Bluejay: The Protégé of Black Canary

Santa Prisca

I lay hidden in shadows for what felt like hours. Crouching, waiting, listening. My senses were at their peak, straining for any sign that I wasn't alone in the dark harbor of Gotham City. The cold December nipped at my exposed skin, and made my breath cloud in front of me. The ground was slick with ice patches, and the dim streetlamps flickered weakly.

I placed a palm on the concrete, taking in a deep breath. I had no idea what my meta ability was, but I was certain I would feel at least something when Dr. Linh arrived. After all, every experience I had with my meta power was my body sensing a physical shift in the air- almost like a switch. I chewed on my lip in thought.

Was I sensitive to danger? No, that was silly. A metahuman power wasn't magic- it was a mutation that was meant to help me survive. There had to be a scientific explanation to it. I shifted my feet as I tried to summon any bit of knowledge I'd gleaned from my science classes at school. I bit the inside of my cheek and flexed my hands, going numb from the cold.

My internal warning system didn't always trigger- only when really big things were about to happen. Like when the androids broke into the Cave, or when I sensed one of Ivy's monstrous vines reeling to squash me in S.T.A.R. Labs. But I was only ever warned mere moments before it happened. Predicting the future was out of the question, duh. But it still made me wonder... was I able to sense changes on a molecular level? Split moments before they happened?

I thought back to my sensitivity to Rocket's inertia belt. I remembered what she said; it lets me manipulate kinetic energy. I watched a lightbulb on the street flicker on and off, my eyes narrowing. Could sensing the shift of kinetic energy be part of my ability? An idea tickled at the back of my head the more I thought about it.

But my train of thought was interrupted by a dull tug in the pit of my stomach. I fought a gasp as bile rose to my throat. He's here. A picture of Dr. Linh standing over my dad's body flashed into my brain, making me shudder.

I stood up from my crouched position, my hand zipping to my pocket to close over my staff. I mentally filed away my hypothesis- I'd tell Dick or Dr. Thompson later. I took another deep breath and ran through my script again. Under no circumstances was I to reveal my friend's secret identities, nor the fact that I was a Metahuman.

That information would just endanger both myself, the mission, and my friends. I didn't need to give George any more leverage or incentive to come after me, or my family. So, my job was to distract Dr. Linh and play along for as long as I could. With luck, Robin and the other reconnaissance assigned Team members had already located my dad on the island.

Time to put on a show, Bluejay.

I retreated from my hiding spot and approached the warehouse with slow, careful steps. I eyed the roofing, noticing how the black paint of the 58 was still faded and peeling. I kept my body in the shadows near the other freight crates, in case I needed cover from a sniper or an attack. But the roof remained empty.

I breathed in, and out, my fingers tightening on my staff. If things went as planned, this would be the last time I would ever have to set foot in this evil place ever again. Dr. Linh would no longer have any leverage over me, and it was going to stay like that. I would no longer be used as a pawn in someone else's game. I approached the front doors.

It was time I started playing by my own rules.

I approached the tall doors, the bullet dents still prominent in the metal. I reached for the door handle to pull them open when the rusty hinges began to screech. I leapt away from the doors, fighting the urge to pull out my bow staff. The doors inched open, slowly revealing the dark form of Bruno Mannheim.