A wealthy father who took several hours out of his day to spend time with his children, an activist mother who frequently uses her status to throw money at causes she believes in, and a daughter who seemed to surpass her peers in beauty and intelligence. Then there was Ivy.
There was technically nothing wrong with him. He was born healthy and was never a rowdy child. He was prone to following his elder sister around as she imagined games for them to play. He was sweet and kind and incredibly average at everything. While his sister aced spelling bees and could do complicated math problems in her head, he brought home Cs and doodled birds in the corners of his notebooks during class. The only thing that could be said of Ivy was the odd way he interacted with animals. Whether it be the birds outside or the little mice that tried to scamper across the kitchen floor, he was always there almost as if he was talking to them.
His mother wanted more for her son than for him to be the animal whisperer. She was hard on him, pushing him toward various classes to see what he was good at, all of which he failed miserably at. He couldnât play the piano very well; guitar was out of the question; karate was fun, but he cried when he hit someone; and t-ball became a disaster when he kept letting go of the bat as he went to hit it.
His father wasnât much better. While it was true that he made time to spent with his children every day, it was shallow at best and usually directed toward his sister. He was six years old when his father sat him down and told him why he seemed so connected with animals, explaining to him that he could do a similar thing with people. His father made it clear that they had to keep it quiet, and that their gifts were only tools to help the family business--though Ivy didnât know how talking to animals could help his dad buy a new building. Since then, the two avoided any talk of the subject to the point where Ivy viewed his own powers as a sort of taboo, even if his father never said as much.
And so he tried his best. As he grew up, he tried to find something he was good at for his family to be proud of, but always fell a little short. While his family never stated that they were disappointed in him, he could always sense that he was less than what they expected of him. He did what he could anyway, deciding to become an accountant to help with the family business. He didnât really like the work, but it was easy and he thought it would be something for his parents to be proud of him for.
Behind closed doors, he worked on his powers, learning how to manipulate animals and focus on specific ones. While teaching himself how to call birds, he saw a man being mugged in an alley. Without thinking, he sent a bird to attack the mugger which indirectly resulted in the man being saved. Since then, Ivy would do what he could for the people on the streets--the people his family indirectly displace while they do their âreworkâ of the city.
While never really seeing himself as a vigilante, he was unceremoniously dubbed one when a reporter saw him take down a robbery with a pack of spiders. Since then he was forced to wear a mask and become for secretive. He knows his family would disapprove, particularly since they are working so closely with the mayor and his father always made it clear that their powers had to be hidden.
But in a world of superheroes and aliens, Ivy wants something that could be just his powers⊠just as long as his dad doesnât hear about it.
Side Notes:
He gets his powers from his fatherâs side of the family. Many member of his family line have telepathy and empathy based powers, which is how they rose to such wealth. His father is a low level empath and his great grandfather was a telepath.
His nickname, Ivy, was given to him by his mother, who wanted something original to call her son. Ivy stands for the roman numerals for four, IV.
His hero name, Bash, came about when the reporter saw him that day. Previously, he didnât think of his actions as vigilantism and didnât even bother wearing a disguise for his face. It was when the reporter asked for his name that he realized he was very much exposed. He panicked and gave the reporter a shortened version of his middle name then proceeded to run for his life. He now wears a scarf to cover his nose and mouth, but still mostly wears street clothes.
He has no sigil given his more honorary title of vigilante, but he is mostly known for the little sparrow that rests on his shoulders. The sparrow is named Skittles and Ivy saved her after she fell out of her nest in an attempt to eat skittles. She isnât technically his pet, but he does feed her and bring her water every day and she consistently comes back to him, even without him calling to her.
He is a vegetarian and cried when he realized that the turkey he was eating on Thanksgiving was once a living bird.
Heâs scared of most of the vigilantes, considering all of them as much more of heroes than he is.
He volunteers at various animal shelters in his spare time. He tries to follow in his motherâs footsteps and has become a bit of the animal activist, though he doesnât nearly have the type of influence that his mother does.
Lyra as Minerva :: Roman Goddess of Knowledge and CraftsÂ
Interestingly enough, Minerva is a lot more like Hephaestus or Vulcan than first glance. Like her Greek counterpart Athena, Minerva is the goddess of knowledge and learning. However, it is not her battle skills that the Roman's worshiped her for, but rather her creativity and inventive mind. She is still the goddess of battle, technically, but it is not her forte.
Something had gone wrong in that brain of Coldenâs. Somewhere, hidden among the centuries, heâd snapped. The carefully structure and morality of his past had begun to fall away and beneath it was the twisting darkness that pulled him into a mindset that had been feared in his golden days.
He knew he was going unseelie, the desperate pull like a fish hook behind his ribs was getting stronger every day and he knew he was losing a portion of his mind with each injury he inflicted, with each body he left for the police to discover.
It all came to a head on a patrol. Most things tended to, these days. Colden had donned the guise of Puck and stood victoriously above a body, absent-mindedly munching on an arm. The joy coursing through him was powerful but oh so wrong, especially when he heard a womanâs laugh echo through the night above him and he turned to the sound with predator eyes.
He didnât know how he got back to his apartment. He doesnât know much of anything. Heâd been on this roof for hours now and everything had seemed to blur together. Everything was muted to the dull roar in his ears demanding he hunt again.
Lyra hadn't realized she had fallen asleep while on duty until her gauntlets started to beep lightly, reminding her that they were on low power. She vaguely remembered resting against a wall on a rooftop and listening to the police scanner through her Blue Bolt helmet, but then nothing. She had been staying up for the past few days to finish some of her less pressing work that she could scratch off of her to do list, but she had thought she was perfectly fine when she suited up that night. Clearly she deserved to take a night off.
She stretched awkwardly and turned off her gauntlet, redirecting whatever power she had left to her boots so that they could get her home--or at least to where she hid her backpack. She hopped quickly from rooftop to rooftop, noting the beautiful glow of the sky. She reasoned that she would have to be in her class soon. She didn't remember what she was supposed to be teaching today, but that hardly mattered. She hardly ever followed her lecture notes anyway.
Her feet landed on the rooftop, eyes already narrowed in on where she left her backpack. Only after she took off her helmet and gloves did she notice that someone was sitting on the roof. He didn't seem to be doing much, just staring out into the distance. She debated putting her helmet back on so that she could try helping the poor guy, but decided against it. She barely had enough power to get there--if he did need the power her suit offered, she wouldn't be able to give it to him anyway. Putting the rest of her more defining articles of clothing away, she slowly sat beside the man. "Uh hey?" she said softly, looking up to see where he was staring at. "You okay?"
So things aren't going as well as Lyra would have hoped with her new method for flying. Overheating is still a very big issue and while liquid nitrogen can keep it cool, it isn't a sustainable way for her to proceed. She is already sure she is on some kind of watch list for how much liquid nitrogen she's bought over the past month.
Until she figures something out, she is stuck with her current form of levitation. In her Blue Bolt outfit, she sat on the edge of the rooftop, one gauntlet off so that she could run maintenance on her left boot. She murmured to herself as she worked, almost to the point where she let the world around her slip away.
She sensed rather than heard someone approach from behind and she turned around, hastily shoving her boot back on her foot. Upon recognizing Watcher, she slowed a little. "Oh," her distorted voice called out to him. Things were...different after the box incident and just as she was starting to see that he could do this, she read the Mayor's letter. She chewed on her bottom lip. "Fancy meeting you up here at this hour," she said, already cursing herself for how awkward she sounded.
Puck nodded his head. âYes, the war. Three wars actually, though only two made it into your history. Youâd have been very helpful in them all.â He grinned, delighting on the confusion his every word inspired in those around him. âGranted, youâd likely be a little bit dead. Statistically speaking, of course.â
âDonât worry about fire,â he dismissed. âIâve survived worse.â
He watched as Lyra prepared everything, taking in the set-up with sharp eyes. Science may not have been his strength, and it likely never would be, but after long enough, he had picked enough up. Never mind the fifty years he had spent sneaking into various university classes.
The grin that had been on his face throughout the conversation shifted into one of joy as he saw the small ball float on that rooftop. âWell done!â He jumped with excitement, clapping his hands. âI knew youâd be-â
The ball sunk back to the roof and he pouted. âDammit,â he huffed. âI forgot you humans are bound by things like that. Itâs so disappointing to meet people bound by laws instead of will.â He smiled softly as he set his hand on her shoulder. âYou did well though. Give it a century or so and it might even be practical!â
It was hard for Lyra to keep up with him, especially when all she wanted to be thinking about was her experiments. At least it was an interesting conversation. Three wars, one of which not in the history books. Was he from a small country somewhere? One where they don't keep track of their history. He looked Caucasian, but that didn't mean he wasn't from somewhere else.
She put the puzzle of his existence to the back of her mind while she conduct her experiment, picking up the ball once it fell back to the floor and noting how warm it was to her touch. She was already calculating possible ways to counter it when he spoke again.
Turning on her heel, she went to face him. "A century? Who do you think I am? Edison?" She couldn't help but take the comment personally. She invented a new application in physics and he was trying to tell her it would only be useful in a century. "At the exponential rate technology and science has been improving, this will be ready in half of that time--less than that as long as I am working on it."
She glanced at her ball, the challenge she saw behind his words prickling her the wrong way. "I can get this working within the next few years easily. Maybe even in two."
She hid the disappointment well enough despite her shoulders dropping. It was unlike Lyra to not delve into her exciting work & break things down simply enough that Thalia could follow and become enthusiastic too. Blue eyes followed her movement & gaze with concern - perhaps things werenât good and she just wasnât in the mood to discuss it? Thalia made the silent decision to let the subject drop rather than press Lyra further, souring the mood the moment she got there wasnât exactly on the agenda after all.
Sheâd never seen Lyra act nervous before, tetchy sure and a little off-kilter at The Redstone before the lights went out, but never hand-wringing nervous. The very acknowledgement at such an odd sight made her feel on edge. Her brow furrowed deeply, lips pursing in a knee-jerk reaction to the mention of her father. Ever since heâd published the public address his name had been mentioned around her more often than sheâd cared for. Lyra mentioning him surprised her.
âYeah, yeah - I read it after people mentioned it a few times at workâŠâ She trailed off dismissively. âYou know itâs weird to think that the whole Unity thing was two years ago. It feels way shorter than that. I guess things just got super hectic and you know what they say about time flying.â Her hand reached towards the 50âČs style napkin holder and plucked a victim delicately. Her fingers working quickly to fold it into tiny sections as she nervously worked through her trailing thoughts.
âSomeone from his office had sent me the link through my emails but I havenât really been on them much. Not since I got the invite for the hotel. I think part of me was creeped out by the idea of getting another strange invitation or something. That night was justâŠugh.â She gulped, the nerves moreso for her decision to delve into the topic sheâd promised herself not to bring up. All to deflect away from the subject of her father. Thalia felt wrong, like sheâd sold out just because it was the easier path. Despite her moral conflict she pressed on. âIâm just glad you were there, and Talon⊠the odds of my two favourite people being around were weirdly small but in such a tense situation probably helped me not be as anxious.â
Even for someone as socially awkward as Lyra, she could see that Thalia didn't really answer the question she asked--if her ramblings could even be considered a question. Sure he mentioned the Unity attack, but that wasn't exactly what that letter was remembered for. Maybe she was trying to save face with him, but she doubted it. She never met the man, but she knew that Thalia didn't like him.
"Uhm, yeah... Crazy how long ago it was. Seems like just yesterday." She started ringing her hands again, before she forced herself to smooth them out on a napkin instead.
She stiffened a little when she mention the hotel incident. That was one conversation she definitely didn't want to walk toward. "Oh so I guess... I mean it doesn't matter if you read the letter or not. I was just... I mean..." She took a deep breath. No more beating around the bush. "You're okay right? I know you and your dad aren't close or anything, but I just mean that... it still sucks when the people you still have some kind of link to do stuff you don't agree with."
Lyra refused to look at her, her eyes glued to a speck on the table. Her hand clasped around her glass of water, taking a sip in order to build up the courage to gauge Thalia's reaction. She nearly coughed when her friend mentioned Talon. That was definitely not a path she wanted to go down. "Yeah. Weird. So strange. Don't even know why any of us were there to be honest... Strange."
Anima tilted her head, assessing the figure that had addressed her. It took her only a second to recognize them as Blue Bolt, and she listened carefully to the modulated voice, disappointed to find no suggestion of who was actually under the helmet. Still, they seemed pleasant enoughâthe compliment was certainly nice.
âWell thank you.â She relaxed a little, rolling her shoulders in a light shrug.  âNo worries, though. He landed a hit, but what you heard were his bones, not mine.â She grinned, before adding playfully.  âDid you enjoy the show?â
By now, almost all of her defensive tension had ebbed away to amiable intrigue. Sheâd read plenty of theories about the tech-wrapped hero before her, but sheâd still not been sure what to expect. If anything they seemed..friendlier than she would have guessed.
There was plenty sheâd like to know, but she knew better than to rush in with a full line of questions. Vigilantes, herself included, were never the most forthcoming. Besides, as much as she wanted answers, for the moment, she needed allies.
âNameâs Anima. You must be Blue Bolt.â She hesitated a moment before offering one gloved hand. Her raised eyebrows gave away that she was only teasing when she said, âIâm trusting you wonât zap a colleague?â
Blue nodded at her, raising an eyebrow she knew that the other hero couldn't see when she mentioned that it was his bones that were broken. "Interesting," she murmured. "From the force of the hit or the combined effort of your powers." She meant the latter comment more to herself, unable to contain her natural inclination to figure out problems that she was given.
She made a note of her posture, noting that she seemed friendly enough, definitely not the type to suddenly attack out of nowhere--at least as far as she could tell. She wasn't exactly known for her fighting skills.
Regardless, a couple taps to her gauntlet later and her feet were flat on the ground, the electrical charge to the gloves turned off for the time being. "Anima. It's nice to meet you." She shook her hand and nodded. "Not if I can help it," she mused, remembering her unfortunate first encounter with Nightingale.
Blue withdrew her hand. "What brings you to Newhaven? Or have you been here for a while and I'm the sorry soul who wasn't paying proper attention?"
Thalia had an airtight tactical plan for tackling the festival and all would be well had she actually managed to follow it. Rides should always come first due to the zero risk of throwing up any festival food & not having to worry about keeping prizes won or pretty things safe. However, sheâd been so drawn in by the cute display of Etsy like crafts in the stalls at the entrance that within the hour sheâd already managed to by more windchimes and knitted goods than sheâd care to admit.
Weighed down by her newfound treasures it made sense to move onto the game stalls, with varying challenges on offer from hook-a-duck to buzzwires she knew she was in for a long haul. The prizes on offer lacked anything of substance, small stuffed bears and plastic toys for the most part, but the giant teddy bear overhanging the stacked cans called to her like a siren song. âI need itâŠâ The almost thirty-year-old muttered to herself, noticing as children ahead of her failed to knock cans down even upon direct impact. The game was a fix, figures, but maybe someone with a far stronger arm than her would have better luckâŠ
Everyone knew the games at these festivals were rigged, Lyra more than anyone. She remembered when she was a child and begged her father to play the games at the festival. After losing all of their money, her father informed her of the tricks that most festivals took to ensure they didn't lose. A year of research and practice later and she returned to the festival with all the toys she wanted. While they didn't technically ban the seven year old from ever playing the games again, Lyra never did play the games again, already bored of the challenge she had conquered.
Since she was without her parents this year, she wanted to do something fun--something that maybe she shouldn't be doing. Her pockets were filled with change and she was ready to take down the game stalls. As she search for her first victim, she noted Thalia, walking up to her friend and smiling. "It's actually not about strength," she told her. "You just need the right angle to it. And good aim. There's a soft spot you gotta hit that will knock them down every time."
It has been said that fear can make a person do many things, but its unrelenting control does not stop there. A heavy atmosphere settled around the fairgrounds, one that hadnât been present since the Unity attack. Just as Newhaven began to heal another catastrophe wrecked havoc but this time the blow was within. Groups huddled together keeping a watchful eye on their counterparts as minuscule amounts of people traversed the stalls. Among those who hid their sorrow in greasy food and nauseating rides stood a man so consumed with fear and worry from the backlash and hatred thrown at him by the citizenâs he vowed to protect, that he refused to participate in the protests he wished he could lead. Instead, he concealed himself amongst the crowd, gripping onto the hand of his youngest brother.
Dimetre couldnât pull his gaze away from the group of protestors who readied their signs as he let out a shaky sigh, there was no point in looking if he was scared of those who may oppose him. He felt guilty hiding behind the protection that his little brother brought, no matter how many gifts or tickets he showered the boy with it didnât mask the feeling that he was failing his family. And although Wesley may have been young he immediately understood that something was wrong, so he latched onto Dimetreâs arm with a wide grin and tugged him towards a stall selling ginormous funnel cakes.
âYou wanna share one?â Dimetre looked down towards Wesley and rolled his eyes, âI donât know why I asked that momâs gonna kill me when she finds out how much junk I fed ya today.â He fished out his wallet and paid for two grease cakes with a bright, but fake, smile. As the two waited Wesleyâs attention snapped towards an individual who began to approach the Darc brothers âSomeoneâs coming Dimmy.â
It had been a tradition with her and her parents to go to the harbor fair every year. Through fights and attacks on the city, they never missed it together. The fact that Lyra was forced to go alone this year was odd enough. Her mother was going on a much needed vacation with her father, a trip they planned months in advance and by the time they announced the date of the fair, Lyra insisted it wouldn't be that big of a deal. As she walked passed the stalls and rides, acutely aware of the amount of people casting wary glances to every stranger that passed, she almost wished she was selfish and told them to maintain their tradition. Or at least, she could have stayed home this year.
She searched for any familiar faces within the crowds, hoping that there was someone out there that she could cling to for the remainder of the evening. After a couple hours with no luck, she decided the next best thing would be to eat as much junk food as possible.
Leaning against the back of her chair, she admired her assortment of finished funnel cakes, corn dogs, and all the sugar anyone could possibly ask for. She vaguely thought of Thalia, who would have disapproved of her choice of food, even if she was glad that she was at least eating something. Her eyes darted to the crowd again and, finally, managed to find someone familiar--if at least vaguely so. Standing, she went to his side. "Hey. Dimetre right?" She hoped he would remember her. It would be very embarrassing to refer to herself as the girl who turned on power at the hotel or the clueless girl who was buying action figures.
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