[sup][h1][center][img]https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/602bd63e3ba5033eb8646dc7/1624034052565-LHOU7LTV7YQT3YDJVFRZ/Title_06_Banner.jpg[[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] H O L I D A Y  S P E C I A L #001[/color]
[color=F5276C]H O L I D A Y  S P E C I A L #001[/color][/center]
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Now settled in her own apartment, Koriand’r was doing her level best to create a traditional American Christmas dinner on a small scale since it was just her. The pumpkin pie was easy enough, but the stuffed chicken was proving to be a little more complex. The kitchen was a mess of cutting boards and vegetable scraps, and her apron had seen better days. She cursed her desire for self-sufficiency and wished she’d invited Thor to join her - surely he would know how this was supposed to work. 

In the background, the news played on the muted TV and a radio was filling the air with classic Christmas songs. Kori still didn’t have a solid grasp on the holiday’s meaning, but she was completely enamoured by the variety of warm beverages and twinkling lights that filled Metropolis; it truly was a magical season. 

The music on the radio cut out suddenly, immediately drawing Kori’s attention as they broke through with an urgent news update: “Breaking news just in! We have received a report that Santa - or someone posing as the jolly red elf - has destroyed the home of notorious arms dealer Walter Dunhill. Dunhill has been pronounced dead at the scene. This vigilante is still out there, so close your chimney flue and stay safe, folks. We’ll share more when we have it.” The interruption ended just as abruptly as it had started, and the music quickly picked back up as if nothing had happened. 

A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth as she looked at the undercooked chicken and the mess all around her. There was no use putting it back in the oven now; she had chickens to roast. Shoving it toward the end of the counter until it tipped over the edge and into the trash, she pulled off her apron and left it wadded up on the counter as she hurried to her room to change. 

After having her face plastered across every TV, newspaper, and social media site on the planet for weeks after her unfortunate crash landing, there wasn’t much reason to be too careful with her identity. She was almost immediately recognisable to anyone who hadn’t been living under a rock, and she understood that it came with some risk to her safety even if she [I]hadn’t[/I] chosen to join the heroes of Earth in protecting their planet from existential threats. Maybe it was a feeling of responsibility to use her powers for something good, or maybe it was a sense of gratitude and a way to pay back the debt she felt she owed to the planet that had taken her in at her time of need. Maybe it was both. Or neither. It didn’t matter either way - a problem had arisen that was beyond average law enforcement capabilities to handle. 

Changing into her more durable costume - the upcycled and reworked combat suit she’d arrived on Earth wearing - she turned off her bedroom light and quickly slipped out the bedroom window and floated upward. 

Her first stop was Donald’s to see if he’d heard the news and wished to join her in responding. Even flying below her top speed, it took her less than a minute to arrive at his apartment. Normally, the front door would be customary, but she was too recognisable in her current outfit to risk someone seeing where she entered; she understood the importance of keeping Donald’s identity as Thor as secret. So instead, she surveyed the area to ensure no one seemed to be watching before dropping discreetly onto the fire escape in the alley outside his window and knocking.