"Nightingale", the acrobatic heroine by night

Grappling hooks. Smoke bombs. Stun gas grenades. Stylized, bird-shaped throwing knives. All your gear is assembled and ready to be fitted onto the loose utility belt that goes over your costume. Ah yes, the costume... you still have to roll your eyes at the changes that the rep from the League of Propriety recommended to your ensemble. You take a look at it in the mirror again.

You're a stunning 5'10", with an athletic figure that still had plenty of curves in the right places. The only concealment on your face was a heavy wing-shaped domino mask, allowing your unkempt red hair (kept in a medium-short length and with a part down the middle) to wave softly in the breeze as you step out onto the edge of your current rooftop headquarters.

Your top was essentially the bodysuit you had initially brought with you to Acropolis City - blue-grey with navy blue highlights - but with the bottom 75% cut off, leaving your shoulders, arms and hands fully covered but just barely extending low enough to cover your nipples, leaving a wide expanse of pale exposed skin from the copious underboob you were showing down past your midriff to your matching blue-grey bikini bottom. That left most of your bottom and upper thighs exposed, until your sultry blue-grey thigh-highs began. The only concession the League had made to your concerns about modesty and practicality was to get rid of the stiletto heels.

Of course, the real bigshots at the League were always caught up in dealing with the fallout from the latest interdimensional overlord they had antagonized or super-experiment run amok, so the lowest level of nuisance crime is never in short supply, even in a city with so many costumed crusaders that they compete for a limited number of openings. After all, with superhumans taking care of matters so often, the Acropolis City police department was understaffed, underfunded and generally a joke.

The name you will go by on these mean streets is 'Nightingale'. Your real name is Rikki Drakeson. You are what some might call a 'second-generation hero', since your mother, Minah, was a superheroine in her youth, while your father was an olympic gymnast who was your mom's training partner before they eventually fell in love and married when you came along. But 22 years ago, when you were just two years old, your father was killed in a mysterious, still unsolved hit-and-run accident. Because your mom had always been a loner as a superhero, she only had the cops to turn to to investigate the tragedy, and they came up with nothing. Although she eventually remarried, she's struggled with depression ever since, escaping into nostalgia.

When it became clear that you had inherited her super-agility and sound control, you swore that you'd take up the tights, fight under the same name 'Nightingale' that she did, and rise to the top of the League of Propriety, so that you could call upon their great resources and finally bring closure to your father's after all these years (and being able to work closely with some of the super-hunks in charge there wouldn't hurt, either). Your training is now complete, and you're here in Acropolis City, part of the new generation. You just hope you're ready for this... this will be your first time going out into the night dressed like this, ready for action. Will you be able to handle it, when the time comes?

Powerset: Low-level super-agility and strength, just slightly greater than peak human potential. Expert acrobatic training and several forms of martial arts. Main power: Sound control. You can mimic sounds, throw your voice, hush quiet sounds into complete silence, and even use sub-sonic sound waves to affect people's moods, causing anxiety, fear, drowsiness, or arousal.

Gadgets: Grappling hooks, paired electrified stun batons, 'climbing boots' that selectively adhere to surfaces, smoke and gas bombs, shuriken. Skimpy outfit (the rep from the League assures you that you're actually safer this way because your opponents will be too distracted to punch back, supposedly...). Furthermore, you have an implanted life signs monitor like all League-approved heroes. If your vital signs ever drop into the danger zone, one or several League members on standby will come charging to your assistance, administering life-saving super-tech medical treatment. Their response times are so fast that pretty much anything short of getting run over with a steamroller is survivable even for those, like you, without super-durability. Hopefully you won't need it any time soon.