(End of Issue #4) You are just on your way to the room R.W. gave you directions to, when you run into some dramatic unpleasantness from your past!

Without Dr. Rainbow to provide her transportation rainbows - which, to be honest, you had always felt kind of clashed with the aesthetic you were going for as Nightingale - your new super team is stuck getting around using a truly hideous white box van with a roof covered in a cluster of antennas and radio dishes.

"You knoooow," Red Balloon says from the rear seat as you drive, "I could easily get us there muuuuuuch faster with a well-controlled windstorm. We'd fly straight there in less than a minute. Whoosh!"

You motion with your hand as if swatting a fly away. "And forego all of these fancy sensors and tracking equipment Mort put in? We might need it, and besides, all of the cameras and real-time-feedback stuff in our costumes won't work if we get too far away from a database. La Petite Mort is a great scientist but even she can't miniaturize a supercomputer into costumes like these." you point down at your skimpy yellow leotard/short shorts outfit. 'Besdies,' you mumble sotto voce, 'I'm not thrilled about the idea of hurtling through the air under your power, when the slightest... accident could leave me in the hospital or worse.'

"I can't help but notice that you haven't told Snowflake where we're going, aaaaaand that you are driving the wrong direction to get to whoever this girl who can get Green Streak's attention is!" the so-called heroine in the passenger seat says prissily.

"I've been in this costume for nearly a full day now," you reply sharply. "I actually have to use my muscles to deal with bad guys and monsters. We aren't all lucky enough to have a superpower that does all our fighting for us. I may not have time to get any sleep, but I can spare 10 minutes for a shower. We're going to park near the secret entrance to my apartment. Here's a tip, newbie: If you are as serious about guarding your chastity and your squeaky clean image as you claim to be, you ought to stay away from the showers at League HQ."

"Oooooh, really? Thank you for that important information, Thunderbird! Here I was thinking all of the anonymous, casual group sex was localized to the training rooms."

Damn it. Either someone was recording some of the messy business you got into after accepting Green Streak's offer for 'training' shortly after your first patrol as Nightingale, or some of those employees like to gossip. Probably both. You start to protest that it was Green Streak who manipulated you into all that, but then you stop and whistle a short, cheerful tune instead. "You sure have a short memory, didn't we just settle this? I'm sure that eventually it'll sink in for you that I really don't care if you want to gossip or crack bad jokes about the fact that I'm sexually active. Matter of fact, as soon as these Wonderland Wackos are dealt with I'm going to register in advance for the next 'Slut Walk'."

"Oh, you are SO correct, Thunderbird. I am certain that no one would ever, under any circumstances, cast judgement on you for any of your past promiscuous actions." Red Balloon is barely holding back the giggles and staring intently at you as she speaks, sounding very pleased with yourself.

As you get out of the 'Storm Van', walking towards the hidden elevator that will take you up to your living quarters and crime lab so that you can confer with Julia - you made a promise to her not to go out on dangerous reconnaissance without telling her where or for how long, after your first excursion with Doc led to the both of you getting captured and molested - you look around and listen intently to ensure nobody is watching you. Turns out there is somebody.

"Hey! You over there. Sorry to chase you off, but I have superhero business here." you say. "Step out into the open, I need this alley undisturbed, it might be, y'know, a crime scene or something. Tell you what though, if you want, I'll give you my very first autograph as Thunderbird. We're new, but you'll be hearing plenty about us I'm s-"

Your voice dies in your throat as a tall figure steps out from the shadows, a man dressed in a long coat with gauze wrapped all around his face, exposing only his eyes and mouth.

His deep voice is laden with contempt. "Hello, sister. Been a long time, hasn't it?"