Work Book 2

Neophyte was what I would have called a tech-genius back home, and what everyone else here called a Tinker. His power armor was reminiscent of Steel's, though it didn't have his face molded onto the front of his mask. Instead his helmet was a solid shell, a pair of eyes glowing white being the only suggestion of a face. With the shield on his left arm and sword sheathed at his side, it made him look like a futuristic knight.

"Are you ready for this?" He spoke, amusement in his digitized voice.

I grinned. "Not my first rodeo." Though it would be the one where I was the star of the show. This felt weird. Not bad, just weird. I let out a breath.

Okay, still slightly nervous.

I could hear Director Wilkins speaking, rather faintly. "We at the New York City Protectorate have been proud to help a lost hero find her feet and join our ranks. Please, everyone, give a warm welcome to Sunstorm!"

As the press clapped, I stepped out onto the stage, the lights lighting up my form. My armor had turned out well, a backless breastplate painted a light blue, the emblem of the sun on my chest. With blue armored boots and gauntlets, and my wings pulled tightly against my shoulders, I cut a rather exotic, warrior-like figure. My horns could have been an affectation, simply an odd choice. It was only after I stepped up behind the podium and spread my arms, and wings, did the clapping stop. I could see eyes widen in the crowd, and I was keenly aware of the cameras on me.

Still, as I put on a gentle smile and put my hands on the podium, I spoke into the microphone. "Thank you. I appreciate the welcome." I gently tapped my left horn. "Don't worry, I know what I look like, and no, I'm not a member of the Satanic Temple, nor am I going to ask anybody to sign any contracts. I'm sure everyone's had enough trouble with the phone company."

That got a nervous titter of laughter out of the crowd.

I smiled warmly. "I am Sunstorm. I seem to have the rather dubious honor of being the first visitor from my own Earth to yours. Unfortunately I can't even serve as an ambassador, as I've got no contact back home. On my Earth I serve as a member of the Justice League, a society of heroes from all over the world. I've served with them for eleven years, and in that time I've done a lot of things that would mean little to you, without the appropriate context. I do have to admit helping Flight 197 was the first time I ever had to catch a falling plane, though."

That got a few chuckles, the tension in the room lessening.

"Back home, both heroes and villains have been around since time immemorial. During the Second World War metahumans fought on both sides. There's a long and proud tradition of heroism on my world, one that I joined soon after I gained my own powers. Regardless, for the moment I am stuck on your Earth, so I will be continuing that tradition. I'm here to help." I smiled gently. "Questions?"

A hand lifted in the crowd, and I pointed. "Yes?"

A gray-haired man wearing a thick set of glasses and a suit stood up. "John Samuels, New York Times. You said 'metahumans' as opposed to parahumans. Can you expand on what is meant by that?"

I nodded, a soft chuckle coming from my throat. "That's a long subject, but to break it down simply is that a metahuman is a human with extraordinary abilities. As opposed to, for example, a person who has abilities that are made through creating a technological solution." I formed a fireball in my hand, before extinguishing it by clenching my fist. "For example, one of the most famous metahumans back home is the Flash, who has extraordinary speed. He's so ridiculously fast it's hard to comprehend the kinds of things he can do. If he wants to take a European vacation, he doesn't need to book a flight. He just runs over the ocean water and gets there in seconds."

I pointed to another raised hand.

Its owner sprung to her feet, allowing me to see the navy-blue suit she wore. "Maria Jones, the Tribune. When you rescued Flight 197, you weren't wearing anything. Do you often do your heroics... that way?"

"In the buff, you mean?" I asked dryly. "Not if I can help it. It's simply that I'm fireproof and harder to damage than most ordinary materials. So if I end up going too fast or things get too hectic, my clothing or armor doesn't tend to survive. If you know where I can pick up a bra and pants that can stand up to burning jet fuel, I'd really appreciate it."

That got a peal of relaxed laughter. I smiled and pointed to another raised hand.

A young man got up, his blond hair and youthful features reminding me of a certain (somewhat) annoying photographer back in Metropolis. "John Webb, the Sun. You mentioned the Flash, are there other heroes of note in the Justice League?"

I smiled. One of the softball questions given by one of the PRT's plants. "There's a lot, actually, but the biggest of note are the original five." Minus Batman. Just in case. He'd probably appreciate me not spouting of his existence to another universe, anyway. "Superman, my mentor, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, the Flash and Martian Manhunter. They came together to deal with an alien invasion... and before anyone asks, yes it sounds pretty insane without having experienced it. Once they gathered together they started dealing with things that were too big for any one hero to handle." I chuckled. "After all, as even Legend here can't be everywhere at once, neither can Superman. He does the best he can. I try to follow in that example. I've compiled a general list of the Justice League, and it'll be released after this if you want more information."

John wagged his hand quickly. "You seem to have a lot of respect for Superman."

I nodded. "He saved my life, before I joined the League myself." As he waved his hand again, I shook my head. "That's two, we'll give someone else a chance." I looked over the crowd, my wings twitching as I fought to hide my lingering nerves. I spotted a raised hand. "Yes, you."

A nervous-looking man in a suit stood up, notepad in hand. "Harald Marks, of t-the New York Post. You look... um, very unusual, even by most capes. Does everyone on your world w-with powers...?"

"Look like demons?" I said dryly. "No. Most look normal for their given species. Yes, species, as we have a number of alien heroes too. I'm a human who was altered by my powers. Unfortunately there's no easy way to tell how much, and I don't have any way to return to how I looked before I got them." I shrugged with a smile. "Believe me, it would make clothes shopping a lot easier." I unfurled my wings as I made a casual thumb over my shoulder. "These things really get in the way. In any case, I'm not the only one who was changed in a similar manner. I'm just somewhat glad I didn't end up with cat ears and a tail."

Another hand went up. "Yes, you."

A quite nice looking dark-skinned man in a casual dress shirt stood up. "John Kevas, Newsday. What would you say is the strangest thing on your world, compared to ours?"

I grinned. "Now this is going to sound ludicrous, but I once had to deal with a prison break being led by a psychic mind-controlling intelligent gorilla. It was... rather interesting. As for the weirdest thing about here? You've got no Big Belly Burger franchises. I'm used to seeing those everywhere!"

----------

"Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful..." I sang along with the radio sitting behind me as I watched the flaming barrel in front of me, serving as the source of my focus. Snow drifted down around me as I practised on the roof of the Protectorate HQ in New York, thoroughly enjoying the night air.

It was now December 10th​, and I was trying to manage my current shortcoming. Generate fire, great. Cover myself in fire, great. If annoying to any fabrics on me. Draw fire back to me, absorbing its heat... not so great. If I could just manage this, then... well I wouldn't be set, but I'd feel a lot better about any battles I'd get into. It was an important part about how my powers worked. At least before.

Heat healed my wounds, energized me, strengthened me. Not much on its own, but when it came to flame or greater temperatures, even grievous wounds could heal in seconds. Add to that how hard it was to injure me in the first place...

Actually, no. I'm making assumptions again right now which might get me killed. With my Byte seemingly offline, it's possible I still have the toughness I'm used to or a shotgun might shred my internal organs. I need to find out just where I am before I make assumptions, or volunteer for frontline duty and get my head punched off.

Still, before I could test my ability to take damage, it'd be best to make sure I could actually heal, and not be laid up for months.

And so I concentrated on the flame before me. Pull. Pull. Pull goddamn it.

The fire flickered, wavered, bent toward me. I thrust out my hand, trying to pull at the fire with my will, and finally the fire rushed out of the barrel and flowed over me. As always, it made me feel stronger, soothing away my aches and pains, however few of them I had right now. It was an intoxicating feeling, one I always had to be careful of. It would be easy to lose track of just what I was up to in the midst of such a feeling. The fire in the barrel abruptly went out, with its heat stolen away, collapsing the reaction that sustained it.

I still had to practice. Offense, defense, preparations, all of it.

I threw a fireball back into the barrel, reigniting the somewhat-burnt wood inside. I had to practice until I had it down every time.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..."

----------

"Sunstorm?" Stacy Perkins, Director Wilkins' secretary called, pulling my attention away from my book. "The director will see you now."

I smiled as I got to my feet, closing the book with a thump. "Thank you." I stepped into Director Wilkins' office, my wings folded tightly as I shut the door behind me.

Wilkins gave me a nod as I took a seat, careful to not put my back against the chair.

He looked a bit amused. "Do they pinch, or hurt?"

I shook my head, chuckling. "More like they tingle very annoyingly if I put pressure on them. Like having your leg fall asleep. Or they get tangled on something."

He nodded in understanding, a smile on his lips. "Good book?"

I held it up, showing the cover. "Research. Biography on Alexandria. Considering a whole ton of things are likely classified, I doubt this is all that accurate, but it's still useful getting to know something of what is expected around here. Hero's next on my reading list." A Hero named Hero. Reminds me of the 'Who's on First?' sketch.

Wilkins' lip quirked up. "I'm surprised you didn't start with Legend's."

"I did. Finished it in about six hours." At his look, I chuckled. "I was studying in Metropolis U in a Metahumans Studies course. I learned to speed-read pretty quickly, and skim even faster. If I used my powers to read, I could finish the book in about a minute... don't remember much about it, though, when I do it that way. It's more helpful as a means to look something up rather than learning anything new." Yet another thing I'd have to practice to get to work without my Byte helping.

"Metahumans studies... Doctor Manton will probably want to talk with you at some point." At my raised eyebrow, Wilkins smiled. "He's the foremost expert on parahumans. He's the one who coined the term 'Manton Effect' to describe why powers usually don't injure their wielder. Or why one usually can't teleport one person into another, or into an object."

I tilted my head. "Usually?"

Wilkins grimaced. "There's always exceptions. In any case... we need to hash out what your plans for the future are. Especially if no way for you to get home appears."

I nodded. "I figured once I got my feet under me, which I have, I'd do a little travelling, some sightseeing. Things are different here, so comparing things will help a bit. Also it's important to get an idea of how things are for ordinary people on the ground. If I spend too much time up in the clouds, it's easy to forget why we fight." I shrugged. "After that? I figured I'd probably get transferred somewhere I can do some good. I wouldn't mind being a member of the New York Protectorate, but you've got Legend and multiple experienced teams."

Wilkins nodded. "Things are pretty well-handled here, for the most part. I wouldn't mind you staying, but considering other branches are often shorthanded... it would probably be for the best."

I grinned. "Besides, I can get around pretty quickly for a visit. Only reason I stuck under Mach 2 was due to the clothing issue."

He laughed under his breath at that. "That's an ongoing issue, huh? Alexandria had similar issues, from what I know. Her costume is usually fine, due to synthweave fabrics, but she tends to lose her cape if she goes suborbital. Hero's working on that, apparently." His face became a bit more serious. "Well, it's unusual for someone to request vacation time just after signing up, but as you still need to get certified on a number of training courses there's some leeway time. I do want to stress that as you're not certified yet, you're not supposed to get into fights with villains until you are."

I shook my head. "I wasn't planning on such. If it happens as I'm doing my sightseeing, I'll work to protect lives and property, but I won't go looking for trouble. I'll be referring to my briefing package to avoid known troublesome spots. Otherwise I'll be checking in with local Protectorate and with the switchboard here."

Wilkins nodded with satisfaction. "Good enough. Trouble seems to find capes as it is, you don't need to hunt down any more. The other note... the Endbringers. Do you intend to participate in fighting them?"

"Of course." I thought for a moment, then sighed. "It would be easier if I had the League back home, with some idea of what everyone can pull off, but I've fought powerful beings before. Trouble is, I'm a midlister on the League's roster, and I'm still trying to get back up to snuff. I'm not sure how much help I'll be. That being said, I can't just stand aside as they cause mass death and destruction."

Wilkins looked grim. "The next one is going to be Behemoth, if they stick to their pattern. You said you're fireproof, but he also uses lightning and radiation at range. How well can you handle those?"

I shrugged. "Before this? Quite well. Lightning can still hurt like a bitch, and radiation does tend to make me quite ill, but my own powers let me handle the first and recover from the second. Now, though? I need to do some testing. I'm guessing electrokinetics are probably a bit more rare than back home."

Wilkins looked interested. "They're common on your Earth?"

I grimaced. "Same event that gave me my powers empowered a lot of them, too. One of my team was Stormlord. He had a hammer that was almost as big as his ego." I shook my head. "For some reason, a lot of the electrokinetics use hammers."

"Sunstorm!" Stormlord cheered as he sent a Brainiac robot smashing into a wall at supersonic speeds. His blond hair flew in the wind, looking magnificent... if only he would pay attention to business. "Look at them fly! Did you see my swing!"

I was busily trying to keep a two-story construct from smashing me through the concrete. "Just fry this fucking thing, Stormlord!"

"Well if you insist!" With a completely unnecessary flourish of his hammer, he gathered up electricity until his entire body glowed. He threw a bolt of lightning... which also managed to course through me. The robot exploded. I screamed and fell to a knee as sheer, raw agony flooded my veins. It didn't last long, but I was still left panting on the ground.

"Sunstorm! Are you well?" Stormlord ran up to my side, suddenly concerned as if he hadn't fried every nerve ending I had.

In response, I hit him with an uppercut. He went sailing across the parking lot, across the street, over the molehill and ended up splashing into the river.

As I got to my feet, I saw Blackwing and Bitterleaf watching me with wide eyes. Snapping my wings shut around me, I spoke with a hoarse voice. "I'm not apologizing."

Blackwing snorted. "Yeah I'd probably want to do that too."

Wilkins looked pensive at that, sitting back into his chair. "I can't imagine the chaos a Trigger Event that large would cause. Sixty-eight million."

"It wasn't fun." I said quietly. "The majority just tried to pick up the pieces of their lives, but Brainiac wouldn't let that happen. He, it rather, started hunting down everyone who had powers, whether the powers were gained that day or not. If you didn't get a group, you either had to be very powerful, or you were captured. Since nobody had a handle on their powers right off, quite a few didn't even last that first day."

"Sounds hard," Wilkins said with sympathy.

"It got better, in time." I said softly. "The established villains tried to take advantage of the chaos, but we managed to eventually get things somewhat stable. Part of it is like the Endbringer Truce, here... if Brainiac wins, or some of the other threats I mentioned do, they lose too. Not all of them are completely stupid. Problem is enough are and they cause problems that sap energy away from the world-ending threats. It helps that most went hero, at least for those that decided to keep on fighting after they went through training."

Wilkins nodded slowly. "Not so easy here."

"Here is different." I agreed with a nod. "Part of why I want to go around. Take a look at things. I know winter isn't the best time of year for it, but I haven't had an actual vacation in years. Even my time on Themyscira was more of a training session than anything. I should try to enjoy myself a little, before I get caught up with other things here."

He smiled ruefully. "Can't argue with that. Anyway, the press seemed to appreciate your debut, though of course it's raised a lot more questions."

I shrugged. "I've put a package together about the high points. It's supposed to be released online."

Wilkins winced. "Right. A lot of people don't really have internet. It's there, but most people get their news from the evening news and newspapers. It's more a thing for the younger generation."

I just stared at him for a moment. "Right. Nineties. Forgot."

He asked, clearly in a joking manner. "Any stock tips?"

I grinned. "Sorry. Temporal Prime Directive."

"You just made that up."

My grin grew wider. "And you can't call me on it."

"This is Sunstorm, checking in for my local 0800."

My communicator crackled in my ear, then the delightfully perky voice of Nancy Edwards, PRT agent, echoed in my ear. "Nice to hear from you Sunstorm. Anything of note since the last check-in?"

I chuckled. "I helped change a tire for an older couple on their way to Arkansas. Nothing too terrible. Nobody tried picking a fight with me."

"Good to know, Sunstorm. What is your next destination?"

"I was thinking about Dallas. Never been."

A moment passed, then Nancy's voice turned a bit more professional. "Right, Dallas' Protectorate office is at 121 Baker Street, it has a helipad and rooftop access. Should be easily seen from the air. It'll be toward the north end of the city."

"Thank you Edwards."

"Quite welcome Sunstorm. Enjoy the day."

I flicked off the comms, got out of my motel bed and hit the shower. Flying across the country wasn't hard, but things weren't designed for someone flying above everything on their own. They were meant to drive, or fly in an airplane, not above everything else and without radar. All I carried with me was a change of clothes in a small pack, my paperwork that I was going through a bit at a time when I stopped for the night, a toothbrush, toothpaste, my Protectorate ID, a camera and a debit card.

If it wasn't for the ID, I wouldn't have been able to even rent the room for the night. Things in 1999 were more loose than I was used to back home, but with my appearance the front desk would have called the police or Protectorate the moment I got down the hall. Apparently there were ongoing social programs to tell people what to do if they were contacted by an 'differently-bodied' cape, but stupidity and prejudice was still an issue.

Not that I blame them. This little motel in Jasper, Tennessee had probably never even seen a cape before. Nevertheless one that looked like a demon. Yes I had a somewhat better reputation now, but it'd still take a while before people wouldn't fear me.

After my shower, and having cleaned and redressed in my armor, I stepped out of my room. Fully packed and ready to go.

As I paid at the front desk, the clerk looked at me nervously. "T-thank you for staying w-with us. Was e-everything good?"

I nodded. "Just as I expected, thanks." I dropped my keys on the counter. "Thanks for not freaking out too much."

He smiled weakly. "S-sorry."

"I'm used to it." I said, a little downcast. Didn't stop me from turning out the door and flexing my wings, casting me into the sky.

Literally flying over Arkansas to reach Texas, I just enjoyed my time in the air. I took pictures sparingly, of course. Digital cameras weren't everywhere yet, and while they were available to government employees I hadn't officially signed up until all the paperwork was done. I'd have to save a few pictures for the Grand Canyon.

What? It's tradition!

In the middle of winter, even Texas had some signs of it. This year wasn't particularly cold, at least not so far, but the air was quite dry. It was beautifully picturesque from up here. Though I knew if it wasn't for my powers, being half a mile in the air would have been quite cold. If I went further up... well, temperature became a bit odd for ordinary sensibilities. The air would become colder, yet as it thinned there were layers where it was absurdly hot. It just didn't matter because by then the air was so thin it was nearly nothing.

I had a thought, as I looked up into the early morning sky. I'd have to ask when I reached Dallas.

----------

I found the building easily enough. It looked to have been a converted office building near a rather tangled set of roads which snaked into the rest of the city. That much made sense, it would make it easier for ground-bound heroes to respond to issues.

Also, the big proud letters on the front stating 'Dallas PRO' was a bit of a hint. My deductive skills are amazing, I know. Move over Batman!

Le sigh. If he were here he'd have probably realized he was both in the past and another world by the way the snowflakes piled up around the crater I woke up in. Or by the star patterns. Or, perhaps, he would have actually looked for a calendar back at Alert. There's a reason he's one of the founders despite the fact I have no freaking idea what his powers are.

I asked Ginger once. She just laughed. My bet is he's got shadow and sound manipulation. Makes him that much better at sneaking around.

I floated down to the front doors, tucking my wings in as I opened them. I gave a friendly smile to the PRT receptionist, a red-haired man who looked like he cut down trees for a living. Only the fact there were four armored troopers in the room made things a bit more tense.

He looked up as he saw me and for once I was greeted with a smile.

I smiled in return. "Sunstorm here to check in with the Dallas Protectorate."

He gave me a nod, clearly enjoying his day. "We've been expecting you, Sunstorm. We'll get you situated." He looked down to his computer and typed a few things. "Right, you're logged in as present in the city. May I ask what your day plan is?"

I shrugged. "Hang out, check out the sights. See what's going on. Then probably head somewhere else tomorrow. Any tourist traps I should see?"

The receptionist smiled. "I can think of a couple. I'd suggest the JFK Museum at least. It's a rather important part of history here, tragic as it is."

"Thanks for that. I'll pick up a few pamphlets." I snapped my fingers. "Oh, right. Where can I find a vacuum-rated camera? I may want to take some high-altitude pictures."

He frowned. "That I don't know... I can add a request to your file."

I smiled. "Don't need it right now, just at some point. Thanks."

-----------

The JFK Museum had been rather interesting. I'd known from my research that Kennedy had been assassinated here, but the little details were quite different. For one thing, members of the Justice Society hadn't been part of the motorcade here. For another, Lee Harvey Oswald managed the shot with an actual sniper rifle here rather than a laser rifle provided by pilfered Nazi leftovers.

I hate Nazis. It felt like that those genocidal morons kept popping up again and again, despite the fact they'd been beaten in 1945. Successor groups, lost technology, that one time the past Nazis ripped open spacetime to grab 2017 technology in order to win the war in 1945...

Sure it was a bit of a privilege to be able to punch in the faces of the original Nazis, but they were a problem. It was quite interesting to see Hippolyta in action during those days, though.

The general pattern of my vacation went much this way. I checked in with the local PRT and Protectorate, then went on tourist-traps and museums, using a little of the money Legend had kindly leant me for my time.

I fully intended to pay him back. I didn't need a whole lot of money, anyway. The most expensive stuff was in fixing up my things after a mission, and depending on said mission the bill usually wasn't too terrible. Being a Protectorate member would give me a fair bit of leeway with the budget, at least. It was more constrained than being a member of the Justice League, but there were more personal advantages as well.

I went through Albuquerque in New Mexico and specifically took a right turn when I got there. Just for the jokes later.

I wondered if the cartoons were the same here. I'd have to check.

I visited Santa Fe, which had a PRT office and no Protectorate branch. It was a one-room rented office in a building shared with a dozen other companies and corporations. I suppose Santa Fe just wasn't that busy on the cape scene.

I then flew into Arizona, following the roads for navigation. Fully intending on making my way to the Grand Canyon once I reached Flagstaff, being the next somewhat major landmark.

It was when I was passing over a small town I had to slow down and investigate. Even for the many numerous small towns I passed over during my travels there was always some activity from above. People out shopping. Cars moving. Out here in fairly rural country, farm animals grazing, or dogs running around.

Not this time. This town was silent, as still as a tomb.

I looped back around to take a more measured look, but didn't approach yet. Pulling my map out of its pouch, I checked my location before clicking on my communicator.

"This is Sunstorm, attempting to contact Arizona Protectorate or PRT. Does anyone read?"

A moment passed, then the line connected. "This is the Phoenix PRT, how can I help you Sunstorm?"

"I'm currently hovering over Joseph City, Arizona. I was passing over when I noticed no activity in the town. Hopefully just a false alarm." I looked over the area carefully, spotting a car just off the eastern side of the city. "Going to take a better look."

"Do not approach too closely without confirmation of safety, Sunstorm."

This would have been a moment when having Kryptonian eyesight would help. To a point, anyway. I'd rather not catch people in the bathroom. But if my Byte were online, all I'd have to do is turn it to X-Ray mode and be able to see some animated skeletons walking around. Or not, if my suspicions were correct.

So I slowly landed on the road, at least twenty feet away from the car. The windows were down, allowing me to see quite clearly the decapitated driver sitting in the front seat. The head was looking out the back window. Just to rub it in, the head had a Santa hat on.

I'd seen death before. Plenty of it. I'd even seen the dead animated and swarming enmasse, trying to kill more and have the living join them. The tainted Lazarus Pit waters had done an immense amount of damage to the ancient nation of Khandaq, thanks to Black Adam's desire to revive his lost love.

It still didn't make things much easier when confronted with it.

I clicked the comms. "Sunstorm reporting back. There's a white... Ford on the side of the road on the Eastern side of Joseph City, on Route 40. Decapitated victim, looks like a white male, around thirty years of age. As I'm not certified yet, I'm not going to approach the vehicle. Going to circle the town, see if I can spot anything else. Will keep distance."

"Understood Sunstorm. Backup is being dispatched, ETA thirty minutes. Be advised, dispatch is attempting to phone citizens in the Joseph City area, no response yet. Stay safe."

I floated just barely off the ground as I went around the town. It was a small place, consisting of houses and a single high school, with only a few businesses to serve the small number of people that could live here. Yet, the town was eerily quiet.

It wasn't until I found the town's one and only market I found my answer. There was a great deal of dried blood staining the parking lot. Moving closer to the windows, I could see a good number of bodies within. They were... eviscerated. Like something had consumed a number of them from within before bursting out. There was evidence of acid, melted tiles and concrete.

I tried wracking my brain. I'd been given a briefing package of the known threats in North America, to better avoid them. The Fallen had places in Colorado and Nebraska. The Teeth were in Brockton Bay, being led by an insane reincarnating murderer who possessed those who killed him or her. There were the Grays, a bunch of white-power assholes who wanted to resurrect the Confederate States of America because of course that would go better this time. The Reavers, who were obsessed with death, led by an asshole with a rotting touch. Heartbreaker up in Canada, with his harem of victims. Then there was... something. It's on the tip of my tongue. Ugh... the damned package was so long.

Sewer grates burst open, and an absolute tidal wave of insectoid horrors burst out. They were around the size of large dogs, loping almost gracefully, if they weren't something right out of a nightmare. There had to be hundreds of them, and they all charged toward me.

Now if I were leading a group, I'd have stayed on the ground and drawn all the attention. As I was alone, I just flew upward and started lobbing fireballs on the chitinous horde. Insectoid screams echoed as the bugs died, scrambling madly below me as they tried to reach me.

Cut that, one did reach me, having spread its wings and tackled me from behind. Clever little bastard... though said bastard wasn't so little. It was larger than me.

It tried biting through my own wings, dripping saliva and acid. All it really did was give my skin a mild tingling sensation before I sheathed myself in fire, causing it to scream in agony as it fell off me.

I tried hitting my communicator. "Sunstorm reporting! Ton of monsters in Joseph City, they've killed dozens of people, maybe the whole town! Trying to deal with the problem!"

"Thank you for coming, Sunstorm. I have to say you're completely screwed."

Say what?

Then my ears were full of noise. Had I not been empowered, it would have been painful. With my powers, however, I could (and have) take a jet engine rumbling beside me and the worst it would be was distracting, rather than deadly. As it was, it was deafening. I grit my teeth and kept lobbing fireballs into the absolute horde of chitin below me.

This would be a lot faster if I could access some of my more advanced abilities...

Grimacing as I prepared myself for the sheer joy ahead, I slammed down into the horde of chitin and claws at around half the speed of sound. Not just utterly pulverizing the two I landed on and turning them into green goo, but sending the nearest few flying into the air, dead from the shockwave. I could have done more if I had more time to accelerate, but... well, still don't know my limits.

The noise in my ears kept shifting, changing, as whoever it was doing it was seemingly trying to find a frequency I was weak to. It was growing painful, but not damaging, if that made any sense. Insectoid monsters tried clawing me, tearing at my skin, but what blows and bites they managed to land felt more like pressure than pain. I grabbed the nearest one by an outstretched claw and spun, using it as a club against its brothers.

Back home, I tended to use the rapid, quick blows of a martial artist to do what I needed. With the Byte not helping me now, though, my motions were rough, jagged, more like the blows of a frat-boy brawling with his buddies rather than something honed for centuries by various martial masters. There were a lot of downsides to a brawling style like this. It left one open to counterattack, it was hard to adjust when an enemy brought out some unexpected technique...

But when backed by sufficient force? Those downsides were negligible. Bugs cracked under my fists, shattering with the force of my blows, or just outright exploding when I hit them square on. One clamped its upper body around my left arm. I just grabbed its lower body with my left hand and pulled its upper body away from its lower half with my right hand. The fluids were disgusting, but as they burned away in the flame sheathing my body, I just didn't care much.

I'd still need a long shower after this.

The chitinous horde began to thin out. As by some unheard signal, (of course since my ears were full of noise I couldn't hear shit, anyway) they scrambled away from me, gathering themselves up.

I was panting. Not from excitement or strain, but some tiredness. I must be really out of shape.

Of the hundreds of bugs, now there were about a dozen left. They were gathering up, chittering, heads tilted at me as if they were especially fascinated.

The noise in my ears dropped away so quickly that for a moment I thought I'd been deafened. The sound of someone clapping quickly disabused me of that notion. I turned from the horde of bugs to see four people walking toward me. They... looked like rejects from the Secret Society, actually. Like a bunch of the Exobyte-empowered that were trying too hard.

There was a man wearing jeans and a white shirt, but his features were bloated, exaggerated. His skin was as red as my own, muscles bulged, and he had an ugly leer on his face as he looked me over. He carried a sword as long as he was tall in his left hand, casually resting on his shoulder.

The second was a woman wearing a parka... which made no sense here in Arizona, even in December. She had white hair, white irises edged in black, and she was looking at me with a sneer on her lips.

The third was a woman with a mohawk, wearing a tank top and her arms were heavily tattooed. She waggled her fingers at me, and I could clearly hear her voice, despite the fact her lips didn't move. "Nice look, darling."

Frosty breath escaped my lips as I swallowed. A telepath? Or... no, wait. She must have been trying to disorient me. Sound manipulation? Like Black Canary's cry, with fewer limitations. That could be a problem if she could up the energy enough.

The man on the end looked to be around his mid-twenties. He wore a black jacket, an immaculate white shirt, and his hair and thin beard looked to be meticulously trimmed. He was the one clapping his hands.

Shivers ran up my spine. I was feeling cold, despite the fact the sun was overhead. Something about this... god I was so tired.

"Well now!" The bearded man spoke. "Aren't you interesting? I don't think I've heard of you. Then again we get such lousy reception out here. Hard to keep up with the news. Did you hear about us and seek to join up?"

I had to fight to keep my eyes open. "Join.. up?" I gestured to the horde of bugs. "You're responsible for this?"

The man chuckled, brushing off his coat. "Well, not me personally, that would be Breed. He's a little shy, but he does leave some interesting works behind." He strode up to one of the monstrous bugs, giving it a stroke behind the head. It purred and rubbed up against his leg, just as a dog would. "Marvelous bit of work, aren't they?"

"I've seen prettier eldritch abominations." I spoke. No real heat in my voice. I looked down, seeing frost forming up my boots.

Huh. I should probably be concerned about that. It just seemed like so much effort, though.

Parka spoke, her voice full of warning. "Jack, something's weird about her. More than the obvious."

"Well of course!" 'Jack' said with good cheer. "She's already got the appropriate look. Might want to put some red on that breastplate. Still, with the loss of Psychosoma, we do have an opening, and someone with some fire might be interesting." He looked at me with a smile on his lips. "What is your name, lovely little demon?"

"Sunstorm." I said tiredly.

Red-skin grunted, twirling his sword with seeming annoyance. "That makes no sense."

"Quite right, Crimson," Jack nodded. "You're a demon, girl. You've got the horns and everything. It should be 'Searing' or 'Pyromaniac' or 'Soulflame.' Why Sunstorm of all things?"

I shrugged as ice slowly crept up to my waist. "I don't really feel like explaining it to you right now. Kinda tired..."

Jack looked me up and down, then to Parka. "Winter, do be a dear and not make this end too quickly, hm?"

Winter frowned, and the ice stopped creeping upward. I blinked a few times, feeling more awake almost immediately.

Fuck.

"You're really screwed." Punk-head seemed to say into my mind.

Jack smiled, rubbing his hands together. "Now... why Sunstorm?" He sounded genuinely curious.

I took in a deep breath, pulling in what reserves of heat I could, even as my legs failed and I slid to the ground. Parka... Winter seemed to be doing something, and now I was keenly aware of how low my reserves of energy were. Normally I was constantly refilled by whatever source of heat was around, even if it was faint sunlight, but this woman's power managed to overcome my normal resilience. I could handle Arctic temperatures, at least for a time, but I was fairly sure I wouldn't survive bathing in liquid nitrogen.

Judging from how rapidly the ice was evaporating off me, she could get it cold enough to liquidize or freeze the air itself. That was very, very bad. I just had to prepare for the moment to turn it around. She could take away my will to fight, so I just had to prepare. Set up a plan of action so I would just do without will.

Right. Her field seemed to take some time to work on me. It'd probably be faster at this point, so I'd probably have one shot. But every moment with the sun overhead was fueling me with heat, so every moment the villains chatted the better my position.

So I put on a show of shivering... though it wasn't much of a show, actually. I might have to regenerate some toes from this cold. "The sun... it's warmth, and life. It can be dangerous, yes. But without it there wouldn't be any life. None of the good things, even with the bad. In a desert like this, it can kill. But it provides so much more than just death. It's hope. When it comes back after midwinter, that's when things start getting better."

Jack thought that over, then sighed. "Sentimental tripe. Considering what you just said, I'm guessing you decided to be a hero, hm? Wanted to make a name for yourself by killing the Slaughterhouse Nine?"

I tilted my head. "Who?"

That seemed to confuse the four. Jack's eyes seemed to search my own. "You... don't know who we are?"

"Should I? I'm just on vacation."

A muscle twitched in Jack's cheek. "We've terrorized North America for a decade. We are what everyone fears. We're the monsters of the tale, the creature under the bed. We've damned people for eternity, killed entire towns, and everyone is afraid of us."

That's right, keep talking. I furrowed my brow. "Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. Are you related to that Reaver group?"

Jack's hands twitched. "They're two-bit hacks compared to us."

I took in a deep breath, feeling better every second. "Can't be. I don't even know who you are."

Punk-head snorted in amusement at that.

Jack's eyes turned cold, dangerous, as he looked at her. She promptly quieted. When he turned back to me, his voice was quiet. "Jack Slash."

I looked at him, then let out a sharp laugh. "Did you come up with that when you were a kid?"

Jack seemed to be flabbergasted.

"You seriously did, didn't you?" I grinned, spreading my wings out. Both to better catch the sun, and for my next move.

Crimson and Punk-head seemed to be quite amused at the by-play.

Seemingly tired of the disrespect, Jack just dropped his hands. "Just kill her."

Crimson grinned, striding forward with his sword. The cold began to reassert itself, but I'd already chosen my course of action and my target.

With a burst of speed that warped the air with the sudden acceleration of my passage, I launched myself forward. Not at Crimson, who likely would tie down my attention as his support went to work on the actual hard part of killing me. Not at Punk-head, who seemed to be the source of the sound-abilities. Those were highly annoying, maybe painful if she did it right, but I could get through it.

Not even at Jack, the seeming leader of them.

Instead, I launched myself at Winter, the one who was the proven threat to me.

Her eyes were widening as I crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, panic brewing behind those cold eyes.

This 'Slaughterhouse' group was about to learn why I named myself Sunstorm.

Storms were violent.

I wasn't as good at superspeed as the original Kryptonian. Nevermind the Flash, who could run around the planet six times in the time it took for me to blink. If he was feeling lazy. Add to that with my Byte being on the fritz, actually perceiving things at superspeed was something I'd definitely have to spend time practicing on.

However, bursts of speed in a given direction? That was easy enough. A short burst to reach Winter, even as the other three started to react to my sudden speed. Even as Crimson started to turn and swing his sword in my direction, I wrapped my hand around the front of Winter's coat and did another burst of speed.

Straight up.

Conventional physics says I should have ripped her coat off, or destroyed her spine, from the sudden acceleration. Apparently conventional physics decided to nap in the back seat ever since superheroes came along, because I carried Winter high into the sky.

Her eyes bulged out at me as she flailed, her arms circling wildly. The air got colder, thinner, as we rocketed upward. I slowed, then stopped, as we were around two miles in the air. I could feel she'd been trying to make her fields to slow us down on the ascent, but I just plowed right through it. Albeit with more effort than it should have taken.

The cold, thin air kept her from breathing properly. Her eyes were bulging, and blood started leaking from her nose. More due to the sudden ascent than anything else. She gasped for breath, and suddenly I was surrounded by cold and apathy.

That was a bad idea.

Since I no longer cared, my fingers slackened. Her eyes went comically wide as she started dropping, her scream echoing quite thinly as she fell.

Once the feeling of apathy snapped away from me, I dropped down, moving faster than gravity could pull her. I caught her arm and legs, careful enough to match her speed to not kill her with the impact. Physics may not be paying that close attention to me, but best I not draw its ire. As her eyes widened, I rocketed straight back up again.

This time we went higher. High enough that she passed out from the lack of oxygen, her face beginning to turn blue. Meanwhile I was feeling fine, due to my reserve of heat and the sun shining on my back. Ironically as the air got colder and thinner, it became easier for me to handle the cold so high up. There was just less air to steal away my heat.

So now I dropped back down, aiming for Joseph City once more. No need to make it too complicated. Besides, if she woke up again I'd rather not put innocents in danger, and these Butchershop assholes showed they'd probably be happy to use hostages. I wasn't about to assume they had standards, considering they're happily hanging around someone who made those murderbug things.

Landing on the outskirts of the town once more, I reached a trailer park. Dropping Winter to the ground, I ripped off the side of one of the trailers, pulling away a long sheet of metal. Then I wrapped her in it, leaving just enough space for her to breathe. Then I looked for a truck, or a shipping container. Something that would make it hard for her to get out of even if she got out of the nice bit of Christmas wrapping I put this ice queen in.

I found a mack truck and cattle-car near the farms on the outskirts of town. Along with a bunch more bodies. Looked like knife wounds. These were just a bunch of kids, the oldest of them had to be around seventeen.

I didn't bother asking myself why. These guys would just spew some pseudo-philosophy about the pointlessness of life at best, or just say 'it was fun for me' at worst. I did ask myself how. This small town had around a thousand people, from the look of things. They had to have done something to cut it off before they started the grisly work. If Jack was telling the truth about doing it for a decade, then they've obviously managed to get a fair bit of practice in.

That was bad. Obviously. It meant they had experience with this kind of thing, and likely a fair bit with killing opponents. Sooner or later this kind of thing would draw the ire of a heavy hitter, so either they had means to deal with them or were very good at running. Probably both.

Right. They'd probably killed everyone in this town, and if there were any survivors they'd be used as leverage against me. I had to keep them here. With the sound-manipulator, it was fifty-fifty as to whether or not my call for reinforcements got out. Considering she managed to sound like the Phoenix PRT before she tried deafening me... I couldn't trust my sense of hearing. That was probably the way they isolated an area. If her range was something like a mile or two, she'd easily be able to cover most of the town.

Jack called his group the Slaughterhouse Nine, and there was an opening. That likely meant I had eight targets. One handled for the moment. So seven more.

I put Winter into the trailer and decoupled it from the truck. Just by ripping off the lines and connector. Normally I wouldn't do such, but I don't think anyone was going to complain about damaged property in this case.

Almost immediately, my ears were filled with cries.

"Help me!"

"The bugs, they're coming!"

"Someone help!"

I grit my teeth and flew upward, casting my gaze around. If the people were alive, they'd just be targets and hostages. More likely they were phantoms, distractions made by Punk-head. I had to deal with her first.

Landing back at the market, I did my best to ignore the cacophony in my ears. The other three that had stood in front of me had wisely split up, likely hashing out a plan to deal with me. If Punk-head was good enough to make me hear specific sounds, she might be good enough to have the group keep in contact with each other over long distances... which meant they didn't need to be near each other to make plans or coordinate. I'd dealt with this kind of thing before, but usually it was with radios, which could be jammed or countered. A power would be harder to hack.

Still, I looked at where Punk-head had been standing. Putting myself in the position she had been, and looking around, I mentally put myself in her shoes. Not in motivations, but in terms of tactics. If she was ground-bound, that limited the number of places she could be hiding. If these murderers had any smarts to them at all, they'd also try to leverage their strengths against me. It'd be easy for me to pick them off one by one. It'd be harder if they could swarm me, especially since I didn't know all their capabilities.

It had been, at best, two minutes since I grabbed Winter. On foot that meant she couldn't get far, and if they were using vehicles to escape that would be more obvious.

"Help me please, they're killing my daughter!"

"Don't, please, god no..."

Gritting my teeth, I flew upward, taking a moment to look in all directions. From here, three possibilities. Inside the market, which had plenty of bodies and places to hide. Toward the high school, which had more of the same. Or the auto repair shop closest to the highway.

I knew which one I would pick if I had to try to escape a flying, angry demon. Or to try to ambush one.

I burst through the wall of the auto shop, instead of the front door. Rubble went flying inside, obscuring vision for a moment. The dust fell, allowing me to see several cars up on hoists, and three figures caught in the dirt and dust. I caught the shocked looks of Punk-head and Crimson. Showing admirable tactics, Crimson tried putting himself between me and Punk-head.

The noise in my ears simply turned into a high-pitched shriek. I let out a snarl, which was lost due to that noise. It was growing in intensity, obviously as Punk-head was trying to disable me. My head started to throb. If she got it high enough, energetic enough, or changed her strategy at the right moment, it could be a fatal distraction.

Then something slammed into me in a blur. I slid backwards, my feet digging into the dirt outside the shop. The blur tried to strike again, and it was only due to the fact I'd been used to fighting beings on the Kryptonian level that let me catch the next blow in my hand, slapping it aside. Even so, it was a near thing. With the Byte offline, my perceptions weren't operating quickly enough to keep up, and the strength of that blow might have been able to do a fair bit of damage. My arms were stinging, anyway, though it was fading fast.

I found myself facing a monstrous clown, his body squat and fat. His arms were long, accordion-like, with far too many elbows. He reeked, his face seeming to move in fast-forward. I tried to throw a punch, but he just pulled back out of the way.

I stepped backward as Crimson swung at me with his sword. He was untrained, I could see from the way he held it. Considering his strength he probably just didn't need any skill, just to hack away at his victims. He just barely turned it enough for the blade's edge to angle towards its target, which was in this case my face. As I dodged that blow, the clown came back at me at blinding speed. Only an instinctive turn let me catch the blow, but still ended up pushing me backward several feet.

I still grinned viciously, however. As I had a grip on his right arm. His eyes widened, his legs blurring as he tried pulling back from me, a cloud of dirt spraying from the effort. I simply spun hard enough for his feet to leave the ground, bashing the clown against Crimson in the process. Crimson stumbled back a step, the clown went limp, and I threw the misshapen clown back into the auto shop. Right next to one of the cars suspended in the air. I quickly hit the winch holding it up, and the car came down, one tire landing on and crushing one of the clown's misshapen arms.

Crimson tried to cut me down with the blade, roaring in anger. I turned just enough to let the blade miss me, striking the cement, then punched him hard enough to send him skidding backwards. Still, he stayed on his feet, though his eyes were wide.

So, he was tough too, not just strong, and I'd underestimated his resilience. It would take more time than I was willing to spend on putting him down non-lethally right now. Setting him out of mind for the moment, I turned back to where I last saw Punk-head.

The door on the other side of the auto shop was wide open, and I flew upwards. Not just to get out of reach of Crimson and the slowly recovering clown, but to better spot my target.

Once I was in the air, I could feel something attempting to cut up my wings. That actually did hurt a bit. I turned to see Jack standing on a rooftop. He was slashing the air with a meat cleaver, and every stroke of the blade corresponded with a feeling of pressure against my exposed skin. I flinched instinctively as I felt a hit on my left eye, though a quick burst of flame around me healed what little damage he had done.

I just threw a fireball at him. Not specifically his body, which might be fatal. Instead at his right arm. His eyes widened comically as the flame rushed at him, and he tried to dodge aside. It was an admirable dodge, even. It was just slightly too slow, and his arm went up in flames. He rolled around, his mouth open. Undoubtedly he was screaming, though I couldn't hear a fucking thing.

The noise in my ears kept growing stronger, and I could feel my eyes starting to water. I turned to look for any hint of motion, beyond what I was expecting. Since Punk-head has seemed to escape me for the moment, I simply rocketed straight up in the air until the noise abruptly cut out.

I was now at least a mile up. The sound of the wind was like a soothing balm compared to the sheer rising agony the sound had been. I'd underestimated Punk-head, and I didn't like it.

Now however, I could think clearly. Crimson and the clown were quite strong and quite tough, but the dangerous ones still in play that I knew about were Breed and Punk-head. Breed if he could make those murderbugs, and Punk-head was coordinating the heavy hitters somehow. Or rather, the clown being a heavy hitter, and Crimson being their remaining defender.

From a mile up, it wasn't easy to see the small figures of my quarry... except that with the town below still and dead except for my quarry, any movement would easily catch my attention. And it did, as I saw a van moving toward the trailer I left the currently-captured Winter. It was moving quickly too, and would reach it within a minute or so.

I slammed down into the ground directly in its path. The moment I landed, the screaming started in my ears again, and I clenched my teeth hard enough to feel some of them break. Still, I kept my focus on the van, and its driver.

Punk-head was in the passenger seat, while the driver was obviously a hostage of some sort. He had black hair, pale skin, and wore a white shirt. As the driver tried to turn away from me, I just dashed forward and ripped into the van's hood with my hand. I ripped out the engine, idly tossing it aside. No doubt with a clatter, but, again, can't hear shit.

The sound intensified. I strode around to the passenger side and ripped off the door. Punk-head tried to climb over the driver, but I grabbed her foot, yanked her out of the van and put her in a sleeper hold. She struggled, the sound of screaming and pleading growing louder, harder, to the point I thought my skull was going to explode... then she went limp. The noise cut out, and I was left with blissful silence. Then I dropped her on the ground, an almost lazy smile of relief coming onto my face.

I gave a smile to the horrified driver. "It's all right. She won't hurt you now. Relax, I'm a hero."

He nodded faintly as he picked up a shotgun that was lying on the floor. "R-right. Thanks."

I picked up the van's door and tore enough metal off it to serve as restraints for Punk-head's hands. I took the moment to fit her hands and feet behind her back, literally hog-tying her with the steel. As I got back to my feet the shotgun went off, right in my face.

I blinked. Then I spat out some of the buckshot that got into my mouth. That tasted fucking disgusting and I'm fairly sure that would mess up my sense of smell for a while.

The horrified civilian looked down at the gun, then back up at me, and smiled nervously. "Misfire?"

My four eyes blazing, I grabbed the shotgun, snapped it in two, then threw the separate pieces in different directions. "What the fuck were you thinking, dumbass! You could have hurt yourself with that!" I looked down at him, noticing a spreading red stain in his white shirt. "Scratch that, you did hurt yourself with that!" Some of the buckshot must have ricocheted off my face. Lovely.

He looked into my eyes with sheer terror, then promptly fainted.

Goddamned idiots!

I ripped apart his shirt, using a small bit of flame to cauterize the bleeding. Then I tore the seatbelts out of the van and wrapped him in them, so he wouldn't be as likely to move and aggravate his injuries. He seemed to be stable for now, but I'd still best wrap this up quickly. Then I picked up Punk-head and the civilian and put them in the cattle-car, next to the still wrapped-up Winter.

All right, two down, one civilian to take care of later. There was Breed, who I haven't seen yet, Crimson, an injured Jack, and a monster clown with one crushed arm. That meant there were two more members of this group I haven't seen or got any information on.

At this point they'll probably try to gather up and cover each other's weaknesses. Or find some means of escaping me, but out here there were only a few routes, and even driving into the desert would be suicide. One flat tire and you'd have to walk to the next town, and even in December Arizona wasn't exactly the nicest place to hike. If they tried to escape, they'd probably head towards Holbrook to the east of here, which was a fair bit bigger than this. It'd be easier for them to lose me in the crowd.

Locking the trailer, I took to the air once more, clenching my hands as I circled the ruin of Joseph City.

I don't know who the hell these people are, but I'm not going to just let them slip away from me.