Patrice swung through the night sky effortlessly, acrobatic and beautiful, her cloak snaking out behind her. None would see her from the ground and if perchance they did she might be mistaken for a giant bat or one of the gargoyles that guarded high places. The tall spires of the Gothic architecture made perfect anchors for her sticky-whips and she flew through the air covering ground faster than most horses.

Setting her sights on the Cathedral of Rouen, she anchored herself to one of the gruesome looking gargoyles and pulled herself up to the open ledge. Crouching against a blue stained-glass window she looked out. The city spread itself before her, and as always, she was captivated by its beauty. Shadows hid the ugly and moonlight accentuated the beauty. She didn’t know what brought her out tonight. There was a vague sense of danger in the air that left her keyed up and ready to do something.

Each time she felt this way, there was someone that needed her help. Who was it tonight and what did they need?