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It had been a long time since Angel could leave the office at six. As one of the few lawyers willing to tackle the often strange and absurd laws concerning meta human rights and responsibilities she was often swamped with work. Her moral and ethical stances didn't help either with easing her workload, as she would take cash-strapped clients as well as the rich ones. And it wasn't like she needed the money; her parents made sure of that. So she kept taking clients and fighting the good fight. In the courtroom, of course.

But before she left she grabbed a bottle of windex and went to her favorite picture-frame. Whereas the rest of her legal team would make sure their diploma-cases were always dust and fingerprint free, cleaning them every ten minutes as if any dirt would cause their degrees to disintegrate, Angel took the same care with this one newspaper clipping. In the frame that she cleaned for at least the tenth time today was a full-page story about her and her mother, "Gold Wing," taking on the "Pied Piper Kidnappings."

It was the last, and most important, case her mother ever worked on. Angel was only fifteen at the time; a teen prodigy trained from a young age to take over her mother's duties as hero, detective, and icon. Then, her nickname was "American Angel," as back then Angel's favorite way to shape-shift was to give herself massive white wings which she combined with her father's tech to fight and fly.

But as she cleaned, it wasn't that proud day she thought of. No, instead of remembering her and her mother standing on that platform, full of hope and pointless promises, she remembered the second time the Pied Piper struck.

The first kidnapping occurred in Camden, the second in New York, the third in Boston. A teleporter brought them in while the kidnapping was in progress along with about fifty policemen. It should have stopped that day. Her mother was leading, with Angel in the back, ensuring that nothing went wrong without putting herself in harm's way.

When her mother rounded the corner Angel heard the gunshot. She thought nothing of it. Shapeshifters heal quickly, and they can turn their skin bulletproof. The last thing she expected was for her mother to fall. But no matter. Perhaps she was surprised. Maybe she lost her footing. But once Angel saw the wound, how it refused to heal, how the new skin formed, congealed, and burst, she knew something was wrong. With the rest of the cops chasing the kidnappers, Angel called for help. It was the last time her mother would act as a Cape; as an agent of the meta human arm of the FBI.

Cancer. Her mother had only been shapeshifting her arms and legs because the tumor in her breast interfered with her shifting. Rather than go to a doctor she hid it, convinced the tumor was a death sentence, wanting to die in the field rather than in a hospital bed.

"Ready to go, Angel?" Kitty asked.
Angel jumped and turned around.

"How many times must I tell you, Kitty? Teleport outside my door and knock! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You know it was me," Kitty said, patting Angel's shoulders. Kitty was still in her work suit, a purple button-down blouse and black pants, but she had left her white coat at the office. Her hair was wavy, but calm, and looked to be naturally relaxed, and her make-up was barely noticeable. She could just wear a glamor chip, but Kitty preferred not to, claiming the chip led to nothing but vanity. Angel knew how much work and money was spent on Kitty's hair, make-up, and clothing, but such was the cost of being human. Not that she knew, of course. Angel was a Mestaclocan; a shapeshifter of "Mayan" ancestry, although the rest of the US referred to her as Fey, even though it was inaccurate. Only shifters of the English Isles were Fey. But because that's what English speakers were used to it became the name of all shifters, even though a Kitsune was nothing like a Mestaclocan or a Fey.

"Still scared me," Angel muttered as she wiped the last streak off the frame.
"Ready for a Doctor Who marathon tonight? We've almost caught you up to this season," Kitty said, bouncing as she asked.

"How are you so pleasant now? You were a downright grouch last night, telling me not to call you Kitty and insisting I call you Dr. Thorne; trying to be 'normal' in front of a bunch of meta humans. How crazy."

"It was three in the morning. And it's hard to be grouchy when it involves Doctor Who."

"You're so British, Kitty," Angel said as she put the windex away.
"Anyway, Stephen is watching Tanya tonight--"
"Why didn't you hire a sitter?" Angel asked.
"Well," Kitty bit her lip. She usually had a quick response to anything.
"You're not freaked out by that Piper, are you? Someone killed a bad guy, Kitty. Vigilante justice. And it happened two decades ago."

Kitty looked down and shuddered.
"I won't lie. When all of that was going on, I almost wanted to go back to England. I almost did. But I couldn't get the sort of training I could get here; I would have to hide my powers. England actually cracked down on meta humans due to what was going in America. My... our world flipped upside down."

"Yeah, I know. I worked so hard to find the Pipers before..." Angel sighed and shook her head. "I did my best. My mother knows that."
Angel wiped the last streak off of the picture.
"Let me just lock my office, and then let's go home. You brought the DVD's with you, right?"
"I left them at your house, remember?"
Kitty and Angel left the office. Seeing as everyone else had left Angel locked the front door.
"I do like to fly, but teleporting is faster. So... if you wouldn't mind--"
Before Angel finished they were already at her house.

"You read my mind, didn't you?"
"No need. Any nitwit could have figured it out. Now, exhibit A for why my home country is better than America."
Angel rolled her eyes.

"You don't mind if I shapeshift, right? Staying in human form is so restricting," Angel said, stretching her arms as her body changed. Within a few minutes she had transformed herself into a large, grey cat with a fluffy tail.

"I love how you ask me, then shapeshift anyway," Kitty said.
"Oh, bite me. Humans are so awkward-- hey!" Angel said as Kitty scratched her behind her ears. "I'm still me, you know."
"Aw, you know you like it."
"Just pop in Doctor Who," Angel muttered, purring despite herself.
The two sat on the couch, Angel allowing herself to be petted like a common house cat. But before even five minutes passed Angel's phone rang.

"Can you get that? I don't have thumbs at the moment."
Kitty looked at the screen.
"It's Detective Snapshot."
"Oh. Can you answer it while I transform back?"

Kitty answered, ignoring Angel. Angel had learned years ago that transforming while naked was not socially acceptable, even among close friends.
"Hello, detective. This is Dr. Thorne. Gabriel Rocco will be here in just a moment. No, this is the right number... Ugh, fine. Angel will be here in a moment."
"Ready," Angel said, pulling her bathrobe around herself.
"Sit down," Snapshot said. "I have some... bad news. And you may have a client."
"I'm sitting," Angel said as she sat next to Kitty.
"We found another Piper. The Swords killed him, then set him on fire in front of the police station."
"The Swords? How! They're just a gang!" Angel said.
"You and I both know they're more a group of vigilantes than a gang," Snapshot said. "And I know you joined them, if even for a little bit."
"I was infiltrating them!" Angel said. "My mother wanted me to stop them before they became organized. But then she died and I quit."
"Even so. We brought one in. Her mother, 'Aconitum,' knew you. Does that ring a bell?" he asked.

"A... a little bit. But I can't represent her. I would only do it to trick her into giving up more information about the Pipers."

"That's why she wants you," Snapshot said. "She turned herself in; she wants to make a deal. But she wants to make sure she's not shafted. We want to make sure we get what we need, and we can't talk to her if she wants a lawyer. You know the Swords. You know the case."

Angel sighed.
"What's the girl's name?"
"Blister."

She rubbed her eyes. Blister. Aconitum had talked about her daughter a million times. Back then, her daughter was merely Lisa, too young to have a nickname. But, in a sick way, Blister made sense. It was her blister-making breath that attracted the Pipers to her.

"You guys want me on this case, don't you?" Angel asked.
"On the Swords tossing a guy on fire at us? No, we know what we need to know to convict the people in charge. The continuing Pied Piper case? Cold Case is screaming for us to reopen it. And he wants you in. He knows you're not a Cape anymore..."

"A consultant," Angel said. "I'll be a consultant. I'll hammer out the details with Blister, get her to talk, tell us the rest. Maybe send her back to try and convince the Swords that killing what's left of the Pipers isn't smart, that sort of thing."
Snapshot didn't respond.
"Hello?"
"Just come," he said, and hung up.

Description
It had been a long time since Angel could leave the office at six. As one of the few lawyers willing to tackle the often strange and absurd laws concerning meta human rights and responsibilities she was often swamped with work. Her moral and ethical stances didn't help either with easing her workload, as she would take cash-strapped clients as well as the rich ones. And it wasn't like she needed the money; her parents made sure of that. So she kept taking clients and fighting the good fight. In the courtroom, of course.

But before she left she grabbed a bottle of windex and went to her favorite picture-frame. Whereas the rest of her legal team would make sure their diploma-cases were always dust and fingerprint free, cleaning them every ten minutes as if any dirt would cause their degrees to disintegrate, Angel took the same care with this one newspaper clipping. In the frame that she cleaned for at least the tenth time today was a full-page story about her and her mother, "Gold Wing," taking on the "Pied Piper Kidnappings."

It was the last, and most important, case her mother ever worked on. Angel was only fifteen at the time; a teen prodigy trained from a young age to take over her mother's duties as hero, detective, and icon. Then, her nickname was "American Angel," as back then Angel's favorite way to shape-shift was to give herself massive white wings which she combined with her father's tech to fight and fly.

But as she cleaned, it wasn't that proud day she thought of. No, instead of remembering her and her mother standing on that platform, full of hope and pointless promises, she remembered the second time the Pied Piper struck.

The first kidnapping occurred in Camden, the second in New York, the third in Boston. A teleporter brought them in while the kidnapping was in progress along with about fifty policemen. It should have stopped that day. Her mother was leading, with Angel in the back, ensuring that nothing went wrong without putting herself in harm's way.

When her mother rounded the corner Angel heard the gunshot. She thought nothing of it. Shapeshifters heal quickly, and they can turn their skin bulletproof. The last thing she expected was for her mother to fall. But no matter. Perhaps she was surprised. Maybe she lost her footing. But once Angel saw the wound, how it refused to heal, how the new skin formed, congealed, and burst, she knew something was wrong. With the rest of the cops chasing the kidnappers, Angel called for help. It was the last time her mother would act as a Cape; as an agent of the meta human arm of the FBI.

Cancer. Her mother had only been shapeshifting her arms and legs because the tumor in her breast interfered with her shifting. Rather than go to a doctor she hid it, convinced the tumor was a death sentence, wanting to die in the field rather than in a hospital bed.

"Ready to go, Angel?" Kitty asked.
Angel jumped and turned around.

"How many times must I tell you, Kitty? Teleport outside my door and knock! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You know it was me," Kitty said, patting Angel's shoulders. Kitty was still in her work suit, a purple button-down blouse and black pants, but she had left her white coat at the office. Her hair was wavy, but calm, and looked to be naturally relaxed, and her make-up was barely noticeable. She could just wear a glamor chip, but Kitty preferred not to, claiming the chip led to nothing but vanity. Angel knew how much work and money was spent on Kitty's hair, make-up, and clothing, but such was the cost of being human. Not that she knew, of course. Angel was a Mestaclocan; a shapeshifter of "Mayan" ancestry, although the rest of the US referred to her as Fey, even though it was inaccurate. Only shifters of the English Isles were Fey. But because that's what English speakers were used to it became the name of all shifters, even though a Kitsune was nothing like a Mestaclocan or a Fey.

"Still scared me," Angel muttered as she wiped the last streak off the frame.
"Ready for a Doctor Who marathon tonight? We've almost caught you up to this season," Kitty said, bouncing as she asked.

"How are you so pleasant now? You were a downright grouch last night, telling me not to call you Kitty and insisting I call you Dr. Thorne; trying to be 'normal' in front of a bunch of meta humans. How crazy."

"It was three in the morning. And it's hard to be grouchy when it involves Doctor Who."

"You're so British, Kitty," Angel said as she put the windex away.
"Anyway, Stephen is watching Tanya tonight--"
"Why didn't you hire a sitter?" Angel asked.
"Well," Kitty bit her lip. She usually had a quick response to anything.
"You're not freaked out by that Piper, are you? Someone killed a bad guy, Kitty. Vigilante justice. And it happened two decades ago."

Kitty looked down and shuddered.
"I won't lie. When all of that was going on, I almost wanted to go back to England. I almost did. But I couldn't get the sort of training I could get here; I would have to hide my powers. England actually cracked down on meta humans due to what was going in America. My... our world flipped upside down."

"Yeah, I know. I worked so hard to find the Pipers before..." Angel sighed and shook her head. "I did my best. My mother knows that."
Angel wiped the last streak off of the picture.
"Let me just lock my office, and then let's go home. You brought the DVD's with you, right?"
"I left them at your house, remember?"
Kitty and Angel left the office. Seeing as everyone else had left Angel locked the front door.
"I do like to fly, but teleporting is faster. So... if you wouldn't mind--"
Before Angel finished they were already at her house.

"You read my mind, didn't you?"
"No need. Any nitwit could have figured it out. Now, exhibit A for why my home country is better than America."
Angel rolled her eyes.

"You don't mind if I shapeshift, right? Staying in human form is so restricting," Angel said, stretching her arms as her body changed. Within a few minutes she had transformed herself into a large, grey cat with a fluffy tail.

"I love how you ask me, then shapeshift anyway," Kitty said.
"Oh, bite me. Humans are so awkward-- hey!" Angel said as Kitty scratched her behind her ears. "I'm still me, you know."
"Aw, you know you like it."
"Just pop in Doctor Who," Angel muttered, purring despite herself.
The two sat on the couch, Angel allowing herself to be petted like a common house cat. But before even five minutes passed Angel's phone rang.

"Can you get that? I don't have thumbs at the moment."
Kitty looked at the screen.
"It's Detective Snapshot."
"Oh. Can you answer it while I transform back?"

Kitty answered, ignoring Angel. Angel had learned years ago that transforming while naked was not socially acceptable, even among close friends.
"Hello, detective. This is Dr. Thorne. Gabriel Rocco will be here in just a moment. No, this is the right number... Ugh, fine. Angel will be here in a moment."
"Ready," Angel said, pulling her bathrobe around herself.
"Sit down," Snapshot said. "I have some... bad news. And you may have a client."
"I'm sitting," Angel said as she sat next to Kitty.
"We found another Piper. The Swords killed him, then set him on fire in front of the police station."
"The Swords? How! They're just a gang!" Angel said.
"You and I both know they're more a group of vigilantes than a gang," Snapshot said. "And I know you joined them, if even for a little bit."
"I was infiltrating them!" Angel said. "My mother wanted me to stop them before they became organized. But then she died and I quit."
"Even so. We brought one in. Her mother, 'Aconitum,' knew you. Does that ring a bell?" he asked.

"A... a little bit. But I can't represent her. I would only do it to trick her into giving up more information about the Pipers."

"That's why she wants you," Snapshot said. "She turned herself in; she wants to make a deal. But she wants to make sure she's not shafted. We want to make sure we get what we need, and we can't talk to her if she wants a lawyer. You know the Swords. You know the case."

Angel sighed.
"What's the girl's name?"
"Blister."

She rubbed her eyes. Blister. Aconitum had talked about her daughter a million times. Back then, her daughter was merely Lisa, too young to have a nickname. But, in a sick way, Blister made sense. It was her blister-making breath that attracted the Pipers to her.

"You guys want me on this case, don't you?" Angel asked.
"On the Swords tossing a guy on fire at us? No, we know what we need to know to convict the people in charge. The continuing Pied Piper case? Cold Case is screaming for us to reopen it. And he wants you in. He knows you're not a Cape anymore..."

"A consultant," Angel said. "I'll be a consultant. I'll hammer out the details with Blister, get her to talk, tell us the rest. Maybe send her back to try and convince the Swords that killing what's left of the Pipers isn't smart, that sort of thing."
Snapshot didn't respond.
"Hello?"
"Just come," he said, and hung up.