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Rooftop Meetings (IC)


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It was a balmy Monday evening in Freedom City. The wind was blowing, but it wasn't doing much for keeping the temperature down. Thankfully, the sun had set, and already the temperature was dropping.

Gabriel took a moment to pull back his hood and fan himself a bit. Even wearing a nice, reflective color like white didn't do much to help keep his temperature down. Not when he was flying around stopping 3 muggings and a holdup of a small flower shop. Two repeat offenders, one heroin junkie, and a scared kid who was trying to join a gang. For protection. The kid just about peed his pants when Gabriel came striding into the shop, calming words already flowing from his lips.

He ran a hand over his masked scalp.

"I've been at this for months now, and what do I have to show for it? Seems like there's just as many punks, thugs, and kids on the street as the night before. Am I actually doing any good in this place, Lord? Half my students barely seem to care! It feels like I'm swimming upstream in gelatin with my bloody legs tied together!"

He was looking to the sky, his subdued Irish brogue starting to become more pronounced as he vented his frustrations.

"Ya send Gavriel to give me these powers. To tell me I have a "destiny". I listen, I follow. I do my best. But for what? It's like the Enemy has three times the forces we do! Even with all these superheroes, and don't get me started on some of them, it's like tha line's barely gettin' held! Is it wrong to want to see a few real results o' the work I been doin' all this time?"

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In a flash of light, an angel appeared before him. This was less surprising to Gabriel than it might have been to most people, but this was an angel he'd not seen before. This was Heyzel, the angel of Freedom, a member of the Freedom League. For his part, Heyzel gave the man a careful once-over. So this was the candidate Gavriel had chosen to bear a tiny fraction of his awesome power? He looked a man of faith and devotion, but what had made the regent of Heaven empower him? "I come in answer to your prayer, chosen of Gavriel. I am Heyzel, the angel of Freedom."

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Gabriel blinked. Then blinked again.

"Should've expected this. So, now I get a little help? You going to be giving me a two-sentence pep-talk, or can you spare a moment ta sit with me? You hoverin' there is gonna make me nervous after a bit."

His tone isn't hostile, so much as resigned. He gestured to the small ledge around an AC unit that he was currently sitting on.

"I think I'd feel grateful if ya'd talk to me man to man, rather than hints and riddles. Or as much as ya can, anyway. I think I've heard about you before."

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"I am no man," the angel reminded him, "but I would be happy to help." He landed, folding his wings behind him, and peered at Gabriel. "You are uncertain about your mission," he said after a moment's contemplation. "You wonder why the power of Heaven would be made incarnate in mortal man, particularly in a world where power flows so very freely." He made a gesture to the sky, where a distant superhero flew. "It is a difficult question. As Heaven's ambassador to Earth, I am often faced with the same," he confessed. "It's why I've acted as a superhero," he said, "and why you should do the same, even here. People understand you better that way. It's easier to...fit in."

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Gabriel laughed. It wasn't quite a bitter sound, but it was pushing that line.

"Aye, that's easy enough. Put on a mask, use these snazzy duds, and the people just shrug their shoulders and say "Another superhero". But that's just it! Even as a "superhero", I don't feel like I'm doing anything! It's like I'm just managin' to break even, and I can't figure out how to get ahead! I mean, forget bringing paradise to Earth, I just want to keep these kids from thinkin' bein' in a gang is their only choice! Blast it all, half the crimes I've stopped were being performed by teenagers! And they don't always listen to me, either. Oh, I have my ways with words, and people tend to at least consider things. But some of them are so far gone...I'm clipping the tips of the weeds, without touching the roots. So many gangs, and drug cartels, and mobs, and supervillain groups, and all o' them such folks. The other heros are barely catching half of them, seems like. I've considered "graduating" myself to bigger threats, but where do I start? What difference am I making, really?"

The young man went from frustrated, to nearly in tears during his short speech. He's clearly struggling with himself and his mission.

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"You cannot carve the heart of sin from man," replied Heyzel gently. "If the Creator and all his angels couldn't do so, why believe that you can? Or should?" He shook his head, giving Gabriel a sympathetic look. "To save one life is to save your own, Gabriel. Don't imagine that you've fallen because you haven't already saved the world." He sighed, and admitted, "We cannot save the world alone. We need other striving with us for love and justice; not just people in costumes and masks," he added, the sunlight gleaming off his silver armor, "but the men and women on the street who do all they can to make this a better place. Think of this city," he said, gesturing to the view around them. "Besieged a thousand times by terrible fiends, each time barely rescued by the good auspices of its heroes. But the people here live, and love, and know joy. Not because of anything we do, but because they are who they are. That they can know love and happiness here, and the mercy of Heaven, is the finest reward for our work I can imagine."

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Gabriel ran his hand over his face with a sigh.

"I suppose you're right. Just keeping the world from falling to Darkness is a mighty achievement. I guess I just let everything get to me. It's just so...so disheartening, you know? Maybe if more of the crooks were older, like my age, or middle-aged, it would be one thing. But...I have such a heart for helping teens. I want to help them succeed, and make good choices. But, you're right, I can't force them. Doesn't make it any easier when I'm staring one in the face who's shaking with fear and drugs, trying to steal enough money to get his next fix. All because his home is broken, and all his friendships are hollow. It hurts me, really. I guess I'm still getting used to it."

He looked up to the night sky, considering the beautiful night.

"But hey. I guess making a small difference is better than making no difference, right? Maybe I just need to meet more of my fellow heroes...If nothing else, wailing on some supervillains should relieve some stress, eh?"

Here he gives the true Angel a lopsided grin.

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"It can be soothing," said Freedom Angel, smiling faintly. "There is infernal activity enough, and pure mortal wickedness, to give anyone a great sense of satisfaction in a job well-done in this city. And with those who've chosen sin, and do so knowingly and willingly, for reasons beyond despair and fear, well...I feel a great swell of pity for them. _After_ the battle, when they can no longer harm innocents." He studied Gavriel's champion for a moment, then asked, "When you spoke to the archangel, what did he say to you, exactly?"

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"Been a few years now. Let me dig it out of my memory. Not something easy to forget..."

He closed his eyes, and scrunched his face up in concentration.

"I'd already sort of gotten it in my head to "change the world" by then. Just, I'd only thought of it in terms of being a teacher and mentor, really. I'd been prayin' hard to the Lord for the strength to make a difference. To get the chance to change lives, you know?

Was on a walk one night, when *Bam!* I was on my arse and blinded, when I heard the voice. "Fear not, Carson Finbar Keefe. My visit to you is one of greatest import, for you have a great destiny ahead of you. Your prayers have been heard. Now, they shall be answered, in a way more wonderful than you could have dreamed." I got some sight back, saw what he looked like. A bit cliche, but I think it was so I didn't soil myself. I asked him who he was, why he was there...If he was actually an Angel, or the Enemy in disguise. I hear they do that occasionally. Well, he proved it alright. Then...let's see. Then he said: "I applaud your courage, Carson. You will need it for the years ahead. I am indeed a true angel. An Archangel, in fact. I am Gavriel, Herald and Messenger of the Most High. I have come because you have been chosen, Carson Finbar Keefe. You have been chosen to be an agent for Good in the world. Your current dreams are worthy, yes. Such is the work of many Saints. But you shall have a task higher still. You will be endowed with a small fraction of my power. You shall craft sound into a weapon against the forces of Evil, large and small. You have great things ahead, Carson. Or should I say...Gabriel.""

Gabriel opened his eyes.

"And then he was gone. And here I am, and...."

A look of horror crossed his masked face. His head fell forward into his hands.

"Oh, confound it all! I just told you my name! My real name! I'm a right bloody idiot I am. Even if you won't do anything bad with the knowledge, that was a bloody stupid mistake."

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"Hmm." Freedom Angel thought about his last meeting with Gavriel, the deep frustration of pleading with the Herald and Regent, his hopes and prayers for a position on Earth and how they'd finally been rewarded. "Some men have said that angels cannot show their true faces on Earth; that the frail mortal flesh would melt away before the glory of the divine. This is a lie, a wicked lie, spread by the Adversary. Men's minds are stronger than they know. That was indeed Gavriel to whom you spoke. You are a lucky man. He usually sends we lesser breeds in his place." Ignoring for a moment' the man's shock at his own revelation, he said, "Are you worthy of that favor, Carson?"

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Carson raised his head from his hands. He took a moment to glance around the rooftop, and any surrounding rooftops.

Then he reached up and pulled his mask back away from his face. He now sat before the angel, his true face revealed, sincerity lacing the words that follow.

"I don't know. I want to be worthy. I try to be. But am I actually worthy? I don't know. I'm just a man, Heyzel. A fallen, flawed man who tries not to mess up, but often still does. So perhaps you're the better judge. After all, you're the actual angel. I'm just borrowing some power and a name."

If anything, his gaze sharpened.

"What do you think Heyzel, Angel of Freedom? Am I worthy of this favor bestowed upon me by Gavriel?"

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"To doubt is to be worthy," the angel replied. "A surety of conviction is one that ignores an unsure world and an unsure heart. Blind faith is no greater than blind hate." He smiled, and laid his hand on the man's shoulder. "You are striving for the best in the world, and that is proof enough of your worth. You are not alone, Thomas. Come with me," he suggested suddenly, "and I shall introduce you to a true friend. Even those only indirectly empowered by Heaven are our friends in this city, and they have much to teach us. You've carried an angel's burden for so long. Let an angel carry you."

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Carson laughs at the "nickname" Heyzel gave him as he pulls his mask and hood back over his face. When he next speaks, he seems more confident, and his accent has slipped away; he now speaks with a very neutral accent, "American Broadcaster" as some call it.

"Thomas indeed. Well then, Heyzel. Let us go meet your friend."

With that, he held his hand out, ready to grasp the offered hand of the Angel in front of him.

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In a flare of Heavenly light, they disappeared. Carson was conscious of an ethereal warmth all around him and a vague hint of an impossibly beautiful choir, before they reappeared on the rooftop of an apartment building across the river. Carson was new to the city, but he judged they were somewhere near Midtown. "She prefers to be called Fleur de Joie when working in her professional capacity," said the angel as he led the way to the stairs. "She is on the Freedom League with me, along with many others of good character. You will find her a good contact, and worthy friend." When they reached Fleur's door, Heyzel knocked.

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Carson takes in his surroundings, content to follow Heyzel to their destination.

"I have no problem with that. I use a code name for a reason; I figure most others in our line of work have them for a reason as well. Fleur de Josie...Name sounds a bit familiar by itself. I recognize the name "Freedom League", though I don't have the roster memorized."

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"Coming!" The door was answered in just a few moments by a small, woman in a shapeless pink sweatsuit. She looked to be about Gabriel's age, and though she wasn't conventionally beautiful, she had an appealing quality about her, especially when she smiled like she was now. "Heyzel, hi! This is a surprise." She looked curiously at the other hero who'd appeared on her doorstep. "Hi," she said pleasantly, proffering a hand to shake. "Come on in."

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"Fleur de Joie, this is my friend Gabriel." He opted to let Fleur decide if she was going to give her name to this man: Stesha usually did, but that was her business, not his. The secrecy of superheroing was one thing he understood all too well. Sometimes, in a sinful world, justice needed to wear a mask. "He is empowered by the intervention of the Archangel Gavriel, though he is a mortal man himself. I've invited him to meet with you, because you are a true friend to justice and righteousness in this city...and with your many friends, a worthwhile friend to have." He folded in his wings, standing comfortably in Stesha's apartment.

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Stesha's apartment was not large, but it was comfortable, furnished nicely with a comfortable couch and a few armchairs, a kitchen that didn't seem to see a lot of use, and a hallway that led down to the rest of the apartment. The walls were decorated with a mixture of framed landscape prints and photographs of family and friends, including several of her cuddled up comfortably with a tall, somewhat gawky looking man. There were also plants of all shapes and sizes tucked into every nook and cranny, perfuming the air and turning the light faintly green. It wasn't enough to explain their hostess's bright green hair, though.

"Call me Stesha," she urged, drawing both men over to the sitting area. "Dark Star's out on a mission a couple of galaxies over," she told Heyzel, "so I don't know if he'll be back tonight. But it's always nice to meet up with new heroes. Would either of you like something to drink?"

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Gabriel smiles, though in his mind he makes a mark on the "pretty superheroine who's taken" column. The charm is turned down slightly. But the smile remains bright.

"Right then, Stesha. Um...Can we stick with "Gabriel" for me right now? I'm a bit nervous about sharing my identity still. Heyzel got a bit of an accidental pass, but it's not something I'm keen to pass on. Um. I don't suppose you have any Baileys?"

There's a hopeful edge to his voice as he seats himself.

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"It would have been difficult for you to keep your name from me, Gabriel," said Heyzel wryly, "as I am ambassador of the one who gave you your powers." He'd hoped his putative ally would be a little more open with his friend, but he supposed Carson was only human. Perhaps I spoke too greatly about the value of disbelief. "Let me provide for you, Stesha, as you are providing for us." He made a gesture in the air, and a swirl of Heavenly light over her coffee table became a round white cake, covered in frosting. "Angel food cake," he said, a faint smile at the pun. Heyzel was still learning some of the details of Earthly humor.

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Stesha laughed, even as she went into the kitchen and began rummaging around in the cabinets. She didn't keep a lot of food or drink on hand these days, but she did have a small bottle of Bailey's she used for coffee in the back of one cupboard. "Gabriel's just fine," she assured the new visitor, "and how do you take your Baileys?" She set the bottle on the counter and brought over a trio of plates and forks for the cake. "How do you like Freedom City so far?"

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Gabriel smiled at Heyzel's joke.

"With hot coffee, if you please."

He settles a bit further into his chair.

"On the whole identity thing...It's just that I'm not worried so much for myself, as I am other people in my life. So I try to practice tight information control.

As for Freedom City...I like it, overall. I mean, with this many heroes, it's never boring. And it's a good city. Not perfect, mind you. Heaven knows I've seen enough of that these last few months. I'm still trying to make what feels like some decent headway in Southside. Of course, I suppose all the crimes I've managed to stop with simple negotiation helps the "score", as it were."

He looked around the apartment, noticing all the plants, and contemplated Stesha's hero name.

"Are your powers plant related?"

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"I'm a plant controller," Stesha told him cheerfully, heading back into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. "And a florist, so I bring my work home with me from both jobs. Heyzel and I work together on the Freedom League. I don't do a lot of fighting when I can help it, but there are plenty of ways a plant controller can help the city, you know? Even if it's just making the community gardens grown." She measured water in the carafe and poured it. into the machine. "You want some coffee too?" she asked Heyzel. "I can leave the irish out of yours, if you prefer. So you two are both in the same line, as it were?"

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"If you're asking if we share powers, not really. I'm a sound controller. Most of my, ah, "tricks" are geared at disabling opponents. Confusing them, making them sick, that sort of thing. I mean, I can hit them in the face with compressed sound waves, but there's a touch more risk, you know? I've also managed to fly with it."

Gabriel shuffles awkwardly in his seat, giving an embarrassed cough.

"And...it seems to make dealing with people easier, especially if I try."

He then swiftly moves on.

"So you tend to focus on helping out your teammates, and doing things around the city? Is that mostly because of how your powers work, or just that, ah, you don't like force?"

He seems genuinely curious.

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