"Amazing." Ororo had heard stories of the big cities from tribesmen who had seen them, but her sky blue eyes, seemingly out of place in her elegant African features, could scarcely believe what they saw. The towering skyscrapers were breathtaking, while the air tingled with mouth-watering scents from nearby restaurants. Still, the absence of green was disturbing; the cement and asphalt choked away every one of the Goddess's verdant children, while smog and smoke stung Ororo's eyes and caused her breathing to be somewhat labored.

The buildings stretched towards the skies, enclosing the narrow streets like mountains around a narrow pass, or towering trees over the worn jungle paths. Yes, a jungle seemed to be an apt description. A jungle of steel and concrete, in whose thick plants and lush canopies lurked exotic, diverse, and occasionally dangerous beasts, simultaneously exciting and entertaining while cloaked beneath their veil of mystery. Like leopards in the brush stalked the more dangerous denizens of this strange world, and even now, a leopard fell from the branches of a towering tree, claws outstretched.

"Help!" a woman's shriek pierced the air, followed by a horrible roar that Ororo recognized as the engines of one of Man's horrendous vehicles. A motorcycle. Or, more precisely, several of them.

"Goddess!" Ororo sprinted towards the sound of the noise like a huntress on the tail of an antelope.

The sky bending goddess burst through the crowds, to see a group of leather clad individuals beginning to blast down the street, all on motorcycles. Slung over their backs were burlap sacks, obviously filled with stolen items. An aging Asian woman charged from her shop, screaming furiously in Korean. Ororo felt her blood boil. Her culture was egalitarian; men and women held equal say in the goings of the tribe, and neither was revered above the other, but the elderly were another story. Attacking the senior members of the tribe was an unspeakable act of cowardice, and Ororo could have cared less if this applied in the US.

<"Sister Wind, help me to bring justice to these rogues."> A casual flick of her wrist caused the winds to lift the motorcycle gang high into the air like invisible fingers. Ororo twirled a slender finger, creating a miniature funnel that spun them in circles. Her hand motions weren't necessary, but they helped her direct her power, as did the mantras she spouted. Ororo allowed them to drop to the street, a rough, but not fatal, fall.

"Who the hell did that?!" one of the members demanded to know as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I did," Ororo said as she strode confidently into the break in the crowd. The winds that had borne the gang aloft now circled calmly around Ororo, fluttering her hair and dress to give her a majestic and frightening appearance. The raw electric power of lightning suffused her eyes, turning them a milky white.

"I dunno who th' hell you is, but we ain't lettin' no chick toss us around!" The gang members surged towards Ororo, who smirked at their disorganization. She had seen mobs of children who used better formation than these men.

Ororo thrust her palm into the nose of the first member to reach her. She felt it break under her rage, and crimson blood flowed like wine. The man screamed in pain, but Ororo wasn't done yet. Her knee rose into his groin, before she downed him with an open-handed strike. Suddenly, she felt a cold metal viper twist round her neck. The biker yanked viciously on his chain, and Ororo fell to the ground.

"Goddess!" The men converged on her, and felt a fraction of Mother Nature's fury, as the winds tossed them about like dolls. Lightning danced up the chain that the biker held, causing him to spasm in pain before collapsing. Gasping for air, Ororo pulled away the chain and rubbed her abused throat.

"It's Storm!" an older man, clad in an expensive suit, yelled.

"Who?" a middle-aged woman with a young boy crying into her skirt, asked.

"She's a new heroine, we've sometimes seen her hanging out with Wonder Woman, and she's been seen all over the U.S. lately!"

Ororo realized that they were talking about her, and remembered that 'Storm' was the nickname the citizens of the United States had given her as, all last month, she had traveled around the country, seeing the sights.

Unbeknownst to her, a blonde haired, blue eyed man clad in expensive clothes, was eyeing her with mistrust and suspicion. A quick flick of his hand produced a cell phone, as he hunted for a private place to use it.

Diana glanced down at her new outfit. One of the more noticeable changes was that her skirt was gone, replaced by a pair of very short star-spangled shorts. High-heeled, crimson boots replaced her sandals, a slash of white down the center of each. The eagle upon her chest replaced by two interwoven W's, stylized to somewhat resemble an eagle.

"Of course." Diana looked at the two women accompanying her; her teammate Janet Van Dyne, fashion designer and the heroine known as the Wasp, and Callista Domaine, Diana's friend and roommate of sorts. Janet and Callista were friends, as Callista seemed to be with most prominent figures in the US.

"There have already been complaints about your skirt; you seem to enjoy acrobatics a lot more than your mother did and people can see right up it," Janet explained.

"The new symbol is for marketing purposes," Callista followed. "And to differentiate you from your mother."

"What about the boots?" Diana asked, examining them.

Janet shrugged. "Sandals look too cheesy."

"Cheesy?" Diana asked.

Callista and Janet exchanged glances.

"You take this one."

Unfortunately for Ororo, the quiet peace of the town would be shattered, as destruction hurled towards them, hurtled through the skies by flame spitting engines.

Ororo felt the shapes' approach before she heard the roar of their propulsion systems, or saw the sun flash against their ebony exoskeletons. They blasted through the atmosphere, manmade engines of destruction hurtling through a domain of pure natural chaos. The winds themselves took the news of the approaching monstrosities to the self-proclaimed goddess's ears, and Ororo spun, proud face turned up the sky.

And five dark shapes, each towering over the small buildings and trees around her, shot across the sky, their massive shadows darting beneath them. They paused, giants of metal and plastic, their lifeless eyes glaring at Ororo, before the middle one's mechanical voice clicked into action.

"Mutant designate: Storm," the machine droned. "Command: detain and retrieve. Wachters commence action!"

With a simple nod, the winds whirled about Ororo, lifting her off the ground. Breasting the winds, Ororo floated gracefully to her opponents' height.

"You can detain me as well as you can detain the storm itself," Ororo challenged, eyes suffusing with raw elemental power, turning a milky white. In response the creatures' eyes flared with hellish red light.

The speaker was a bubbly blonde in her late teens. She was slim, tan, and busty; the typical beach-blonde one would expect to find in a place so close to the ocean as Georgia, and thanks to the electric beach, they kept their tans all year long. She wielded a shimmering pink shirt.

"Hmmm . . . this matches your hair," Donna Troy said thoughtfully, fingering the light material. Donna was a young woman, barely in her twenties. Her sleek raven hair was styled gracefully, and she wore a black shirt, the English flag embossed across it in golden glitter and ripped jeans.

"But which skirt would go with it?" the blonde asked.

Donna gazed at the selection. "I designed it to match this one," she said, pulling a miniskirt off the rack.

"Thanks, Troia!" the blonde chirped, hugging Donna around the neck. 'Troia' was the nickname she had held since junior-high, and the name of her store.

Suddenly, thunder rumbled across the sky, and the wind began to howl, whistling around Donna's small boutique.

"Oh no!" her customer wailed, flailing her skinny arms. "I spent two hours on my hair! I have a date tonight!"

A loud explosion drowned out the storm, ripping over the tiny town.

"That wasn't thunder!" Donna cried. She turned to her frightened customers. "Everyone! Go into the back room. It's very sturdy, I'm going to find out what's going on!"

Donna hurried to the window, glancing out fearfully, before hurling herself into the tempest.

Lightning crackled from Ororo's graceful fingertips, dancing over the exoskeletons of the lead Wachter, not even signing the smooth black surface. Cursing, she wove away, narrowly avoiding the bursts of energy. A burst of lightning from her tempest revealed to her another aspect of the Wachters. On their foreheads were swastikas, patterned out of skulls. Ororo felt her blood boil as the storm worsened, its winds nearly toppling the mighty Wachters. The air suddenly became electric, lightning coursing from the thick black clouds into Ororo's body until she shown like a star, lovely features obscured by the pure elemental power crackling about her.

"Demons! Monstrous spawn of hatred! In the goddess's name I shall obliterate you!" A massive, blinding bolt of lightning tore from Ororo's extended hands, seemingly a physical manifestation of her righteous rage. This purest form of Nature's rage slammed into a Wachter, tearing through its metal abdomen. It fell to pieces with a thunderous slam. The winds whirled around Ororo, thrusting out in small bursts with enough force to shatter concrete like brittle clay. They pummeled two of the Wachters like giant fists; massive dents forming along the once smooth armor of the hateful robots. They staggered back, nearly crushing the buildings beneath them. One's arm was blown off, the other's head crushed beyond recognition.

Storm whirled about; she was in her element. The rain soaked her majestic mane of hair, the lightning glowing against her dark skin. She exalted in the tempest, and did not sense the net whirling towards her until it was too late. Ororo spun, summoning lightning to rend the net to shreds, but it was all for naught. Before she could form a plan, she was roughly yanked from the air, the long rope extending from the chest cavity reeling her in. She was a proud falcon brought low by a poacher's rifle; falling into the robot's captivity. The slot in the robot's chest slid closed.

Ororo's screams of defiance echoed outside of the robot's hull, the lightning glowing behind the robot's eyes and nearly pouring out.

<"Goddess! Save me!"> Ororo shrieked. Her 'cell' was dark as a tomb; she could see nothing. The net pressed painfully into her skin, and she could feel the smooth, cold floor. A faint hissing echoed through the Stygian darkness.

Bright Lady preserve me! Do they now send vipers to finish me off?

A foul, acrid stench forced its way into her nostrils, proving her wrong. Automatically the darkness pressed in, pushing her eyes into their sockets and crushing the air from her lungs.

<"No! I shall not . . . fall to this . . . Goddess! Give me . . . strength . . . ! I won't give in!"> Lightning illuminated the cell, but flickered away as Ororo succumbed to the gas.

Curling into a ball, the legendary Batman rolled to his feet, bouncing away from the Amazon Princess, dancing like the shadows that were his domain.

"Not bad," he admitted grudgingly.

"You're good for a mortal," Diana replied as she began catching blows from the staff on her bracelets. "But we Amazons have studied and perfected the art of combat for centuries!"

She caught the staff. Since her Amazon powers were as reliant on her mind and spirit as they were on her body, it took little effort for Diana to 'will' them off to make her sparring match with Batman more fruitful. Everything she did was simply the result of three thousand years of martial arts training. She aimed a roundhouse to the Dark Knight's skull, but suddenly a loud, piercing scream echoed in her mind. Wonder Woman cried out, losing her balance and allowing Batman to knock her off her feet.

"You obviously haven't learned the necessity of keeping your mind on the fight, Princess," Batman replied. Diana flipped to her feet, willing her powers to return.

"It wasn't that, Batman," she replied. "It was a telepathic distress call from Atlanta . . . I believe Ororo is in trouble!"

"Storm?" Batman asked.

Wonder Woman had already turned to head out of the Avengers League Watchtower, Transparent Craft in hand. "Yes . . . And I fear that I'll be too late to save her!"

"Hera help me . . . " Diana looked upon the destroyed buildings in dismay, fearing the worst.

"Wonder Woman!" A tall, stylishly clad woman with raven hair sprinted towards the Amazon. "I can help you!"

"Who are you, sister?"

The woman paused, and Diana was struck by how similar they looked. "I'm Donna Troy, but you can call me Troia . . . and I know how to find Storm!"