The half commercial, half residential St. Louis Street through-way just north of the French Quarter glowed with the bizarre contrast of a sunlight from the east and looming storm clouds to the west. Shadows punctuated the corners of staircases and cast long fingers of darkness against the brightly sunlit sides of brick buildings. Mo's eyes stayed absentmindedly on the dark sky ahead of her, letting her feet find the familiar way.

Her thoughts were busy with current concerns. Among the overarching feelings of unease over her little sister becoming schooled in hunting the supernatural evils of the world, and the loss of her friend and mentor, King, the forefront of her mind entertained feelings about her last friend and mentor. Paramount was feeding her team faulty information, at least, that's what Snake insisted. And what came next, Mo couldn't help but think how much she hated this part. She would have to look at him, and use everything she'd ever known about him, to tell if he was lying, or if he really believed the information he was giving them. She turned the corner left onto North Robertson Street.

He'd lied to her before, plenty of times, and the worst was when she wasn't expecting it. Why she still trusted him an ounce after all this time she had to wonder. Perhaps it was how deeply she believed that underneath it all he really was good, and that his motives, though shrouded in insensitivity and disregard for the most of the human element, were noble at heart. Mo held on to that hope as tightly now a she ever did. Their friendship was on the rocks, and the only time she could remember it ever being any worse, was the time she had to flee to the other side of the country. And it seemed that everything she was running from was coming to New Orleans to find her all over again. So she held on to her faith in him, even as her mind flooded with fear and doubt. Her feet guided her to turn right, bringing her view of the storm ahead of her once more. This part of Canal Street was lined with the fractured stumps of palm trees, their broken bodies pushed into the median and off to the sides of the highway, out of the way of the occasional vehicle.

Paramount had announced to her that Duke had come to New Orleans. He was a cut throat, old schooled, had boiled commander of the corrupted Adamantine
Arrow, and had been only a year ago, Mo and Paramount's superior. When Mo's conscience caught up with her, and she could no longer stomach the Arrow's new penchant for punishing mortal children's shenanigans by stricter guidelines than the Hammurabi code, it was Duke who'd dismissed her dishonorably, with a sincere death threat.

"Mother fucker... who talks to girls that way?" She grumbled under her breath remembering his words. "If this were 50 years ago, I would shoot you dead on the spot for your insubordination" To that, Mo told him it was just a good thing he wasn't a Time Mage. That was the remark that brought his gun into her face, and the poisoned promise that if he ever saw her again, he'd be all too happy to kill her.

Well, Duke was likely to get his chance soon, that is if the Valkyrie didn't get to him first. The thought made Mo snark a breathy laugh as she walked. It would serve him right, to be killed by the very sleepers he found so repugnant and punishable. And as these musings came upon her, Mo realized that was the part that really bothered her all along. Not the death threats, or the dishonorable discharge. It was that he called her weak, weak for having any sympathy for humans.

Her eyes gazing up ahead at the looming clouds caught at the bottom of their range the familiar structure of a building, vertical metal columns among a mostly glass front wall. Well, what used to be glass, it was still heavily boarded up. Why the American Red Cross chapter in New Orleans thought glass walls were a smart idea she'd never understand.

She approached it with a few last thoughts of Duke finally settling in. He was wrong, Mo decided. It wasn't pity for sleepers that made her weak. It was her love of fellow mankind that gave her the ability to survive her own pride. Everything she'd done there in New Orleans, wasn't just to get rid of evil vampires, or help a few werewolf packs, it wasn't even to save some orphans from the hedge or to rebuild the city. She was there to show everyone that her place in the world was where it needed her most. That was what it really meant to be an Arrow, and Duke had forgotten that.

Mo had accomplished so much in just this short amount of time, and her power had grown immensely. It took time for the truth to sink in, but her desire to help others, above her own desires to be great, was what kept hubris from destroying her amidst the surge of reality bending, soul warping truth that ran through her being now.

"That's why I'm here." She thought, standing in front of the Red Cross building. Because she was Moderna, Bishop of the King's Gambit, Tormentor of the Lych King's Soul in Hell, Scion of the Aether, Archmage of the First Degree, and because the most important thing she could be doing with all her power, was walking into a room where everyone called her 'Emily'. Where she would sit down, answer the phone for an hour, fill in some paper work, and head out with Mary and Mark to rebuild some homes with nothing but her two hands and the muscles inside them.

When she reached the front desk and signed in, she heard it being called from behind her. "Emily..! Em!!" Emily turned to see Mary running towards her, and before she knew it, arms were around her squeezing tight."Oh my god! I heard your apartment burned down! I'm so sorry! Is everything alright?"

When Mary loosened her grip, Emily chuckled. "Yeah, Mar, I'm good." She started to take her back pack off and looked for the zipper. "Actually I got assigned to help build EcneconnI, and the owner lets me stay at one of the rooms up there now." She reached her hand into the backpack and pulled out a folded white shirt. "That shirt you lent me for my date got burned up though, I'm sorry. But I hope this is an ok trade."

Emily handed the bundle to Mary who unfolded it and held it up in front of her. It was an oversized EcnecconI T-shirt. "Aw, Em, You didn't have to worry about that stupid shirt, shouldn't have!"

To which Emily remarked "If you don't need it you can just put that in the donation bin, just thought I'd make an effort."

Mary drew the shirt to her chest as though afraid Emily might snatch it away and toss it in the donation bin herself. "No, no! Are you kidding, this is great! I've been trying to get into that club for a couple weeks, its always packed, and getting shut down. It sounds awesome! I should have dropped your name, maybe they'd let me in."

Emily laughed nervously. "Heh... riiight. Actually its not all its cracked up to be. Gets really loud, and fights break out. Not a nice place to be if you ask me."

"Pffft! You haven't changed a bit, you old kill-joy." Which reminded Mary, "Ooo! speaking of which, how DID that date go?"

Emily blushed.

"AAhhh!!!" Mary squealed with glee, suspecting that there was a scandalous story to be told, and she dragged Emily by the hand down the hall to the offices for her favorite pastime, paper work and gossip.