Cobalt City Dragonstorm by Nathan Crowder

Author:Nathan Crowder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dragons, mythology, superheroes, loki, supervillains, norse mythology, cobalt city, king in yellow
Publisher: DefCon One Publishing

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Whatever apocalyptic cataclysm had befallen Seattle the previous night, there were some things it couldn't change. The Raven's Rookery, i.e., the Supergroup safehouse in Sodo, was basically a fallout shelter, and would probably withstand the end of the world if it came to it. Fortunately, it still recognized Vivienne's voice and granted access--also, the sentry guns powered down, prompting a relieved sigh. She stretched, because her whole body hurt.

"What?" Angel asked. "You didn't think it would work?"

"I thought it might kill us," Vivienne said, rubbing her side where Angel had wrapped an arm around her. Her niece wasn't any better at carrying two people than one. "Your dad hasn't forgiven me for ripping out his eye."

"Oh right! Ha ha! You're so funny, Aunt V." Angel looked to Yumi. "You okay, Y?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, sure, A. I'm fine."

"Whew!" Angel declared. "Good to know! Go team!"

Yumi looked a little dizzy, or maybe sleepy. To Vivienne, though, who could feel the girl's emotions more clearly than her own, it seemed pretty obvious how she felt.

She felt that way too. Also, extremely tired.

They hadn't seen any people on the way down here--just a series of burned outlines into buildings, and the blackened remains of clothing on the street and in burning cars. Whatever happened, it had annihilated everyone in Seattle--everyone but them. A mass death event was a tough thing for a world-class veteran hero to take in, let alone a seventeen-year-old girl whose biggest worry was getting the right prom dress.

It was prom season, wasn't it? Vivienne couldn't keep up with these things.

Anyway, where Yumi became increasingly detached and Angel raced her own rising anxiety with increasingly over-the-top pep, Vivienne remained cool and in control. This wasn't, after all, her first apocalypse, and she had a feeling all wasn't as it seemed. That, and someone had to be the adult in the room, so she kept her own fears at bay.

That's what she told herself, anyway--not the more obvious answer, that she was a psychopath without normal, functioning emotions.

Occam likes his razors, my dear, said her ever-present companion.

In a way, she found it comforting. That Azazel was still talking to her meant she hadn't lost her mind.

The safehouse--she wouldn't say "rookery"--was exactly as Supergroup had left it, which made it perfect for lying low: rooms full of couches, refrigerators full of snacks, shelves upon shelves of canned food, and a few gadgets--mostly refills for traversal equipment a power-suited hero might use. And, because it was built by the Raven, it had several advanced labs and tech rooms that rejected Vivienne's access. Probably for the best--odds seemed good Vivienne would just end up blowing herself up if she tried to use any of that crap.

Angel, of course, loved it.

"I've never been in one of these!" she said. "I know my dad talked about 'em all the time, but dude! Whoa!" She trailed her fingers along the blue cape of one of the costumes on display in the ostentatiously wide hallway. "Are these real?"

"Yeah." Vivienne

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