A worried young girl sits in front of the television, curled into a ball clutching her legs to her chest as the reporter on screen says, “We have confirmation, The Chauvinist escaped from Liberty City Correctional Facility approximately two hours ago. Beacon has already offered to assist in civilian safety efforts with the Mayor formally accepting minutes ago. Based on reports from the scene it appears that The Chauvinist intends to lay low, he is likely not an imminent danger to the civilian population. We go now to our reporter onsite who is standing by with the heroic guard at the gate who confronted The Chauvinist as he left the building, Tom?”

The screen changes revealing a pair of faces, one of which begins to speak, “That’s right Bob, I’m here with-” *click* and with the sound of a remote, the television falls silent. Whirling around, the girl shouts, “Hey!” before calming down when she sees who stands behind her. “I was watching that,” says Hailey in a much calmer tone.

“You’ll go crazy watching the news. Trust me, mom and I know all too well that it is better if you don’t think about it too much. Now I think you wanted to ask me for advice on the fight you and Theo are having?” says Missy Anderson, crossing her arms over her chest as she speaks.

Sighing, Hailey turns to her friend and says in dismay, “Oh Missy, where to begin?”

As the girls begin to talk, we take our leave. This conversation should remain private, dear reader, for matters of the heart are far too personal and painful for anyone but a best friend.

Of course, some matters of the heart do spill out the world. Such is the precarious tightrope Ginny walks tonight as she prepares to meet with Beacon and her father at a dinner party. Sitting alone in her room, putting the final touches on her appearance, she reflects on her plan. “We play it safe, no powers in front of Beacon no matter what. That means no emergency defensive mode, no communication, and no performing any analyses.”

From her bracelet, a sound emanates, “Ms. Napp, Beacon’s power has no documented extrasensory capabilities. We can likely engage in clandestine observation without consequence.”

Staring down at her jewelry, Ginny says emphatically, “Likely is exactly what I mean. I’m not taking any chances with Beacon; you saw how easily he spotted us! And you still don’t know how he managed it.”

“That is correct, but preliminary analysis can miss critical information. It is as likely that we simply neglected to observe a camera that revealed our position as Beacon discovering us personally,” replies the bracelet.

“But we aren’t sure of that, and if we aren’t sure it’s a huge risk,” says Ginny in a tone that brooks no argument. As if acclimated to its owner’s personality the bracelet offers no disagreement. Ginny finishes preparing herself and steps away from the mirror with a smile. Turning to the door, she heads downstairs to where her father and Beacon are waiting. Stepping down the hall towards her father’s study, she hears the sound of low voices speaking in urgent tones, recognizing her father and Beacon’s voices she decides to eavesdrop for a moment.

“What the Hell do you mean he’s alive?” hisses her father.

Although unfiltered by the microphone she listened to him on earlier, Beacon’s voice is unmistakable as it responds, “I thought you knew! I did say I wasn’t the strongest, why didn’t you react then?”

“Because I thought you were joking!” explodes her father. For a moment, no sound comes from the room, and then her father continues in a calmer voice, “Please tell me the rest of the Association knows you didn’t actually kill him.”

“They were there,” answers Beacon in a grim voice, “if you recall, they were almost dead when I got to the temple.”

“Jesus,” says Mr. Napp, exhaustion in his voice, “I understand why you’ve been so quiet these past few years now. You’re staying vigilant in case he returns.”

The extended silence from the room leads Ginny to assume Beacon must have nodded. The sounds of glasses clinking and pouring confirm that the two finished talking for now. Waiting half a minute she knocks on the door and says, “Dad, you here? It’s time for dinner.”

With an embarrassed expression, her father opens the door and angles his body to hide the open bottle of bourbon on the desk as he replies, “Ah, good. Why don’t you head over to the table and we’ll join in a moment?”

Nodding, she smiles brightly at both men, before turning to walk down the hall. Entering the dining room, Ginny takes a moment to survey the lavish space. Two matching floor-to-ceiling windows frame the rectangular room. The table is a massive construct of old wood, large enough to accommodate far more than the mere three people who will dine here tonight. Paintings adorn the walls, complementing the gold-leaf plates and cutlery.

Ginny regards the lush display of wealth for a minute, waiting for her father and Beacon to arrive. When they do, she turns on a whim to the both of them and asks, “You’re friends, right?”

Taken aback, Beacon replies in a querying voice, “Yes, why do you ask?”

Ginny smiles and answers, “Because the dining room is a little ostentatious for friends, how about a less formal setting?”

Trading looks, Beacon and her father shrug, knowing they’re helpless before the capricious nature of a teenager. With a smile, Mr. Napp gestures for Ginny to lead the way. She does so, taking them through the snaking hallways of the Napp family mansion. So large is the structure that even Mr. Napp finds himself slightly lost by the time they arrive at their destination. Of course, Napp has another excuse. Ginny led the pair to the picnic table in the garden, a favorite of his late wife and a location he has neglected since.

Upon realizing his daughter’s aim, Napp finds himself conflicted, grappling with bittersweet memories and yet happy to find his daughter shares her mother’s interest in the garden’s informal setting. Ginny, in contrast, is simply continuing to scheme. She is hardly unaware of her father’s aversion to this location and knows that by bringing him here she can broach the subject of her mother without him realizing she is more interested in Beacon than his own state of mind. The final member of the trio is happily oblivious to all this maneuvering and merely pleased to escape the stuffy atmosphere of the dining room. But alas, such blissful ignorance cannot last.

“Father,” Ginny begins innocently, “didn’t mother used to enjoy this place?”

His expression resigned Napp nods in affirmation. With a winning smile, Ginny beams at the pair as she places her arms in theirs and leads the two down toward the table. The garden table is a far less ostentatious setting than the formal dining room. The chairs are aged plastic and the table itself is a worn wooden surface. But around them the garden, with it’s blend of colors, lends a festive aura that the formal hall’s paintings and windows cannot match. The idyllic pastoral setting helps both the men visibly relax as they sit down and begin to eat what the staff brings out.

Entertaining a few pleasantries and polite queries about her schooling, Ginny passes the appetizer without bringing up the subject of her mother. But when the main course arrives, she strikes.

“Do you like the garden, Beacon?” she asks winsomely.

Smiling back at her, the blonde man answers, “Very much,” he says apologetically to his counterpart, “no offense Napp but the formal dining room always was a little much for me.”

As though the though just occurred to her, Ginny taps her lip before replying with, “You know, I’ve heard mother was the same way. I always knew she liked the garden, perhaps that’s why?”

“Oh absolutely,” Beacon confirms, “Gwenny hated pomp and circumstance.”

“Gwenny?” Ginny asks.

Her father interjects a response here, his tone slightly weary, “Short for Guinevere, and something only her itinerant family called her.”

For the first time that night, Ginny is truly at a loss for words, her mind races, spinning as she considers the implications of her father’s words. Seeing her openmouthed expression, Beacon chuckles lightly before clarifying, “Part of her itinerant family. Your mother had powers. We were part of the same team for a while. Then she met your dad, I fought Hellraiser, and some of the rest of our group retired. When the posse broke up, she decided to raise a family and viola, you were next.”

Wincing at the reminder of her death, Mr. Napp clarifies in a resigned tone, “Your mother had a… contentious relationship with her biological family, and she always insisted that Beacon and the rest acted more like real family than they did.”

Ginny, of course, hardly hears him. Her thoughts remain caught on the first thing Beacon said, her mother had powers. Sputtering she asks with impatience, “What were her abilities? Could she fly? Did she transform?” Suddenly recoiling, she asks with a bit of disgust in her voice, “Did she have any physical mutations?”

“None that I noticed,” deadpans her father. But his morose mood shifts and he can hardly conceal his grin as he continues by interjecting a bit of levity saying, “And trust me, I checked.”

Cringing, Ginny exclaims, “Ewww! Gross dad I don’t need to hear about that.”

Trying to placate the excited teen, Beacon interjects. “She could shape metal with her hands. That power was actually the inspiration for…” trailing off Beacon quickly pivots. “Her power turned her into a bit of a tank once she got enough layers built up. She was also very good with crowd control, creating walls and other simple structures on the fly.”

“Do you know the statue of Beacon in Independence Park? She made that,” says Napp with a subdued bit of pride in his voice.

“No way!” Ginny exclaims, “Mom made sculptures?” Then wrinkling her nose she says, “But that statue always looks like it’s about to fall down.”

Beacon nods before replying, “That was her second passion. She hated seeing how much devastation the fights would leave behind, so she would try to create something to give back after a big fight. It was always a trip to hear her explain the physics behind her creations, even if I have no idea what she was talking about most of the time. Your mother took a great deal of pride in creating things that looked impossible.” Then, with a sly look towards Napp, he adds, “And in how lifelike they were. She mentioned once that your father was very helpful when it came to accurate representations of the male figure.”

Face turning red, Napp hurriedly cuts him off with a strangled, “I merely offered my support and assistance to my wife’s hobby.”

Snorting, Beacon retorts, “From what I heard she practically rebuilt the Terracotta Army using you as the model.”

With his face now a bright red, Mr. Napp hurriedly answers with a mumbled, “It wasn’t… we didn’t…” trailing off helplessly he finally throws his hands up helplessly and exclaims, “Well it wasn’t an entire army!”

Beacon begins to form his reply, the banter flowing between the two friends, but before he can, the far off whine of a siren pierces through the estate. The sound grows until it is readily apparent that this siren is not an ordinary police horn. No, this sound is the long and low wail used to signify dangerous storms, but a cursory glance at the sky reveals no inclement weather.

Frowning, his mirth gone, Beacon gestures and a light shines from his hand. It curls through the garden towards the staff entrance where it collides with a racing bellhop carrying a radio. The radio shines and then lifts into the air, flying back to the table and landing with a thump. As it does, the automated voice of the announcer crackles to life.

“-classified as A1 threats are active in your area. Follow these instructions: calmly proceed to the nearest shelter. Do not attempt to evacuate the city at this time. Do not stop to bring supplies. Do not stop to assist anyone other than small children. If you are unable to reach a shelter, proceed to the nearest secure location. If you are in a home, securely lock and cover all entrances including doors and windows. Extinguish all lights. Do not open your door for any reason. Remain calm and quiet. This station will remain on the air until the end of the emergency. This is a message of the emergency alert system. One or more supervillains classified as A1-” the machine continues to loop the warning as Beacon stands.

Mr. Napp gives him a questioning look to which he replies by glancing down at his phone before replying tersely, “Becca.”

Nodding, Mr. Napp secures Ginny’s wrist and waves the staff over saying, “Alright everyone, to the panic room, and someone grab that radio,” and then turning to his friend, he says, “Good luck.” Napp ends his statement by proffering his hand, which Beacon takes with a smile as he says, “Thanks, and you owe me dessert when I get back.”

“I’ll owe you more than that, when you get back,” confirms Napp.

With that exchange, Beacon feet light up and he begins to race upwards into the air, stepping on the little platforms of light. The father-daughter duo watches him go for a moment before walking inside to join the rest of the staff on their way to the underground bunker. While they may have exchanged a promise to continue the meal, both sides understand that survival is never a guarantee in the world of superheroes, especially against the likes of Becca.

Join us next week, dear reader, as Becca pushes Liberty City to the brink in… “She Walks!”