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I'm not dead! Just swamped between the holidays and now the busy season at work. Things will calm down soon, so I expect to get back to it shortly.


In big, bold font the headline read, "Century's Own Super?" Beneath, Peyton's expertly framed shot showed a glowing, green figure hefting the Mag-Rail above her head. Fortunately, the shot had been taken at such a distance -- and the glow had obscured any specific details -- so that even April didn't recognize herself in it. She had been understandably worried that she'd be waking up to uncomfortable questions, but no one had put two and two together yet. That was good. Putting herself out there had been a risk, and not a particularly calculated one at that. Have to be smarter next time.

The very possibility of there being a "next time" still gave April pause. She had seemingly dodged a bullet this time; why risk exposing herself again? After all, hadn't she just told Jefferson not that long ago that she didn't want to be a hero? April couldn't fully explain her change of heart. Maybe she had taken some inspiration from her father, who gave his own life in pursuit of a better future for the world. Maybe she just saw people in need and couldn't turn her back. All she understood is how saving those people had made her feel in the moment, and how that feeling had lingered in the hours since.

"So, wait," Jefferson began, drawing April out of her thoughts. She set the newspaper aside and looked across the booth at him. "You think the reactor explosion and the Mag-Rail accident are somehow related? Based on what?"

April gave a noncommittal shrug. "I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess." She couldn't stop thinking back to when Mickey asked her why the reactor had exploded; obviously, he didn't know anything she didn't -- not unless he moonlit as a corporate saboteur -- but the implication was clear. Never take the facts for granted. It would be easy enough to write the explosion off as an accident, but... April shifted in her seat, continuing, "You don't think it's odd that the Mag-Rail's emergency brakes failed at the exact time that a delivery truck -- designed and controlled by Zenith -- took out a section of the track?"

Jeff didn't have a quick retort. Frowning, he considered her supposition. "I guess it's a little suspicious, but accidents happen," he suggested meekly. "Besides, that's an isolated incident. What's the connection to the reactor meltdown?"

"Zenith!" April answered quickly, perhaps letting her bias bleed into her response. Before she could explain further, she caught sight of Luke approaching out of the corner of her eye. Biting her tongue, she offered the bartender a pleasant smile as he sat down two fresh pints for them. Once he was back out of earshot, April leaned forward and said, "Think about it. Two PR disasters in the same week? And that's only because no one got seriously hurt; it could've been a lot worse. Someone's gunning for your company."

Jeff's frown deepened. "Well, I suppose someone with the technical know-how could have remotely controlled the delivery truck and disabled the Mag-Rail's brakes..." He shook his head. "But that still doesn't make sense of the reactor explosion. We know what caused it; there was a malfunction in one of the runoff valves. It was so small that it would've taken a miracle to detect."

"Which covers the saboteur's tracks perfectly, doesn't it?" April argued. She could see by Jefferson's shifting reaction that she had struck a chord. "Besides, didn't I read something about the failure being due to a faulty control chip? If hacking is this guy's M.O., then maybe he found a way to access it externally."

Jefferson offered no rebuttal. Instead, he simply picked up his beer and downed a third of it in a single draft. Wiping the foam from his lips, he asked, "Okay, so what do we do about it?"

April raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Jeff nodded. Tapping the picture on the newspaper, he explained, "You've got skin in the game now, and you're gonna need someone to help you." He wasn't half-wrong. Jefferson had been there every step of the way already, and without his help April, might've never thought to test her limits the night before. As he detected her hesitation, his smile grew. "Come on... You know we need each other, so just say it." He raised his glass. "Partners?"

April couldn't hold her poker face for long. Finally smirking back at him, she faked a sigh and conceded, "Okay, fine. Partners." Jefferson wiggled his outstretched glass expectantly, and April toasted it with her own, chuckling.

"Excellent! So, I already have some ideas for the costume."

April choked on her beer, rasping, "... Costume?"

-----


Sinclair Davis sat behind her black marble desk, fingers steepled beneath her chin. The Zenith executive watched with an exacting gaze as her colleagues across the desk etched their signatures to the contract. Today's signing marked the end to a lengthy merger negotiation, but Sinclair had personally seen to it that Zenith Dynamics' interests were secured. The absorption of Simonis Pharmaceuticals represented a huge leap forward in an area where Zenith had lagged behind its peers. Once the ink dried on the final signature, Sinclair's assistant, Kyra, scooped up the contracts.

Standing, Sinclair offered a hand across the desk. "Gentlemen, we look forward to bringing you into the fold," she said, offering a cool smile which never truly reached her eyes. The two Simonis executives shaked her hand in turn, then buttoned their jackets and saw themselves out. Sinclair waited until she was sure they were out of earshot before muttering, "All too easy." She had seen the reports; the Simonis R&D techs were on the verge of a breakthrough which would skyrocket the company's valuation. They never should've settled for Zenith's price. Then again, Sinclair's talent for manipulation often yielded great dividends in her company's favor.

The holographic computer screen at Sinclair's desk blinked an alert. Recognizing it, she turned to Kyra and said, "Get those contracts down to legal, and tell marcomm that I want a press release drawn up before the end of the day." She had put in the work; it was time for a victory lap. Dismissing the assistant, Sinclair took her seat and reached for the remote at the edge of her desk. At the press of a button, the semicircular windows which ringed her office began to darken. Once her privacy had been assured, she tapped her screen and brought up the new message.

MR. BLACK has joined the chat.

MR. BLACK: I'm ready for a new target.


Sinclair watched the blinking cursor. Pursing her lips, she tapped in her response.

ENCRYPTED USER: Why should I trust you again after last night's debacle?

MR. BLACK: That was an unexpected complication.

MR. BLACK: I'll be ready for her next time.


Sinclair's eyes drifted to her second screen, where the Chronicle's article about the Mag-Rail accident was still displayed. When she handed over the files exposing the vulnerability in the Mag-Rail's security protocols, she had expected a firework show. After all, the entire impetus for getting involved in this sordid affair was the expectation that these accidents would sour public perception on Zenith's top brass. So long as everyone involved kept walking away scot-free, Sinclair's vision would never truly be fulfilled.

To understand Sinclair's motivation for working against her own company, one had to understand her history. Sinclair had joined Zenith Dynamics straight out of school. For a time, she worked as a recruiter, bringing in top talent and overseeing their projects. Her unique combination of skills earned her successive promotions until finally she was working directly under the CEO, Malcolm Vance. At that time, Malcolm's son, Isaac, was more concerned with drinking and philandering than getting involved in the family business. In his absence, Sinclair was groomed as the heir apparent to the whole Zenith empire. And then, Malcolm grew ill.

Like the proverbial prodigal son, Isaac came running home and made amends with his father. Despite his complete lack of experience, he was handed the keys to the kingdom. Sinclair was livid. Her only solace was the expectation that the younger Vance's true colors would eventually prevail, but he had managed to avoid a meltdown so far. That was why she had decided to manufacture one. All she had needed was the proper stooge, and as it happened, one had fallen directly into her lap. Sinclair had been the saboteur's inside contact -- anonymously, of course; she wasn't foolish enough to expose herself.

ENCRYPTED USER: Perhaps it's time to up the collateral damage.

ENCRYPTED USER: This should help.


Sinclair began transmitting files for a project codenamed "Sentinel."

MR. BLACK: I like the way you think.

MR. BLACK: Nothing will stop me this time. Not even the girl.

MR. BLACK has disconnected.


Sinclair closed the chat. In its place, she opened the folder containing all the files related to the cold fusion reactor experiment. Clicking through a few subfolders, she finally came upon a set of MP4 files from the day of the explosion. As she opened one, she was greeted with security camera footage from the reactor room. In the moments before the meltdown, the crowd began to scatter... but a single figure emerged. Tapping the screen, Sinclair slowed the playback. She cycled through the camera angles until finally landing on the one which granted the clearest view of the errant reporter. With the hair and glasses in her face, she was almost impossible to identify.

A flash of brilliant green light illuminated the girl. Sinclair paused the video there. She compared the image side-by-side with the photograph from the Chronicle. It's her, Sinclair thought with certainty. She leaned forward, studying every available pixel. Whoever this girl was... Sinclair sensed that there was much to learn from her.
Returning home from the holidays tonight, so I'll be able to get on my home computer and format my next post shortly. Bright side: the wait has allowed me to write a second post, so I'm ahead of my posting schedule again for the first time since I started.
Heh. Well, I'm glad the finished product is palatable, because it certainly feels like a battle on my end.
I've got my next post typed up, but I may be unable to format it until I get home from the holiday. (We'll see.) Approaching the end of Miss Megaton's origin story, which is a relief because I'm terrible at writing origins...


Late nights at the Chronicle had become the norm since April's recent disciplining. Her normal responsibilities kept her busy all day, leaving only the nighttime to tackle the mountains of unedited articles to proofread. If April were being honest with herself, however, she actually didn't mind terribly much. Sure, copy editing was monotonous work, but at least the vacant office was free from distractions. There was an oddly serene quality about the unmanned, dimly lit bullpen. Whenever she got bored with correcting misspellings and fixing errant apostrophes -- which was quite often, admittedly -- she would get up and walk past her coworkers' desks, occasionally sneaking a peek at the scintillating exposés on which they were working.

Plus, being alone in the office gave April a prime opportunity to review the Project: Gateway documents Jefferson had unlocked for her. Unfortunately, the technician's assessment of their usefulness hadn't been far off; even after breaking the encryption, many of the files were redacted or outright missing. Still, what Jefferson had found painted a clearer picture of what had happened to Dr. Henry Newton. The project, it turned out, involved "extradimensional tunneling," which was Zenith's fancy way of saying teleportation. Along with Daisy's father, Dr. Jeremiah Miller, Dr. Newton had built some sort of experimental gateway between dimensions. Details regarding what happened next were spotty, but April could gather that the two scientists' deaths were tied to a malfunction involving the gate.

Even if the dossier created yet more questions, April was still grateful for the few answers it did provide. Her father's death had been shrouded in so much secrecy when it happened, the details protected from public consumption in the name of Zenith Dynamics proprietary information. I was just a girl whose father left for work and didn't come home, she mused, and no one would tell me what happened. She knew her mother was owed an explanation, too... but better to wait until she had the complete story. Gotta nail down every angle, just like Mickey said. April hadn't seen anything in the files to suggest that Zenith was at fault in her father's death, yet neither was there anything to absolve them. She would have to dig deeper.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled April, and she hurriedly minimized the Project: Gateway files. "I thought I was the only one burning the midnight oil around here," came a husky voice from across the bullpen. April looked up to see an unfamiliar woman with an asymmetrical haircut and a full sleeve tattoo. She sauntered over to April's desk. Pushing a stack of unread articles aside, she helped herself to a seat on the edge of the desk. Squinting at April, she said, "We haven't met."

April straightened in her chair and adjusted her glasses. "I'm April," she announced with a hand outstretched, "April Newton. I'm--"

"Mickey's girl, yeah," the woman interjected with a nod of her head in the direction of the chief editor's office. She took April's hand and gave it a casual shake. "Peyton Campbell."

April's eyes went wide with recognition. "Oh. Oh! You're Peyton Campbell?" She had heard the name, of course, and even admired some of the work. Peyton was the Chronicle's Pulitzer-winning photojournalist; before that, she made a name for herself as a guerrilla photographer with a nose for a story. Her reputation earned her a long leash with Mickey, which partly explained why she and April had never crossed paths. Shaking the cobwebs loose, April blushed and said, "I'm sorry. I only ever heard your name, so I just assumed..."

"You and my father both," Peyton replied with a knowing smirk. "I think he would've been much happier if I had been a son, but I would've been happier if he hadn't cheated on my mother with a 24 year-old graduate student, so I guess we'll call it even." The woman's candor stunned April, who struggled to hide her shocked expression. Fortunately, Peyton showed little interest in dwelling on the topic, as she had already turned her attention to one of the articles on the desk. "So, what's Mickey got you doing after hours?"

"Copy editing," April answered, eliciting a disgusted sneer from Peyton. She felt obliged to explain, "This is my penance for going behind Mickey's back on a story."

Peyton shifted, her body language conveying sudden interest. "Miss America's got a rebellious streak! I can dig it," she smiled. "Want some free advice?" April nodded. "Mickey's one of the good ones, but don't ever forget that his job is to sell newspapers; your job is to find the story. Sometimes, that's the same thing, and sometimes it isn't."

April thought she understood. "How will I know which is which?" she asked.

"If you've got what it takes, you'll know," Peyton assured her. Her eyes flitted away from April in the direction of the monitors mounted above the bullpen. "Oh, shit," she blurted out, her jaw sagging open. April immediately spun in her chair to see what was up.

A fiery scene dominated the nearest television. According to the headline at the bottom of the screen, there had been a crash involving one of Zenith Dynamics' autonomous delivery vehicles. The truck had rammed into one of the Mag-Rail's support columns, erupting in a massive fireball. Miraculously, no one had been hurt, but the Mag-Rail now threatened to collapse; worse, an adjoining report explained that the inbound train's emergency brakes had failed. In a matter of minutes, the monorail would crash unless someone found a way to stop it.

"I need my camera," Peyton said for her own benefit before scrambling off.

April felt similarly motivated to act. She had no idea what to do, of course, but she couldn't just stay there and watch a catastrophe unfold. The accident had occurred where the train passed Liberty Park, which meant she'd never beat it there on foot. Without stopping to think, she burst for the stairwell and bound up towards the roof. Upon reaching her destination, the insanity of her plan dawned on her. She had slipped gravity's hold only once, and that had been while sleeping. If I can do it once... Standing on the roof of the Chronicle, wind whipping around her small frame, she felt somewhat less than confident. April removed her glasses and let them tumble to the gravel beneath her feet.

Fortunately, the urgency of the situation prevented her from overthinking it. April closed her eyes and visualized her goal, just as she had done in the lab. She could feel her newfound abilities responding, the energy welling up from somewhere deep inside. It radiated out from her core, electrifying her skin. April felt her feet gently lift off the gravel. When she opened her eyes, she was hovering more than a foot above the rooftop. Gasping, she threatened to lose her balance for a moment before righting herself again. I'm flying, she thought excitedly. No big deal. Totally normal. There was little time to concentrate on the utter insanity of the feat. April willed herself forward -- slowly -- and her body obeyed.

Once she reached the building's ledge, she made the mistake of looking down to see the ant-like pedestrians and cars below. Fear gripped her heart, and she wobbled backwards weightlessly. But the sound of sirens ringing throughout the city urged her onward. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself. As the roar of the city dulled to a whisper, April opened her eyes and shot forward. The wind whistled past her ears as she took off like a streak. Skyscrapers raced up to meet her, and she deftly spun away from collisions without a thought; instinct took over as she focused only on the shortest path to her destination.

Eventually, the concrete jungle gave way to a sea of green as April reached Liberty Park. Orange light flickered like a beacon where the damaged section of the Mag-Rail track still burned. April's eyes followed the track up a ways until she spotted the approaching train's headlights. There was no time to waste. With arms outstretched above her head, April sliced through the air on an intercepting course, slowing only as she came up alongside the train. Ooookay, now what? It hadn't occurred to her to formulate a plan to actually stop the train. If it wasn't for all the people who'd get hurt, she figured she could probably just nudge it off the track.

This is gonna hurt, April winced as she realized what she must do. Darting ahead of the high-speed train, she planted herself mid-air and braced for impact. The Mag-Rail's lead car slammed into her at full force, driving all the air from her lungs. Amazingly, however, April was unharmed. So, that's what it feels like to get hit by a train, she mused darkly. Summoning her strength, she stretched out her arms as her palms flattened against the cone-shaped nose of the train. The vehicle shuddered yet showed little sign of slowing. April snapped her head over her shoulder and tried to gauge how much track she had left. Not enough.

Gritting her teeth, April exerted as much force as she could muster. She felt the steel crumpling like aluminum foil around her hands. The green light surrounding her reflected off of the train, pulsing with urgency. The Mag-Rail began to squeal under the pressure being applied, and April felt it shuddering more violently. Sorry! she thought on behalf of the hapless passengers. If she succeeded, however, a little jostling would be a small price to pay. April curled her fingers around the twisted metal and squeezed until her knuckles turned white. Her arms started shaking as badly as the train.

The heat at April's back warned her that they were approaching the damaged section of track. "Come on!" she pleaded the train, lowering her shoulder into place to give herself a little more leverage. "Just stop!" The train didn't seem responsive. April felt the full weight of the Mag-Rail fighting her for every inch. The broken track neared, and her impending failure burned beneath her skin. She braced herself for the worst. The lead car lurched forward as it dropped off the track; April fell with it...

... until she suddenly stopped. She hadn't hit the ground, nor had she been crushed under the weight of a falling train. Instead, April hung in the air halfway between the track and the earth. The lead car rested against her shoulder, its compatriots dangling above it like beads on a string. A nervous laugh overtook April, and she blurted out, "I did it!" Shifting the weight of the train, she pushed it back while floating up until the entire Mag-Rail rested gently on the track once more. The disaster had been avoided, if only narrowly.

A raucous cheer rose up from the ground below. April turned to see a small crowd of onlookers who had witnessed her feat. For a moment, she swelled with pride, until the passing of a helicopter searchlight reminded her just how exposed she was. What if someone recognizes me? she thought in a panic. Seeing no point in chancing it any further, she tucked herself down and darted away in the direction of the park. The helicopter attempted to track her, but she was too small and too quick. She disappeared from view and felt awash with relief.

Well, April, your life's about to get a lot more complicated...
@Eddie Brock

He I was just thinking Miss Megaton and Flamenco would make interesting adversaries.


We'll have to have a showdown eventually. It's been a while since I fought a PC villain.


"This isn't going to hurt, right?"

Jefferson laughed, though he didn't exactly answer the question directly. As he continued to untangle the mess of wires between his hands, he explained, "All of this is strictly observational. These machines are going to take readings: electrical, nuclear, and so on. You don't have to do a thing, except sit back and relax." Having finally freed a bundle of electrodes, he moved his hands to either side of April's head. After a few false starts, he motioned towards her glasses and asked, "May I?"

April shrugged. "Be my guest. Although, I should warn you that I'm basically blind without th--" Catching herself mid-sentence, she watched in disbelief as her blurry field of vision suddenly snapped into clear focus. Her glasses hung in the air as Jeff pulled them away, and yet she could see as clearly now as she had when they were on. Blinking a few times, she was relieved to learn that the effect did not go away. "Okay, that's weird."

Jefferson, oblivious to this newest development, asked, "What's weird?" as he continued to set her glasses down on a nearby tabletop.

"I can see," April replied. Still wanting to test it, she held a hand over one eye followed by the other. Any way she sliced it, her vision was crystal clear. A smile cracked across her face. "I can't remember the last time I could see this well without my glasses."

Jefferson leaned back on a heel and tapped his chin. "Well, we've already theorized that you can somehow alter your body's electromagnetic field in defiance of gravity. I suppose it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility, then, that your sensitivity to electromagnetism extends to the visible spectrum..."

Although it was couched in scientific jargon, April followed the general train of thought. "Are you suggesting that the reactor explosion somehow fixed my eyesight?"

"Strictly speaking, no," he answered, "but the effect is much the same." As he contemplated the ramifications of this new discovery, he went back to placing electrodes along her temples. "You had complained that your eyes were unusually fatigued yesterday, right? Perhaps that was a side effect of this new 'sight' developing. For all we know, you've only scratched the surface! Who's to say that your sensitivity begins and ends at the visible spectrum? If you could also tap into higher and lower wavelengths..."

At that point, April found herself not really listening. It wasn't that the conversation wasn't somewhat interesting, only that Jefferson seemingly had a habit of running away with his thoughts. If she was being honest, his enthusiasm was cute in an endearing sort of way; she didn't find herself attracted to Jefferson or anything like that, but she could see how another girl might find him irresistibly adorkable. As he made eye contact with her, she realized he was waiting on her to respond to the last thing he said. Luckily, a small smile seemed to satisfy him.

Now that April felt more wired up than a Christmas tree, Jefferson was apparently content to begin collecting data. After a few more last minute checks, he went to sit down at a nearby terminal. As he started flipping switches, April heard the hum of machinery coming to life. The laboratory that Jefferson procured was more than big enough for their purposes; even with all the equipment they were using, they only took up a small corner of the otherwise abandoned room. "Alright now, I want to get a baseline, so just relax," Jeff instructed.

April did as she was told. Picking at her nails, she found herself uncomfortable in the ensuing silence. She wasn't much of a "sit quietly" type, anyway. With little else in the way of conversational topics, she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to get to know Jefferson a little better. Clearing her throat, she asked, "So, where are you from originally, Jefferson?" She could tell by his subtle accent that he wasn't from around these parts.

"My family's from Houston, Texas," Jeff answered without looking up from his screen. "I moved away for school when I turned eighteen, and I haven't been back since." She sensed there was something personal behind that statement, but they weren't close enough to broach the subject further. "What about you, city girl? Always been in town?"

"I actually haven't been living in the city all that long," she admitted. "But I have been a California girl my whole life."

"Let me guess: only child, too?" Jeff ventured.

Impressed, April smiled. "How'd you know?"

He shrugged. "Just have that way about you, I guess," he replied. It wasn't immediately apparent whether he meant that positively or negatively. "I couldn't imagine it, personally. I love my siblings."

"Sisters, right?" This time, it was his turn to be impressed. April grinned smugly. "You're not the only one with intuition."

"One older, one younger," Jefferson reported. Him being a middle child suddenly made a ton of sense. Before they could get deeper into the weeds of each other's upbringings, however, his screen beeped at him. "Alright, good, I think we're ready to start measuring. Can you try to start to... y'know, glow?"

Biting her lip gently, April nodded. She still wasn't sure she could control the energies, only having consciously achieved it once. To start, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to visualize a sheath of neon green energy around all parts of her body. Opening her eyes, she surprised herself to find that it was actually there, just as she had envisioned it. The air around her body seemed to ripple like asphalt on a hot summer day. April allowed herself a small smile as Jefferson scribbled notes.

"Okay, see if you can kick it up a notch, yeah?"

She set her brow. Summoning the power from deep within herself, she called it forth with a thought. The radiation sheath grew brighter, and the heat wave effect intensified. Yet the energy produced minimal heat; it was cool to the touch as it cascaded off her skin. April found that the more she concentrated, the more energy she could produce. If there was an upper limit, she hadn't approached it yet. It felt like a bottomless well from which she could draw at will. The thought was terrifying... and exciting.

Jefferson scratched a few more things down, then called out, "Do you think you can localize it?"

"I can try," April replied. After all, she had been able to when she heated up the coffee mug. Drawing down the energy, she shaped it with her mind, willing it to travel down along her arm. It collected in the palm of her hand, forming a nebulous ball of radioactive energy. Stray particles orbited her fist as she closed her fingers around it. Turning her attention to her other hand, she watched as the energy began to gather there, too.

Jefferson rose gingerly. "Alright, now I want to see if you can discharge it," he explained. April shot him an uncertain look. Discharge? That was a loaded term. Heedless of the apparent danger, he plucked a spare notepad from the nearby desktop. Pantomiming a throwing motion, he locked eyes and asked, "Ready?"

She was less than confident. Still, the energy crackled around her fists. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. Jefferson heaved back and sent the notepad tumbling through the air. April punched at the empty space in front of her, and a green burst shot from her hand. It clipped the corner of the notebook mid-flight, sending the bulk of it careening across the lab as shredded paper rained down like confetti. April laughed in spite of herself and said, "Give me another!" Jeff complied, and she shot the next notebook out of the sky with the blast from her other hand.

"Awesome!" Jeff blurted out, any sense of composure lost. With his hands on his hips, he surveyed the monitors at his workstation. "Well, I've got good news for you, Ms. Newton: you're not carcinogenic! I wouldn't necessarily want to be next to you for prolonged periods when you're running full bore, but the ambient energy you produce doesn't appear to be harmful."

April felt a wave of relief wash over her. It was certainly good to hear that she hadn't been irradiating everyone around her. Now, there was only one pertinent question left to answer. "Okay, so how long do you think this'll last?"

Jefferson laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "See, that's the thing," he began, "My initial hypothesis was that you were some kind of radiation sponge, and these effects would only last as long as it took to deplete all that energy. But this data suggests that you're more of a radiation battery. These levels can't be explained unless your body is naturally producing this energy."

The wind went out of April's sails. "So, this could be permanent?" she intuited. The thought of this being the new normal kinda terrified her.

Picking up on her disappointment, Jefferson launched into damage control. "Hey, look on the bright side!" he said with forced enthusiasm. "You're some kind of an honest-to-goodness superhero! You've got strength, flight, energy manipulation... Think of all the good you can do with these abilities! All the good we can do, together!"

"I'm not looking to be a superhero, Jeff," she sighed. She started removing the electrodes. "This isn't Lost Haven; this city doesn't need a hero any more than I need that kind of headache. I didn't even want to be at that stupid demonstration... I just wanted answers. Which reminds me: did you make any progress on those files?"

Crestfallen, Jefferson gave a solemn nod. Trudging over to his workstation, he rifled through his bag until he produced her flash drive. "I understand why you were so interested. Can't promise this'll help any, though," he warned before turning it over. So, he had put two and two together. Not that she had gone to any great lengths to hide her connection to the case. "I'm sorry about your dad, April. That must've been hard."

"What was hard was never knowing what happened to him. It's about time I knew the truth." She clutched the flash drive in her palm. Placing a hand on Jeff's shoulder, she said, "Thank you, Jeff. For this, and for helping me... figure out things. I have some thinking to do, I guess." April picked up her glasses and fitted them back onto her nose. After a moment, her vision adjusted to the lenses again.

"Well, if you change your mind about the whole 'superhero' thing, you know where to find me," he offered.

April managed half a smile. "You'll be my first call."
I've got a post chambered and another mostly finished. Just haven't found the time to format them yet.
How does one get one of those cool character banners?


Personally, I already had an idea in mind, so I just looked up some GIMP tutorials to achieve the effect I wanted.
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