The Second Archon War, Carmen Dei 4 (Patreon)

Beta’d and edited by the Grand Cogitator, Yae Miko, and Philosphysics

It wasn’t often that Alexandria got a priority alert just for her, but when she did, she took them extremely seriously. The sorts of threats and situations that called for the immediate attention of the PRT’s most durable Brute and fastest Mover were things like Slaughterhouse Nine attacks, Endbringer Assaults, S Class threats that could level cities, those sorts of things.

Or, in this case, a phone call to a number she’d given out to only a handful of people.

Alexandria touched down, slowing herself in the last few moments so that she barely even ruffled the grass beneath her. She noted that there were more than a few weeds growing, and several items of disrepair around the house. It wasn’t a complete wreck, but obviously, it hadn’t been kept up with properly.

The only person waiting for her was a panicked-looking woman with a tear-stained face and frazzled hair, her glasses slightly askew. When Alexandria touched down, she cringed slightly, but also looked hopeful. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Hebert,” Alexandria said gently. “I gave you that number for a reason. What’s the problem?”

“Taylor’s gone missing!” Annette said, tears filling her eyes again. “The police and Armsmaster have been looking for hours, but they can’t find her! Oni Lee just broke out of confinement again and…and I’m worried…”

She trailed off into sobs, and Alexandria took a moment to hug the poor woman. Her own heart wretched slightly. She could never have children of her own, a consequence of the stasis her body was in. While Alexandria didn’t have the full understanding of what Annette was going through, she understood the panic and pain at the thought of a loved one dead or missing.

“It’s OK. I’ll find her. I promise.” Alexandria lifted back up into the air, and put a hand to her comms channel. “Wyatte, I need a hand here.”

“Sure thing, I got the priority message. What’s up?”

“Taylor Hebert has gone missing. Possible kidnapping situation. Do you still have that biometrics scanner?”

“Shit, yeah, I’m in the lab. Have it ready for you by the time you get here.”

Cross-country trips never felt like they took so long, with the trip back to Los Angeles taking almost 10 minutes, though most of that was because Alexandria didn’t want to travel through populated areas at supersonic speeds before she was high enough up.

When she landed in Wyatte’s personal lab, he was already at the door, the tinkertech scanner already in his hands.

“Get a physical profile, input it here,” he said, pointing to a keypad on the device, which resembled a short metal detector with a tube attached to the shaft. “Range is limited to about a hundred feet, and you’ll have to fly relatively slow to pick it up. You’ll get a lot of false positives in a city though, it might take time.”

“Thanks,” Alexandra said, taking a precious moment to remove her helmet and give her Hero a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll find the kid, don’t worry.”

“Wish I could come help, but by the time I got there…” Hero grimaced.

“I know. But you still helped.” Putting her helmet back on, Alexandria took off for Brockton Bay again.

The biometrics were easy enough to look up, Taylor’s height, weight, and a picture from her school were all in the system. She started off in what to her was the most logical place: the Docks. Oni Lee and his gang were most active in that area, and there were a lot of warehouses for a kidnapper to hide in.

After only ten minutes of searching, she got a hit. A little girl roughly matching Taylor’s description in a shipping container near the port. Even if it wasn’t her target, Alexandria figured it was some sort of human trafficking operation, and worth her time to check in on.

However, when Alexandria flew down to the shipping container, she found that it was open and full of boxes of food. Behind several boxes, she found a little girl crouched, a Barbie backpack on her back, a small suitcase on her lap, dressed in several layers of clothes. She let out a cry when she saw Alexandria and tried to hide behind a box.

“Taylor?’ Alexandria asked, slowly moving aside the box.

“Go away!” Taylor cried, still hiding behind her suitcase. “I’m leaving!”

Gently, Alexandria took the suitcase out of Taylor’s hands and peered inside. It was crammed with bottles of water, some notebooks and pencils, and some plastic trash bags.

“That’s mine! I need it!” Taylor wailed, reaching up towards Alexandria.

“Are you running away from home?” Alexandra asked, taking out a notebook. It was labeled MY PLAN: SUPER SECRET DO NOT READ.

“That’s private,” Taylor begged, tears appearing in her eyes, but Alexandria ignored her.

The notebook was written in rather neat handwriting, and had several drawings that weren’t bad for a six year old. It detailed a plan on how to become a cape and kill the Siberian. The first step of which was rather interesting.

“You’re running away to Japan to be trained by Raiden?” Alexandria asked, fighting to keep the amusement out of her voice. There was a detailed drawing of Taylor finding ‘Princess Ami’ and befriending her before meeting the Raiden Shogun, who would then agree to train Taylor in the “ways of the blade” so that she could get a ‘tinkertech sword’ and then ‘beat the Siberian.’

The drawings of Taylor fighting and killing the Siberian were particularly vivid, complete with bright red blood and plans for special armor for Taylor.

“Yes! Because you won’t train me!” Taylor huffed, standing up and stamping her foot. “I called the Wards SIX TIMES and they won’t even talk to me!”

Sighing, Alexandria put a hand to her helmet. “Armsmaster? This is Alexandria.”

“I read you,” Colin’s gruff voice responded.

“I found Taylor Hebert. She’s fine. I’ll have her home safe soon.”

“Copy that,” Colin said, his tone tight. The bastard was probably upset he hadn’t found Taylor himself. “I’ll let the police and mother know.”

Lowering her hand, Alexandria saw that Taylor was still glaring up at her, tears falling freely down her cheeks now, hands balled up into fists. She took off her helmet, shaking out her hair, then knelt in front of Taylor. The little girl still looked suspicious and pouty, but she didn’t drop her gaze when Alexandria met her eyes.

“Taylor, you can’t just run away from home,” Alexandria said, trying not to smile or start laughing. It was all rather ridiculous. Even if it was rather impressive that Taylor had managed to carry out such an elaborate plan so far.

“Yes I can,” Taylor said, proving that arguing with six-year-olds is never a course for the wise.

While Alexandria was good at a lot of things, handling children was not one of them. She racked her brains for a moment, then said, “If you run away from home, who’s going to protect your mom?”

That was apparently not something Taylor had thought about, and fresh tears entered her eyes. “D-do you think the Siberian is going to attack my house?!”

“No, no, of course not,” Alexandria said, desperately trying to think of what to say. “But if you left, she’d be really lonely, right? And it’s a long way to Japan. How do you even know this container is going to Japan?”

“Cause it says so,” Taylor said, pointing to a box. The label said AUTHENTIC JAPANESE WASABI. For a kid, that probably wasn’t terrible logic, but it also was far from correct.

“These bottles are from Japan. They’re going elsewhere in America,” Alexandria said. “Besides, I think Raiden is probably busy. She won’t have time to train a child.”

“That’s not what it says in Lightning Princess Ami,” Taylor said, and reached into her backpack. She pulled out a colorful book with an anime-style picture of Raiden and her ward, both of which had swords. An intimidating half-man, half-dragon figure stood in the background, while a monstrous Leviathan attacked a city. Taylor opened the book, paging through it, until she came to the page she was looking for. She held it up for Alexandria, who took it.

Inside was some sort of comic that made no sense, and Alexandria frowned. The events were pure nonsense, and reading it was very confusing.

“It’s backwards,” Taylor told her. “You hafta read it the other way, ‘cause it’s a manga.”

“Ah.” That did make the comic make much more sense, and Alexandria saw it was a scene where Raiden was training Ami and another little girl on how to use swords and their various super powers. She lowered the book. “Taylor…this is make-believe. It’s not real, like a fairy tale.”

“Nuh-uh! Raiden and Ami and Mushu are totally real, I saw them on TV! And Jessica is real too! I can be just like them, and get a special sword, and then kill the Siberian!”

Once more, Alexandria found herself stonewalled by the child logic that Taylor was running on. “Well, yes, but it’s like my comic books. Those aren’t real either.”

“But they have to be! I have all of them! You’re super cool!” A new idea dawned on Taylor, and she suddenly grabbed onto Alexandria. “You could teach me instead! I could be your sidekick! You could get me into the Wards and teach me how to fight and have Hero make me a jetpack and a ray gun and then we could kill the Siberian!”

Oh hell. Alexandria was not equipped for this battle. “Taylor…I’ve fought the Siberian. Do you see my nose?”

Taylor examined the organ in question. “It’s crooked.”

“She broke it. She was the first person to ever injure me. I’ve fought Endbringers and they’ve hurt me, but she was the first person. She’s dangerous.”

That made Taylor’s expression grow stormy. “You’re like all the other grownups. You won’t let me help because I’m a kid! Well, kids can have superpowers too! And when I get mine, I’m going to be just like my daddy and be a hero!”

“He was a hero. He saved my life,” Alexandria said quietly.

Taylor’s lips trembled for a moment, and the next thing Alexandria knew she had a sobbing child wrapped around her neck. She gingerly and gently rubbed Taylor’s back, whispering soothing words. She really did not know how to handle this.

Once Taylor was hiccuping and calmed down a little, Alexandria tried something that had worked on her when she was younger. “How about we go get WcDonalds?”

“I like WcDonalds,” Taylor sniffled.

And so, Alexandria scooped a suddenly gleeful Taylor up in her arms, taking the backpack and suitcase (which was stuffed with various comics and toys, along with two sets of clothes. Taylor turned out to be rather practical for a six-year-old) and flew Taylor to the nearest WcDonalds, where Taylor got a Happy Meal and Alexandria got two Big Wacs and a Cape Sized Fries for the cost of taking a picture with all the staff members.

She didn’t know it as they ate at the table and Taylor poured her heart out, but Alexandria had just altered the course of Taylor's life, and made herself an inextricably good and important person in Taylor’s mind. When no one else had listened to the small girl’s insane plan to get superpowers and fight her father’s killer, Alexandria did.

And so, a potential future where Alexandria choked to death on her own pride and hubris at the feet of a young madwoman faded away forever.

She returned Taylor to a weeping Annette and assured both mother and daughter she would check in soon. Taylor instantly became the coolest and most popular kid in class, for having gone to WcDonalds with Alexandria and even getting to fly with her. It was even better when Alexandria put in an appearance at Taylor’s seventh birthday party the next year, and gave her a present. Her father’s old Vision, taken from Doctor Mother’s lab without permission by Wyatte.

Alexandria never promised out loud that she would help Taylor become a Cape or a Ward, and certainly not that she would help Taylor trigger. But that’s what Taylor heard anyway as she traced the blank crystal of the Vision. .

And so, the seeds of Ambition were planted and watered with Hope. For now, the Vision lay dormant. But sometimes, at night, when Taylor held it and whispered her dreams to her father’s soul, she could feel it crackle in her hands.

Capri had a pretty good sense for how rough a neighborhood was, and how likely she was to get given dirty looks, bruises, or a knife in the ribs from walking down the streets. She had heard plenty of people talk about how before Cologne things hadn’t been so bad, and she vaguely remembered in her teens cities being safer and people being less hostile, and there being fewer bums.

But Germany had never really been safe for a Romani, and especially not a Romani girl. It wasn’t a crime if she was a gypsy, after all.

All of her finely honed senses told her that the street that the Feisty Ferret was on was not a place she should trek alone after dark in. The asphalt was cracked and weeds were growing in the cracks of the sidewalk, and there were signs for adult video stores, needles in the gutter, and baggies that had been filled with pills stuck in the overgrown bushes. Bums who slept in the alleys stared at you suspiciously, some of them with the obvious marks of drug abuse, others with the wild, haunted look of the mentally unwell.

There was a fresh swastika graffitied on the side of the building, along with a pink triangle that had a skull drawn on it. She supposed after their performance, they’d add a black triangle and a Star of David. The message to her animal instincts was clear: Danger. Get away.

She adjusted the strap on her guitar, and her hand found Naomi’s as they walked towards the building. Gunter and Leon looked up from their whitewashing of the graphite, and Leon smiled and waved. “Oh hello there! We’ll just finish up here and meet you girls inside, doors unlocked!”

Gunter just nodded and continued to try and erase the visible signs of hate. He couldn’t do anything about the seething resentment below the surface though, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Well. Maybe Capri could try and fight it the same way she usually did: with her music. Even if it was a losing battle.

“Mind if I give you gentlemen a hand?” Venti said, setting the keyboard they’d bought him against the wall.

“Ooo, please do, my back is just killing me,” Leon laughed, holding the brush towards Venti.

Venti took it, and set the tip on the ground. The air trembled, and even Gunter stopped what he was doing. He dropped his brush, hand going to the knife at his belt as he sensed the sudden menace and danger that radiated around Venti for a brief instant.

Then Venti ran the brush over the wall. The colors swirled, the black and red of the swastika merged with the pink of the triangle. The wind blew, and for some reason, it was tinted green. Capri had to blink, and when she opened her eyes, there was a picture of a winged green symbol she didn’t recognize. Below it, two ferrets danced amid a field of rainbow flowers. Her breath caught, and a tear came to her eyes.

“Normally I paint only with words, but I couldn’t just leave that eyesore,” Venti laughed, tossing the astonished Leon the brush. “Now, we have a concert to perform! Let’s get set up, and have a drink while we think of happier things!”

Gunter looked at the painting, them and Venti, and grunted. He was a big man, with light brown hair going to gray with a grizzled beard. His features were bluff, as if carved from stone, and despite the fact that he was getting up there in years, his hairy arms were still thick and knotted with muscle. He had on a tight black shirt that showed he was getting a little flabby, but his chest was still broad. It also showed where his shoulder holster was, along with his old service pistol. Gunter believed that if you hid a threat, it wasn’t as effective.

“I’ll show you where to set up,” Gunter said, his gruff baritone a sharp contrast to Leon’s lispy tenor. He led Venti inside the bar, leaving Capri and Naomi standing with the still flabbergasted Leon.

“You didn’t tell me he was a cape too!” Leon said, finally finding his voice again.

“Uh, yes! A cape! That’s what he is,” Naomi said, and laughed in a manner that was about as convincing as a five-year-old lying about who’d spilt the milk. That was one thing Capri loved about Naomi, though there were times she wished she was slightly better at lying.

Leon, however, seemed to be too stunned to realize Naomi was nervous and shook his head. He looked at the mural, and a sad smile quirked at his lips. “Well. I wonder how long this one will last.”

“What do you mean?” Capri asked, suddenly suspicious.

Leon’s shoulders slumped. “This isn’t the first time a cape has tried to stand up for us, sweetie. They always end up dead or crippled. Or worse.”

“Venti’s different,” Naomi said firmly.

“For all our sakes…I hope you’re right,” Leon sighed and forced a smile. “Well, let’s go get set up! It’ll be a night to remember…”

Venti had the keyboard set up already, and Gunter had connected him to the power system. Venti was plucking at keys experimentally, a look of concentration on his face.

“Interesting instrument. I’ve heard of them making things like this in Fontaine, but I’ve never seen one before,” he commented absently.

Gunter paused, frowning at Venti as he adjusted an amp. “That’s a Yamaha. They’re from Japan, not France.”

“Well, maybe Beezlebul made it!” Venti laughed, still tapping the keys.

“You’ve never played piano?” Leon asked, looking baffled. “Why don’t you play your harp?”

“Oh, Capri had me listen to some of her rock and roll! I quite liked it! It’s what she and Naomi usually play, so I figured I should have an instrument to accompany them properly instead of an old-fashioned lyre.

“Can you play it?” Capri asked, and felt her heart skip a beat.

Venti grinned at her. “Well, it can’t hurt to try!”

He suddenly ran his fingers down the keyboard and began to play a funky pop beat.

You could never know what it's like

Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice

The next thing Capri knew, she had her guitar out, and Naomi’s drums were set up like magic. They joined in with Venti, the music flowing together perfectly. Gunter and Leon were dancing and laughing, and despite the fact that the bar was still empty, the music filled the air, and for a few minutes, their troubles were cast away upon the wind.

When they finished, Venti laughed and bowed as Gunter and Leon both applauded enthusiastically.

“My God, that was the best music we’ve had in, in, well, maybe ever!” Leon laughed.

“Well, I don’t know that I’m ready to be a god just yet, but put a few beers in me and we’ll see,” Venti said with a wink.

“Funny, you saying you didn’t play piano,” Gunter chuckled. “You play well.”

“First time for everything! Now, what’s the plan if, oh, some of those miscreants show up?” Venti asked.

Gunter went serious again, letting go of Leon and patting his knife and gun. “I show them off. You’re a cape, right?”

“I happen to have a very fabulous cape, yes,” Venti agreed with a wink.

“Keep the bar safe. Some of the Meisters still come when we call for them. Munich has been safer than most cities, but that’s changing,” Gunter said, shaking his head slowly. “It gets much worse, and we’ll need to move to Japan.”

Leon let out a disgusted sound. “I am not moving to that hussy’s country! She’s a dictator, Gunter!”

“She keeps the peace, and doesn’t let lynch mobs hang people in the streets,” Gunter said, shrugging, and obviously repeating an argument they’d had before.

“It’s the peace of the sword! I’d rather move to America. Legend has made good chances there,” Leon huffed, but he looked concerned. “We could even get married.”

“Already are, for all I care,” Gunter said, rubbing a gold band on his left ring finger. “As far as I’ve heard, the Shogun doesn’t care who you love. And it’s safer in Japan.”

“There are monsters there! Horrible flowers that try to eat you, and slimes! But…well…I suppose there are advantages to not having to worry about Endbringer attacks or rogue capes…”

“Ah, slimes aren’t so hard to deal with, they can even be kind of cute!” Venti said with a smile.

“Venti,” Naomi whispered, “There aren’t any slimes in Germany! They’re weird monsters that showed up in Japan because of the Desolation.”

“Oh? What poor mad god did she kill this time?” Venti sighed, keeping his voice low.

“Leviathan. And Endbringer. She’s the only Endslayer, ever. Not even the vaunted American PRT has managed to bring one down,” Capri added softly.

“Huh, I have a lot more reading to do,” Venti said, scratching the back of his head and laughing. “I’ve had a hard time listening to the Whispers of the Wind lately. I guess I’m feeling a little out of sorts after landing here in Munich.”

Gunter and Leon finished their argument and excused themselves to get the bar opened shortly. Normally the band wouldn’t show up for a while, but Leon had been champing at the bit to have the Tone Deaf Bards playing for as long as possible. They started to warm up, though with Venti that meant they basically started playing note-perfect renditions of various songs, and Venti teaching Capri and Naomi some new ones they’d never heard of.

“What song is this one called?” Capri asked after they finished running through what sounded like a rock rendition of a joyful tavern tune.

“Rainbow Wind! I just wrote it,” Venti explained, nodding to the music sheet he’d pulled out of nowhere to give to Capri. Not that it mattered: she could read sheet music, but she was much better at playing by ear. Naomi was the classically trained one, not her.

“You just invented it, right now?” Capri asked, feeling skeptical.

“Well, I adapted it to rock music, some of the words are originally from a traditional Mondstadt song about two lovers! I made a couple of changes based on what I’ve learned of German culture in the last few days, and there you go! A new song!” Venti said, bowing with a flourish. “You’re lucky I met Xinyan a few years back; her style was very similar to this. You remind me of her, actually.”

“Sure, whatever,” Capri said with a shrug. She looked down at her old guitar and shook her head. When they played…it was like magic. No, it WAS magic. She just…knew. She’d always been a talented musician, able to play tunes after earring them only a few times, but she’d always needed practice to get things exactly right, and she’d certainly never been able to play songs she’d never heard before right the first time. Was Venti controlling them?

“Let’s take a break, I could use a drink before we really start!” Venti said. He walked over to the bar and hopped up on a stool. “Three beers, Gunter! And something for my friends, too!”

“Cute. You’ll be popular with the boys,” Gunter said, and slid a single stein to Venti.

“Oh, I’m popular with the boys and girls,” Venti assured Gunter, batting his eyelashes.

Gunter gave his usual monosyllabic grunt, then poured Capri a rum and coke, and Naomi a watered down glass of wine. “First one’s on the house. You get more later.”

“Ah, well, worth a try!” Venti guzzled half his beer, waiting for Gunter to head into the back. She could hear the cook arriving; Francois was a skinny boy, but he certainly knew how to cook.

“Something on your mind?” Venti said, leaning towards Capri.

She shrugged, but Naomi gave her a worried look. “We sound good. Too good. I just…is this my music, that I’m playing? Or am I just a puppet for you?”

“Ah.” Venti nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “That’s a question I’ve heard before. Let me ask you one in return: Who gave you the gift of music?”

Capri opened her mouth to say, “No one,” but then closed it. She frowned and looked at Naomi. “Did…did you?”

“Ha! You flatter me! But no. I wasn’t here when you were born to bless you, and besides, I’m not the one who created humanity. You were around long before I ever ascended. No, you were created with that gift in you.”

Naomi beamed at Venti, and Capri sighed and nodded. She supposed her days of agnosticism were over, forget about being an atheist.

“So, while I can help you use your gift, bring it out of you, I can’t make you do it. I also can’t bring out something that isn’t there. The music? That’s yours and Naomi’s, Capri. Your soul resonates with the song I sing, but it is the gift in your heart that brings out true beauty.”

“So, you don’t just have some sort of mind control powers?” Capri asked, feeling slightly relieved.

“Hmm, that’s hard to answer, honestly. Mortals respond to gods in a certain way, and our very presence influences how mortals think. I’ve seen humans faint in terror at a single word spoken by a god, fall down in worship at the mere presence of a deity, or even forswear themselves at a glance,” Venti said, peering mournfully into his empty beer stein.

“And…what do you make people feel?” Naomi asked, and Capri realized she was holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

Venti set down his mug, and he spread his hands wide. “Freedom.”

Capri thought about that. She did feel free when she was singing, moreso than any other time. She raised her drink in toast. “Well. That’s something to drink to. To freedom.”

The bar opened in the midafternoon, and customers started filtering in. At first, the band took turns playing some gentle music, since it wasn’t really time for things to get swinging yet. Naomi could play guitar, piano, and of course the drums, while Capri played acoustic and electric guitar and occasionally bass, though they didn’t have one today. So far, there hadn’t been an instrument that Venti couldn’t play at a level equivalent to the greatest performers Capri had ever heard, and she suspected that would hold true whether Venti was given two sticks to bang together or a Stradivarius violin.

Still, even just playing a simple tune on the guitar and singing into the microphone, Venti captivated the audience. He sang everything from contemporary pop tunes he’d heard on the radio, to traditional German drinking songs, to those strange songs from a faraway land. And when Capri and Naomi played, they found themselves playing better than they ever had before in their lives, the music pouring out of their souls and into the hearts of their listeners.

Leon was, of course, ecstatic, as people started calling friends and telling them that they absolutely had to come to the Feisty Ferret that night to listen. Beer flowed and Francois had to call his boyfriend to come in to help cook. Gunter stayed at the door to keep watch, but so far no problems had presented themselves. Stuka and her ilk seemed to be laying low.

Around dinner time, there was a commotion outside while the band was warming up, and everyone looked up as Gunter blocked someone from entering.

“What do you mean, too young?! I’m an adult man, I’ve been in bars before. Look, here’s my ID. Check it, it’s legit!”

“I don’t recognize you,” Gunter’s voice growled. “We don’t need any trouble.”

“Hey, hey, it’s cool, it’s cool! No trouble, I promise. I’m a cool dude! And this looks like a happenin’ place to be! Come on, some friends told me to come here! This is the Feisty Ferret, right?” the voice was rather boisterous and all too familiar, and Capri sighed heavily.

“I can see the gun on your hip,” Gunter said, raising his voice. “You leave, or we have an issue.”

“Huh? Gun. OOOOOO! You mean this, it’s just-”

There was a slam and a shout, and several men at the bar jumped up to look outside as Leon reached for the rifle they kept (rather illegally) there.

Capri however hopped off the stage and beat them all out there, finding Gunter sitting dazedly on the ground as a tall, blond young man stood over him, looking abashed and raising his hands, a very odd massive silver pistol in one hand. He was dressed in a long red trenchcoat and had on a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, but Capri recognized the idiot anyway.

“Oh, sorry gramps! Uh, hitting me ain’t gonna work out for ya, sorry. But this? It’s not a real gun! It’s just a prop! It’s actually a nerf gun, see?” he pointed the gun at Gunter before anyone could move, and a bright red foam dart shot out and hit Gunter in the forehead, where it stuck thanks to the suction cup on the tip.

“Pretty cool, huh? My friend from Japan sent it to me as a birthday present. It’s for uh….um, I just think it’s cool, alright?” the Red Oni said, spinning the gun around his finger. It then immediately spun off and hit him in the forehead, causing him to wince. “Ah! Shoot, I thought I was getting better at that…here, let me give you a hand, gramps.”

He smiled and extended a hand to Gunter, who took it and let the younger man pull him to his feet. The Red Oni was a few centimeters taller than Gunter, though both were heavily muscled, with Gunter being a little broader across the shoulders.

“Gunter, you’re taken, don’t hog the new Bear!” a voice called.

“Bear? I’m not Russian,” the Red Oni said, frowning. He flexed. “This is pure, German engineering!” He smiled, then saw the frowns. “Uh, not like that! I just, you know, work out bro. But I’m not a hater!” Then he spied Capri. “Hey! It’s you from the other night! Is your cute friend here? The one with the braids and the green outfit?”

Capri rolled her eyes. “Yes, Venti’s here, Red.”

“Red?!” he said, squeaking slightly, but Gunter had relaxed.

“Ah, you’re Venti’s boyfriend, then?” he asked.

“Well, uh, we haven’t gone on a date or anything but I wouldn’t say no if they were willing,” Red Oni said, grinning broadly and showing off perfect teeth.

“In that case, you can come in. But put away the toy. Don’t need people getting ideas,” Gunter said. He turned to the burly men at the door. “Back inside boys, you can play with this one if you buy him a drink.”

Red leaned in close to Capri and whispered, “My name isn’t Red! Uh, you’re thinking of someone else! I’m Itul Armburst! Also, her name is Venti?”

Capri realized just what sort of mistake this moron was making, and decided to play along. Besides, Gunter clearly had let him in because he thought this idiot was gay, and there was no reason to spoil it.

“Yes, and if you buy them some drinks, I’m sure Venti will appreciate it,” Capri said with a wink.

“Ha-ha! I knew it! No one can resist the charm of Itul ‘The Casanova' Armburst!” he laughed, standing up straight and waving to Venti, who winked and blew him a kiss. “Heh heh! I’m gonna score tonight!”

“Oh, you won’t have to go home lonely, handsome,” one of the other men said, looking Itul up and down with interest.

“Haha, yeah, who goes home from a bar by themselves? Not me, that’s for sure. I’ve got loads of moxie and confidence, and I’ve been to dozens of bars before! Hey, what’s up, ladies?”

Itul winked at several of the girls (who were very much not interested in him) and some of the drag queens (who definitely were). They smiled and waved back, and Capri knew that Itul’s ship was well and thoroughly sunk when he let a man buy him a drink. This would be a night for learning.

She climbed back on the stage, looked to Venti, who nodded, and then to Naomi, who gave her two thumbs up. She took a deep breath, and leaned in close to the microphone. “Hey, we’re the Tone Deaf Bards, and we’re happy to be here for all you lovely people tonight. Now, are you ready to ROCK!?”

There was a rousing cheer, and Capri hit a power cord. They usually played poptunes at the Feisty Ferret, but tonight, Capri had something a little different in mind. She hit another power chord, and Naomi joined in on the drums, Venti following on the…bass? Wait, they hadn’t had one of those! It didn’t matter. She sang her heart out, and Venti and Naomi joined in on the chorus.

Here I am!

Rock you like a hurricane!

The crowd cheered happily, and Capri felt her spirit soar. They played on, song after song, and Capri forgot everything but the music.

Outside, Gunter was tapping his feet to the beat. He didn’t really like rock usually; he far preferred show tunes, though he refused to sing them when anyone but Leon could hear. They’d met at the theater, and opened the bar together fifteen years ago. Tonight felt like it had before Cologne, before the rise of the damn Neo-Nazis and the capes that backed them.

As he reminisced, shapes came out of the darkness, and Gunter gritted his teeth, putting a hand on his pistol. Then he saw who it was, and felt his heart sink. A gun wouldn’t help him here.

“Well, well. Look what we have here, boys,” Stuka’s voice purred, the Nazi bitch stepping into the pool of light cast by the bar’s sign. “We should have torn this place down long ago.”

There was cackling, and thugs with crowbars, knives, bats, and to Gunter’s horror, a gun or two stepped up. This was the end. Everything he and Leon had worked so hard to build, for so many years. Day and night, fighting to keep a safe haven for their community. Through the AIDS Epidemic, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and political instability, and now into the resurgence of these assholes.

They will attempt to chain you. To bind you. To muzzle your voice. But you will cry out for Freedom.

“You are not welcome here. This is my bar. Leave,” Gunter growled, shaking his head. Was that Venti’s voice? It couldn’t be. He could still hear the band playing.

“It is you who pollute the land with your deviant ways, untermensch,” Stuka sneered, pointing an accusatory finger at Gunter. “Too long have we tolerated this den of Jewry and perversion.”

Your burden will only grow heavier. You will continue to struggle, to fight for your Vision. But the Wind will bear you up.

“LEON!” Gunter roared, throwing the door shut behind him. “CALL THE POLICE! BAR THE DOOR!”

There was a gunshot, and Gunter drew as he dropped down to a crouching position. He aimed at Stuka, but jerked the gun away and swore. That was what she wanted.

You will remember those you lost, friends and loved ones blown away on the Wind. But your Ambition shall blow ever stronger.

Another bullet hit the wall behind Gunter, and he fired, but then had to dive away as more shots rang out. Two men began to beat Stuke with crowbars, but their blows thudded into her body as if into a heavy sand bag, and she raised her hands, laughing in delight. “We shall have our own Kristallnacht! Let the blood of these fools flow as we purge our city! The eyes of the Gesellschaft are upon us!”

“NO!” Gunter roared, surging forward, the wind wrapping itself around him, quickening his steps. “THIS LAND WAS FREE OF YOUR FILTH, AND WILL BE AGAIN!”

Let the Winds blow through you, Child of Freedom.

A gale wrapped itself around Gunter’s fist, and he drove it into Stuka’s astonished face. She went flying through the air, tossed half a block by the force. He roared his defiance, and the thugs screamed as winds whipped around him. Those that were not tossed away ran in terror.

Behind him, Venti played a note, and the bar suddenly calmed. He smiled. Perhaps this too could be his home.

Then a red cloaked shape crashed through the closed door behind Gunter, sending it flying off its hinges. “OH YEAH!”

Gunter turned to see Itul, wearing some sort of silly mask, standing behind him, panting, fists raised. “Where’s the bad guys!? I heard fighting? Oh shit, are you OK, gramps!? You’re bleeding!”

Gunter looked down, grimacing. There was a wet red stain in his side, and he could feel the pain now. He’d been shot as he charged. “I’ll live.” He put a hand to the wound and felt the Winds around him. He pulled them into him, and his injury knitted itself shut. He blinked. Well. That would be useful.

“Hey, neat trinket. Where’d you get it?” Itul asked, pointing to something Gunter was gripping in his hand.

He slowly relaxed his grip, and saw a small triangular prism, marked with the same winged symbol Venti had drawn on the side of the building. It was filled with a green light, and the winds swirled within. He closed his hand around it again. “It seems I’ll be staying after all.”

Germany still needed him. His people still needed him. And he had never been to run from the good fight.

Author’s Note:

Taste the rainbow fist of justice.