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Flash bang flash

Flash.

The second flash there had meant to hit Bi-Face, except apparently the universe had different ideas. The third flash was an automatic reaction to suddenly being jerked out of Gotham and into some strange place that's other, and Sparrow doesn't really appreciate that.

"What the heck?"

- see?

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Stranger senses the imminent end of her levitation power and hops off of thin air to land with both feet on the ground.

"Sure!"

It's not like she has anything better to do.

"OK, but stay close," Sparrow warns. "I dunno what dangers there are out there."

She has Uncanny Hero ability to detect good guys when narrative imperative demands it, you see, and the blonde is now Someone To Protect.

"And I'm still not sure where we are... huh."

GPS system chooses this time to manage to hack into the satellites still functioning.

"...OK, Canada? An entire alternate world to send me to and I
got sent to Canada?"

Queen's Park, in Toronto, to be exact.

Stranger peers at the GPS, then at their surroundings.

As it happens, her randomly chosen direction was north.

"What's so bad about Canada?" she asks, beaming. "Don't they have snow?"

Not at the moment, it would appear.

Though they might get rain in a minute.

"Nothing but."

Sparrow shakes the GPS again, in case it gives a different answer.

"At least it's the right coast. I'd never hear the end of it from the old man if I got stuck in Alberta or somewhere."

Apparently 'stay close' means nothing in the face of lures like...

...

...what looks for all the world to be invisible butterflies.

Or at least Stranger's chasing something small, airborne, and not perceptible to sane people.

"Hey, kid!"

Yes, stranger may look to be older than Jubilee. it doesn't matter, because Sparrow's not a kid to anyone except Claw and stupid people who soon learn better.

She's chasing after Stranger.

"Wait up! You don't know what's out there."

"Huh?"

Stranger blinks.

"They were pretty," she says, gesturing vaguely at vanished apparitions.

Slight, self-conscious shrug.

"Great, Canada and the crazy chick," Sparrow mutters.

"Listen, it might be all calm and quiet out there, or there might be things with tentacles. If it's really the end of the world, you can bet your butt there'll be people out there lookin' for violence. I can't protect you if you keep running off."

She considers this, and nods.

"I'll stay with you so the tentacle bug demons don't get us."

...well, at least she's staying?

"Good," Sparrow says, relaxing a little as she starts heading north, out of the park.

"You gotta name?"

"Straaaaanger."

She draws the word out with a childlike flourish.

"Good name," Sparrow says.

She doesn't need the Claw GPS anymore, so stows it away, and head out of the park into the city, looking all around for danger.

Stranger, on the other hand, looks around for flowers.

There aren't any.

Wow, it may be that Sparrow's lived in Gotham all her life, but Toronto's dull.

And kind of trashed.

"No wonder the old man was so grumpy, if this is where he grew up."

"Nice museums," says Stranger, but she's pointing to the wrong side of the street.

It's hard to tell in any case; everything around them looks like it's been smashed flat by something large and angry.

Another step, and another--

And Stranger's not there anymore.

Damn seven-league boots.

"Hey..."

Sparrow wheels around, hands unconsciously forming blades.

"Where d'you go?"

She doesn't mean to sound so panicked, but suddenly she's alone.

Griffin and Reppamon have been exploring, which roughly translates as 'getting away from Jo.' Thus, there's been a lot of jumping from ruined building to ruined building.

Thus, there's a very large fox (well. Sort of? It has a mask, and a big, jagged blue blade as a tail, with its own eye) peering down from one of the ruined buildings as its rider hops off it and crouches to stare at Sparrow curiously.

You know what? Totally not the strangest thing Sparrow's ever seen.

"Hey," she says. "You see a blonde girl come through here?"

"About yey high," He gestures, very vaguely. "Blonde, pale?"

"Yeah," Sparrow says, frowning thoughtfully. "Kinda nuts?"

"Nah, haven't seen anybody like that for a while now."

...

"You were totally messing with me, weren't ya?"

Don't you know who this is?

Griffin applauds, slowly.

(He's not the most pleasant person ever, no.)

"What's with the get-up?" As he slides several whistles out of a device on his wrist. The big, masked, bladed fox shrinks into an altogether smaller, less pointy white fox. Where by 'smaller', we mean 'only five foot long.'

"Hey, I didn't choose the outfit," Sparrow says, adjusting the shades.

(They're not just the most stylish part of her get up.they don't just protect her identity. They also have a night setting, a heat detection and a zoom function. But mostly, they're rad.)

"What's wrong with it, anyway?"

"Ask Jo, I'm not a fashion expert." Granted, neither is she, as far as Griffin knows.