[tw: gun violence]

The vigilante Zephyr flies erratically above the crowd, desperately trying to draw the fire. This guy was spouting off some speech or other, but whatever he was saying was overshadowed by the gun in his hand and the fact that he seemed set on firing into the crowd. Zephyr needed to get closer, to neutralise the threat, but to do so would be to leave the crowd undefended and at might threaten people getting hurt, or worse.

He was trying to figure out an answer to this stalemate when he feels a gust of wind on his shoulder, a familiar on-off-on-off pattern usually used to indicate that there was nobody around and it was safe. Grinning under his mask, he summons a blade made of air and flies a beeline to the shooter.

Said shooter seems shocked at the sudden change tactics but reacts quickly, taking the opportunity to take a couple of shots towards the crowd. There is screaming, and panic, but just before they hit the bullets seem to bounce harmlessly off… were those shields?

Mutters rush through the crowds. Everyone knew about Zephyr’s ability to create swords out of the air, but since when could he make shields? Was this a new development? What did this mean? Despite their distraction, the crowd remains focussed on the fight in front of them; this meant that nobody noticed the young man standing at the outskirts of the crowd, his eyes closed in concentration, hands tightening slightly by his side every time the bullets hit one of the shields held above the crowd.

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about the civilians, Zephyr is able to make quick work of the shooter, and he is quickly subdued and tied up before the vigilante seems to disappear. The curious crowd start to disperse, no longer trapped, and the commotion provides cover for the young man to duck into a nearby ally. He has to wait a few moments, but he feels the on-off-on-off pattern blowing against his side; the all clear.

“Dad?”

“Aither!” Zephyr, mask off, ducks out from behind a dumpster, smiling widely at his son, “Thanks for the help!”

“I can’t talk for long,” Aither explains apologetically, “I’m meeting Mar and Mags and stuff at a café in a bit.”

“No worries, no worries, just wanted to say thanks. It’s good to see you.” A slightly wistful look comes over Zephyr’s – or now, Wyndham’s face, “How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. She’d love to hear from you more, I think.”

“Yes. I – well. You know.” Reluctantly, he pulls his mask back on, “I won’t keep you from your friends. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

The two depart; the elder heads back to the rooftops to finish his night’s patrol, alone, and the younger hopes that the hot chocolate in this new place will be nice, and heads off to meet his friends.