Electra

Stesha: The Same Thing We Do Every Night To Boldly Go Training Day Hammer and Anvil (26 posts) Hard Day's Night The Guy Who Has Everything Erin: (Erin also has a reputation post, and will get a pp freed up by the Diehard ruling) Cool Air Out With the Old Sunny Afternoon Mysteries and Gossip (21 posts) Training Maneuvers (9 posts) Guitar Heroes (3 posts) Car Shopping The End of the World (18 posts) Ghosts in the Shell (non-canon) (counts for 6 posts) Birthday at the Park Morning in America

Stesha's hair changed from pale to darker green as the suns rose, and she seemed to get a spurt of energy to go with it. She used the energy constructively, as soon as the most beautiful part of the sunrise had faded, to start kissing him again. The novelty of that had yet to wear off, despite yesterday's activities, and certainly bore repeating as often as possible. She figured that if she kept it up, he would get used to it and not be so flustered, no matter how cute that was sometimes. "Want to go get breakfast?" she suggested, "or just go back to camp?"

"Hello, Ace," Stesha said with a smile, testing the mats with her feet as she stepped onto them. "Thanks for setting all of this up for us, it's really nice of you. I've never really done anything like this before, so I'll probably be hopeless to start. Taylor's good, though. Last time we did this, she dropped the guy she was fighting in three seconds flat." She stretched her arm over her head and grabbed her elbow, pulling on it to stretch the muscles out. "I'd better stretch a little, then I'll be ready to go."

"This is research," Erin told him with a quick grin. "We're test driving. But I like the truck pretty well so far. We could shove five or six in the cab, in a pinch, and carry things around in back. It should go off-road just fine, too." She walked over to the truck and kicked the tires a couple of times, more for something to do than because she expected it to do anything. She wasn't actually kicking that hard. "The mini's cute, but wouldn't do anything we probably need it to."

"You have the whole universe open to you, I'm sure you'll find the right place and time," Stesha told him with simple confidence. "I think heroes should have families if they want them, just like they should have vacations. It's a healthier way to live, especially if you have a very stressful job. You would have to take steps to protect them, be very careful about your secret identity, and maybe have someone build protection into your house in case something bad did come along, but it could be done. If the President can have a family, and members of the Freedom League can have families, and soldiers and policemen can have families, people like us can, too. It just takes a little extra work." She opened her palm, watching the crystals she'd gathered sparkle in the pink and golden light peeking over the horizon. "But I'm sure it's worth it."

Stesha laughed, then immediately knocked on the wooden arm of her chair. "You should know better than to say something like that," she chided Taylor. "The universe has way too much of a sense of humor about that sort of thing. But it was a fun evening. And there's nothing like some good semi-comedic violence for a laugh after a very long month." She gave a moment's consideration to spilling the beans about how her love life was really going, then decided not to. She was still thinking about how she felt about sleeping with Derrick, aside from the general liking of it part, and wasn't sure she was ready to dissect it. She was definitely sure that she didn't want Taylor to reciprocate with stories from her relationship with Jack, and dishing unidirectionally was sort of rude. So that would all have to wait for another time. "Did you ever figure the imps out?"

Erin thought about that for a minute, studying Zoe's face. "All right, fine," she said at last. "If you're straight with me, and we're really on the same side, I won't tell anyone else anything you tell me. I can understand having things you don't want everybody knowing about. But if you're lying," she warned, "and you try to hurt one of my friends, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you regret it. Just so we understand each other perfectly well."

Erin let go of Zoe's hand when they arrived, taking a few moments to regain her bearings. "That's a heck of a ride," she muttered, making sure her clothes were all intact after the fight and the run. Brushing herself off, she looked over at Mark. "Tell Alex I'll catch up with her after this, at the room if not before." She headed up towards the doors of the main building, more curious than ever now to hear what Zoe had to say.

"Thank you, I think we'll be fine," Stesha told him, then stepped into the changing room. She gave the leotards and tights a very skeptical look before passing them over for a look at the martial arts uniforms. They were nice, sort of like pajamas, but she didn't know what belt one was supposed to use when one was merely pretending, and she didn't want to advertise any skill she absolutely didn't possess. She finally settled on a gray and pink workout outfit that, while stretchy, at least was looser than a swimsuit and nylons. She dressed quickly, then made Taylor and Sara wait for a few minutes while she redid her hair, braiding it into a tight spiral against her head that was unlikely to come loose even if she was getting thrown around like a cat toy. "Okay," she finally said with a deep breath, "We ready?"

Erin slid out of the booth as Mike got up. "It'll be fine," she told Mark, reaching without apparent concern for Zoe's hand. Whether it was trust, self-confidence, or ignorance, she didn't seem terribly worried about any of the number of weird powers that could be triggered by skin-to-skin contact. Aunt Erin wouldn't have been so careless... but then, Aunt Erin wasn't nearly so prickly, either. Right now, or thirty years from now, she was probably out looking for Zoe, wondering what had become of her. "We'll be around the main building."

"We traced her this far," Erin told Clara, her voice becoming businesslike again. "Starting from the manor. But Argent says that the trail started going strange here. We can't nail down exactly when she passed through here, if it was after the blast, or just before it. If she veered off course, or was knocked off course by the blast, we need to track her down as soon as possible. She could be injured or trapped in debris somewhere." In her heart, Erin couldn't really believe that right now, but it was all the hope they had. Clara turned on the scanner and studied the readouts, then recalibrated and tried again. "I can't be sure," she admitted. "Normally this is sensitive enough to pick up hyperspeed passage days later, if it was fast enough, but the blast just knocked all the energy readings to hell and back. I can find the energy trace, but it's abnormal, sort of shadowed and skipping." She raised her head, her expression bleak. "It's headed straight for the crater."

"No, it's fine," Stesha told Taylor struggling to hide her unease about being home alone. She was an adult and sort of a half-assed superhero, after all, and not to be intimidated by the things that could teleport in out of the night. "You can just give me a call whenever you want to come over, or even just come in if I'm not available. I know you don't need a key, and it's easy to find. Do you want me to wait here with you while Jack gets your things?"

"Sure, here." Stesha dug into her knapsack, pulling out her wallet and rifling through her cards before pulling one out. "Here it is. His name is Damien Silver, he runs Silver's Rare Books and Antiquities. He's... not quite normal, but I don't know exactly if he's like us. He's nice, though. You can tell him I said you should get in touch with him." She grinned. "I don't know if that'll help, but we did seem to bond a little over his rhododendrons."

"Oh yeah," she said with a nod, watching the sliver of pink and blue gathering on the watery horizon. "Not right away, not when I'm just getting started out and doing hero work, all that, but I want what I grew up with, kids and a nice house and a big garden in the backyard. Maybe not so many kids, cause I have no idea how my mom managed with six, but a few." She smiled at Derrick. "Roots, you know? Family is the best kind, when they're not driving you up the wall. What about you?"

Stesha dallied just a little, eating something delicious on a toast point and looking at the acres of memorabilia. "See, isn't it neat?" she asked Taylor as they walked. "It's just like a museum, except that all of it belongs to Ace, because he lived through all those crazy adventures. I told him he should write his memoirs, but he won't. Still, think of all the stories that never made it into the comic books or the cartoon show. And you should see his garden!" she added enthusiastically as they headed down the hallway.

Stesha averted her eyes while Jack rubbed up against Taylor, more uncomfortable than she wanted to admit about seeing that. She'd seen rather more of Jack in that way than she'd ever really wanted, though not with Taylor, granted. "Whichever makes you more comfortable," she told Taylor. "If you're feeling well enough, we can go now. Some hours of uninterrupted sleep are probably just what you need right now." With an effort worthy of a hero, she resisted glaring at Jack with that phrase.

Erin's body tensed a little in readiness as the light came closer, not ready to fight, but prepared. Argent stepped up between them, taking Mark's arm in a very proprietary sort of way. "I don't recognize the pattern," she murmured, "but it's friendly. Feels like League." A moment later, the distinctive low-visibility running lights of a League uniform came into view, confirming the guess. More lights appeared behind the first, and moments later, human forms started to become visible. A searchlight beam played over Erin's face, making her squint as the first hero stepped into sight. Mark, who had a better view, instantly recognized his eldest daughter, a moment before she recognized her parents. "Mom!" Clara called, ignoring the protocol that called for code names in uniform. Now wasn't really the time for protocol anyway. She ran forward to hug her mother, team forgotten for a moment. Clara had inherited her mother's durability and her father's looks, and at twenty-five was a strikingly pretty young woman who could easily move through this wasteland with no more than a breathing mask on. Erin and Clara hugged tightly for a moment, one happy reunion for the day. It was hard for Erin to let go, but the danger was past, and there was work to be done. She stepped back, but kept her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "It's so good to see you," she told Clara. "Have you found anything?" "Nothing. No one," Clara replied sadly, shaking her head. "The whole place... it's just empty. Everything's blown to hell, not even bodies left." She took a deep breath, then looked over in her father's direction. "Hi Mark," she said with a polite nod. "I was glad to hear you all were okay."

Erin met Zoe's eyes across the table, studying her for a minute. "Fine," she said, just as curtly, curiosity getting the better of her. She didn't know why the stranger would want to talk to her least receptive audience, but she'd listen. And if it was actually a fight Zoe wanted, well, she was pretty sure she could hold her own, even against someone whose powers she could only half-guess. "I've got all day." Erin finished her glass of water and folded her hands, waiting for everyone else to be finished with their meals.

"We'll have to," Erin said, though her voice held little hope. "I have to get back to DC soon, but I can call in some markers, get people out here looking for her until I can come back. I worked with a retrocognitive down in Florida a few years ago, he might be some help if just being here doesn't burn him out entirely. But if there's anything to find, we'll find it..." She put her hand over his, her fingers tightening as she peered into the dark. "Look, up ahead... there's a light."

"I think at this point we may both have to content ourselves with "close enough," Stesha told him with a laugh, putting her head on his shoulder. "Good enough for me, even if I'll never be a scuba diver or get short blonde hair again. The benefits more than make up for it. I've seen things I never even would've imagined, some bad, some really wonderful. I'm only just starting to absorb the fact that I'm hundreds of millions of miles from Earth, about to watch two suns rise whose light won't be seen there till long after my children's children's children are dust. You'd think it would be scary, but it's not. Maybe because I'm not alone out here."

"You really must have a knack for it," Stesha agreed. "It probably wouldn't take you very long at all to learn Spanish or any of the other languages immigrant centers need. And you could get a job cribbing homework for lazy high school students with too much money," she suggested mischeivously. "But even if you don't want to do that, surely someone will be willing to take you on to do translations." She thought about that for a minute, then brightened. "Hey, I have an idea! I know the guy who runs this bookstore full of rare books and antiquities down in Lantern Hill. Maybe you could go and talk to him, and he would know some private collectors who could use someone to do translations of old documents. That might even be more interesting than doing public archive stuff. Who knows what sorts of things old collectors have laying around?"

"Thank you," Stesha said politely, following the man up the broad steps of the mansion. "I almost left the first time I visited," she confided to Taylor, "I wandered around on the roadside for about five minutes, trying to figure out if I'd gotten the street wrong, or if it was some elaborate practical joke. I wonder how he ever gets his mail. Have you ever been here before? It's really neat."

"We can hope," Erin replied softly, peering hopelessly into the gloom. There were no physical tracks left to find, no sign that anything alive had ever been here, much less half a day ago. "But Zoe couldn't breathe out there, either," she couldn't help but add. "Maybe we're wrong, and she didn't come this way, or she came much later and turned back... Christ," she muttered wiping a hand across her ash-encrusted face. "Why did they have to broadcast it live? If I could've run fast enough, I'd have been there too, when I saw those last images. I just hope... I just hope it was fast."

"Not bad," Erin offered, rolling down the window and reclining the seat to give herself a little more room. "Didn't crash even once. But now it's your turn to do the cones. I did them in an extended-cab pickup, you should have no trouble doing it in this bumper car," she challenged. "Just don't hit the Chevette, or James might just leave us here."

"You could always try freelancing on Craigslist, or even volunteer someplace," Stesha suggested. "I know places that deal with immigrants are always looking for multilingual people. You could really do a lot of good one of those places, though you wouldn't make much, if anything. It's a lot of good experience, though." She shrugged. "Or just send in your resume in eight different languages. Maybe that will impress them!" She nudged her chair back from the table. "Everybody's got to start getting experience somewhere. Where did you learn that many languages, anyway?"