Eddie Brock

Vanguard: Calder City

@Stormyx Dani is also seen drinking matcha! I'm not going to ask any questions as to why you're compiling this list, but I will be having NPCs taste anything before she has it for the foreseeable future...

Vanguard: Calder City

I am going to bow out of Vanguard for now. I will read along because there's great work happening in here and I love to see it, but the IC has gotten very far away from me and we're at a point where delivering a follow-up to something that's now 32 posts old would be frankly embarrassing, and that's assuming I even have a plan for Lance or know what to do with him. I fear the pace is simply too fast for me to keep up with - the proverbial monkey's paw.

I may simmer away in the background on potential concepts for something to return with, but for now I will lurk.

@Roman

youtu.be/WVe80iZtlYU?si=RaSrUOwcy1y2e5Ws

Vanguard: Calder City

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EXTRA-ORDINARY
^{PART IV}

By the time Dani's key hit the lock at the end of the week, she was thoroughly and soundly beat. Five classes, each competing to see which could kick her ass the most each week, wrapped around a schedule at the station that could charitably be described as “hectic.” Dani was doing the work of three or four employees, which was far from unusual; it seemed everyone at WKNT wore enough hats to fill a haberdashery. Still, her coworkers were uniformly awesome, and the work – though tedious – made her feel connected to something bigger than herself.

It was not an unfamiliar sensation.

Dani's apartment was a meager thing, a converted attic unit in a building older than she was, but it was hers, which counted for everything in the end. With the money she'd saved, she could have sprung for something large and modern, but that smacked of the sort of materialism that drove her to independence in the first place. She had even briefly considered on-campus housing – with the notable exception of the “altered student dormitory,” as CSU officially called it – but the thought of living with people who'd known each other since freshman orientation made her feel like an interloper. She much preferred having her own sanctuary.

Shoes and backpack were discarded promptly by the door. Padding across floors so creaky that any would-be intruder would need to levitate, Dani made for her typical first port of call: the kitchenette. It was a generous term for what amounted to a fridge, a sink, an induction stove, and a couple of cabinets in the middle of what was otherwise the main living space. Retrieving a fresh Topo Chico from the half-stocked refrigerator, Dani then went to check on Lola.

Situated atop the bookcase near the window, Lola’s vines stretched halfway to the floor. She'd been a housewarming gift from Elena, who had insisted that sharing the apartment with another living thing – even a houseplant – would help combat loneliness. Dani had rolled her eyes at that, but damn if she hadn't grown attached to the thing, anyway.

“I'm sorry, girl,” Dani lamented, noting the droop in the golden pothos’ leaves. She wasn't going to be in the running for “Plant Mom of the Year” anytime soon. After a quick sprinkling from a watering can she kept on the shelf, the plant seemed maybe a tad livelier. “I won't let it get that bad again,” she promised, not for the first time.

While the living room was nice, particularly the skylight which bathed the whole area in a lovely glow in the early morning, Dani spent most of her time in the bedroom. The sloping exterior wall made it feel smaller than it already was, but that only added to the cozy vibe, in her opinion. She'd strung some lights along the ceiling, the multicolored kind that made her feel like she was sleeping inside a Christmas tree. The nook behind the dormer window was perfectly sized for a desk, allowing her to peer out over the street whenever she sat at her computer.

The room was a testament to a life in progress. The bed was, as ever, unmade. Bras and other articles of clothing were strewn about at random, laying wherever they happened to come to rest. A paperback sat on the nightstand, cover folded open to the last place she'd stopped reading; some trashy romance thing she'd started as a hate read and would not, on pain of death, admit she was now invested in. Once she finished her Topo Chico, it could join the museum of disused drinking vessels collecting on her desktop.

It was amazing the difference six months could make. Her life once consisted of gunfights, supervillain battles, and primetime interviews. Now, the biggest challenge she faced was remembering to do her laundry.

Retrieving a basket from her closet, Dani set to the task of picking up all the clothes on the floor. The outfit she'd worn that day was also eschewed in favor of an oversized tee and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. Fortunately, the nearest laundromat wasn't far: just down two flights of stairs, in fact. The E-Z Wash & Fold was owned and operated by the same Lebanese couple who lived on the floor below Dani and rented out her unit.

Having operated a laundromat within walking distance of campus for the better part of twenty years, Mohamed and Rana Nassar were practically an institution unto themselves. Mohamed made it a point to greet each and every customer, but he was terrible with names, so they were all invariably called “my dear” or “my friend.” Rana, meanwhile, seemed to view the whole of CSU’s student body as surrogates for the children they never had. He minded the storefront while she minded the books, and the laundromat kept chugging.

Dani had not taken more than a step inside before Mohamed announced, “Danielle!” in a great booming voice. (It had taken several months for her name to stick.) “How are you, habibti?” His voice matched his frame: large, but never imposing. He was a monument of a man, wider than he was tall, with a balding head and a short beard more gray now than black.

She offered a kind smile in return. “I'm well,” she assured him, already anticipating his next statement.

“So thin!” he remarked, clicking his tongue. “Rana will faint at the sight of you.” He was not wrong; sometimes, it seemed she would not be happy until Dani was as thick as her husband. Just then, something across the way caused his eyes to widen. “No, no, my friend! Please no shoes in the dryer!” With only the briefest look of apology towards Dani, he hurried off to prevent another laundromat disaster.

Dani made her way to the washers. At that hour, with so many people out enjoying their Friday night, she had her pick of the litter. In fact, the only occupied machine was not in use but currently under repair. A red toolbox sat atop the machine while a figure tinkered within the drum. Dani didn't need to guess who the handyman was; Mohamed and Rana’s nephew, Samir, handled all the shop’s repairs.

Samir was a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy only a few years Dani's elder, although he dressed and carried himself like someone even older. The son of Mohamed’s brother, he had inherited none of his uncle's characteristic warmth. Samir never used two words when one would do, and whenever he looked at Dani, she felt the distinct sensation of being judged. If she had to say something nice about him, it was that he was a dutiful nephew and handy with a wrench – which was good, because Mohamed's relationship with machinery was mercurial at best.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Samir stopped what he was doing and peered out from the broken machine. If his expression changed at seeing Dani, it was only by degrees. “Evening,” he said simply.

Dani almost wondered if the omission of “good” was intentional. If there was one thing she was good at, though, it was matching energy. “Evening,” she replied, as disinterestedly as she could manage. Of course, the only trouble was that there was no getting a rise out of him, either. The two of them simply went back to their business with nary another word exchanged.

About halfway through Dani's load, a petite woman in a hijab approached her machine. If anyone judged Rana Nassar by her size, assuming the rail-thin woman must be submissive to her immense husband, they did not know the woman at all. She had a force of will that belied her unassuming stature. “For you,” she said, presenting a Tupperware container, “fresh mujaddara. I always make more than Mo and I can eat.”

Dani had long since learned that rejecting offers of food only offended the woman – and besides, Rana’s cooking was better than anything she could find on Uber Eats. “Thank you.”

“So thin,” Rana echoed her husband's words. “Your mother must worry about you day and night.”

More than you could possibly imagine. She was sure if this woman knew the half of Dani's escapades, it would shock her hair white. She tended to have that effect on mothers, biological or otherwise.

Later, as Dani was stuffing her clothes in the dryer, something caught the corner of her eye. By the door, there was a bulletin board on the wall. This, in and of itself, was not unusual; Dani had seen it plenty of times. Typically, it contained any number of advertisements for local businesses, offers for guitar and piano lessons, the occasional “help wanted” ad… once even a flyer advertising a local band’s gig, which, to her surprise, hadn't completely sucked.

But tonight, a set of ominous posters drew her attention. There were three in total: missing person flyers in stark black, red, and white. The victims’ smiling faces stared back at her, all of them her own age. Dani thought back to the conversation she overheard about a missing roommate a few days ago. Two of the victims were girls; were either of them her? And the last one, the boy with shaggy hair… he was wearing a necklace in the shape of a gray Penrose triangle.

He was one of us, Dani realized with concern. Maybe they all were. But even if they weren't, they were still people, classmates, innocents. And so many disappearances in such a short amount of time was cause for alarm. Dani looked away from the board, from the faces frozen in time. She stared at the clothes tumbling in the dryer and tried to let herself be hypnotized. It wasn't her responsibility, not anymore. Calder was brimming with heroes. Someone else could handle it.

She didn't even notice the tension in her fists or the fluorescents overhead beginning to flicker.

Vanguard: Calder City

<Snipped quote by Fabricant451>

Has anyone started this already? If not, I might.

@Roman

... you're... you're gonna eat it, aren't you?

Vanguard: Calder City

@Sep

Vanguard: Calder City

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EXTRA-ORDINARY
^{PART III}

The managerial office at WKNT was, in reality, little more than a storage space where someone had once thought to stick a desk and a few chairs. Wall to wall shelving contained all manner of physical media: boxes upon boxes of vinyls, literal thousands of CDs, even one or two disused tape decks. Though it was cramped, poorly lit, and smelled vaguely of skunk weed and mildew, Dani would have gladly spent hours poring over all the old music, much of which would have been considered “classic” by the time she was born.

The station manager, a graduate student from Australia by the name of Lucas Taylor, sat across from Dani with his feet up on the desk. With his camp shirt half-buttoned over a white tank top and his sandy hair in a messy curtain style, he would've looked right at home at the beach. In his hands, he held Dani’s pitiful, mostly blank excuse for a résumé. “What's a ‘Heb?’” he asked, his accent dulled by years in the States but by no means eradicated.

Dani leaned forward. “Oh, that's H-E-B,” she corrected him, sounding out each letter. “It's a Texas grocery store.” And just shy of a cult, frankly.

Lucas nodded. “Right, so two years stocking, and that was your last job?”

Worrying her lip, she nodded back. That wasn't strictly true, of course; between the ages of 16 and 20, she had worked plenty, but it wasn't the sort of job you listed on a résumé – particularly when you were trying to remain incognito. Unfortunately, omitting her time as Aurora left quite the unsightly gap in her work experience. She had come to the interview fully prepared to be laughed out of the room.

“Well, to be frank, no one else really wants the job ‘cause the pay’s shit, the hours are shit, and I can't offer work-study,” Lucas explained. “You seem alright, so if you're cool with that, it's yours.”

Dani lit up. (Not literally, though it wasn't far off.) “Yes!” Then, softer, “I mean, yes, I am definitely cool with that. Thank you.”

Smirking at the sudden burst of enthusiasm from the girl whose demeanor had otherwise been so reserved, Lucas said, “No worries.” He swung his feet around and stood up. “Come on. I'll introduce you to the crew.”

Dani liked the sound of a “crew.” It sounded official. It sounded… not lonely. Taking a second to rein in her excitement – it wouldn't do to completely blow her first impression – she slung her backpack over one shoulder and followed Lucas out of the broom closet of an office.

The rest of the station wasn't much bigger, but what it lacked in size, it more than made up for with character. At its heart was the lounge, a half-finished room with exposed wooden rafters and ductwork strung with globe lights. The floor might've been hardwood, but it was so scuffed and uneven that it was difficult to know for sure; a collection of thrifted rugs lay one on top of the other, exactly none of them matching. There was a couch that somehow looked in worse shape than the one at home, and absolutely anywhere there was a flat surface, there was a collage of concert posters and skateboard stickers.

Across the way, Dani could see through the window into the recording booth, which at least had pretensions of professionalism. The equipment inside seemed archaic, but it must have been operational because the red “ON AIR” light above the door was on, and there was a girl with a pixie cut and giant headphones sitting behind a microphone. Just then, an adjacent door opened, revealing a peek inside another small, dark room.

Out of the darkness stepped a stocky Asian boy about Dani's age, or perhaps a bit younger, with square glasses and short, spiky hair. In one hand, he carried a cup from Shake Shack, while the other lazily tossed a hacky sack in the air. He also, apparently, felt perfectly comfortable walking around the station in Crocs.

“Maxwell! Just the fella I wanted to see,” Lucas announced. Beckoning the boy over, he said, “Max here's our ace audio engineer. He literally keeps the lights on for us. Anything ever breaks, this is who you call. Max, this is Dani, our new PA.”

“I told you the flyers would work!” Max said excitedly. “It's very nice to meet you, Dani. I love your shirt! That’s from the Fever to Tell Tour, isn't it?”

With furrowed brow, Dani looked down at the faded Yeah Yeah Yeahs tee beneath her red checkered flannel. “Uhh… I’m not exactly sure. Maybe?” It was one of many shirts she had reclaimed from her late father's wardrobe. She'd never gotten the chance to find out if he'd actually seen all these bands in person. From the stories he used to tell, it wouldn't have surprised her, though.

“Mind like a steel trap, this one,” Lucas explained. “I've learned it's best just to assume he's right.” As Max chuckled, Lucas motioned for Dani to continue following. The two of them marched over to the recording booth, and Lucas waved at the girl inside. She held up a finger, finished speaking into the mic, and removed her headset. Lucas then opened the door, saying, “How's it going? Got a second?”

“Yep!” The girl was everything Dani wanted to be and everything Elena feared she would become. Short auburn hair framed a teardrop face with multiple nose piercings, including a septum ring. Her loose-fitting tank top revealed not one but two tattoo sleeves in progress. As she stood, it became clear that somehow Dani wouldn't be the shortest one at the station. “You're new,” the girl observed matter-of-factly.

Dani nodded. “I’m Dani. I just accepted the open position.”

“Francesca,” the other girl said, “but only my Nana calls me that. For everyone else, it's just Frankie.” She offered a hand, which Dani shook.

“Frankie's one of the three best DJs on staff,” Lucas put in.

With a fake guffaw, Frankie explained to Dani, “There are only three DJs on staff, not including when Lucas fills in.” As she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, she said, “Shit, sorry. I was up all night consoling my roommate about her breakup.”

“Marketing exam for me,” Lucas answered with a yawn of his own.

Dani bit down on her lip to avoid adding a third. Once the danger had passed, she offered, “Why don't I run and grab everyone some coffee?” Her own caffeine levels had gotten precipitously low, and she could think of no better way to ingratiate herself with her new coworkers.

Frankie smirked. “She's good.” Dani felt a twinge of pride as the DJ sat back down and picked up her headphones.

“What a fine idea,” Lucas agreed. To Frankie, he said, “Text me what you want, yeah?” and then nodded Dani towards the door. Once they were back in the lounge, he fished out his wallet and produced a CSU branded card. “Here's our official purchasing card.”

Frowning at it, Dani asked, “Really? Isn't there, like… paperwork I would need to fill out first or something?” It seemed incredible that she'd be trusted with that kind of responsibility right off the bat. Hadn't she just finished the interview?

Lucas just shrugged. “Yeah, probably.” She was starting to get the impression that this wasn't a very “by the book” outfit – which suited her just fine. “The PIN’s 1-2-3-4, so try not to lose it.”

A few minutes later, Dani was standing in line at Brewed Awakening, the fair trade coffee shop located on the first floor of the Student Union. Since coming to campus, she had taken a liking to this place; the earthy smell of the dark roasts and abundant greenery in the decorations made it feel very grounding. She would have come here more often to study – or even just people-watch – but the limited seating and high traffic nature of the Union often made it difficult to find a table.

Dani’s earbuds were in, as they so often were whenever she was out and about. It was a defense against the unwanted approach, the uncomfortable conversation. So long as she kept them in, she dictated the terms of engagement. Even so, the girls directly behind her in line were near enough and loud enough to be heard over her music. Dani didn't want to eavesdrop, but simple curiosity eventually won out over decorum.

“How long has she been missing?” one asked.

“Since last Thursday!” the other answered. “At first, I thought she was just staying with that guy, the one she met at Harborlight.”

The club name pricked Dani’s interest. She'd never been, but it'd been a near thing. The first time an invitation came around, she was still concerned with preserving her squeaky-clean public persona; the second time, when rebelliousness had taken hold and she should've been the target audience, she was so over the superhero scene that the thought of partying with a bunch of strung-out Grays felt like just a different sort of social obligation.

“How'd she swing an invite to that, anyway?”

“I never told you?” The second girl lowered her voice, but not so much that Dani couldn't still hear her. “She's a Gray.”

The first girl gasped. “I thought they had their own housing?”

They did. Specialized dorms with increased security and other accommodations for the empowered. Optional but encouraged. Dani hadn't considered it for even a moment.

“I guess she didn't want anybody to know.”

“Weird,” the first girl said. After a beat, she considered aloud, “Who knows how many more there are like her?”

Dani could only smirk. Who, indeed?

Vanguard: Calder City

So I feel like putting this here. This is a plot that is going on in the background for everyone and a couple of people are already getting invested in.

These are most of the facts as Dusk understands them, and most these facts have been reported on.

• Greys all over the city are going missing.
• Most, if not all, these greys are mundane every people who use their powers in their everyday lives.
• some have shown up months later, blood drained, clean clothed, scrubbed clean and missing their hair.
• Mountain is the most public killing, however doesn't wholly match the pattern.

Eve is getting in on it, Dusk will be entering the scene soon as will Rock and Scott.

I'm reading all the posts and finding ways to loosely connect things. I'm personally trying for an Invincible style approach where there is more going on in the world than one big thing. The story changes with the whims and words of you all.

@Sep

You know, as someone who's still trying to figure out how and why Aurora starts moonlighting again, this wouldn't be a terribly difficult hook to start seeding...

Vanguard: Calder City

I love that my attempts to make a slightly edgy, alternative character are mostly for naught because I'm such a softie that my characters inevitably are, too. Genuinely wouldn't want it any other way.

Vanguard: Calder City

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EXTRA-ORDINARY
^{PART II}

“Was he cute at least?”

Amara Bishop was a lean, twenty-two year old black girl with a braided ponytail slung over one shoulder. Once upon a time, she had gone by the codename “Relay” and had been represented by PRG, like Dani. That was before she burned out her superspeed rescuing one hundred and seventy-six people from a moving train mid-derailment. Coming up together, she and Dani bonded not just over shared experience but also shared loss: where Dani had lost her father to a structural fire, Amara had lost her mother to breast cancer.

Dani shrugged, lazily stirring her coconut matcha smoothie with a paper straw. “He had a nice car?” she offered meekly, smirking.

Shaking her head, Amara let out an exasperated, “Girl…” They'd spent the better part of an hour catching up on the other night's escapades while hanging at Amara’s current place of employment, a trendy smoothie bar called Verdure. It was the sort of place with minimalist design, drink ingredients no one could quite pronounce (which were allegedly full of “micronutrients”), and $14 smoothies. As Amara flitted from one station to the next, dressed in a matching sports bra and yoga pants, Dani found that the energy of the place suited her. She'd always seemed cooler than Dani could manage.

“He texted me yesterday,” she said. At the raising of one of her friend's eyebrows, Dani continued, “He said he was sorry. He said he just freaked out ‘cause it was his dad's car, and he didn't want him to know he'd been driving drunk…” Amara's glare could've burned a hole through her head. “I'm not seeing him again,” Dani assured her.

“Because you know I'd kick your ass,” Amara replied, pointing a banana threateningly. The loss of her powers had not corresponded with an equivalent – or, frankly, any – loss in confidence. As she went back to prepping ingredients, she asked, “So, how pissed is your mom?”

Dani chuckled joylessly. “Remember how mad she was when she found out we got tattoos? I think this has finally dethroned that.”

“Ha! I believe it. When my dad found a joint in my room in high school, he made me run bleachers for over an hour.” Long before his daughter's Gray awakening, Walker Bishop was a championship-winning track & field coach, a role he continued ‘til this day. For as much as Dani complained about her mother being controlling, they didn't hold a candle to the Bishop family. At least Elena never got her up at five o'clock for wind sprints. “She gonna pull you out of CSU?”

Dani shook her head. “Nah, she's even more invested in it than I am,” she admitted. She stared down at her drink and its rapidly degenerating straw.

Amara raised an eyebrow. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” Dani responded, a beat too quickly; then, less defensively, “No, I mean, I'm still glad I walked away when I did. If I had to do one more sponsor meet-and-greet or give one more phoney interview, I would have blown my brains out.” She sighed. “I just… I don't feel like I've found my footing on the other side. I walk around campus terrified of getting recognized, but at the same time, I feel like I'm at a party where everybody knows each other, and I'm just some rando.”

Amara nodded. “Been there.”

Dani suddenly felt embarrassed to be complaining about a choice she made in front of someone whose choice was taken from them. “How'd you do it?” she asked.

Her friend shrugged, but for the first time, there was a crack in her armor; Dani only hoped she hadn't widened it. “It was hard,” Amara offered. “Still is. You know you're the only person from the old days I still hear from? Harlow sends an expensive fruit basket every Christmas – or her secretary does, anyway.” She paused to blend a smoothie while also gathering her thoughts. “Nobody knows anybody until they do. You've just gotta find a place where you feel comfortable being yourself. The rest will follow.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The advice seemed perfectly sound, but as Dani sat there, she couldn't picture where such a place might be. So much of her life had been wrapped up in Aurora for so long that she wasn't sure she knew how to be anything else. Dani checked her phone. “Shoot, gotta run. I've only got twenty minutes to get to my Civics class.”

“You could always…” Amara pushed a hand through the air in a swooping motion.

Dani shot her oldest friend a look and went on her way.

The subway wasn't a particularly glamorous way to travel, but it was fast, cheap, and presented significantly less risk to Dani's anonymity. At that hour, it wasn't all that crowded, either. Walking to the end of the platform, Dani found a car that was all but abandoned; besides herself, the only other living soul was a Latina waitress heading home for the day, brown apron in hand. Dani settled into a corner seat and popped on her usual playlist. “Bags” by Clairo began to play.

At the second stop, a man entered the car. Dani clocked him right away, as did the waitress. His zip-up hoodie might've fit if he were thirty pounds heavier, and he evidently had no one in his life to tell him that his chinstrap beard wasn't working. Dani was grateful when he seemed to pay her no mind, but then she saw his gaze linger on the waitress. For her part, the other woman had picked a spot on the floor to study very intently.

The man was content to hang off one of the stanchions at first. After a minute, though, he ambled over to the bench where the other woman was sitting and helped himself to a seat. Dani, watching all of this unfold, surreptitiously removed one of her earbuds. Now facing the waitress, the man said, “Hey,” dragging out the syllable. Interpreting nothing from her silence, he inched closer. “I said, ‘hey.’”

The woman – who otherwise could have passed for a statue – flicked her eyes up at Dani, so briefly that an ill-timed blink would have missed it. Not that she would've needed the signal.

“She's not interested, dude,” Dani called out.

The man looked at her as though she had just announced the weather in Peru. Somehow, he was even less attractive with his face all scrunched-up. “I'm having a private conversation,” he announced, “do you mind?”

“Conversations usually involve two people, and like I just said, she's not interested.”

“I don't remember asking you. If she's not interested, she can say so.” He turned back to the waitress and addressed her as though he were talking to a puppy or a small child. “Isn't that right? You'd say so, wouldn't you?” He began to stretch an arm towards her.

Anger flared in Dani. She rose to her feet instantly. “Touch a single follicle on her head, and you'll regret it,” she warned.

The creep now matched her energy. “Yo, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, bitch!” He took a lock of the waitress’ hair between his fingers.

Dani turned to the waitress. <“Cover your eyes.”> The woman did as she was told, and Dani’s hand shot up.

It had taken a long time to learn how to control her powers. That first time, at ACL, everything had happened on instinct; it was like her body had the answers to a test she didn't know she was taking. For the first few times thereafter, the power had been overwhelming, unpredictable. She felt like she was aiming a fire hose. Eventually, as with all things, muscle memory kicked in. Before long, she could create a beam thin enough to pierce a nickel or a blast large enough to flip a Hummer. In time, she even learned how to produce light absent force.

Dani's hand flared, filling the subway car with light. It lasted less than half a second, but in that time, the car lit up a thousand times brighter than any camera flash. As the flare subsided, the ambient light dimmed; Dani’s body drank in energy to replace what had been lost. After months of holding the light inside, there was a certain sense of relief – like stretching after sitting in an office chair too long.

The creep was not relieved. In fact, he was holding his eyes and groaning loudly. Dani hadn't hit him hard enough to cause permanent vision loss, but he'd definitely be seeing spots the rest of the day. “What– what the fuck?” he shouted with his typical eloquence. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Dani shrugged. “I did warn you.”

The train slowed, pulling into the Union Circle station. As the man continued struggling with temporary blindness, the two women collected their things and made for the exit. The waitress looked at Dani, perhaps a bit strangely but with a generous helping of gratitude. In a quiet voice, she whispered, “Gracias.”

“De nada,” Dani answered back. And with that, they went their separate ways. Dani hadn't had a save in months, and while “blinding the subway creep” didn't figure likely to rank among her greatest feats, it still felt great to use her powers to help someone; it felt the way it had in the beginning. And the best part? No press, no fanfare. She could just get back to her ordinary, uninteresting life with no one else being the wiser.

On her way out of the station, something caught Dani’s eye. Taped to a column was a flyer styled after a Sex Pistols concert poster advertising a production assistant opening at WKNT, Calder State’s campus radio. “Taste necessary, experience optional!” the flyer proclaimed. Dani heard Amara's words echoing in her head. Find a place where you feel comfortable being yourself. She had to admit: the girl knew her stuff.

Dani took out her phone and snapped a picture of the flyer.

Vanguard: Calder City

<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>

I am already worried I'm going to be too rusty and my quality is not going to match that which I am seeing, but I will certainly try my damndest to meet that bar.

@NeoAJ

Don't worry: imposter syndrome is exactly how you know you belong here, paradoxically.