Location: Salt Lake City Date: August 20 2010
Since we came back to civilization, with hot showers and the internet, I did my best to avoid reading anything about myself, about Canary. I even purposefully avoided going on PHO and was smart enough not to use any of my old accounts.
Still, it was hard to ignore it completely. There was hysteria; there was a witch hunt. Unintentionally, I caught snippets on the TV news, in newspapers, and even from bystanders talking about it.
The general vibe I got was that I was a villain on my way to join the S9, or at least on the same level as Heartbreaker, and needed to be caught immediately and dropped into the Birdcage.
One thing was for sure: while we were camping in Eldorado National Forest, they sped up my case. Not only was I sentenced to the Birdcage in absentia, but the PRT also expedited a Kill Order in my name.
The actual fuck.
At least Minato managed to lift my spirits a bit by telling me that he had a "flee on sight" record in their Bingo Book, and now I was getting closer to his reputation.
When I finally calmed down, I decided they could all go to hell. I will live my life the way I want, and no one will dictate who I should be.
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Location: Salt Lake City Date: August 26 2010
It took me only a week to find the local musical community and bands that performed in the city. A few late-night bar visits, concerts, and gatherings in the park for open-air shows, and I was in the know.
Fortunately for me, one band needed a temporary replacement for their singer, who had gotten into some trouble. They had scheduled and paid for events they needed to attend.
I was in my "Susan" disguise, wearing a heavy leather jacket over a purple T-shirt with "Deep Purple" written in white across my chest, along with jeans and black boots.
I walked through the halls of a sound recording studio, looking for room 9. We had agreed to meet there today so they could see if I could live up to my promises.
I didn't even bother knocking on the door, knowing they wouldn't hear anything from outside, and just walked in.
They were in the middle of playing Skillet's "Monster." I felt at home right at that moment.
"Stop, guys, stop!" said the drummer. "I think our new singer is here," he pointed at me with his drumsticks.
"Hey, guys!" I waved at them. They all greeted me, while the guitarists ignored everyone and started to tweak the tuners.
"So, you're Susan, right?" the drummer asked, and without a pause continued, "Well, let's not waste time. Grab a mic. You know 'Monster,' right?" At my nod, he just continued, "Well, we play, you sing. If we like you, you're in. Got it?"
Instead of answering, I grabbed a mic, dropped my jacket on the nearest table, and challenged, "Gimme a beat."
When I started, I didn't realise how much of my situation I had locked inside, and with the first few words, it all poured out.
And maybe I don't have my powers anymore, but my emotions were always with me, and they came OUT in waves.
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When the last chords were played, I felt a wave of calm wash over me, as if I had just let go of something I didn't even know I was holding onto.
It hit me then: since I got my powers, I always doubted my performance. Did they like me for my talent or for what my power did to enhance it? But now, I was ecstatic. I still had something that could tap into raw emotions — just give me a good song to do it.
"Shit," I heard the drummer say, and I opened my eyes, realising I had closed them.
"Yeah, man. That was something. You're in! Susan, right?" added the guitarist.
"Call me Aby," I interrupted.
"Sure, Aby. So, you're good for the day after tomorrow, right?" continued the drummer, giving the guitarist a stinky eye.
"Sure," I replied happily, still half under my own spell.
"Epic! I'm Kriss, and that asshole is Duncan. The silent guy on bass is Rogers. Let's talk shop. For the gig we have..."
It was fucking nice to be around my people again.
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