It was a cool night, and there was a chilly breeze blowing in from the coast. Thunder was glad she was wearing the long black trenchcoat Keith had given her a few months ago. Even if it hadn't been lightly armored, she would have been happy to have it to turn away the chill.
She sat on the edge of the roof, looking out over the slums of southern Houston from atop her ten-story apartment building. So far, it had been a quiet night, which didn't hurt her feelings all that much. She looked up at the sky, letting herself get lost in the scattering of stars that she could see over the city lights and the haze in the air. She tried to pick out constellations, but she had never been very good at that. She just liked the pretty lights in the sky.
Her reverie was broken by the city spirit she had roaming her neighborhood. "Sorry to interrupt," it said, its voice as gentle and cool as the breeze from the bay, "but there's trouble a few blocks west of here. Six big, one little."
She stood, looked at the spirit, and said, "Take me there, please." In an instant, she was flying west, the spirit's form holding her aloft as easily as she would hold a doll. She pointed to a roof overlooking the alley the spirit had indicated, and it set her down gently on the edge.
It was a blind alley; in the sputtering illumination of a dying streetlight, Thunder could see a small knot of young men and women surrounding someone at the closed end. It was a woman, begging them not to hurt her. Thunder shook her head at the scene three stories below her. "So tonight's dragons are gangbangers. Ours not to reason why, I suppose." She raised her right hand to her chest and stroked the small white shield, the size of her hand, sewn to the left breast of her trenchcoat, the white shield with the red cross of St. George emblazoned on it. It was the only bit of color on the garment. "Help me with this," she said reverently.
She stepped to the very edge of the roof and touched the gold bracelet on her right wrist; it began to glow very faintly. Turning to the spirit, she said, "Stick around; I might need your help." The spirit faded from view without an acknowledgment, but Thunder could still sense its presence; it would be there for her if she needed it. She unbuttoned her trenchcoat, made sure her tomahawks were in easy reach on her belt, and leapt from the edge of the roof into the darkness of the alley. The levitation spell held within her bracelet kept her from splattering on the pavement three stories below her. She stretched her arms out to her sides, and the tails of her trenchcoat billowed in the wind like ebony wings.
She stopped not quite a meter above the alley floor. Hovering there, her shaggy blonde hair blowing in the breeze, she watched as one of the thugs, her gang colors impossible to discern in the gloom, noticed her silhouette in the sputtering lamplight. With as menacing a tone as the Dragonslayer could muster from her, Thunder said, "Leave. Her. Alone."
The rest of the gang spun around, ignoring the woman they'd been accosting, who backed up with fear into one of the corners of the blind alley. The punks started to advance on her, hooting and hollering about the fool who'd just interrupted their business dealings. Thunder floated the rest of the way to the ground as she cracked her knuckles and the gangers began to close the distance.
She smiled. It was time to go to work.
