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A Trail All Bent Askew [IC]

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One day through the primeval wood

A calf walked home as good calves should;

But made a trail all bent askew,

A crooked trail as all calves do.

* * * * *

And men two centuries and a half

Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

-Sam Walter Foss, The Calf-Path

Friday, August 12, 2011, 11:59 AM

I-93, Approaching Boston, MA

A familiar baseline rose out of the speakers of the rental car as it approached the outskirts of the city. "Nah," said Joe Macayle, reaching for the CD player.

"'Nah'?" asked Andy Macayle incredulously. "Dude, I thought you liked this band!"

"Yeah, but this song got played freaking everywhere thanks to the movie. And it ain't even the best song off the album. 'Sides, it's a bit overdone."

"Dude, you're starting to sound like a hipster."

Joe gave him a glare that could've pierced glass, but he withdrew his hand from the player, letting the band's search for a wooden leg continue on. Andy's junior year was approaching in about a month, and the college search had already begun. Months in the waiting, the plan had been to begin the New England wing of the search as an extended family vacation. Then there'd be an issue involving poor materials at one of Dad's sites, and Mom found herself filling in for the manager at the salon due to a nasty bout of salmonella. So that was how Joe found himself guiding Andy up the East Coast, making sure that he didn't get into any accidents in the rented sedan. The plan was to stay with their uncle Adam in Allston; once they were settled in, they'd take advantage of the myriad colleges the city had to offer. BU, BC, Emerson, Northeastern, Harvard... probably not MIT, given Andy's proclivities towards the arts, but anything was up for grabs.

Just in case, Joe had packed his costume with the rest of his luggage. He didn't expect to need it; Boston had its share of heroes, and odds were they could take care of matters in case something huge went down. But just in case...

Probably won't even need it, he thought to himself. What can happen in one weekend?

Joe hadn't been a hero long enough. He hadn't realized what happens when you hand God a straight line.

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At another place, on another radio, on a balcony on a brownstone house in the middle of downtown Boston, that same baseline started playing; except this time the listener didn't switch it off. In fact, Morgan Crowe began to headbang a bit as he reclined on the deck chair, starting to munch on a hoagie wrapped in tinfoil. It was a messy sandwich, thrown together with a cavalier manner that was the hallmark of the independent sandwich-maker; specifically a stand several streets over ran by a pair of troll brothers. Despite his dad, Patrick Crowe, asserting that he'd have been more than happy to pay for a much better restaraunt for his son and his lady-friend (who, by the way, he was so very pleased to meet), Morgan had quite flatly put his foot down. Eating at Henderson & Henderson on the first day home was a tradition, a tradition he said!

It hadn't taken much to get a couple of days off from training to go home. Especially after the disaster that was their last trip back to Boston (he still had the scars from the fighting in Tian!); after that, they'd gone back to Claremont to have a vacation from that vacation. This time, no way no how was he letting anything disturb his vacation with the lovely Victoria Knight. He finished munching and gave a sunny smile to his girlfriend, enjoying the (rare) rays of sunshine that were hitting the deck just right.

"Comfy?"

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Vicky lounged in the warm sunlight, getting what was likely to be the last bit of tanning she'd do in before the coming fall's school schedule left her too busy for it. She wore a purple bikini and white sarong wrap while she stretched on the towel she'd laid out. "Oh yeah," she said rolling over to meet his gaze, "This is without a doubt a much better trip than last time. Though, I will admit the trip to Tian had it's benefits too."

Rolling onto her stomach she took a bite of her own sandwich, glad it wasn't nearly as messy as some of the ones she'd had at Al's Italian Beef. The roast beef in this sandwich had to be some of the best she'd ever had, combined with the lazy vacation attitude and chance to spend more time with her boyfriend made her feel like she was on cloud nine. "So, what's on the agenda for this afternoon?"

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Morgan unabashedly admired his girlfriend's attempt at tanning, musing on whether he'd done something of particular note in a past life or something to deserve the sight. Maybe there was something to the whole idea of "karma" after all...

"Eh, you know me; I've always got plans." He winked. "How about a rooftop tour of the city? Lazy patrol, bust up a few crimes like we used to before...well..."

He trailed off, mentally wincing. Nice job, Crowe, remind her of the time she got kidnapped. Why don't you just shove a foot into your mouth already?

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Victoria visibly shuddered when Morgan mentioned her kidnapping. Silently, she was glad she didn't remember much of the experience, one second she was teleporting from rooftop to rooftop, the next she was giving a speech and punching her illusion-covered boyfriend. When her memories came to their teammate blowing up the place as they left she smiled and felt the a smirk cross her lips.

"I could go for a nice lazy little patrol," she said with a little of a groan induced from stretching, "Though, think I can have five more minutes?"

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5:36 PM

Joe was walking down Boylston Street with Andy, helping to clear up a few things.

"Look, if someone takes the thing hostage, you've got me on cell," he said. "Just call me if something happens. You don't even have to say anything; if I hear nothing on the other end, I'll know there's something bad going down--"

"Joe, I'm gonna be fine," Andy said. "We're not in Freedom. Not everything is a crisis everywhere. Did you have to bring the bag along? What if they ask about it?"

"Then I'm on my way to the gym."

"After dropping your little brother off for a college tour."

"There are a lotta gyms around here. I checked."

They came to the doors of the Little Building, one of the fixtures of Emerson College. The school was small, clustered entirely around one crosswalk on one corner of the Boston Common. But it had a reputation as a good college for those wanting to go into the arts, and Andy had singled it out almost instantly during the initial search. Already parents and teenagers were gathering in the lobby, preparing for the tour.

"There's my group," said Andy. "I'll see you at 7."

"All right. Remember, if anything --"

"--goes wrong, call you, yeah." He slipped through the front doors, giving Joe a wave. It was only after Andy merged into the tour group that Joe realized how foolish he'd been acting. He was on vacation. The time had come to enjoy Boston. He had close to an hour and a half to himself. He might walk the Common, go check out the Quincy Market, maybe even hop on the T and see what the Pit at Harvard Square had to offer.

He'd just crossed Boylston to get to the Common when the first police car zoomed by. Then the second. Then the third. And as he got closer to the Park Street station, he could hear explosions coming from up north. Judging by the distance, they were somewhere around City Hall.

"Of freaking course," he said. He ran across the street to find a place where he could change. Some days there was just no chance of catching an even break.

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Ah, it was good to hit the old rooftops again.

Crow leapt off the edge, resisting the urge to let out a wild whoop as he cleared an alleyway and hit the other side in a roll; teleporting was all well and good, but you lost so much freerunning practice if you just hopped about everywhere!

The patrol slash tour had already been a rousing success; he'd shown her the first place he'd taken on the role of Crow, sucker punching that one Fomorian with an iron bat, taken her clear over the Black Bay skyline and watched the ships float about, snuck into Fenway Park and ran the bases...oh, and made out atop the highest building in the city. That was definitley one of the high points in the tour, he reflected, the bandanna hiding a blush on his face. Idly, he wondered if any of the local thugs would remember him if he stopped a robbery or something; given he'd only been active for around a year before being shuttled off to Claremont, he doubted it. Still, it would have been awesome if they'd busted up a convinience store being robbed, he'd swing in and appear looking like grim death, the thugs would blanch in terror, Wisp would come in all smoke and fury and twist her hips just so with a kick and...

"Eeehehehe..."

The teen took another running jump, some rather distracting thoughts running through his head. Then the sound of the first explosion reached him, and he whirled. Smoke coming from the north end. Then sirens. More explosions. City Hall.

...Well, ask and ye shall recieve.

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Wisp kept pace with her boyfriend as they ran from rooftop to rooftop, feeling her heart pump from the exercise. As dates went, this one was one of their best. The day had just been incredible and had her plotting her own tour of Chicago with Morgan in the future.

She'd been lost in those thoughts, and checking glancing at Morgan's butt in his tight jeans, when she was rocked from them by an explosion in the distance. "Well, that doesn't sound good," she muttered as Crow lead the way.

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Cannonade bounded over the rooftops, running from high rise to store to apartment building. He leaped from the famous Macy's at Downtown Crossing to the heart of Government Center. City Hall approached, a vast, brutalist concrete temple that loomed over the brick square. He landed on the roof with both feet; the building itself appeared untouched. He quickly scanned the street, and found the true source of the trouble.

About a block away, a woman in red robes was flying over Quincy Market, blasting the stands below with bolts of green fire. The bricks melted under her onslaught as visitors to the Market fled in droves. Fighting against the tide of the crowd was a young woman who looked like she meant business. Her entire body was silver, from her skin to her clothes to the braids in her hair.

"Go!" cried the sorceress. "Run. Follow. You don't know the ways you walk. The roads are a labyrinth, keeping you confined!" Another bolt of green flame rained down, one the woman in silver easily dodged.

"Y'know, Hexbinder," said the silver girl, "I'm not one to imagine you'd use something like logic or reason, but this seems pretty cracked, even by your standards."

"You can't see!" yelled Hexbinder. "I see with new eyes. Eyes my master has given me!"

Cannonade timed his landing well, ending up between the flames without landing in any of them. "Man," he said. "I really hope you kept the receipt."

The silver-haired woman whipped her head around towards Cannonade. "Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"Not a bad guy," he said. "Mind focusing on Property Destruction Lass?"

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Silversmith surveilled the scene - most of Quincy Market was smooth stone without handholds, and Hexbinder was keeping her distance from the windows, making a takedown from upstairs unlikely. She picked up a ruined piece of a sales stand; the steel beam seemed to take on a new luster in her hands, gaining some metaphysical weight. "So you've got new eyes," she said. "Great. Maybe they'll help when you're seeing double."

She hurled the chunk of metal at Hexbinder effortlessly -- but the sorceress weaved out of the way, ably dodging the chunk of steel. "You think you're a wit," said the witch. "But they will come, and you will know the truth. Once the way is made clear." The witch turned, floating away. At first Cannonade thought she was fleeing, but then he realized where she was going.

Faneuil Hall was one of the centerpieces of the Quincy Market, a gathering hall in Colonial times and a key part of Boston history. Hexbinder floated at its side, scanning the bricks piece by piece. A horrible smile lit up her face. "Hidden for so long," she cried, "but not well enough!" A ball of green flame lashed out from her hands; it struck the side of the building like a missile, sending stone cascading down onto the street below. "Your fortress is bleeding! And soon it shall fall!"

Cannonade could only look beyond her to the people on the second floor, who'd run inside the building to seek shelter. Gotta take her down fast, he thought. Don't know what other tricks she's got up her sleeve, but I definitely don't wanna find out what she'll do when she gets in.

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Crow's eyes went a tad buggy as he appeared on the top of a building overlooking the square. Cannonade? Silversmith? THE Silversmith? The teen froze for a moment as he fought down the urge to bolt towards the ferrokinetic and beg for an autograph. No, no, no; he must be calm, dignified, fearsome, bird of prey, man. Bird of prey.

Then he heard the shrieks from Faneuil Hall, and promptly spun to see his girlfriend.

"I'll go get the civilians; you have fun while I'm gone!"

He spun on his heel and vanished again, reappearing on the second floor of the hall beside one of the individuals Cannonade had seen through the window. Without further ado, he focused his mind entirely on the rune of wind walking, seeking to expand, adjust, and...

The rune on Crow's back smoked and burned more violently than normal, and the small breeze that followed his usual teleportations burst into a gust of wind that rushed through the building. He shot out one hand, and the winds coalesced into a barely visible rift. He smiled underneath the bandanna, keeping his hand up to maintain the doorway. On the edges of his senses, he could barely tell that the ersatz portal would send them a good hundred feet from the building; too close to the battleground for his liking, but without prior prep and a workshop this was the best he could do.

"All aboard Crow Airlines! Destination, anywhere but here!"

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The people gathered in Faneuil Hall were glad for the exit, pushing calmly but swiftly through the portal. When they found themselves within spitting distance of the battlefield, they took off - but at least they already had some distance from Hexbinder, and were moving swiftly away towards the North End. Besides, Hexbinder didn't seem to care about the people.

"The false temple shall burn!" she screamed over the turmoil. "The prison shall shatter! This city shall be reclaimed!"

"Y'know..."

Hexbinder turned to see Cannonade racing up towards her, leaping in an arc that was aimed to collide with her.

"...I think we got you were messed up three seconds ago. You can kinda quit it now."

Hexbinder, however, managed to dodge out of the way, leaving Cannonade with just empty air. He managed to land on his feet near the other side of the shops, and kept his eyes fixed on the demented infernalist while he planned his next action.

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Wisp watched Crow evacuate the civilians, highly impressed by what his coat was able to do. Focusing on the task at hand, she called up the odd energy at her command. With azure and black radiance trailing behind her, she ran along the edge of the roof, trying to get Hexbinder's attention. However, the woman seemed a little preoccupied, something the young teleporter felt she should capitalize on. She aimed one fist and allowed the energy to pour forward in a jet of power, striking the villain in the shoulder.

"If I were you, I'd listen to the guy in the Spartan helmet," Wisp called out to the villain before looking over at Cannonade. "Small world, isn't it 'Nade?"

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"Yeah, funny, huh?" Cannonade called back across the way. "Maybe we can save the small talk for when she's down."

"Good idea," Silversmith said. She turned away from Hexbinder for one second, turning her attention to the ruins of the stands. The stands had been wrought iron - or, in some cases, steel painted and conditioned to look like wrought iron - and her silver hand plunged into the melted depths of one, like it was a deep pools of water. The stand crept out like an oil slick over the ocean, leeching into other stands and drawing them in. Soon, a crude ramp was rising from them - thick enough for a human to run on, strong enough to support their weight, and coiled around Hexbinder.

The warlock, however, didn't seem to notice or care for the obstacle. "I see you," she said. "I see your words, and your lines, and your chains! They've stood for so long, but now they shatter!" A hideous green light filled her hands, and shot forth with the force of a mortar. Faneuil Hall erupted as the light washed over everything; glass shattered a second before the walls themselves burst from the impact, and cooled into tiny puddles as it hit the ground. The meeting house burned and tumbled to the ground in pieces under her onslaught.

Hexbinder cackled madly. "The way is clear!" she yelled. "The children of Y'ha-Nthlei come forth! This land shall be reclaimed!" The mad sorceress turned her attention to her current confines, then to the heroes below. "As for you..."

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Crow, to his credit, didn't panic when the roof started to cave in. Admittedly, he was swearing a blue streak in the old language, and dodging falling masonry, but panicking? Most definitley not. Time seemed to slow for a moment as he took in the scene, the last civilian hurrying through the portal, the falling bricks and mortar, the witch right outside one window...

With a quick snap of his fingers, the portal's winds dispersed, rushing through and out of the building. Crow spun and backed up, dodging a tumbling bit of ceiling tile as he reached a sufficient distance from the (amazingly still-intact) window. The teen took in a deep breath, then broke into a flat-out sprint towards the laughing villain, who right then had turned her back towards the building, to face what were no doubt his unknowing compatriots. A second before he reached the perfect moment, Crow grinned underneath the bandanna.

This was going to be epic.

A blur leapt forward, and smashed through the window; a figure clad in black from head to foot, his arms outstretched and fabric billowing in the shape of a bird of prey flew outwards, surrounded by shards of glass and pieces of the Hall. The winds seemed to rush towards the teen, almost seeming to sweep Crow up and up, until he descended towards Hexbinder like a meteor, slamming his shoulder into the small of her back, while simultaneously grappling her with his arms and pinning her own to her sides.

"Take her down!"

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Hexbinder struggled as Crow latched onto her; not only were her arms pinned to her sides, but the extra weight from the young hero was causing her to list in mid-air. She desperately struggled to maintain the proper altitude, but it seemed that Crow's mass was a factor she hadn't accounted for when casting her flight spell.

"Let go of me!" she yelled. "Get your impure hands off of me! No one touches me but my master!"

"...yeah, that's something I didn't need to know," said Cannonade. He bounded up from the ground, aiming right at the witch. She may have twisted and darted in mid-air as she struggled to compensate, but it wasn't like she had a lot of range. He felt his fist find purchase - right in her shin, pushing almost harmlessly off of bone as hard as concrete. He landed on Silversmith's construct, swiftly regaining his footing. "That part of the crazy sorceress package, or just a fringe benefit?"

"He's granted me powers and visions your feeble mind can't begin to comprehend. He --"

"Oh, wait. I don't care."

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Crow's voice hissed in Hexbinder's ear as he kept one arm locked around her, and managed to lift the other around her neck in a sleeper hold. One rune on his cuff smoked and burned, a scent of wood smoke and grave dust filling the villainess' nose as he pulled backwards, blocking her windpipe.

"Lady, we don't want to know what your 'master' does to you, alright? Just...go...to...sleep...."

Cold and ethereal energies wreathed his arm as he murmured the last word, lashing at the sorceress' form. The ghostly power carved away whatever magical defenses she had, and sapped the strength from her frame as they struggled in midair.

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Hexbinder's eyes grew heavy, and she beat somewhat more weakly against her grip. "Never!" she cried. "The circle is weakened, but its bonds are still there. The path is open, but other routes must be cut. I must... I must..."

"Must what?" Cannonade said. "You gonna blow up Fenway next?" He climbed the ramp and drove a fist into her midsection, causing the mad witch to shake and convulse. "Maybe City Hall? Then again, that thing could probably use a good rebuilding..."

"Hey!" yelled Silversmith. "Don't go feeding the crazy woman's issues!"

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Wisp noticed how crowded things were getting around Hexbinder and rather than compound the issue she drew in a deep breath and relaxed her reign on her energy, pouring it out in a painful, if non-lethal rush towards the crazed spellcaster. The stream of blue-black energy caught her across the jaw and suddenly, her head slumped forward in unconsciousness.

It was about here she noticed the flaw in her logic, her boyfriend remained airborne as long as she did. Oops, was all Wisp could think as she watched the mages begin to drop.

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The blast took Hexbinder right in the face, and whatever fight was left in her quickly ran out. She collapsed -- and as she did, she and Crow began to plummet towards the bricks below. Before they could reach terminal velocity, however, metal cables snaked out from Silversmith's structure, lashing around their ankles. Improbably, the metal took on the consistency of a bungee cord, slowing their descent before dragging the two back up to the structure.

"Wow," Cannonade said. "Didn't think metal could do that."

"What can I say?" Silversmith said. "I've got a deft touch." She looked out to the burning remains of Faneuil Hall. "God. It's gonna take a while to rebuild this place. And with The Architect out of commission -- "

Cannonade raised a hand. "Hold it. Not a local, don't speak the lingo. First off, who's this crackpot?" He gestured towards the unconscious Hexbinder. "And second of all, who's The Architect?"

"Hexbinder's a regular problem for us," she said. "Some crank who lucked into magic. She's good at property damage and flying higher than any woman should while wearing a skirt. Normally she's a bit Froot Loops, but never this cracked. She's usually the kind to throw about mumbo jumbo, but at least it sounds like it makes sense."

"Okay. Now who's The Architect?"

"She's the one who usually kicks Hexbinder's ass. Longest in a legacy that some guys say stretches back to the Revolution. She knows her mojo, and she's usually there helping to rebuild whenever someone blows something up. But..." Silversmith sighed. "About a week ago, The Architect went into a coma. No one's got a reason why, not even Almsman, so odds are it's something magic. And now Hexbinder's going about, more cracked than usual, blowing things up. Can't be a coincidence."

Cannonade looked across to the burning wreck of the building. "Why that one, though? Way she was talking about it, you'd think it ran her mom down at the crosswalk."

"I don't know. The Architect would, but -- "

"Jesus Christ!"

Cannonade and Silversmith looked up to see a man in white robes and cowl floating above the Market. He descended onto the structure, and Cannonade got a good look at his face. He must have been in his late forties or early fifties, with a salt and pepper beard and shoulder-length hair to match. "I heard the explosion, but I didn't think it'd be this bad."

"Thought you had problems taking the Lord's name in vain, Reverend."

"I think He can forgive me this one time." He turned to Cannonade. "You new in town, or...?"

"Just visiting." He extended a hand. "Cannonade."

The reverend accepted the gesture, shaking his hand. "Almsman." He looked to Crow and Wisp. "You two visitors as well?"

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Crow kept a tight clinch around Hexbinder's windpipe and arms, ducking his head down as Wisp's blast connected right to her face and the two started to plummet. For his part, the teleportation rune began to flare up just as the metal cords lashed around their ankles, and he breathed a slight sigh of relief. He really didn't want to know what whatever leftover magic that crazy witch had left in the tank would have done to his wind-walking in a pinch...

He didn't really speak as the two of them were hauled up the structure, although he did take care to check Hexbinder's pulse and breathing before boots hit the metal. She seemed alive, although battered as all hell; and if he was any judge on Wisp's blasts (particularly when she was irked), Hexy was in for a helluva headache when she woke up. The teen cast a look towards Faneuil Hall, or what was the Hall, tsking under his breath. Then he heard the extra voice, and his eyes went wide under the hood; whirling towards the new arrival.

Oh. Dear. Lord. It's the Almsman. THE Almsman. And Silversmith. I'm standing beside the Almsman and Silversmith. Silversmith and the Almsman. Sweet baby Jesus in a bassinet. WhatdoIdowhatdoIsayshouldIbecoolorwhatwhatwhatFOCUS. Relax. Easy. Be cool. Yeah, that's it. Be cool.

Crow lowered Hexbinder to the flat metal structure with glacial precision, giving a surreptitious wink to his girlfriend, then stood back and placed his hands in his pockets. He kept a fairly laconic voice, but it definitley hid mirth underneath the tone. He motioned for Wisp to introduce herself shortly after.

"Comin' home, actually. And brought a friend. Name's Crow."

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Wisp stepped up next to Crow, checking her hands to be sure none of the blue and black energy she projected was 'leaking', for lack of a better term. Offering her hand to Silversmith and Almsman she gave a friendly smile, "Yeah. We normally deal with the crazy types around Freedom City. My name's Wisp by the way."

After shaking hands with the locals she turned her attention to Cannonade, "How's it going? Haven't seen you since those radioactive-Nazi zombies."

Wisp stole a glance at her boyfriend and could see the boy all but bouncing with barely contained excitement to be interacting with two of his home town's heroes. She could imagine she'd feel the same way talking with Aracno-Lad back in Chicago.

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"Well, the more the merrier, I suppose," said Almsman. "Came by to see if I could offer an assist, but looks like I came too late." He looked to Faneuil Hall and shook his head. "Been a while since I saw that. Last time it burned was, what? The Terminus Invasion?"

"You're asking me?" said Silversmith. "I was in diapers."

"Oh, sure. Make me feel old." He turned to Cannonade and the rest of the Freedom City contingent. "So, how's Boston treating you so far?"

"Not bad," Cannonade said. "Could use fewer explosions."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says. I came by to deliver some news, Silversmith. We're gathering at the Temple."

Hope danced across Silversmith's face. "You mean she's out -- ?"

"Sadly, no. I've been trying my hardest, but whatever's got her in this state has more might than my blessings. So I had to put my God-given talents elsewhere... and I think I might have found the answer. Whoever did this to her didn't want her about. They'd ruin what they're planning."

"All right. So, who's doing it? And why'd they decide to send a sorceress to do demo work?"

Almsman smiled at the heroes. "That's a good question," he said. "If what I've found is right, we're going to need all the help we can get. So! How'd you like to help save Boston?"

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Wisp held her hands behind her back, looking between Crow and the local heroes, "How far away is the Temple? And in what general direction? I'd just follow but it would be helpful in case I loose you guys on the way over." She glanced at Cannonade and asked, "It didn't really come up in Tian or dealing with the Einherjar but, you have flight, super-speed, teleportation, or the like or do you need to pull a tandem teleport?"

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Morgan put his hands behind his hand and stretched, thoroughly squashing the urge to grin like a madman. One of his boyhood dreams coming true, right here right now; hometown heroes, actually asking for his help. And, as icing on the cake, his girlfriend was here. And that badass brick from downtown Freedom, Cannonade. Yeah. Best. Vacation. EVER. Play it cool, don't start geeking out, remember, you're a scary guy. THE scary guy. Raven wouldn't start geeking. Arrowhawk wouldn't start geeking. Ohdearsweetlordthisisawesome! Ack! Be cool! Be cool!

"Eh, I've got some time to kill. Besides, all my favorite restaraunts are here."

Oh yeah, totally cool. Ice cold, man.

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