Location Dual Flame Outfitters

[Katpride]

On a quiet street in downtown Pittsburgh, deep in the heart of the shopping district, there lies an unassuming store. Above the doors to the store, as with all of the other shops around it, there is a sign. “Dual Flame Outfitters,” the sign proclaims, clarifying in smaller text, “Handcrafted Weapons & Apparel.” As if to emphasize this point, a smaller sign hangs down beneath it, depicting a sewing needle and a hammer crossed in front of a flame.

The inside is comfortable, with wooden floors, high ceilings, and a couple of skylights set with stained glass that cast multicolored light across the contents of the store. Half of the large room is lined with colorful clothing and accessories, the other half with glinting weaponry. The two seem to mix in some areas, with chainmail accessories arrayed beside colorful weapon wraps and small wooden sculptures in bins by the counter.

Behind the counter sits an old woman, one of the proprietors of the store, humming to herself as she sews, knits, or crochets in the pauses between helping customers. From somewhere behind her, beyond the half door and curtain demarcating the employees only area, the faint ringing of a hammer against metal emerges, keeping time like an unorthodox clock.

The store itself seems normal enough, if a bit eccentric in its offerings. The woman tending the counter certainly seems to treat customers with the cheerful hospitality of any shopkeep. But there are whispers of a different side to the store. Rumors about how the light stays on long past dark, after the other shops on the lane have locked their doors and turned their cameras inwards. Rumors about cloaked figures, masked figures, people with strange silhouettes coming and going at odd hours.

The Seamstress does her best to fuel these rumors, saving pages in her sketchbook and room in her schedule for any metahumans who may require a more specialized outfit. She does love to see her designs out on the streets, be that fighting crime, causing it, or simply existing. And she’s well aware that the Blacksmith enjoys plying the new generation of combatants with blades and blunt objects, when she can be pried from her forge.

Alas, attitudes towards metahumans change with the tides of popular opinion, and so the rumors remain relatively quiet. For now. But with any luck, they’ll reach the right ears. The proprietors of Dual Flame are always willing to strike a deal with a young meta who needs equipment. They may even offer heavy discounts, for the assistance of young bodies in carrying reams of fabric or metal ingots. Neither of them are quite as young as they once were, and days and nights spent behind masks are long behind them.

Spoiler: Info & OOC

Hello everyone and welcome to your local mom & mom shop for (martial & ranged) weapons and supersuits! Feel free to pop in and peruse the wares, either during the day or after dark. Florian is the lady at the counter, but Myrna is in the back and can be called if you want to talk weapons.

This is intended to be a strictly neutral, no fighting zone for heroes and villains to stock up on or improve their gear.

Also, feel free to message me or Volt if you wanna make some kind of deal outside of the thread, or tie something back to Florian or Myrna as a commissioned piece. Just be sure you run any new stuff you get by the mods and add it to your CS!

 

[Phoenix]

The seams of her beloved suit were splitting. Sam had been wearing the same suit– Gore-tex Crosstech and Kevlar materials, made by her parents– since she was fifteen. The suit had been a birthday gift, one that was supposed to start a blazing and glorious career as a superhero. There had been a time when Sam had wanted to change the way the world looked at metahumans. There had been a time when she and Alice once had big dreams. Now, she looked at the edges of the suit, now almost eleven years old, and she knew that this costume was not the costume that would lead her to the future she wanted.

As much as she wanted to keep being Phoenix, it was time for a change. It was time to become someone new. The name Phoenix was associated with so much bloodshed and death. There was also no returning to being Wildcat, either. Maybe, it was time for something new. Something fresh. Something… different.

Fiacc was the Irish term for “Raven”. Badb was the Irish term for “Crow”. Either of them would serve well for a new name. It meant making a new mask, but that was easy enough done. A suit, on the other hand, was harder. She had the pants and the jacket– both of which she was currently wearing as she ran along the rooftops late at night– but they weren’t enough. She wanted something that would make as much of a statement as the red and black suit she used to wear had.

Maybe something purple, this time.

She dropped into an alley, tipping her mask covered face out into the street. It was empty. That was good. She didn’t want to be seen going into the shop, just in case. She didn’t want to lead anyone there who might cause problems. She had started hearing rumors of the shop through running into other vigilantes and metas. Talk of two older women who ran a shop for armor and weapons. Who stayed open late into the night, who sold to metas, regardless of side. While she couldn’t agree with selling to both sides, it was the best bet outside her parents of getting a new suit made. And her parents, well… that wasn’t a good idea.

She walked out of the alley and down two doors, to the front door of “Dual Flame Outfitters”. Pausing there, Sam looked up at the sign. There were lights still on, just like the few rumors she had heard. So, with a deep breath, she walked up to the door and twisted the handle, testing it. If it was unlocked, she supposed she’d just… walk in? Her hair was covered in her hood, her face hidden behind the mask, so it should be fine.

Though if it were locked, well. That was another story.​

 

[Katpride]

Soft music played from speakers hidden in the rafters, and the lights were still on, but there was no hiding the fact that it was getting quite late. Flo had switched the playlist once already when she realized she was starting to predict the next song before the last one even ended, but now she debated switching it again. Perhaps to something more lively, like good old rock and roll. She doubted it would affect their customers either way, considering that they didn’t have any, but it would keep her awake for a while more.

Florian knew that it was important that they stay open after dark, and so Flo knew that too, but one would think one’s body would sleep in a little later if it planned to stay up so late. Ah, but there was no use pointing fingers. They all knew that they had to get up early to call the people about the gutters, and afternoon naps didn’t quite cover for those lost hours. It was just the way things were sometimes, and Flo didn’t really mind. She was just a little tired, and the shop was as dead as it usually was at this time.

Oh, they got the occasional trickle of teenagers and insomniacs of course, but tonight was a quiet one. Besides, despite their best efforts and many seeded rumors, Florian’s ploy had yet to draw in any truly interesting clients. Moonlighters were a flighty bunch, and they’d only opened their doors a scant few months ago. Word took time to spread. Still, Florian was sure that it would happen any day now, and so here Flo was, manning the counter. By habit, she glanced up at the doors, then started, jabbing her needle through the fabric and into her thimble with an unpleasant clash.

There was a masked girl standing outside. Or a masked young woman, Flo supposed, but someone nonetheless. She appeared to be waiting for something, or perhaps hesitating? The door was unlocked, of course, but Flo set down her needlework and started to stand regardless, just in case she was having trouble with it.

Sometimes people thought it was a push door, or got confused about which side to go in through. It was understandable, especially if they were tired. She fixed a calm, kind smile on her face as she strode around the counter, pausing there a moment in case she was the proud type and wanted to figure it out on her own.
​

 

[Phoenix]

The handle clicked and the door opened. She took a deep, almost shaking breath, and pulled on the door, to reveal a lovely little shop. Standing directly in front of her was an older woman with long gray hair. She blinked at her for just a moment before slipping into the shop. Her old suit was still slung over one arm, and as she shut the door behind her, her jacket pulled for just a second to reveal a much deeper red sweater on underneath it. She felt wrong without it, this late at night.

She let her eyes flick over the shop as she turned back to the woman. Weapons, armor, and clothes lined the walls and the shelves on the floors. The shop felt… welcoming. And some of the tired tension Sam had been carrying around from trying to look for Todd faded out. She couldn’t run herself ragged with that. As much as she wanted to be hitting up more contacts and more friends, she simply couldn’t bring herself to. Not tonight.

After a moment, she turned her attention back to the woman, and realized several seconds had passed in quiet. Sam coughed and in a soft voice, she asked, “Are you open? I saw the light was on. And I’ve heard some things… if you aren’t open, I’ll leave and come back some other time.”

The vigilante cocked her head to the side then, in a quick and almost bird like jerk. Was she wearing sunglasses? Inside …at night? For a moment, she almost wanted to ask about it. But then she thought better of it. Never question the person who you were hoping would make you a new super suit… or something like that. She straightened herself out, but tilted her face down. Not that her eyes would be noticeable behind the yellow lenses of her mask. But maybe… in deference? Whoever this was, it was their shop, after all.​

 

[Katpride]

Ah, good, she made it through the door. Flo clasped her hands over her stomach, staying where she was and taking a moment to study her new customer from behind her prescription sunglasses.

The woman was rather short, and though it was difficult to see her figure under the sweater and jacket she wore she seemed slight as well. Not the typical physique for a close-range fighter, but Florian had seen enough in their time that it wasn’t difficult to read her specialty in the way she held herself. At least in the moment she entered, before she seemed to relax, some part of her registering the calming atmosphere of the shop. Flo let her smile widen a little at the sight. She told Myrna she knew how to decorate. It was nice to see the fruits of her efforts.

Resting her hip against the counter behind her, she waited, perfectly content, for the hero to finish surveying. There was a balance to these things, and it wasn’t something easily forgotten. It was almost nostalgic, in fact, watching the gears turn. Like hearing a song she hadn’t thought about in too long.

“Yes, my dear, we are open!” she replied easily, her smile bright. “I must say, I’m glad you found us. That suit looks like it’s seen better days, but, ah, haven’t we all?”

She laughed, then cleared her throat primly, rearranging her hands but keeping them in plain view on her stomach. No need to provoke those twitchy heroic instincts. “Were you looking for repairs, or something new?”

She had noticed the suit, naturally, but it was difficult to see exactly what might be wrong with it from where she was. The fabric seemed worn, at the least, and there were trailing threads that she itched to trim down, but it wasn’t one of Florian’s designs. She would recognize that at a glance. In fact, it seemed rather… thin. Did it have any padding at all?

Flo squinted, but she couldn’t see any blocks for elbow or knee pads, much less reinforcement around the torso. Oh dear. Well, now she rather hoped that the girl would ask for something new, so that she could be talked around to a few extra layers of protection. It was always prudent to protect one’s vital organs, when one was inviting harm to oneself. Especially with close range. That could get nasty.

She just hoped she didn’t have another Myrna on her hands, with that stubborn ‘I can just take all the hits’ mentality. Heroes, honestly, they always thought that their gumption would protect them from an elbow to the throat. She did love her wife, but sometimes she wondered how they were both still alive.

Putting those thoughts aside, she held out a hand, indicating that the girl could hand over her suit if she liked. “You’ll have to excuse me, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Do you mind if I take a look at what you’re working with?”
​

 

[Phoenix]

Sam smiled a bit weakly at the shop keep. She had a pleasant voice, one that helped to further put Sam at ease. Unfortunately, the more at ease she was, the more likely she was to think about– no. Not tonight. Tonight was business, and she needed to separate those parts of herself. She took in a breath and stepped forward, holding out her decade-old beloved suit for the woman to take. She lowered her voice slightly and let the rasp come through when she spoke.

“Of course. I’m thinking something new, maybe. This suit has served me well, but… I think it’s time to move on. I think I might need something stronger, these days. There’s a lot out there, you know?” She kept her statement just a touch vague on purpose. This place seemed safe, and neutral, but you could never be too careful. “I think this suit is just good for memories and measurements now, unfortunately.”

She placed the suit in the woman’s extended hand, then stepped back slightly, her eyes wandering the store once more. She couldn’t shake the need to be fully aware of her surroundings. Thankfully, her senses told her there was only herself and the shop keep nearby. Although, just at the edge of her range, she felt another presence, and quite a lot of intense vibrations. She couldn’t hear anything that would indicate what the vibrations could be from, but she knew this shop also sold weapons. Thankfully, she wasn’t in the market for one of those. She imagined that would run her quite a bit more than just a suit would.

Already she was worried about what the cost might be.

She turned her eyes respectfully back onto the woman and swallowed softly. She hated the idea of letting go of one of the last pieces of her old life, but she was more than this suit now. Her life was more than the suit. Her life was this city, was the gym, was To– not tonight. She sighed and smiled softly under the flaming red and black mask. “I’m in your hands, I suppose. I have some ideas, but I’m more than willing to relinquish this to you.”​

 

[Katpride]

“Mmm,” Flo hummed, agreeably, as she took the suit, carefully shook it out, and held it up by the shoulders in order to inspect it. “Unfortunate, but true. It’s always good to set yourself up for success, in any case.”

Her button-black eyes narrowed as she studied the fabric, and she moved to lay it out on the counter, smoothing it down and pinching the sides together where the seams had split. Ah, it was a familiar hell that this garment must’ve gone through. The vigilante had stretched its use for a while past its prime, if she was reading the wear correctly. That, too, was familiar.

She hadn’t realized she had gone quiet, already calculating measurements and fabric patterns, until the woman spoke again. She didn’t startle; she merely blinked, then straightened up, giving the suit a fond pat. The woman she turned a small, gentle smile on. Grandmotherly, she thought, though not too familiar. Balance in all things. “Oh, there’s no need for that; I’d love to hear your ideas! It will be yours, after all. And I’d like to take some measurements from you, if that’s alright. This was a little small for you, yes?”

Gesturing ahead of her to indicate her path of movement, she stepped around the hero and crossed to the door, flipping the sign to ‘closed’ and shutting off the outdoor lights. She deliberately chose not to lock the door, as she normally would when closing up shop, leaving the bolt unflipped as she stepped away.

“Provided you have the time, that is,” she added, belatedly, as she strode confidently but lightly around the counter, collecting the suit and moving to stand by the ‘staff only’ door, one hand resting on the handle. Oh, but she was excited; she could hardly contain her smile. This was everything Florian had been waiting for! “I have a consultation area just this way!”
​

 

[Phoenix]

An easy smile crossed Sam’s face at the insistence that she be involved in the designing process of the new suit. She nodded as she followed the older woman toward the consultation area. For a moment, her face beneath the mask turned thoughtful as she thought about the suit being small. Sam hadn’t grown in more than thirteen years– but maybe it was the fact that she was eating right now, but she had started to put on just a little bit of weight, and it was that weight that made the suit too small for her in certain places.

“The suit only recently stopped fitting me, to be honest. It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ve been the same size since I was about thirteen.” She laughed a little, the sound uncertain and rasping at the edges. “Recently, I started finally putting on a bit of weight again. It’s only a few pounds, but it’s enough, you know? Especially when the suit has seen… much better days.”

She looked fondly at the suit that the older woman held in her hands. It had seen her through so much. She remembered the day she had gotten it, when she had unwrapped one of the only two presents that year. The hard work her parents had put into custom making it for her. Her retired CIA parents, one a tailor now and the other a tactical gear store clerk. The excitement she had felt, especially because it was an acknowledgement from them that she was ready in their eyes.

“I’d like to request the suit have a bit of flexibility to it, if possible, since I’m hoping to put on a bit more weight. I’ve been underweight my whole life, and I think I should fix that.” She paused, then with a bit of hesitancy, continued. “By the way, what should I call you?”​