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The inner workings of The Kestrel's Mind (The bits that aren't working on "boring" things).
Description:
Name: Meredith Meadows
Hero Name: The Kestrel
Day Job: PA
Costume: Black leather and teal silk - need we say more?
Age: 35
Physical Description: Exactly 1.5m in height, The Kestrel isn't more than average in appearance, but has the kind of attitude that screams sex appeal. She has shoulder length auburn hair and green eyes. Unfortunately, she often gets mistaken for a teenager.
Warning, logs run from most recent to first, with the origin at the end
Thoughts on the events of 02/06/06
I can't. I just can't do it anymore. It's almost happened once before and it almost happened again. I almost let it happen again - and this time to someone who was innocent. I was sloppy, didn't do everything I could have and someone almost died.
I'm not cut out to be a hero.
Let's start at the beginning of the whole event. Let's see how mant times I fucked up and could have prevented the entire situation. Let's see why I should stick to what I'm good at and stay out of the action itself.
I was at work, doing my usual sorting out my boss's life and doing computer "research" for the police and other heros when I got a cryptic email telling me to go to Taco Bell and place a specific order (fries, peri-peri sauce, diet lemonade and a chicken burger). Mistake number 1: I didn't trace the email. This was foolish and amateur and I don't know why I didn't. A mysterious meeting? Hell, I normally check that whoever is asking me for info is who they say they are. A meeting with no further details given and I don't do any background checks? I screwed up. For the first time that day.
So I go to the meeting. Two heros I haven't worked with before (Acrobrat and some teenager called Johnny Ohm - dresses like a purse snatcher) are there as well as Ricochet. Interesteting to see. I guess other people were called as well. Not suprizing, whoever was organising this wanted proper super heros instead of just some weak supporter type. Understandable. So we place our orders and at 5 o'clock exactly the person sitting at the next table (who was wearing a shield and had seemed to be checking me out) walks over.
Turns out that James was a fellow telepath. He can't talk, so he relies on it. He was also a Bastian agent. Working for Bastian? I should have walked out right then - but no, I stayed. I won't clock that up as a mistake, but I should have followed my instincts about Bastian. What should have tipped us off was that Bastian was willing to pay us. Yeah right. Like Bastian would pay for anything. No, they would conscript us through more direct threat, not offering to pay us. Not spotting that? Mistake number 2. The "mission" was plausible enough: some agents have gone rogue, stolen weapons - Bastian doesn't want to go after them personally since they want it to be hush-hush (i.e. if they screw up and the media finds out, other sods get blamed). By this time, I was starting to notice James' smile. Mistake number 3: Getting distracted.
Well, we had to get to a tiny airfield to be illegally flown into Canada. Not all of us trust Bastian enough to have "superhero" passports. Looking back at it - if I were as sneaky as Bastian, I would have used it as an oppertunity to force us to get them...but there was no request to, nothing. We passed it off as being as hush-hush as it was. Poor Johnny Ohm was scared out of his mind...and James just wasn't being understanding about it. I knew how Johnny felt - I get that way about small spaces. But I completely brushed it off because James smiled at me. Mistake Number 4: Letting "fluffy" emotions get in the way of normal human decency, compassion and judgement. The aircraft certainly seemed high-tech enough to be Bastian's. We then were dropped off in a small field in Canada near the town we had to be at. We were set up with the worst new costumes ever, new code-names (which were frankly atrocious) and then "Granola Girl" (Acrobrat) and myself went to scout out the location of the rogue agents. They were cardboard cutouts, and I was so distracted by this stage that I didn't even realise the camera's weren't on. Everyone stormed the place and Acrobrat found a map with the location of a mine on it.
Comments/Suggestions:
Grab yourself the 2xp for logging the session. - Garrick
Thoughts on the events of 21/05/06
All heroes have someone that gives them tip-offs. Every now and again when I stop by to check up on Dr. Allison Black, she tells me about anything that she’s seen that’s worrying that may deserve the attention of a hero. Last night, she had one of those tip-offs. Two men had been brought in from the docks with very localized radiation burns – they were currently in ICU.
Now, it just so happens that Commander Crush – who Bastian had so usefully captured (bastards) – has an older brother. His older brother is Dr. Chernobyl. A super villain with radiation powers who has his own private army of Nuke Troopers. Well, I know what my bets were as to where those burns came from. Unfortunately, Dr. Chernobyl is way out of my league – if I’m on my own. But with some help…
I called Ricochet and we organized a meeting, no surprises that Beast Boy showed up considering it was in Central Park. The guy on the bike however - El Quetzalcoatl- now that was a surprise. I really shouldn’t judge, but part of me absolutely cringes to think of a super hero sponsored by Taco Bell. Especially one with wraith-like abilities. He has fantastic powers and he sells out to Taco Bell. I suppose it pays the bills, guess he doesn’t need a day job. And he did sound Spanish or Mexican or something. But my word, I would rather scrimp, save and stay up all night than feel like a corporate sellout. But the more super heroes, the better. This was a proper super villain with his own back up, so really, what’s a little corporate sponsorship?
Well, the weather was deteriorating rapidly and El Quetzalcoatl and Beast Boy told us that it was going to get worse – devastatingly worse. So I borrowed Ricochet’s Palm Top and tried to find out where the eye of the storm was – after all, there is always a small possibility that its not related to what we were already dealing with (coincidently, the probability that such events are unrelated is always actually quite large – but its never the case). Well, the eye of the storm was centered over the docks. Guess it was all related wasn’t it? Beast Boy wanted to call in Bastian, but Ricochet and I refused and since Beast Boy doesn’t have a cell phone. I know its petty, but Bastian stole all the glory last time and made us look like incompetent idiots. If it was just that I might forgive them – but they let us do all the work to clean up their mess. Some gratitude would have been nice.
So, we headed off to the docks. Used Ricochet as transport – again. I feel really bad about it, but with how Beast Boy had behaved and how El Quetzalcoatl had been looking at me, I was NOT going with either of them. It took us 2 hours to find the right warehouse. I mean, honestly, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of looking for what wasn’t there as opposed to what was earlier.
Beast Boy went on reconnaissance, and I joined him later. I have to get more sleep. I screwed up throwing my grappling hook and the goons inside heard and started destroying boxes. There went the evidence. So instead of careful planning, we just burst in. The guys took care of the Nuke Troopers (and there are so many weak points in their suits, it’s not funny) and then I searched their minds for what I wanted to find. Which boxes were important and still intact?
Super villains really need to modernize. Honestly – who still uses a video tape to record their “meet my demands or its doomsday!” message. Have they not heard of CDs? or DVDs? Armed with that and a corner of a map book, it didn’t take long to discover that Dr. C was setting up a weather control device (that is obviously from the same kind of tech that Bastian had had stolen from them. Someone, somewhere things that Geiger is the ultimate of technological cool – honestly its creepy – which I suppose is ok if you’re villain. It looks completely alien – wonder where Bastian “acquired” their weapons from anyway?) in Times Square.
Heading off in that direction, we started seeing signs of destruction. My word – I have never traveled so fast in my life, that heavens all I had to do was hold on. Once there we quickly assessed the situation. El Quetzalcoatl would act as a distraction, while Ricochet, Beast Boy and myself got the civilians out of harm’s way. They never saw us and El Quetzalcoatl managed to take out a large number of Dr. C’s troops while being the perfect distraction – their radiation blasts couldn’t harm his ghost form. From there the others pretty much took care of Dr. C and then the machine, as I tried to figure out what was working how and broadcasting to them. The machine had one of those shields again, a really big one, and Ricochet and El Quetzalcoatl soon took it apart (unfortunately, anything I could do just went “ping” – I don’t have any super attacks). Beast Boy had all six of his arms full though, as Dr. C started to vent heat. For all I may have said before about him being a complete ass, he is actually very courageous. He grabbed Dr. C and jumped away with him towards the ocean, to protect people from the imminent blasts. Definitely willing to work with him again – he’s not nearly as bad as I thought he was. He didn’t even make one comment this time.
I on the other hand ended up taking a trip to the hospital. I got caught in one of the heat blasts, and as I’ve said before – I’m no super hero, I got quite thoroughly scalded. Looked like bad sunburn a while later, but I’m still glad that I can ignore all pain when I want to.
And the best part? Bastian showed up to pick up Dr. C. But they could not claim the glory this time. We were caught on camera. Not merely stopping a bunch of bank robbers, but taking down a super villain and saving the city. I can’t help but gloat. I don’t mind not getting recognized as long as nobody else claims it and Bastian didn’t get to steal it this time. And the guys especially deserve the recognition that this will get them. They are super heroes and they deserve to be treated that way. As for me, I’m going to start teaching myself something new… El Quetzalcoatl has given me an idea with that scooter of his (except, I much prefer bikes to scooters).
Comments/Suggestions:
Grab yourself the 2xp for logging the session. - Garrick
Thoughts on the events of 02/05/06
You know your life is going to get interesting when you accidentally stumble across a Bastian information feed. Admittedly I only got to see it for a few seconds, but I guess their hot shot security isn’t as fantastic as they think it is (or they were trying to leak the information). It is also never a good thing when Bastian manages to have a shipment of experimental weapons stolen.
This is, however, a problem for the actual super heroes. What am I going to do? Get the weapons back through mere lack of height? Not very likely. Besides, Bastian was calling in Captain Commonwealth – a proper super hero - to deal with the situation. So I let the information stew in the back of my mind and thought I wouldn’t hear about it again. Yeah, right.
During my patrol of the theatre district, I got a police radio scan about a bank robbery. This is something I can deal with – my scale of crime. Then I saw the light show. No normal bank robbers have that kind of arsenal. And somehow I don’t think a little bit of Kevlar would stop me from getting toasted by what seemed to be energy weapons. So, I made sure to approach the scene without being seen, so that I could watch. Super heroes were already on the scene – El Diablo and Bounce Boy Ricochet. And yes, where did street thugs get hold of energy weapons and force field belts? These things looked pretty damn high end, albeit disturbing. The missing Bastian weapons, probably. Designed by Bastian? Unless Bastian just had the demented lovechildren of an “Aliens” Alien and a Terminator and turned them into weapons, I’m not too sure. Anyway, these guys did not know what they were up against. So, hanging back in the shadows, I tried to tell them, but only got through to Bounce Boy Ricochet. Two more heroes arrived on the scene, Captain Commonwealth and Paladin. My word – I may have just been hiding in the shadows and providing VERY limited informational support, but it is amazing watching REAL super heroes at work. Between them they managed to knock out the force fields and get the thugs ready to be delivered to the cops.
I quickly made my way down to be part of the conversation, normally. After brief introductions and Paladin leaving (a knight with a business card – a very amusing juxtaposition) we decided to go and see Tony the Tuna, since he was the person who gave the thugs the weapons.
Let me say this. Traveling having to be carried by another hero is bad enough. It’s just a little humiliating. At least I’m small, which makes it easier – but it’s still embarrassing. Now Tony’s was quite far away, and out of the four of us left, only two had any special traveling capabilities – and both were jumpers. Apparently Captain Commonwealth is too good to take passengers, so Bounce Boy Ricochet ended up carrying both Beast Boy and myself. I swear. Never again will I be a second passenger - Beast Boy (El Diablo) kept trying to feel me up. Never again.
At Tony’s mansion, Beast Boy managed to subdue all the guards. Honestly – he seems so dull, but he has the most amazing powers. It’s just not fair. Anyway, after that they actually needed my help. Turns out super heroes spend so much time using their brawn to solve problems that they don’t even know basic things, like how to deactivate an alarm system. And once we were inside and Beast Boy had subdued Tony and his bodyguard, guess who was needed to rifle through his mind and find out where the weapons had come from? It’s not the best super power for a hero, but telepathy certainly has its uses. Especially when it comes to finding information. Like about the midnight auction. I must just remember to use it to save time – so much quicker than trying to track things down online – just look inside their minds. It just makes me a little uncomfortable, sometimes. You don’t want to see what is inside some people’s minds, really... you don’t. So we made the evidence the cops needed to bust him really clear, left him and his henchman handcuffed back-to-back and went our mostly separate ways until the auction (I had to go with Bounce Boy Ricochet on his patrols since I’m not as mobile as the others – I’ll have to come up with a plan for that).
At midnight we met at the warehouse on pier 616. This was out of my league. Commander Crush was there, as well as Icepick. Not to mention the guy in the power armour. Nine ft. tall, bulky, it was made to fit him. And the energy blades? Yes, once again, this was not my level of fight. Any of those guys could ensure that I was dead in a blink of an eye. But that’s why I’m good at watching people. I did my part by finding the cracks in the power armour and then while the situation was tactically dealt with (take out the power armour guy in the back room, and by take out its meant take out of the building) keeping an eye on those in the auction room to ensure that they didn’t surprise those going after the guy in the armour i.e. everyone else.
In a matter of seconds, Bounce Boy Ricochet and Captain Commonwealth were bounding out through the hole in the roof with their passenger. Then, the auctioneer turned into some kind of energy being and whisked through the wall and before anyone could do anything other than act confused (villains – they’re not too bright mostly) the building started shuddering. Needless to say I got the hell off the roof as quickly as possible. Well, in the back room, with the many of TV screens, scientists and big guy in power armour ™ was a large, sort of triangular structure that I didn’t have a clue about. Turns out it was a space ship, which took off after Bounce Boy Ricochet and Captain Commonwealth. It’s a good thing that the mobsters and super villains were cowards and ran off, because I was left to search through the rubble for Beast Boy who had somehow gotten himself knocked out. I was initially worried that he was dead, but a check for his pulse and him waking up and declaring that I had saved his life quickly put an end to that thought. Idiot. He couldn’t tell that I hadn’t saved him, just found him – I had to put him right on that. Moron.
Well, the other two soon arrived back with our “friend” – a giant humanoid lizard who was most patently unconscious. And then Bastian arrived. Stupid, demanding, bossy assholes. They took our prisoner with them and all of our equipment that may have had records from us. Fuckers. They didn’t even have the decency to just accept the memory cards. No the equipment itself or … hey they were the ones menacing us with laz guns. Bastards. Bill them – yeah right. Stupid draconian fucks. With my job it’s going to take a while to replace all that equipment. Not to mention all the time I spent customizing it. The authoritative assholes do not have my support.
At least I got to help real heroes. I must remember to get my card out to them in case they ever need someone to get hold of information for them, or if they need slightly more skilled support than pure brawn. Not Captain Commonwealth, except for information - after all he’s a bit far away, having returned home already. But Bounce Boy Ricochet and Beast Boy, they could possibly need the help. Oh crap – that means dealing with Beast Boy’s perving. Ok, maybe just Bounce Boy Ricochet and that Paladin guy – that may be a better idea…
But Bastian…oh, they have rubbed me the wrong way…
Comments/Suggestions:
Grab yourself the 2xp for logging the session. - Garrick
Kestrel's Thought on her Origin
My name is Meredith Meadows. I am a PA at Wolfham Records and I know everybody hates me. I don’t care. I hate my job and I hate them too. I have no social life – well, who would socialize with the office bitch? I have something better: a “career” as a hero.
Yes, I said hero, not super hero. I am not a super hero. Super heroes have incredible powers, firstly. Secondly, they usually get them in a fantastic way – the kind of way you can sell for an exclusive biography or movie rights. Me, on the other hand – well, there is very little super about me. It means that I deal with street thugs and the more common garden variety of villain and criminal and leave the big guys – the super villains to the super heroes. If I had to try and take them on, I’d be snapped like a toothpick within a few seconds. But enough of the rant. How does a lowly PA become a hero?
Not overnight. It took a long time and a lot of trial and error and to be honest its best to start at the beginning; a long, long time ago.
At high school I was one of the party creatures. You know the type – they never work and waste all their time out at night and sleeping in class in the morning. I was a bright kid, but not bright enough to pull that off. At the end of Grade 11 I found myself on academic probation and facing a set of exams that I could never pass – not on my own steam. The problem is that those on academic probation get watched like hawks, so cheating was impossible. Luckily, or so I thought, I heard a rumour about some drugs at a party. These weren’t your normal run of the mill drugs – they were “smart” drugs. No addictions, side-effects – they just gave you a buzz that would keep you awake for days without exhausting you and made your brain work better so you could study harder. Just what I thought I needed to get out of trouble. I’d never taken drugs before (except some weed once, but everyone does that), I was essentially a good kid, just with my priorities wrong. But for these, I was willing to make an exception. After much asking around and some dodgy passing over of cash, I got hold of the drugs and took them.
Big mistake.
I woke up a few weeks later in hospital. I had missed the exams entirely and was being kept back a year. I was officially a bad seed because I had taken drugs at a party. I don’t know what was wrong with the drugs, whether they had been cut with something else or whether they just weren’t as safe as I had heard – but I was someone who had asked for any trouble I got into. Nobody was in the least sympathetic. Doctors, teachers, my parents – it didn’t matter to them that I had had the best of intentions – I was a delinquent. That was when I started feeling resentful.
But it was also a wake-up call. I actually started working at school, not to hard, just a little each day – I still wanted a social life. Unfortunately my reputation got in the way, nobody wanted to be seen socializing with me. If I hadn’t have been so preoccupied with what other people thought of me, perhaps I would have noticed, or realized that I was slowly changing. Every snide comment, every remark – I noticed. I’d never been observant before, not really – now I was starting to pick up on all the little details that I’d missed before. My marks also improved rapidly – I thought it was just easier because I was doing some work; I didn’t realize that it should have been much, much harder. Anyway, all it helped to do was make the resentment build.
At the end of my final year I had straight A’s. Good enough for college, although once more my past meant that none of the best ones would consider me. But that was fine. I decided to do a degree in computer science at the local University. It was all going so well. The exams went exceedingly well at mid-year – too well. My scripts were better than the marking guides. I got thrown out of college for cheating. I was furious – I hadn’t cheated, I’d worked even less than at high school which didn’t make sense – but how could I have cheated?
My family was also furious. I was the disappointment - the one who let everyone else in our white-picket fence, perfect upper-middle class family down. None of them believed me. I hated them and the entire world for what had happened to me – it just wasn’t fair. I drained my bank account and stole as much cash as I could from my family and left. Now, I had become a dab hand at computers, and you meet some interesting types at college. Also, with a little brain power and a little bit of information, it becomes incredibly easy to hack. And people are willing to pay good money for information they’re not supposed to see. It was really easy to keep on paying for upgrades to my system, moving to different better apartments and dodging the law a few times all through my trusty computer.
Slow as it may be, the law does tend to catch up eventually. And there is always, always someone better than you out there. After a successful criminal career spanning 4 years, I was caught.
Now, there’s something I haven’t mentioned yet. It’s just a little thing really. I am short, I have always been short. And when I was a small child (no pun intended) I was playing near where they were constructing something. Anyway, I was climbing on some stuff, when I slipped and fell into a hole and the stuff that I had been climbing on slid and covered the top of the hole. I was too small to climb out and was stuck there for hours before someone found me. Ever since then, I’ve been claustrophobic. Sometimes I can handle it if I can see a way out – small rooms with windows are bearable, but I am petrified of completely enclosed spaces, like elevators. This may not seem important, but when I was caught I was facing a pretty long jail sentence. And I don’t think I would have been able to cope with prison. It would have given me a nervous breakdown after a few weeks to be locked up like that.
Luckily they had an offer for me. Sometimes there’s information that they need that they just can’t get to and someone with my skills would, off the record, be extremely useful to them. So, if I got a job and dealt with a “handler” I wouldn’t have to go to jail. It would be like being on parole. I’d have the criminal record, but this was community service instead of jail time. It was a damn good deal.
So I got a job as a PA. I hated my job. But after hours, I got to find information for the police. And – I actually liked helping people. I enjoyed getting information that would help put some criminal in jail. One thing I never did was hurt people, not directly anyway. And if you used the information I got for you to physically hurt someone, I would never sell you information again. So helping find and deal with those who would was really satisfying. Of course, it was always a little painful to try and track someone like myself down – “harmless” criminals, but it has to be done. I had turned over a new leaf. Yes, the world could be unfair, but it was time to let go of the resentment and try to do something about the unfairness instead.
Everything was good for 2 years or so. And then, one day, I went for a walk. On this walk, on this day I happened to walk past an alleyway where I saw someone threatening someone else. And then it happened. I was looking inside the mugger’s mind. I could see exactly what he was planning on doing to the woman he had cornered and I could see how many times he remembered doing similar things. I wasn’t the only one confused. He’d felt it too and had been put off his threatening. He was confused long enough for a swift grab-twist-pull maneuver and for me to pull the other woman away – probably didn’t help him that my voice was in his head telling him what a sick piece of scum he was.
It’s just a little difficult to ignore when you develop telepathy. It’s not something you don’t notice. Now normally, it would have been great – perhaps I would have gone to someone or somewhere to train myself how to use it. But with a criminal record I don’t think anybody was going to be too thrilled about it. Especially not the police. This was something I was going to have to keep under wraps. But I was developing super powers (or so I thought – I should rather say super power). You can’t just sit there and not use them. And I had already helped one person…with super powers I could be a super hero. I could help so many people. But as I was, there was nothing I could really do. I needed to get into training.
It wasn’t just training. I was also hoping that some other super power(s) might manifest – something useful, or more useful for fighting super criminals than being able to have a peek inside their minds. But after a few years I realized that that wasn’t going to happen. All that had developed was me pushing myself to do two things at once to be able to do my job, my work for the police and train with only 24 hours in a day. But I had managed to develop my ability to fight enough to take on normal people. Heaven knows, enough trouble in the Theatre District is caused by normal people. I might not have been able to be a super hero – but a normal hero, that I could do.
My first incarnation was, well, amateur. It was just a one-piece black leather body suit and a mask, with minimal equipment. I added to it as I went along, learning what I actually needed and what would actually be useful. I didn’t even have an identity.
Luckily it wasn’t long before two of my greatest allies and I crossed paths.
Not all cops in Manhattan like heroes. Some see us as reckless vigilantes, others think we’re stealing their jobs and some are just crooked – these are the people that mean that I can never let anyone know my true identity or my criminal record will be all the ammunition they need. My parole officer (“handler”) is Connor Donaldson and he actually thinks heroes do a damn good job at helping cops out. When I was first faced with having “disabled” some criminals and left standing there thinking “now what?” it dawned on me. Connor Donaldson was the perfect inside to the police. I have criminals; I call him to pick them up. Likewise, sometimes I can get information on things bugging the police because he really does talk to much at our meetings, giving me extra information. Unfortunately, when he started getting calls from a hero, he wanted something to call them. I was stumped and actually stopped using him for a while. A name takes thought – it’s your other identity and it will stick with you for a long time.
I didn’t come up with The Kestrel, it was Dr. Allison Black. Shortly after starting to try and come up with a moniker I was patrolling the theatre district. She and her daughter got attacked by a gang walking back to their car after a show. I made the beginner’s mistake of NOT assessing the situation first and went in to help them. I got them both out alive, but I was shot. Badly. I needed serious medical attention. She took me to the hospital, treated me with my mask kept on. She too asked what I was called (not what my name was) and I admitted that I wasn’t really called anything. She made the comment that it was like watching a kestrel swoop on its prey (she grew up in rural England apparently) when I came to rescue her and her daughter. Not only did she create my name, but if I ever need medical attention and I can find her I get it, no questions asked, for saving her and her daughter. She’s also great to talk to for a medical opinion if I can’t figure it out myself. Of course, occasionally she has something that needs looking into too.
So, I developed a bit of a reputation. People started to hear more about The Kestrel. The Kestrel turned villains in to the cops. It was fantastic. Still constantly working on improving what equipment I had with me. Started working on a symbol, something that would be my calling card. It was going very well. Theatre District was a safer place to go to thanks to me. The only problem was being mistaken for a much younger hero. And then it happened. Six years ago, long after I started trying to be a hero, I almost crossed a line.
There was one jerk that just wouldn’t stop. He just kept on fighting back at me, intent to hurt the “kid” who seemed intent on handing him over to the cops. So I broke his nose. It was meant to stop him, to stun him, make his eyes water too much for him to see, too much pain to fight effectively – instead I almost lobotomized the man. Nothing is more sacred than human life and heroes do NOT take human life. Not under any circumstances. You turn them in – you don’t kill them. I was not fit to be a hero if I could come that close to turning someone into a vegetable or killing them.
I “retired” from active patrolling. I still wanted to help; I just didn’t want to accidentally kill someone. Instead, I did what I always did – I gathered information. Not only for the cops this time, but other heroes too. If you needed information, all you had to do was make sure that The Kestrel found out and I would try my damnedest to get it to them. But there is one hell of a difference between actively going out there and doing something, and just watching from the sidelines. I spent far too long beating myself up about my mistake and generally getting more and more miserable and more and more cranky. My normal life is the sum total of my past and its crap. The Kestrel – well, when I’m her, not only can I go out there and make a difference myself, which is a high in its own right – but, I can also be myself and nobody judges me on what I have done. Also, I had been hearing from Connor Donaldson how he was worried that something had happened to this one super hero he had known - they had just disappeared off the radar and how the Theatre District was starting to go downhill again. Eventually, my resolve to stay out of active crime fighting failed and I decided that I was coming back, better than before.
I redesigned my costume to the teal and black, silk and leather outfit that it is now. I spent time customizing my equipment – making it perfect for me, mostly tweaking the programming on the electronics (I can’t really afford to buy much better than radio shack – so it needs modification). Almost everything now carries my symbol, clearly belonging to The Kestrel.
My come back went off well, I’ve learnt a lot since my first attempt. I’m a much better hero for it. I still wish that I could be a proper super hero at times, making a bigger difference. But we all have our place. Sometimes I get to help them out, after all – I haven’t given up on finding information on their behalf, I’ve given up a lot of sleep instead and being able to do two things at once really helps. You see, I can’t give it up. I may not be a super hero, but a hero is just fine. After all, while they’re dealing with the BIG problems, we’re here to sort out the day to day crap…just like a PA. Hang on a second…
Comments/Suggestions:
Grab yourself the 3xp for character write-up. - Garrick
