<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/682703493682081792/2MWpsaIy_400x400.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><strong>Spitfire<strong></strong></strong></span><br/><strong>Location</strong>Bus Stop --> In front of Halycron Hunter offices<br/><strong>Group</strong>Masks<br/><strong>Action</strong>None<br/><br/><br/>The hiss of air brakes signaled the arrival of another heroine to the scene.  A behemoth of a machine ground to a halt.  People rose to exit the city bus while the driver opened the pair of doors.  Among the crowd of people was a ragged looking figure known as Spitfire.  A hand covered in a fingerless glove grasped a Styrofoam cup of coffee that smelled stale and sugary sweet.  The other hand lay at her side, opening and closing her fist with a signature pop of her knuckles.<br/><br/>Unlaced combat boots plodded on the sidewalk while she made her way to the action.  People stood around staring at the police cars and yellow tape.  Spitfire simply kept walking around the perimeter with her coffee in hand.  Above her came the crash of a window as one of her teammates made a bold move.  What could only be described as a snorting chuckle came from the woman’s lips before she took a long slurp of sugar and caffeine into her mouth.<br/><br/><strong>“Tits getting bold.”</strong><br/><br/>Were the voice coming from anyone else there would be descriptors of sultry and seductive attached to her.  Instead those that saw her and then heard her voice would think more of heavy smoker or street walker.  Quasar and Red Wasp would soon smell the stale coffee and lack of a shower just after hearing the woman’s voice.<br/><br/><strong>“So I guess we better go get her and kick this piss ant’s ass while we’re at it.”<br/></strong>