2103:09:09:01:08:55

  Crowsong stood in front of the door leading into the kitchen, one of her claws stuck into and fidgeting with the lock. She’d informed me her powers were of the master variety – specifically, she was supernaturally skilled with knives, or ‘short-bladed weapons’ – but while somewhat lacking on first impression, I remembered what she said both about first impressions, and how skill could make up for a lackluster power. She’d already shown she used the knives in her shoes and between her knuckles to climb walls, and now she was using one of those same knives to lockpick a door. Who knew what else she could do?

  It took her but a few seconds before the lock clicked and she opened the door.

  With the syringe in hand, I transformed into a cat and passed her by, making my way to the living room approaching my unsuspecting target. With my cat vision I could see clearly that the man was indeed asleep, and my hearing could pick up the sound of the thumping beats of music still coming from above. The situation was as perfect as it could be.

  Once I got into position at the back of the couch, I transformed back into a human, syringe still in hand. I could see the nape of his bare neck, but rather than plunge the syringe there, I went for his bare upper arm. I’d rather not strike something important by accident.

  I slowly and carefully moved the syringe toward his arm and, with a nervously shaking hand, stuck the needle in as straight and gentle as I could. I tensed, preparing myself to either attack or flee if things went south – which of the two, I didn’t know.

  Yet, nothing happened as I pressed the needle deep into his skin, and so I pressed the plunger. Again, I tensed and again, nothing happened. Not even a twitch of the muscle from where I’d stuck him, or a quick flutter of his eyelids to see the tranquilizer take hold. He seemed just as asleep as he was before.

  “Good work,” Crowsong said from behind me.

  I only barely managed to not jump. “Thanks,” I said, feelings mixed.

  There was still some of the doubt and shame from deciding to do this, but now it was warring with – and losing to – a sense of accomplishment. Whatever my doubts might be, this was my first actual, factual takedown of a criminal, the first step on my path as a hero. My first contribution to help make the world a better place.

  With confidence restored, I followed Crowsong up the stairs. First, she went and quietly opened every other room besides the one our remaining targets were in to make sure there was no one else in the house. Then, after this proved true, she went to the room our targets were holed up in.

  She made a couple of hand gestures towards me and the door, and although we hadn’t practiced any beforehand, I could interpret them just fine. Two fingers pointing to the right, then pointing to herself, then one finger pointing left and to me. She would take the two on the right, while I would take the easier target in the chair.

  I gave her a thumbs up and took my place on the left side of the door. Crowsong took a tensed stance in front of it, hand on the handle and looking ready to charge. She began counting down with her fingers.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  A fist.

  Crowsong, with a quick twist of her hand, opened the door and barged inward, dashing toward the right side of the room. I entered immediately after.

  The room was practically a second kitchen, though simultaneously more barebones and more expansive than the one downstairs. All that was unnecessary was stripped down – no fridge or freezer, for example – yet there were multiple ovens and ventilation shafts reaching into the rafters. There was also something like a chemistry set on the table where the two worked, and trays filled with something clear like glass or plastic.

  The two near the counter had immediately turned around while the third – who’d apparently been busy smoking while his colleagues worked – had only just begun to react by dropping his… whatever that was.

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  Crowsong was on the two like a beast, a whirlwind of metal and feathers ready to rip the two apart. Briefly, I wondered if she was going to cut them to ribbons with her knives, but for now I had something else to worry about.

  I ran toward the man in the seat, aiming for a tackle. Although I might not be as tall or heavy as the man, I still had the strength of my android body to back me up. Unless the man was skilled – which I doubted – I would win any grappling once we were both on the ground. And even if I didn’t win, I could stall long enough for Crowsong to come help me.

  Yet despite the perfect plan, neither scenario happened.

  Instead of standing still and bracing for impact, my target stood up in a rush and began stumbling backwards, only to trip over the chair he’d just been sitting in. He tried flailing his arms around in an effort to stabilize himself, whirling them around as if he were a windmill, but it only served to worsen his situation. He was quickly starting to lose his footing, and soon he would topple to the ground like a pillar without a base.

  Unfortunately for me, by this point my lunge could not be stopped. I was committed to the tackle whether I wanted to or not, so I changed my angle and dove lower, aiming for his waist rather than a shoulder tackle to his ribs. But as I leapt into the final dive, the man twisted his ankle and began to drop faster than a sack of potatoes.

  It all happened too fast. He was falling, I was lunging, and neither of us could stop. I made impact at an awkward angle and in his final flailing around, his knee hit me square on the nose with a resounding crack.

  A flash of pain travelled up and into my skull, and in a panic, I transformed into my crow form. Yet while the pain disappeared along with my cracked nose, the thumping beat of the background music messed with my sense of hearing, and my suddenly sharper sight and tetrachromatic vision further messed with my head. Simultaneously, my target – I presumed – was now trying to put his hands on my crow body.

  I squawked and flapped and pecked and scratched at everything around me, trying to get out of wherever I was. I heard the man I was fighting curse as my wild attacks hit him, and I felt his hands let go of my feathers. Still, I was disoriented and my struggles only intensified, which caused my opponent to curse more and attempt to grab a hold of me again. Some of my feathers were ripped off while at other times they proved too slippery for the man to grasp.

  Then suddenly, the grasping stopped and I quickly dashed away from the man, only to just as suddenly bump into something else. Still in a panic, I restarted my flailing but my new opponent was much more competent. Within a second, they’d caught both legs in one hand and held me upside down.

  Naturally, I instinctively flapped my wings and aimed to peck at the binding fingers, until I suddenly heard them yell, “Transform!”

  Even through my haze of panic and crow-borne ears, I recognized Crowsong’s voice and immediately obeyed, transforming back into my normal self. Crowsong’s grip on my crow feet turned into a grip on one of my regular feet, and without my wings to provide lift there was nothing left to hold me in the air.

  I fell to the ground face-first with a mighty smack.

  The pain in my nose – which had vanished once I turned into a crow – was now back and amplified twofold by me smacking my face into the floorboards. But despite the pain, I scrambled and stood up as fast I could, turning my face to my ally.

  “Sorry!” I said, voice nasally, apologetic and above all, mortified. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t-”

  “It’s fine,” Crowsong said, holding one hand up to stop my rant. Though her voice sounded as harsh as ever, there was clear kindness there. “Honestly, everyone’s first time is just bad. Just be glad with what we have: four captured criminals and a meth lab destroyed.”

  I did a quick look around the room. The two by the counter were lying on the ground, unconscious and without a single cut between them. Regardless of Crowsong’s knife-based power, it was clear she had ways to disable people without cutting into them.

  The man I’d been fighting on the other hand, while also unconscious, had many scratches and pecking-marks on his face. Some of them were even bleeding, and since head wounds bled a lot, the man looked by far the worst off of everyone in the house. Except maybe myself.

  “Sor-”

  But Crowsong stopped me with an outstretched palm and a mouth-popping, “Pap! Don’t apologize, just learn and become better. Now, how are you feeling?

  I put a hand on my mask, but before I could so much as move it to let my other reach up and touch it, a sharp pain stopped me from going further. “I think it’s broken,” I said.

  “Hm, unsurprising. You got hit pretty badly there. Still, you better get used to it. Being a masked is not a safe profession, and that goes double for heroes. If you’re lucky, broken noses and the like will be the worst of it,” Crowsong explained. “Alright, how about this. I’ll wrap up while you get that-” she gestured towards my face, where blood was starting to leak from my nose and dribble down the chin of my mask, “-checked out.”

  “Get it checked where?” I asked. Was there some form of doctor for vigilantes I could go to?

  “The hospital, dummy,” Crowsong said, apparently having read my thoughts. “Don’t need anything special for those. Just make up an excuse and the hospital won’t dig too deep.”

  “Oh. Right,” I said. That made sense. Still, I feared what Mom would do when she found out I got hurt while she was out. She’d proven very sensitive to that kind of thing.

  I moved toward the door, ready to leave but was stopped by Crowsong one last time. “Before you go, here. Take this.”

  She threw me something and, on reflex, I caught it. It was, “A cellphone?”

  “Yep, already got my number on it along with the Guardians hotline. Call them whenever you’ve caught some criminals. Its functions are barebones, but it’s definitely better than using your personal cell.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that. “And you just carry another one around?”

  She opened a pocket and retrieved another cellphone, then a third pocket with yet again another cellphone. “I like to be prepared,” she said.

  “How do you afford all this?” I asked.

  Crowsong made a show of looking around. “I rob drug dealers,” she stated bluntly.

  “Oh.” That made sense.

  She snorted “Yes, ‘oh’. It's also got a link to an ID-free bank account for masked attached, along with some spare change. See it all as a welcome gift, and your reward for going along on this raid.”

  I nodded and pocketed the cellphone. “Thanks,” I said, though it sounded somewhat lackluster. I felt I didn’t deserve it, considering how little I’d done in the end. The only thing I succeeded at was taking down the guy below, and he’d been an easy target. Crowsong could’ve undoubtedly done it all by herself, and done it better as well.

  A hand suddenly landed on my shoulder, and I stared up from looking at the ground. “You will get better,” her gravelly voice promised. “Trust me, these are just growing pains everyone has had to deal with. Get more experience, gather more forms, get some training and you will get better. And you can always, always call me when you need help. Understand?”

  Her tone brooked no argument, so I nodded.

  “Good,” Crowsong said, giving a nod in return. “Now, get out of here.” She started pushing me toward the door. “Get yourself back in civvies, and get yourself to a hospital, alright?”

  I felt my heart lift at her comments. “Thank you,” I said with all the sincerity I could muster.

  “You’re welcome. Now git!”

  She pushed me out of the door.