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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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"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.

OK, there's only one way to respond to that.

"Who's Jo?"

"Short, dark-haired, likes finding food, you probably won't know her."

Sparrow eyes him through the shades and puts her hands on her hips.

"Do you know anything useful?"

"If I did, I'd keep it to myself."

"Well, gee, thanks."

First she gets stuck in the middle of a post-apocalyptic Canada, then she has to deal with the crazy diappearing girls and the buttwads. Sparrow hates this world.

And now she also has to deal with...

...well, it sounds like the demented offspring of a motorcycle and a steam locomotive.

It also sounds like it's approaching rapidly from the northwest.

It is both of those things, in fact.

"That should be Jo now."

Sparrow rocks back on her heels. And then rocks forward again because she has sidekick-syndrome that seems to do horrible things to your achilles tendons. But her thumbs are hooked into her Clawbelt with interest.

SOMETHING WITH AN ENGINE.

Something with a steam engine.

BUT STILL.

Jo rounds the corner, spots Griff, and puts away her Digivice.

She's still a little far for shouted greetings, but Pakamon waves as Josephine crouches over the brass-and-chrome handlebars of her steampunk motorbike.