the new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book

[swingatshadows]

Okay, so it's a new year. Mostly. We're already over a week in, but to be honest, I've never been the best at staying on top of the times, and I've also never really been one for fixating on holidays. I don't even have any resolutions for the new year.

I only make a point of it now because with the turn of the year, it feels like I'm obligated to pause and reflect. Slow down. Think about where I want to go. Except... here, it doesn't feel like I've got much choice in the matter. No way of finding my family. No way of settling differences and misunderstandings. So, what's a girl to do?

Swinging through the chilly air of Darrow at night had become almost a routine for Cindy in recent weeks. Back home, holidays were typically a time when work slowed down, when accidents sometimes went on the rise but purposeful crime always took a dive — because even criminals had other things they wanted to do for the holidays.

In Darrow, things were different. The city had a way of turning days otherwise filled with good will into chaos, of turning parties upside down and throwing new and unfamiliar creatures on the unsuspecting population. Cindy's silk-sense had been going wild, between large scale invasions and the smaller, but equally dire matter of literally binding mistletoe, and so while she couldn't say that she was producing articles with as much regularity than before, patrolling kept her busy.

It was a welcome distraction for a woman who didn't want to think too much about her own life and welfare. Maybe it wasn't wise that she hadn't reached out to find a therapist yet in the city. Maybe she should have researched the local labs, check in now and again, figure out a way to conduct regular physicals without raising too many alarm bells with the local physicians. But motivation was lacking, waning further by the day. Why go through the tiresome process of finding someone she was able to talk to when there were people who benefited from her presence almost on a weekly basis?

She quickly turned to look westward as a telltale tingle settled in her scalp, flicking out another thick rope of web with her fingers and tugging hard to accelerate. The tingle was subtle for now, which usually meant the danger wasn't fatal, but Cindy knew that even the most farfetched of dangers didn't necessarily mean that she could buy any extra time.

After spotting a group trailing after a man walking in the distance, Cindy quickly dropped to the sidewalk, keeping her footfalls quiet as she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. Sometimes, her sense was set off by simple misunderstanding and panic. Better to make sure she knew who actually deserved it before she started throwing punches.

Comments

[privateperson]

It's only the middle of January, but Harold is still already looking forward to the weather growing warmer. The winter cold in Darrow is very similar to what it'd been like in New York, and Harold isn't fond of scalding heat either but a happy medium would suffice, especially during times like these when he's walking to the warehouse late in the evening. His coat is wrapped tight around him and the dapper tweed suit he's wearing underneath it doesn't lend itself to helping much with keeping him warm, though his checkered scarf and brown, leather gloves are at least doing their jobs relatively well.

It's his own fault for calling a meeting in the first place. He'd asked John and Karen to meet him at the warehouse an hour from now, though he's headed there early just to prepare a bit for what he wants to discuss with them. The team has been doing small jobs as of late, nothing particularly notable, which Harold supposes he should consider a good thing. Still, he's been keeping an ear close to the ground because he knows that in a city like this, one with so many secrets, there has to be something stirring. New Year's Eve, for example, though he'd thankfully left before what had happened, couldn't have been predicted; unless, Harold thinks, it could have and nobody was paying close enough attention.

The past couple weeks, his mind has been occupied by what information he's gathered about an organization called K.I.R.I.N. It's been quiet for a considerable amount of time but defunct. Harold knows better than most that it's only a matter of time before an organization like that rears its ugly head. That's why he's called John and Karen to help tonight. John is his most trusted ally, his closest friend, and there's nobody better to help him with researching more about K.I.R.I.N. than Karen. Once they have more information, they'll call in Dutch and Peggy, inform them of what's going on; but for now, Harold thinks the fewer of them involved, the better.

That's always been the case.

He's only ten minutes away from the warehouse when he notices the murmurs coming from behind him. Harold doesn't look over his shoulder, knows better than to do that, but the murmurs don't stop and then they grow closer. His limp prevents him from speeding up much faster than he's already been walking, if only to escape from the cold sooner, and he can feel his stomach churn when someone finally calls out to him.

"Hey, old man. Hey, I'm talkin' to you, what's the rush?"

Harold's reaching for his phone when a hand falls on his shoulder, roughly pulling at him, and the grip he has on his phone loosens as his hand is forced from his pocket. The phone clatters to the ground, skidding just a couple feet away, and Harold sets his lips in a thin line as he peers up at the young man who's still holding onto his shoulder.

"I'll have to kindly ask you to let go of me," Harold says, admittedly impressed by his own ability to maintain his composure. He's certainly been under much higher pressure than this in far more dangerous situations but then again, Harold had generally been dealing with people a good deal smarter than this group seems to be.

He can see another man eyeing his coat, another stepping toward his phone, and it strikes him as mildly humorous that in all his years of living in New York, he'd never once been mugged. Not until now. Not until arriving in Darrow.

"And I'll have to ask you to hand over your wallet." This one's the leader, Harold imagines, though he's not a very good one. "If you've got anything else that'll earn us a few extra bucks, we'll go ahead and take that, too."

[swingatshadows]

Generally, acquaintances or friends who wanted to catch up with one another on the sidewalk would at least attempt to call out the other person's name. None of that happened during this encounter, which led Cindy to immediately start scaling the side of the building adjacent — just out of the thieves' natural line of sight. What she had learned over the past year was that even as powered individuals made the news more and more, most of the time criminals still instinctively looked for police on foot first.

And if one of them got a glimpse of her a bit too early, that would make things more complicated. The best way to avoid undue injury was to leverage the element of surprise.

Three men. Not too difficult. Peter would have had them all tied up in a jiffy, of course, but Cindy was still practicing the art of dealing with multiple criminals simultaneously. Hopefully these three were all indeed nonpowered, as they looked.

She could only reliably tie up two of them — and since her biggest goal was avoiding civilian injury, she aimed for both the man holding onto the innocent passerby and the thief who was next closest. The last of the trio, already well on his way to picking up the phone, she'd just have to track down later. Fortunately, she already knew of plenty of apps that could remotely brick a phone if needed.

With her feet clinging to the side of the brick wall, Cindy shot out sticky, thick lines of web, targeting all hands first and pinning the thieves' arms to their sides.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you guys the magic word? Does no one care about manners in this day and age?"

Before they could respond, Cindy yanked both lines, tugging the pair suddenly away from the man in glasses.

[privateperson]

He should've brought Bear.

That's the first thing Harold had thought when the leader of this amateur little group of thieves demands his wallet. One muttered Dutch command and all three of these men would have been taken done within a minute, but Harold had made the very poor choice of leaving the dog behind this evening. Bear hadn't seemed too bothered by it, since Harold had taken him on a rather generously long walk earlier in the day. Still, Bear has always provided him with a sense of security, particularly in John's absence, and Harold supposes he won't be going very many places without the dog in the near future.

That's as far as he gets in his thoughts, though. Before he can even respond to the leader's demand, there's a strange, speeding hiss audible in the air and in what seems to be the blink of an eyes, two of the thieves, the ones closest to him, become incapacitated in a manner Harold's never seen before. At the sound of his rescuer's voice, Harold shifts his body to get what turns out to be a very poor look at the woman whose features are shrouded by a mask or scarf or whatever it is that she's made impeccable use of to disguise herself. The men are pulled away then, both of them yelping in a way that would be humorous if not for the gravity of the situation, and Harold locks eyes with the third perpetrator who now carries the dropped phone in his hand.

The third man falters, as if he trying to decide his best course of action, and Harold is briefly awed by how unprepared the man is in the absence of his leader. That awe doesn't last long.

The man lets out something akin to a growl before charging toward Harold, who holds his hands out in front of him as he stumbles back with difficulty. With the woman occupied by the other two thieves, it seems rather obvious that Harold will have to deal with this himself. The only problem is, he's not quite sure how much he'll be able to do.

The crash between their bodies is painful, it knocks the wind out of him, and they both fall to the ground with a grunt. Bearing the weight of his assailant is somehow far worse than the initial impact, though the man above him seems to be sufficiently out of sorts, too. Without much of a second thought, Harold pushes the man off as best he can before slamming an elbow into the man's nose as hard as the distance between them will allow. A satisfying crack sounds, then a wail of pain, and Harold scrambles away from the writhing man as he glances back toward the woman.

"I know we've just met," Harold says wryly, "but if you could to him what you've just done to them, I can't say I wouldn't appreciate it."

[swingatshadows]

Are you kidding me? The guy sees that I've roped up his two buddies — and judging by the look on his face, getting roped with spider silk is not something he's witnessed before — and yet he still decides to go after his target?

Cindy let out an annoyed huff once it was clear that she had underestimated the third robber's aggression, quickly working to combine the ends of the other two ropes she'd produced and fasten them to a nearby street lamp. She had gotten pretty proficient with tailoring her silk to various needs; in this case, the silk hardened immediately, designed to last between eight to twelve hours, which should have been plenty of time for law enforcement to come by on a tip and collect the thugs.

Nearby surveillance footage had probably caught everything on tape, too, loath though Cindy was to refer officers to something that also had her disguised self in view.

Once secured, Cindy quickly reacted to the target's quiet request for help, casting a quick net of webbing over the thief before she ran over to make sure it was tightened appropriately. She almost felt bad for restricting movement, given how painful a broken nose could be.

Almost.

"Sorry, I should have gone for the three, but I really didn't figure this one would be, uh. That much of an idiot, I guess," Cindy said, at a loss for quips as she ruffled her own hair. She nudged his foot, making sure that her silk was strong enough to hold him in place. "Seriously dude, crime doesn't pay. But if you're planning on subverting the law, you might also want to train yourself to think a little more about self-preservation."

Casting an apologetic glance back up at the target, Cindy used one last, thin strand of silk to pick the man's phone up from the ground, then extended her other hand to help him up.

"You okay? Should I be helping you over to the nearest hospital?"

[privateperson]

Harold's lip purse at that, though whoever this masked woman is, she's only offering to do him more of a kindness than she already has. While there would have been no obligation on anyone's part to step in to help him, she'd been graciously quick about it, even if it doesn't necessarily seem like situations like these are unusual for her.

He's heard of other vigilante-types around the city, different from his own team. Superheros, he's heard people call them; others have referred to them as simply supers. In any case, Harold has learned enough that he isn't entirely surprised to see one of them in person.

"I'm quite alright," Harold insists as he takes her hand. He might find a couple bruises upon further inspection but certainly nothing that would warrant a visit to the hospital. It's fortunate for these men, though, that they've already been dealt with by his mystery rescuer. Harold suspects John wouldn't have left them with any kneecaps, and that isn't something he would have wanted to witness.

It takes some effort to push himself upright, and he stumbles just slightly before correcting his step. He manages to hold back a ragged sigh of frustration, instead exhaling sharply as his gaze flickers between the woman and his assailants. "Forgive me, I'm not entirely sure of the proper etiquette in this particular situation. Am I allowed to ask who you are?"

[swingatshadows]

Cindy let out a small exhale when the man responded positively (or as much as she would expect anyone to, given the situation). A cursory glance over his person suggested no clear sprains or breaks, and Cindy was all too glad to refer to his judgment on any potential internal injuries. Once he was fully on his feet, Cindy held his phone out with one hand, reaching into her pocket with the other to send a tip to police through her phone.

"Yeah, I don't think there really is proper etiquette for this kind of situation," Cindy said with a small smile, wrinkling the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. "But yeah, I — you can call me Silk."

So far, Cindy hadn't become anywhere close to a household name in Darrow, but her proximity to the media had allowed her to speckle her name here and there. Mostly, the stories she allowed to leak were around more mundane crimes: drug rings, theft, carefully stepping around anything attached to KIRIN yet.

"I mostly patrol around the city at night, not officially working for or endorsed by the government here. And don't get me wrong, I respect law enforcement, but I find it doesn't really hurt to have additional pairs of eyes helping to look for trouble."

[privateperson]

Harold can't argue with that. He doesn't quite say as much, merely hums or grunts, it matters very little to him how Silk interprets it. That's not her real name, Harold is quite certain of that, and he can't begrudge her for it, either. It's not as if he's a stranger to aliases, though his own had always been a bit more tongue-in-cheek. Each surname he'd taken on had become a more ludicrous reference to a different species of bird than the last, and he has to admit he's particularly proud that he'd managed to slip in the use of Kingfisher.

In any case, he now owes Silk a debt, even if she may not be the sort to see it that way. Harold can't know that with absolute certainty, of course, but he's always been good enough at reading people. A young woman who spends her time helping the innocent in costume and with an alias Harold has never heard before can't be looking for anything more than the satisfaction of knowing she's doing the right thing.

She's just the sort of person who'd be welcome on the Team, really. Yet another gifted, strong woman to join their humble group of vigilantes? He and John could only be so fortunate.

"Well, I thank you, Silk," Harold tells her, glancing down at the phone to send a short text to John. Was attacked. Had help. Will be late. His friend will worry, to an unnecessary degree, but Harold is safe so he's comfortable explaining the rest later. "I'm Harold. My guard isn't usually down long enough for something like this to happen, but I suppose I've had so few negative encounters in Darrow that I've become just the slightest bit less mindful. I do come off as an easy target."

[swingatshadows]

His reaction threw Cindy off-guard for a moment. Was he annoyed that she didn't give him her real name? It was odd, being in a place where people didn't take the hidden identities for granted. Not everyone in New York liked the fact that masked vigilantes were around and active — Cindy herself had been spared from the worst of it, giving the timing of her underground imprisonment — but at least it was never a question of etiquette. Cindy didn't want the man to feel slighted.

Part of her wouldn't even mind sharing her identity, but ever since she received her powers, it didn't really feel like a decision she could make in isolation anymore. She wasn't her own person. What she could do was greater than herself.

She breathed in, then out, slow and measured. Mostly calming her own nerves. Maybe she was overthinking everything (as usual), and he was simply agreeing with the fact that law enforcement needed the help every now and again. This very encounter was proof enough of that.

"It's nice to meet you, Harold," she said, feeling marginally better that the man was at least willing to share his own name. "Honestly, I feel like everyone comes across as an easy target now and again — myself definitely included. It's easy to fall into a kind of subconscious rhythm."

Tilting her head, Cindy smiled underneath her mask. "Can I at least help escort you to where you were going? Er — not that I'm trying to snoop on your address or anything, just, sometimes I find that people can retaliate pretty quickly. So I'd at least like to get you somewhere more open and populated."

[privateperson]

Harold very nearly declines her offer and frankly, is already chastising himself for hesitating to do so. Still, the young woman is fascinating and so are her abilities, she's certainly the first person Harold has met in the city who's... supered, as he's heard it called in recent research. Rather, she's the first person capable of doing these sorts of things that Harold knows of, and Harold isn't sure whether that makes Silk more reckless than her counterparts. Perhaps she's just more compassionate. She has, after all, more or less offered to protect him from any other bullies who may be lurking.

So he'll guide her away from the warehouse then. Candlewood, too, just in case, though that's bordering on paranoia. It's no particular bother, John and Karen can either meet him elsewhere or they can just push their meeting until later in the night. If he suspects correctly, John is likely already on his way to find him to make sure he's in one piece but regardless, Harold isn't altogether concerned.

"That's very kind of you," Harold says. "I was just on my way to find something to eat, no special destination in mind. I suppose I can't say no to a bit of extra protection." He'd prefer to say no, but John will be glad he didn't. "I just hate to be any kind of burden. It sounds like this must be old hat for you."

[swingatshadows]

Would it hurt if Cindy admitted to how new at the whole superhero business she was? She couldn't see many downsides to doing so. If Harold actually meant her any real harm, chances were that her silk-sense would have given her some sort of buzz by now, and if he didn't mean her harm, a little bit of truth probably couldn't hurt. If word ever got out, better to be underestimated.

Besides, he was putting a fair amount of faith in her, letting her linger around for longer in spite of what he just witnessed her of being capable of.

"Actually... I'm still figuring my way around everything. I'm not a Darrow native," Cindy admitted, slipping her hands into her pockets. (One of the benefits to designing her own costume — she could make sure every garment had decent pockets.) "Also not exactly someone who's been in the business for decades. It's mostly a good day if no one's gotten seriously hurt that doesn't deserve it."

She grinned, the shape of it visible under her scarf. "But bite to eat sounds good. Er — not trying to assume you're inviting me to join, but I can definitely get you from point A to point B. I eat out a lot, so I might even be able to make a good recommendation, depending on what kind of cuisine you prefer."

[privateperson]

Well, that's an intriguing concept. Sharing a meal with his defender, while certainly not at all expected, doesn't sound entirely unpleasant. It does put a bit of a kink in his plans for the evening, but Harold supposes another delay wouldn't harm much. If anything, John may even join in with Karen, if he feels secure enough to do so, which Harold can't say he'd mind. It isn't that he's suspicious of Silk, not after what she's done to help him and earnestness with which she speaks, but there's a bit of an idea blooming in the back of his mind and sharing it with his friend seems like a good plan.

In any case, Harold does need to understand more about her to put any said ideas into play so he lets out a thoughtful hum, as if he's weighing his options.

"I wouldn't say no to the company," he tells her, "if you don't mind providing it. You're still wearing your, er, costume and eating with me would, of course, mean revealing what's underneath your scarf. It's not my own privacy I'd be worried about." A fib. "In any case, I'm new enough to Darrow myself so I don't know very many people yet." Another fib. Half of one, anyhow. He's just not particularly social. Inviting Miss Carter out for casual dinner, for example, isn't high on his list of priorities. "What do you think?"

[swingatshadows]

"Uh."

Crap. He expected me to take off my scarf? Is it weird that he assumed I would, or is it weird that I didn't offer?

Cindy rubbed at her forehead as she considered the proposal. Somehow, she felt like she was being outmaneuvered, almost as though she were playing a game of chess. Not everyone really played up the interest in seeing her face and knowing her full identity — she'd been able to share drinks with Han freaking Solo without losing the privacy her scarf gave her — but Cindy couldn't exactly blame someone for being curious.

"I mean, switching out of my overall costume isn't an issue, though I thought maybe I'd still keep the scarf..." Cindy said, though the words sounded even more ridiculous once they were out in the air. After all, Han Solo was in charge of his bar, and it was after closing; if there was any venue in which she'd be allowed to keep her privacy about her, it was that bar. But any place that offered decent cuisine (and something about Harold suggested that he would, indeed, prefer decent fare) probably wouldn't take kindly to Cindy obscuring her face.

She pressed her lips together.

"No, you're right, I'd have to take off the scarf. Uh."

Eh, screw it.

"Sure, why not? Just... no pictures."

[privateperson]

It's a fair request, Harold supposes, even if he hadn't intended to take any photos of her in the first place.

"I'm not an enormous fan of having my picture taken myself," Harold tells her with a wry smile.

That's mostly due to the fact that he'd spent many years trying to make sure nobody ever found out he was alive, but that's not something he has any interest in discussing with Silk. Perhaps it's a bit unfair, that he should know her identity when she's trying to keep it secret, but he supposes he hasn't quite gotten used to the concept of trust yet. Certainly not with someone who's still a stranger.

"How do you feel about Thai?" he asks. "There's a quiet, little place just up the street. The lights are kept relatively dim in the evenings and there isn't much traffic in and out, the employees mostly keep to themselves once the food is made. Considering the circumstances, I think it would be one of our better options."

[swingatshadows]

"Thai sounds great," Cindy smiled, feeling comforted by the fact that Harold was more than willing to find a place that fit Cindy's needs as much as it could. Not that she was necessarily the best at covering her tracks to begin with — but she was pretty sure that those thugs got a good glance at Harold's face, and if they stayed around the area, seeing Harold dine with a young Asian woman would be more than enough for word to get out in the wrong circles.

Glancing down at her costume, Cindy paused, wondering about the best way to go about getting changed. She could always head back to her apartment, where the window was always kept slightly ajar — enough for someone with her abilities to unlatch from outside. But her apartment was on the other side of town, and even with her webslinging, she'd be leaving Harold alone for a good half hour.

Modifying her outfit was probably her best bet. The lower half of her legs could easily pass for standard black leggings, and the top could be covered by a loose sweater dress.

"Uh, sorry in advance if this is weird," she apologized, stepping a few paces back into the shadow of the alley before starting to weave the garment with her fingers. "It'll only take me a few minutes to have something to cover my costume up with. Oh, and I should probably—"

Pausing, Cindy pulled one hand away and loosened her scarf just a touch, letting it fall around her neck so that Hector could see her full face. It seemed like a nice concession to make to soften the blow of the silk weaving. Maybe.

[privateperson]

Silk's scarf falls away, leaving her face bare for Harold to see, and the moment feels significant but he doesn't do more than offer a polite smile. Identity is important, some people don't realize just how true that is, but Harold had learned that lesson long ago. John knows it, too, they'd both been running for so long before crossing paths that Harold thinks they'd forgotten how to be real human beings for a time.

After being forced to leave Grace behind, to let her believe he was gone, a large part of Harold had gone numb. He'd let himself stop feeling for people, especially after Dillinger's betrayal, because it hadn't seemed worth it anymore. Meeting John had changed that. It'd made Harold remember why compassion and caring still mattered, and that had carried over to Sameen and Root and Detective Carter. Even Detective Fusco. It exists in him now, that desire to keep his team safe, even when putting them in dangerous situations. He thinks of Karen and Dutch, of how much they've come to mean to him, even though they haven't known each other all too long.

Harold doesn't trust easily but once that's earned, he's fiercely loyal. Something about this young woman, not that she's willingly revealed herself for who she really is, makes him thing they're alike in that regard.

"Take your time," Harold tells her. "There's no need to rush. The Thai will wait and so will I."

[swingatshadows]

Harold's tone was soft, encouraging when he suggested that Cindy didn't need to rush. It had been a while since someone spoke to her in that way. Work was always rushing her to get the latest stories as quickly as possible, wanting to break them before any of the other publications — J. Jonah Jameson's voice was a staple of her everyday office life. And when she was off the clock, her fellow powered humans (and even the administrative staff who didn't have any powers as such) set even higher bars for her.

Since crime didn't stop, Cindy never protested. It seemed that living in a constant rush was a fair price to pay for the sense of staying on top of city life, and protecting innocent civilians from harm.

Still, it was nice to be told every now and again that she could breathe. She offered a grateful smile before slowing her pace down just a tad. Producing so much quality silk in a short period of time was fairly exhausting — Cindy was already anticipating how much she would have to eat to make up for lost energy.

"That's nice of you," she grinned. "And you're... remarkably calm considering I'm just weaving a sweater in front of you with my fingers. I guess roping up the muggers probably makes this seem tame by comparison? You can ask questions about it, if you want. Since you've seen so much of what I do already."

[privateperson]

He supposes it is somewhat strange, perhaps even markedly suspicious, that he isn't more perplexed by Silk's abilities.

Harold isn't entirely certain how one can really bring up the idea that the life he'd left behind involved two practically sentient Machines, one tailored to save lives and the other to destroy them. John had told Karen of it, he knows, but Harold has no real reason to discuss it himself. Besides, he still carries with him the slightest paranoia that one day, Samaritan might come to Darrow. If that were ever to happen, it would be imperative to ensure that what they know is kept as contained as possible. Harold doesn't know that he could live with any more guilt when it comes to lives lost because of the war between Samaritan and The Machine.

It's a war he'd designed, whether or not it was with intent. Harold carries the blame on his shoulders.

"Well, it isn't polite to stare," he teases lightly, though he does sober a bit as he considers what he is interested in asking. "I think being in Darrow sets all of us up to be a little more inclined to accept the unexpected. Were you born with the ability to do that?"

[swingatshadows]

It felt easier to be on the receiving end of questions. Cindy never liked trying to hide either of her identities, and having someone who knew more than his fair share felt nice. The only other person in the city who knew of Cindy's abilities and her civilian identity was Theresa, and as much as Cindy liked Theresa, Cindy hadn't grown up with her powers since birth. Coming into her powers later came with its own challenges.

Someone like Theresa wouldn't understand quite as well.

"No, not born," Cindy shook her head, gaze dropping down to her hands as she continued to weave the sweater. She was getting far faster at this kind of work now, even if the results weren't always the most stylish. Speed was more important than fashion right then. "I was a high school student when I was bitten by an irradiated spider, and I guess its... venom, or whatever you want to call it, passed on its abilities to me. Things like being able to produce spider silk, and being proportionally stronger, and being able to scale walls. That spider definitely changed something in my DNA."

She looked up with a wry grin. "But I'm not really an expert in any branch of science, so I can't quite explain exactly how it works."

[privateperson]

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be of much help, either," Harold tells her, though he can't help but wish that weren't the case. Whatever it is that spider had done to her DNA, impossible as it may seem, he's fascinated to know more, to know if it can be replicated. He hardly wants her abilities for himself, but Harold does wonder whether it's something that can be shared. He's already learned about the group called K.I.R.I.N., their interest in people they've deemed Supers, and Silk certainly falls into that category.

They'd wreaked havoc, accordingly to what he's heard. Had it not been before his time here, Harold imagines the team would have played a part in freeing those the organization had taken captive. It would have been an intensely satisfying victory, he's sure.

"Have you gone to anyone who is an expert?" Harold asks. "Someone at DARKLab, perhaps?"

[swingatshadows]

Cindy shook her head, glancing down at her sweater dress as she finished up the last bit of makeshift fabric, then slid it easily over her head.

"I'd be too nervous about that sort of information being misused or leaked," Cindy admitted with a small wrinkle of her nose. "I don't know if you've heard of them, but there's this group in Darrow called KIRIN, and from what I hear, they haven't exactly been kind to powered individuals. And there were similar sort of groups back home. I'd be too afraid of the science falling in the wrong hands, or getting captured and being experimented on."

Wrapping her arms loosely over her stomach, Cindy managed a small grin. "Maybe someday I'll have people I trust enough to use these powers for good, but until then, I'd rather be overly careful than not." She tilted her head in the direction Harold had pointed out earlier. "Shall we make our way to the restaurant?"

[privateperson]

"I have heard of them."

Harold hasn't openly discussed it with anyone quite yet, though he's mentioned it a couple times to John. It's been simultaneously fascinating and horrifying to learn about KIRIN's agenda, what they'd sought out Supers for and what their intention had been with them. Had they been here in Darrow at the time it'd happened, Harold suspects John would have been at the facility blowing out more than a few kneecaps in an effort to help the captured.

"It's better to be cautious," Harold agrees, "even if it may not be ideal." There's every chance KIRIN might attempt to pick up where they'd been forced to leave off, or that another, more powerful organization might follow in their footsteps. Safety in Darrow can be somewhat deceptive, Harold has learned, even if he hasn't had to stay in hiding the same way he had in New York.

"And yes, we shall." He's quiet for a moment as they walk, then can't resist asking, "Do you know much else about KIRIN? Is it all information you've gathered on your own?"

[swingatshadows]

Harold had heard of them. Did that mean that Harold was more involved in the powered community than Cindy originally thought? (Probably, considering she hadn't suspected that he was involved at all.) It made Cindy wonder whether or not the mugging was pure coincidence, or perhaps if there was some other reason that those men had to target Harold.

Not that she wanted to take back the chance she'd taken on him.

"I haven't had any direct contact with them myself, other than with their more above board operations as a research facility," Cindy relayed quietly, enjoying the brisk air as they walked down the street. "But I've heard a lot of first-person accounts. From other people in the city who are powered, whom I've met while trying to track down criminals, or — there are actually some folks in Darrow who were pretty high profile and from some version of my home world, so I've made connections with them as well. I also work a civilian job as a reporter, which conveniently puts a lot of information at my fingertips."

She tilted her head, trying to figure out how to describe her situation. "I guess I'm always something of an information gatherer, and while I definitely like to see and hear things for myself rather than through other people, my resources have been pretty limited here."

[privateperson]

As they near the restaurant, Harold shifts a bit to better look at her, his expression set somewhat somberly. "I needn't tell you that digging too deeply on your own is dangerous."

She's already said she's practicing caution, Harold only chooses to reiterate it because if she's looking for someone to trust, he thinks he might have a rather good suggestion for her.

"If they try again, if they regroup their efforts to finish what they started, they won't make the same mistakes twice. They underestimated the power of those who would fight back, from what I've gathered. Organizations like that, they don't go down easily, nor do they often stay down. You've heard the myth of the hydra, don't you? Cut off one head, another two grow back."

Perhaps it's bold of him to make the assumption that KIRIN will come together to make a second attempt at what they'd done, but the value of what they're after is far too high to simply give up for good. What Silk can do is incredible, there are others out there who have other abilities that are coveted, to have all of it just waiting to be harvested in one place is a temptation too great for those greedy enough to want it for themselves. Power is a weapon, and Harold believes it's only a matter of time before something like KIRIN wields it again.

"There could be more resources at your disposal," he says, admittedly rather cryptically. They reach the door of the restaurant, and he pulls it open for her, gesturing for her to enter first. "There could be more help, if you're interesting in having it."

[swingatshadows]

"Yeah, I know, I guess I just..."

Figure that I don't have anything to lose.

Cindy wasn't sure how to approach the matter of her own sense of self-preservation. It certainly wasn't as strong as it had been before she emerged from the bunker. Realizing how much the world had changed in the time that she had taken to protect herself had made her realize that it didn't matter if she herself emerged unscathed — it was always worse to watch other people be hurt.

"I could be a lot better about figuring out how I can best work in this place. It's just never been my forte, I guess, organizing an effort and making connections. I don't want to say that I'm a follower, but my strengths are definitely my memory and my instincts. I can make decent choices when I'm in the moment; my powers give me a stronger sense of intuition, you could say," Cindy explained, before meeting Harold's gaze again with a brow slightly raised. "Funny that you mention the hydra, though — there's actually a group by that name where I'm from. I've heard that they've got folks around here, too. And I'm pretty sure they chose their name on that very premise, that they're organized and will endure. The more hurdles they face, the more powerful they grow."

She grinned, looking up into the sky. "I always figured that forces of good could operate on that same model. So I mean, yeah, if there's more help, I'm not one to turn up my nose at that. Better to fight in numbers, I think."