Terry
Dante stood at the edge of the rooftop, watching the milling crowds below. He was cradling his helmet in palms, idly roving his thumbs across the faceplate. His breathing was slow, controlled and yet he felt a little bubble of anxiety twisting deep within.

He shut his eyes and exhaled slowly, letting his discipline and training take control. He brought the helmet up and slipped it on. It felt snug, already well-worn to his features. 

"Right." He spoke aloud, to nobody in particular. Dante shook out his arms and legs, before walking right up to the edge, and looked over to the next rooftop, a good twenty feet away with a darkened alleyway between.

Just like he practiced a thousand times before, Dante stepped back a few times, and let the switch flip in his head. As he took a slow breath, the air around him rushed in, wreathing around his whole body, encasing him in a strange warmth that seemed to come from within himself rather than any outside temperature. 

Dante broke into a sprint, clearing the roof in a few blazing strides. Just as he reached the edge, and his stomach instinctively churned at the prospect of falling straight down into the dumpsters below, Dante exhaled.

The air under his feet exploded outwards violently, and rather than fall, Dante shot up into the air, in a wide arc that cleared straight across the alleyway, and another quick exhale, this time causing the air from head to toe to burst forwards, caused another arrested all of his momentum, and let him land on his feet without shattering his ankles in the process.

Dante glanced back quickly over his shoulder with a spreading grin, the anxiety now replaced by the sharp jolt of rising adrenaline coursing through his body. It took a considerable amount of willpower, and over a year of practice, to keep his breathing in check as he inhaled to replenish the air, and exhaled to send himself rocketing forth, into the night and whatever it had in store for him.
David
Dante could hear some surprised exclamations from the crowd below— presumably just innocent surprise at the sudden sound of an airburst flying overhead. Fortunately, most civilians wouldn't blink at the concept of a Cape in their midst so long as it didn't result in their immediate maiming.

So, the nights patrol began.

Even after two years of Hero Patrols, the depths of New London could still be an unfamiliar slate of gridlocked roads and urban sprawl. The city was in a constant state of development due to the high population and efforts to improve the struggling infrastructure, leaving most areas completely unfamiliar to those who don't visit them frequently, even over as short a time period as several months.

All this to say that on his patrol, Dante noticed a few things. An unexpected new coffee shop on the corner, there. The smell of fresh deliciousness from a fresh-baked bagel bakery. A once-popular clothing store, now decrepit and abandoned. Brand new high-rise apartments that had already fallen into disrepair over a couple short years, leaving them ripe with drug users and dealers alike.

Things were relatively quiet for the most part, and to a certain extent one had to assume that the sights and sounds of the city at peace could be relaxing in some ways, noisy though it was.

Of course, it couldn't last.

Things took a turn for the worse in one of the few residential sections of the riverside district, where the relative quiet was *Pierced* By the sudden *Smack* Of flesh on flesh echoing through the alleyways, followed by a shrill *Shriek* Of a woman or girl in pain.

Was it time to work? Or perhaps there were more important things for Airburst to attend to than a petty domestic?
Terry
For the most part Dante kept to rooftops, keeping a bird's eye view on the city below. Things were changing, fast, and not particularly for the better. His expression under the mask was rather grim as he weaved a path through the dilapidated skyrises— Some of whom, he noted, he had worked on. 

Dante landed with a soft thump on the lip of a rooftop, squatting above the crenellations when he heard the two-fold smack and scream. It pierced the hazy, sleepy evening silence, and before Dante had even fully registered the sound, he found himself moving towards it's source.

As he approached, maneuvering across the rooftops, he let the air dissipate away, and crouched low as he scanned his surroundings hoping to approach hidden and with the element of surprise.
David
The speeds that a Mover 2 could, well, *Move* At were considerable. That added maneuverability and quick reaction let Airburst reach the point of contention in barely any time at all. So quickly in fact, he was able to hear the immediate aftermath of the scream.

"-t it, ya fuckin' slag! Gonna wake the whole bloody neighborhood. If ya didn't wanna get hit, shouldn't be such a dumb— dumb *Whore*," An unknown masculine voice spoke, sounding noticeably drunk.

Weren't they always? It sometimes seemed that nothing good would ever come from these sorts of people.

"*Fuck off, George!*" A woman sobbed, followed by the clatter of something metallic on concrete.

As he finished his approach, Airburst was able to glance over the edge of the rooftop down onto the bickering pair. A doorway was open— one hinge hanging off the frame, presumably from being slammed one too many times— leading into a residential apartment. Outside, in front of him, a trash can was rolling down the alleyway and a woman with a visible bruise was pointing accusatorially at the man.

Her dirty blonde hair was rough and unkempt, tied back into several uneven knots. Both of them wore shoddy, mass produced minimal clothing, indicative of a shared economic bracket, at least.
Terry
For a beat, Dante considered his options. Domestics were, by and large, messy. There were a lot of variables in play, a lot of them unseen, and he couldn't really anticipate how either of them would react to his appearance. Still, though, he knew he had to get involved. The reason he'd even gotten to the trouble of being a hero was to stop all *This.*

Dante took a deep breath, and let the air build around his feet before taking a step off the edge, exhaling steadily to slow his fall til he landed in the middle of the alleyway, eyes trained on the pair.

He figured it was best to let them see him approach, avoid any unnecessary escalation. Dante strode towards them, with his arms held slightly up.

Even then, the look of the shiner on the woman's face made a flash of heat bubble at his chest, and Dante gritted his teeth as he forced himself to breathe. 

"Woah, woah, woah. Let's all calm down, yeah?" Dante spoke loudly and clearly, careful to keep his voice level. "Come away from him, love. I won't let him hurt you anymore."



Standing at 6'4 and brimming with wide frame honed through a decade of hardships and manual labor, Dante was an imposing figure, even when he was trying to de-escalate.

"George, was it? Take a step back before this all goes somewhere we'll all regret."
David
The reaction at Airburst's appearance was potentially expected. Most citizens would have a pretty volatile reaction to a Cape appearing, though obviously the range of reactions varied from intense fandom to violence to fear. After all, a Cape could represent nearly anything in the city of New London. Villain, Rogue, or Hero— all of them had the potential to escalate a situation severely.

"Fer fucks sake—" George exclaimed before cutting himself off, drunk or not.

"Whossat then!?" The woman shouted. She took a few cautious steps towards the blue-clad Hero, but you could tell that she wasn't exactly sold on the prospect.

It was becoming increasingly clear that, despite his increasing patrols, neither of these alley-dwellers actually knew who *Airburst* Was. 

"Look 'ere, iunno if you're with the fekkin' Children or Songbirds or summat, but I pay our dues ya 'ear? Ain't want no trouble. She's fine, she is. Jus' a bit offa spat. Ain't that right, Doris?"

The woman glanced between the unknown Cape and her husband, now equidistant. She seemed to be wavering.

```Voided due to member leaving```