[b]Marielle, France. April 24th 1965.[/b]

“Your safety is our priority. It has been from day one. As Quetzal Garantir grows we find ourselves asking: how can we do more? Everyone can always do more, it’s just a matter of finding out how to push themselves. And we are pushing ourselves to new heights, spreading our wings even further, to fly where no man has flown before!”

“The moon!” cried a journalist, prompting a bout of laughter.

“Leave the moon to the Americans! They can compensate all they want to match the Soviets, but we here are flying our own way. We may secure those who expect trouble, but trouble is often unexpected! And so, we have partnered with the city to keep a watchful eye, as our patented security enforcement technology will be finding itself in the hands of your local defenders of peace: the Marielle police force!” The crowd cheered, their clapping persisting as a decorated man with a mustache entered, the police officer marching up to the green suited man giving the press conference, the clicking of cameras shuttering clearly audible. The two shook hands and smiled, before the microphone podium was turned over to him.

“The Marielle police department is very pleased to be working with Quetzal, and we will be rolling out a special, experimental unit the coming August. And once we have those men on the streets, this city will officially possess the most futuristic and advance police force worldwide.”

More applause sounding, the officer stepped back, the spokesman stepping back to the stage. “Now, we will be accepting questions shortly, but we have one more guest joining us!” the man raised his head and outstretched his arm, eyes intent on something. There were a few moments of quiet, some heads turning to try and look. From the roof of a nearby building, a grapple shot out, clinging to the town hall structure surrounding the outdoor stage. With a flash of green, a figure swooped down, dark green cape billowing in its wake, layered to resemble feathers. Grapple dispersing, the cape billowed, catching air and slowing the fall, the form rolling onto the stage, nailing a knee before standing upright. Dark green surrounding light, cowl possessing a hooked nose over a visible face with a wide smile, gloves and boots a dim red, “Jade-aile has landed! Representing Quetzal Garantir is the world’s first and foremost, real life [b]superhero[/b].” Applause and awe followed as Jade reached the podium, standing resolute. “Grégorie Marchand, son of CEO Abelin Marchand, has taken it upon himself to learn how our equipment works, and stands before you today as ready to fight to fight as any! Now, we will take questions, starting with-”

The spokesman was cut off, Jade’s elbow nudging him in the side. Smiling it off, he said, “The police chief will take the helm and I will join him in just a moment.” Stepping away with Jade-aile, the two stood by the podium, whispering to each other while maintaining smiles.

“You revealed my identity to everyone.”

The spokesman snorted, “What?”

“My identity! My secret identity!”

“What? What’s so secret about it?”

“Well, nothing now.”

The spokesman studied him for a moment before turning back to the crowd. “You thought it was real? My god man.”

Grég’s head whipped over to him for a moment, before he turned back to the crowd. “W-well I-I-I...what was all that training for then!?”

“For that grand entrance just now, and other equipment showcases later. We didn’t get that outfit so you could wear it once. You’re a publicity stunt my boy, smile and enjoy it while it lasts.”

Brusque words putting Grég off, he could feel his heart draining as he continued the smiles and waves, joining the spokesman as they took to the podium, feeling rather low. Plucked of feathers, one could say.

[b]New York, United States of America[/b]

“Would you like paper or plastic?” Clacking register keys, the brunette held a naked, packaged chicken as she hovered, waiting for the elderly customer to make her choice.

“Decide fer yerself,” she answered. Nametag reading ‘Tiffany’, she took a paper bag, stating, “Well if I can choose, then I will.” Continuing to ring up groceries, she went about completing the transaction. The lady taking her leave, Tiffany was left with no further customers in her line. Rapping her fingers on the side of her register, a curly haired blonde approached, speaking, “Yer shifts almost over and it’s pretty quiet. You can leave early if you like.”

Returning a smile, Tiffany took the hint. “I think I will then.” Counting out the register, Tiffany punched out in the employee room, taking off her nametag and throwing on a gray coat. Freed from work, the woman truly called Tatyanna put her hands into her pockets, arm looped around a purse as she went out, brushing past a shirky man on her way out, the only one who really noticed her leaving, coworkers distracted with gossip. Hanging back, Tat floated around the doorway, neck craning to watch as the man moved past the shopping carts, hanging straight for the register. Her heartbeat pumped up as the man pointing a pistol at her coworkers, demanding, “Scream and I shoot. Now open the register. All of them.”

The girls tittering in fear, Tatyanna went low, keeping out of sight as she dropped down to sneak behind one of the other checkstands. The robber’s attention kept going back to the door, waiting for someone else to enter the supermarket, but this early in the morning it was still quiet. Still on all fours, Tatyanna was overcome with a burst of speed, scrambling several lanes over and skidding to a stop, grabbing onto the side of one of the checklanes to keep from stumbling into view of the robber, who glanced back to the door at the noise. Looking back at the girls, he waved his gun, demanding, “Next register.”

The three circling around, moving back the way Tat had come, she angled herself and turned around, watching them through the faint reflection of the window. The two going back behind the counter, the man staying clear in the line, Tat took a breath, rolling out into the open. Blurring into motion, she accelerated right into the robber, slamming into his shoulder and spinning him down for the count. The cashiers screamed at the noise, a billow of wind following Tat down as she kept down the way, slipping out of sight as she stepped herself to a stop, nearly crashing into a display of canned vegetables. Looking back, she saw the robber on the floor, patting around for a gun that had slipped out of sight, sliding underneath one of the checkstands. Swearing like a sailor, he got to his feet, intent on the door, but Tat had started to move as well, lining herself up. As one of her coworkers screeched for the other to call the police, Tat burst into motion once again, intercepting the robber just as he threw open the door. Barreling through, she smashed into his back elbow first, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him into the ground where his head smacked the curb. Having been able to stop by transferring her momentum to him, Tat’s legs wobbled, but she was able to stop her fall by leaning against the door frame, quickly outstretching an arm to catch the door swinging back at her. Slipping an arm to grab the strap of her purse, she let out an exhilarated, “I got him!”

Blonde coworker cautious heading over, she gasped when she saw the unmoving ne’er do well, spouting, “I thought you went home! What happened?”

Catching her breath, Tat admitted, “Well, he looked shady so I hung back to watch him, then I bopped vith my purse when he ran out.” Mentally she cursed at the slip of accent, but it seemed to go unnoticed. Her coworker shook her head, “You’re crazy. You shoulda just called the cops.” Tat’s smile remained affixed to her face, inner voice scoffing, [i]You’re welcome[/i].”

A good hour of police questioning later, Tat was finally free to actually go about her day. Letting out a light yawn, having started her day early to stock shelves, she considered going home but didn’t enjoy the thought of her mother setting up another arranged date. That said, she wasn’t left with much else either...