A full-page announcement appears in all the newspapers, and is read over the radio:


This leads to a bit of anxiety in many who read it, for the speedster known as Silver Streak, who used to patrol regularly, hasn't been seen in many weeks...

"Whaddya think boy?" Gil asked Scraps as he set down the paper. "Do we call ourselves heroes?"

Coming back from a coffee run, Diana began setting down the hot beverages in front of her superiors/co-workers. The job was nice when she got to actually get involved in the articles and features, even if it rarely ever amounted to more than checking for spelling, grammatical, or factual errors. Still, even this task had its merits. It made for a good walk, even if her ‘other current job’ was better as exercise.

Approaching Greg with his favorite, a cappuccino with extra cinnamon, she couldn’t help but overhear the assistant copy editor’s grumblings over the new paper. Something about ‘being up at 3 AM reorganizing the advertisements to fit in a last-minute full-page announcement.’ It didn’t usually take much to get him worked up, but Greg usually got over work-related stuff pretty quickly. Taking a glance over his shoulder as she set down the drink, Diana scanned the offending announcement.

“Urgent matter of life and death, huh?”

If whatever was happening was that bad, then it was probably good that her shift would be over soon. She’d have to make sure to head right over.

...But maybe she should take some time to head back to the apartment and change outfits first. Gods, would she ever get used to that?

Outside the 28th Precinct, it was a normal day. Which is another way of saying, anything could happen - there were no normal days at a Police Precinct, and especially not in a world where supervillains and heroes locked horns on a regular basis. A day when someone did not try to blow up the city, now that was a good day.

Into this not especially predictable day, a thing happened. It started as a streak across the sky, which hurtled towards the ground rapidly, finally landing with a sound that was probably best described as vvwwooorrrp---THUNK!!! Onto the plaza, there landed the bright green and purple clad figure of a young woman, even going so far as to adopt the full superhero landing cliché. But she did not linger. She strode with purpose right through the doors, and marched up to the front desk, rather aware that pretty much everyone in the area would now be watching. It was not exactly hard to miss, an entrance like that.

She stood, akimbo, and lifted her chin to engage the eyes of the poor sergeant on desk duty. "The city of New York requests heroes! Cosmic Girl stands ready to answer the call, for the greater good of the people!"

She stayed in her pose, positively radiating zeal and readiness. She was good at it. Her mom hade made her practice for hours to get it right!

The sergeant looks her over, trying to decide if he's impressed... The answer he comes up with seems to be: almost impressed.

"You need to speak to Lieutenant Caswell," he said, and then he turned and looked back over his shoulder. "Lieutenant?!" he bellowed. "Got a new one...!"

When Cosmic Girl went on into the back office, there was indeed a police Lieutenant... and a very old, but extremely dignified man... he was surprisingly tall, in fact, at least 6 foot-- time hadn't made him stooped over at all, even though he was a bit thin and his eyes seemed very tired.

"Hello, er, ma'am," the Lieutenant said to Cosmic Girl. "Who might you be? And do you have any powers, or do you just, ah, hero without benefit of them, as some do?"

Cosmic Girl blinked, and then grunted. She followed to the office, and gave a polite smile to the older man. She was always raised to be pleasant to officers of the law. "My name is Cosmic Girl. As the name suggests, I do indeed have abilities beyond the norm." She rose a couple of feet into the air, little green and purple swirls appearing beneath her feet. And her eyes glowed a vivid emerald. "I manipulate the cosmic forces of the universe. I have spent my life waiting for the call to action. I am here to offer assistance, as requested."

She returned to ground, and looked around the office. "It must be a very serious matter, if you are openly calling for help."

Well, she looked the part, with the costume and the flying, and all. But she also looked, and sounded, like she should be doing her history homework. Was she even allowed out after curfew?

"It is... serious," said the Lieutenant. "And it sounds to me that your skills could be useful... Ah... do you know any other heroes you could call in, too, though? Silver Streak? Goodwill? Scorch Scale...? Anyone else? I was hoping at least some of them might have arrived already..."

Cosmic Girl analysed the Lieutenant's words and his attitude, his tone, his expression, his body language. All together, she didn't get the feeling that he wouldn't send her on whatever sort of mission it was-- although he'd much rather have some older heroes go with her-- it felt more like he thought it would be a mission that would just required multiple people... And since Silver Streak was so important, maybe it required someone with super-speed, if possible...?

Freshly adorned with her bright costume and leaving behind a white-and-yellow trail, White Lynx skid to a stop in front of the precinct and hurriedly made her way inside, sparks on her lower half dying down. She hadn’t exactly wanted to make such a scene showing up here, but she’d had to stay at her day job a little longer than expected and then had some trouble with her boots in her haste, but whatever. She was here now. Heck, she probably wasn’t even the most shocking sight anyone here had seen that day.

Heh. Shocking.

Stepping up to the sergeant seated behind the desk, the superhero opened with a polite wave. “White Lynx here and ready to go do...whatever the job is here.” Nailed it, Ch’rava. “To whom should I speak?”

Scraps came running over to Gil, dragging the huge bone that Gil had brought him from the butcher this morning.
Dropping the bone near Gil’s foot, he looked up at his hero, and barked enthusiastically, wagging his tail so hard it could whip butter.

"I can probably get word to some people," Cosmic Girl affirmed - she knew people in the government who likely had contacts. "But you will find many will come of their own volition. They are good people. Why the SIlver Streak, particularly? You have a speed problem? I can fly pretty darned fast, and I know others who can do more. I hear tell the White Lynx can move like literal lightning, when the occasion demands. I'd quite like to see that myself."

"Well, then... let's go help the police."

Gil scooped up Scraps and stepped over to stand below the skylight. He rose gently into the air to open the hatch, exited, and closed it behind him. there was no way to lock it from the outside, but so far nobody had tried to rob them.... not that he had anything worth stealing.

"You know, I keep telling the police where we live and what our phone number is. I'm starting to think they don't really like us as much as they say they do."

This seemed unlikely, though, as his strength kept growing. Obviously he was well liked.

With a shrug, he flew off to find the proper precinct.

-----

A short while later, they landed outside the precinct house and Gil set Scraps down. He opened the door and they went inside.

"Hello," he said. "I understand you could use some help."

"Go right in," said the officer at the front desk. He turned. "Goodwill and th' pup, Lieutenant-- and another new hero-- ah, heroine...!"

Goodwill (and Scraps) and White Lynx entered to discover the old (but very dignified) man and the police Lieutenant, whom Goodwill recalled had introduced himself, during the whole thing with The Impersonator, as Lieutenant Caswell.

"Hello, Goodwill-- and Scraps-- glad you're here." The Lieutenant looked at White Lynx. "By the look of your costume, I don't suppose you're White Lynx? If so, Cosmic Girl here was just mentioning you to us..."

"White Lynx. Cosmic Girl." It was as much a memorization technique to say the names aloud as it was a greeting. Gil met so many heroes and heroines in the last few months, and he rarely saw any of them twice. (Silver Streak being a case in point.) It was getting hard to keep them all straight. "Pleased to meet you both. I'm Goodwill."

Not that he was going to have a hard time remembering either of these heroines, he amended silently. White Lynx was beautiful, and Cosmic Girl was even more so.

"And this is Scraps, the Wonder Dog."

“Correct. That’s me. Control over electricity and lightning and whatnot, with super speed as well. If it’s easier you all can just call me Lynx.”

Cosmic Girl had mentioned her? She seemed rather powerful and polite, rather muscular too. Probably wasn’t going to be that difficult to get along with. Of course, that assumed Cosmic Girl had only heard of her, and hadn’t worked with White Lynx before, or, gods forbid, knew Diana personally.

“Pleased to meet you as well, Goodwill,” she replied, offering a hand to be shaken. The man seemed to be much the same as Cosmic Girl. Powerful, polite, blond, maybe a bit older. Neither seemed particularly unattractive by human standards, not that any relationship based on such things would be anything close to a good idea.

Offering the same handshake to the other heroine in the room, Ch’rava quickly ran through potential greetings that wouldn’t say whether or not they had met before, before landing on, “Thanks for mentioning my services to the lieutenant, Cosmic Girl.”

“Greetings to you too, Scraps, the Wonder Dog.” Gods, what a long name. Hopefully, they wouldn’t mind her truncating it to just Scraps in the future. Of course, she wouldn’t want to be rude... Still, the dog was rather cute. As weird as some things were here, at least the pets were a plus. There hadn’t really been anything like them back home.

Cosmic Girl shook hands all round, and did not seem to give an indication of having met either before. But she lived for this sort of thing, so she kept an ear out, and knew reputations very well. It was wonderful to be mixing with her peers properly!

"Maybe call me Cosmos, it is a bit less of a mouthful in a busy situation." And she then clocked the doggy, and bent down, making all sorts of adoring cute noises. "Who is just the most adorable wonder doggy ever!?" Her beam of delight was very real. "I don't suppose you can fly, can you, can you? I'm only allowed a dog if it can keep up with me..."

She then recalled that this was meant to be a professional gathering, and straightened back up. "It must be a dire peril indeed, however, to need so many powerful people."

Scraps barked playfully, and licked any hands that came within range of his face.
It was fun meeting new people.

"Scraps can only fly as a passenger," Gil said, smiling. It was a fair question, if he was going to call Scraps the Wonder Dog. But the thought of this over-energetic puppy flying was quite the mental image.

Gil had to wonder about how Cosmic Girl spoke, on a completely different train of thought. Dire peril? Who talked like that in real life?

Wait, so both of them could fly? Ch’rava couldn’t help but feel a tad jealous at that. She’d probably been at a higher altitude than both of them combined, and yet she was grounded. Ah well, at least it wasn’t worse than that. She honestly had much to thank her lucky stars about, not least of which being how Cosmos seemed not to actually know White Lynx. She obviously couldn’t know for certain, just meeting the girl for the first time, but she could most likely relax a bit on that front. It’d be way too awkward to try and force any confirmation there, but as long as she didn’t bring anything relevant up, she could easily avoid making a terrible mistake.

“Whatever this is does indeed seem serious. Still, I’m surprised there’s not more people here already. Especially that Silver Streak fellow. Are the four of us going to be enough?”

The Lieutenant sighed. "Two wouldn't be enough. But if I had 30 or 40 powered heroes at my disposal, that would be too many. I'm hoping three-- and Scraps-- might be right." He turns to the dignified old man. "Ladies and gentleman-- and Scraps-- this is Harold Flynn... But in my father's day, far more people knew him as Captain Liberty."

The three human(*) heroes assembled know the second name... but it doesn't exactly come with a lot of specific details. He was certainly very well-known and popular back in the day... a non-powered, or slightly-powered hero... He fought in World War...? No, in BOTH World Wars...? Or was it that he fought saboteurs back home? (Both times?) Or all of the above?

The problem was that the comic books, dime paperbacks, and pulp serials of his adventures weren't always based on his adventures (were they?), but instead the writers pretty quickly just started making things up...

But he was always depicted as being in his 30s by WWI... and to look at him now-- he's still six-foot or six-foot-one, and even though he does seem to actually put some of his weight on that walking stick he's using, it's easy to imagine him back when he was well-muscled and agile. His chin is still strong, his sad, weary eyes still seem fairly sharp, and his bearing is (still) that of a man who could (right this minute) fend off a mugging without a scratch if he had to, even though he must be...

Wait... like, at least 80 or so (and very well-preserved, even at that)...? Okay, maybe he was slightly powered, after all...

(He seems/smells like a very nice old man, the kind who would gladly pet dogs and who would be generally kind to animals of all sorts.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:18, Sun 12 Jan 2020.

Whoa.

This was Captain Liberty? The Captain Liberty? Hero of two World Wars? Arguably the first costumed hero ever? The hero by whom all other heroes are measured?

What was Gil supposed to do? Bow? Genuflect? This was freaking Captain Liberty!

Oh God. Gil was expected to say something. Hello? That couldn't possibly be enough for such a monumental moment as this. Hello was stupid. Everything Gil could think of to say was stupid. There had to be something appropriate to say in this moment. Every tick of the clock just making things worse, Gil had to say something dammit!

"I have your comic books."

ARRRRGH.

Mr. Flynn (Captain Liberty!) smiles-- sadly, just because he was already sad, and still is--  but the smile nonetheless says it all. It's a warm, beneficent, heartfelt sign of approval, like getting a smile from one's father and grandfather and the principal and a police officer and a football hero and a war hero all at the same time times 10, even though he must hear the same sort of thing 10 times a day.

(Or, well, he must've once, but does he, still? Has anyone really seen Captain Liberty since 1946 or so...?)

So this guy was still around. She’d given the comic books in her ‘new’ apartment a cursory read and checked the library afterwards for more information. Odd that Diana hadn’t had a library card beforehand. Still, she’d spent a good time in there, reading up on various histories. Captain Liberty certainly seemed to be a very important and beloved figure, and she could respect that, not to mention the fact that he could probably beat her up still, if speculation and stories were to be believed.

What she realized she couldn’t do was mimic the sheer shock and awe that appeared to grace Goodwill. White Lynx supposed that she could say the same, after all, she too possessed some of the old hero’s comic books, but she didn’t think she could be anywhere as sincere as the blond man. May as well just be polite.

Reaching out for another handshake, careful to offer the one that he could shake with his non-walking-sticked hand, she greeted, “A pleasure to meet you, Captain Liberty, or would you prefer Mr. Flynn?” She hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but she’d always hated being given two names for a person. Was she supposed to use both of them every time? Back home, her friends and colleagues had teased her for her overthinking, but she’d always said that proper naming was something to strive for.

"Let's use Mr. Flynn for now," he said, shaking her hand (a very good, strong grip for a man of the age he appeared to be, let alone for a man of the age he might-- for all anyone knew-- be). "As my brief story will demonstrate, I am no longer Captain Liberty, as such..." The weight of emotion on Mr. Flynn was palpable, and he was clearly lost in it for a moment...

"What?" As if this man could be anything or anyone other than Captain Liberty. "How do you mean, sir?"

Cosmos shook hands with enthusiasm, and managed to curtail girlish gushing, but she, too, was obviously start struck. She had been raised on the tales of the Captain, after all. "It is a real honour, sir. I wish it were under better circumstances."

Not that she actually knew what the corcumstances were, yet.

"...My grandson... is being held hostage," Flynn explains. "At my home, several miles north of Manhattan... Three powered villains showed up, broke in, and got to my grandson's nursery--he's two years old-- and said they were holding him hostage until their demands were met. And their demand is difficult: they want Silver Streak. One of them, a man calling himself Breakneck, apparently has the same powers of speed as Silver Streak. I think Breakneck wants to settle old scores with his rival."

"And the problem," said the lieutenant, "as you know, is that no one's seen Silver Streak in weeks. I explained to Mr. Flynn that the last time we did, during the Impersonator business, Silver Streak's helmet came off, and a number of us present-- The Impersonator, and several police officers, including myself-- saw his face." The lieutenant glances at Cosmic Girl and White Lynx, who weren't present at that time. "There were... rather specific reasons why Silver Streak would have found that revelation particularly concerning. It's very unfortunate-- particularly right now-- but it's not exactly surprising that he's gone into hiding. He's probably not living anywhere in the New York area. With his powers, he could live anywhere. He could live in one state and work in another-- or Canada, for that matter. So there's no telling if he even knows about the crisis we're having right now."

"Since a child's life is in danger, I prefer to think that he does not know," said Flynn. "It doesn't matter. The facts are what they are, and we must work with them as we must."

The lieutenant nodded. "The message that we couldn't get Silver Streak, and why, was relayed to Mr. Flynn's house. The child's captors don't care about the facts. They've given us a deadline: noon, tomorrow."

"Which suggests a rescue mission," said Flynn.

"Oh, wow. That's awful." The kidnapping of a toddler for any reason was horrible, but to do it for something as petty as revenge...? It was an atrocity. "I'm really sorry. I'll do whatever I can.

"If you don't mind me asking: Do you have some sort of connection to Silver Streak or Breakneck? It seems weird that you'd be targeted for this. Silver Streak is a super-hero, and I'd like to think that he'd want to recover any child safely, not just your grandson. So why would Breakneck take the added risk of involving additional heroes?

"And, in point of fact, how did he know to target you? How did he know your identity?"