#flamebored

She smirked at the thought of the the twist on the famous trailers for Alien. Her father had one of the original posters in a frame at home, himself having been part of its production team back in the day.  Bette leaned back against the granite wall and scanned the nearby rooftops, the streets below having nothing really interesting going on besides a bike theft in progress, and some other girl appeared out of nowhere and beat her to it. She felt terribly guilty in admitting it, but the one positive thing that had come out of the invasion was some decent action, for a change. She'd been needed; everyone had been needed, no matter how skilled, no matter whether they were legit League or a freelancer like herself. There'd been tragic losses, certainly, but they'd driven the aliens back, at least, and saved the Earth. And when it was over and she'd had time to reflect, she had to admit, it felt good to at least feel like a hero again. The great rushes of adrenaline were just a big side-bonus. Now that the dust had settled, and thanks to politicians and the media, being a hero wasn't quite as appealing as before; not that she ever got off on being thanked, but to know that the difference she made actually mattered to people, that was the fulfilling part. She mattered.  Now, the shine of that was threatening to wear off once again. The emptiness, loneliness, would only be kept at bay by one substitute.  Flamebird needed an adventure, something exciting, something to get the old adrenal gland pumping again. Her binoculars stopped their pass and doubled back on a lone figure, staring downwards, one building across the street and half a block north, and three floors closer to street level than her. A smile parted her lips, and in minutes, she was dropping down next to him. "Hi, Spee-... er...Red Arrow!  Whatcha doing?" she smiled as enthusiastically as possible to cover her near-gaff of his name.