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Robin, The Nighthawk in "Fire on the 14th" by Roberta J. Cabot This little interlude is set somewhere just before the events of Chapter 45 of the still-unfinished story, “Danny.” This does not materially contribute to that story, but is more like “a day in the life” type of story of the main character, Danny, though, in this particular one, it's Danny in his Robin persona. This story can stand on its own, somewhat, but it would be good to read Danny, unfinished though it is, to get a background on the story and characters (see http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/14774/danny). Note that this is one of “Danny's Other Stories" (see https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book-page/72894/dannys-other-...) and, like all of Danny's Other Stories, though this little vignette slots into a yet-to-be-posted part of the main story, it doesn't have any spoilers, so present and future readers need not worry. Also, please note that the characters Kris Keys, Ray Lomax, Dani Marks, Sheri Kirsch, Heather Davis, Vee, Rita McFadden, Liz Keys, Miss Bonsai and Colonel Harris are from the fictional universe of The Center by Lilith Langtree. No infringement is intended: they have been mentioned in passing, in connection with another one of Danny's Other Stories called "Playing the Part: Counterfeit Crusader" (see https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/29402/playing-part-co...).

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***** (Danny) *****

It was nearing nine AM - still an hour to go before my show was over, but I was already beat. Ever since Mario switched our gigs to Fridays, I've never gotten enough sleep on the weekends. Not that I'm complaining: this was the most fun part of the week, after all. Friday after school, the gang and I would have dinner out, usually at one of our favorite places (dinner would usually be on the band, unfortunetely, heheh, since we're the ones who were actually earning actual money lol). Afterwards, we'd hurry on over to Mario's with our equipment, where we'd change into our outfits (my outfit would be picked out by Danielle, of course), the gang would find us a table to hang out in between sets, the band would set up our stuff on stage, and then when everything's ready, we'd start our first of three sets.

Playing for an enthusiastic crowd was always fun, but the one that would most get off on it was usually Dale, our current bandleader, no doubt contemplating our soon-to-be-realized nationwide success. Heheh.

There would be the usual fans and a growing number of groupies, I guess you'd call them. Thank god the kids that usually showed up weren't from our school (or if there were any from our school, there were so few of them we never noticed). I don't know how... impregnable Danielle's and my disguise would be otherwise.

In deference to my preference (heheh), our songs were usually oldies from the nineties and early 2000s (some from the eighties, even), but none of the guys were complaining. And after rockin' and rollin' all night, we'd wrap up by around midnight, or 1AM at the latest. That meant we'd be home by two, giving me just enough time to have a two- or three-hour nap. And then get up, grab a quick shower, put on the Robin outfit that Danielle laid out for me (which, lately, included a brunette wig), then make-up, then on to the station for my 6AM Nighthawk program, which usually stretches to around ten AM.

Used to be, I'd go do my show just as I was, but after that TV show, I'm afraid Robin was too visible now, just like Dannie, and I had to look the part now when I do my progam.

Except for Tracey, none of the other guys would be with us, and Tracey and I would resent the heck out of the others because they'd all be having a wonderful time in bed, sleeping, while we were at the station.

But that's not strictly true, since we always had lots of fun doing my Nighthawk program (the "Nighthawk" being me, of course, or rather me in my "Robin" persona), while Tracey ran the show as my producer. And given the increasing visibility I now had both as "Dannie" from the band, and "Robin" the deejay, I had to be completely in character all the time, and I mean completely.

This particular Saturday morning, I was in luck because Goodwyn, the station's night security guard, had been rotated to the morning shift (such rotations happened randomly once or twice a month), and Goodwyn was one of the few who were in on the secret. That meant we could be as open with him as we wanted, so I'd usually take advantage and ask him a favor and ask him to get me some early-morning breafast- type take-out food (in our little burg, most of the places don't deliver this early in the day). Mrs. P knew about it, and so long as Goodwyn didn't take too long, it was fine. And it would be fine with Goodwyn, too, since Tracey and I would treat him to breakfast, as well.

- - - - -

I suppose this'd get old after a while, but Tracey and I were still enjoying doing the program, and the people who called in were usually fun and interesting, though we'd get an occassional creepy every so often.

The town's young folk would always tune in to my little program, and, aside from being given a quick lesson in vintage pop music, with songs from artists like The Smashing Pumpkins, Alanis Morissette, Matchbox Twenty, Ace of Base and Garbage (I was told by Mrs. P that we were starting a kind of 90's pop resurgence all by our lonesome), they'd be able to indulge in a lot of fun talk that other early morning programs didn't have.

And, of course, the calls. That was what my program was about, after all.

Currently, I was having some fun talking to Matthias, or Matt as he liked to be called. He called in via the landline number.

He was what was known as a "foley artist." And as I was enjoying my third breakfast burrito and hot chocolate (I took bites during the commercials, or while the caller was talking), and Tracey and Goodwyn were in the producer's booth having egg mcmuffins, I listened to the fascinating work that foley artists do.

These were the people who made sound effects for TV shows, radio shows and movies the old-fashioned way. For example, to accompany the dialogue, Matt would flap gloves around to replicate the sound of flapping wings, or whip around a long, thin bamboo stick to make a whooshing sound, or rapidly shake a large metal plate to make the sound of thunder.

"Sadly, though," Matt was saying, "foley artists are almost extinct in the radio, movie and TV industries. After all, most now have sound effect clips that they can just use for their shows. Heck, you can buy them off the net. Can't really blame the movie people, though. We foley artists are quite expensive, actually."

"I guess that's sad, in a way," I said in my Robin voice. "It's like the loss of a tradition or something."

Matt sighed. "Yeah. I remember my granddad talking about his heydey when he used to do foley effects for a bunch of radio shows back in the fifties,
over at CBS in California, and he'd talk about meeting Rock Hudson, Doris Day and a bunch of stars..."

"Yeah? Wow." I vaguely knew those people, but I'd never admit that to him, especially on air. lol

"Radio used to be more relevant then," he continued. "But I guess you can't blame folks - technology's moved on, and with so many other options available, radio isn't the go-to thing it used to be."

I understand, Matt. But, hey, some of us are still trying..."

"Yeah. That's why I'm glad people like you are still trying to keep it relavant, and keep it going. I guess it's tough to be a kind of pioneer in an old medium."

"Pioneer? Heheh. I'm just a newbie, Matt. And I'm still a kid... well, mostly a kid anyway." I chuckled.

"Don't sell yourself short," Matt said. "You don't know the kind of impact you're making. Mark my words, kid, you're goin' places."

I was never comfortable when chats shift to topics like these. Dad sez I don't like compliments coz I get embarrassed. I guess he's right. "Thank you kindly, sir," I said, making the conversation lighter, and shifted the conversation. "I do my best."

"Hmmm," Matt said, thinking. "Just had an idea - what about I send you my dad's and granddad's collection of foley effects? You can buy them off the internet or in some specialty stores on CD, actually, but I can give them to you you instead. Let's see..." We heard the sound of Matt rummaging through a bunch of CD cases or something. "I can give you a complete set, including a couple of mine, too. Let's see... That makes fifteen CDs chock-full of foley effects. Bet your producer..."

"Her name's Tracey," I said.

"... Tracey... can use them during your show and other shows."

"Wow! Thanks, Matt! What do you say to that, Trace?"

"Thanks so much, Matt!" Tracey interjected via her own plugboard in her producer's booth. She was excitedly looking at me through the window with her thumbs up. "That's great!"

Matt laughed. "My pleasure, darlin'. I'm glad that you, Robin and a bunch of others are keeping things running. Keep the faith, kids. Girl power!"

Tracey and I laughed.

"'Kay, Matt. Thanks for calling, and keep in touch."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Goodwyn open the door to the bullpen and stepped out while Talia came in for her show. Goodwyn was no doubt going back to doing "security guard stuff."

Talia waved through the window and made a funny face, as usual, trying to get me to laugh on air. She went into the "producer's booth" so she and I could segue seamlessly into each other's program without the need for a commercial in between. It's something the two of us were known for during the few times when her schedule shifts and conicides with mine. But since she was a bit early, she waited patiently for us to finish.

"I guess we have time for one more quick call before I turn you folks over to the beautiful queen of the morning commute, Talia Roberts. So who do you have for us, Tracey?"

"Guess what, Robin," Tracie said, "it's our old friend Valerie!"

"Valerie? Ohmigod. Hey, girl, how you doin'? How's the world of Linux programming?" I chuckled.

"No time for that now, Robin," Val said. "I just called to let you guys know that there's a big fire downtown."

"What!"

"Yes. There's a fire over in the Jackson Residential Building."

Jackson was one of the older buildings in town, and provided low-cost housing for many of the town's retirees as well as for single professionals or low-middle class income familes.

"Are you sure, Val? I mean, can you see it clearly from where you are?"

"Yes. My folks and I are in the Wheeler Center for a... medical thing, and we can see the Jackson Building plain as day!"

The Wheeler Center was an office building also downtown. It was a nondescript building, except for the fact that it was the town'a tallest building, with its twenty-five floors of offices and tennants (told you I came from a small town), and, from there you can pretty much see almost all the buildings.

"Gotcha, Val," I said. "So what can you see?"

"Robin, I see a lot of billowing smoke coming from the building, with fire occassionally shooting out from the top."

"Shooting out? Ohmigod..."

"Robin," Tracey interrupted. "I've been scanning the police bands - I don't think they know about what Val's talking about."

"Well, they're gonna know - Trace, call the police now. Everyone - guys, everyone who's listening now - call the police and fire department; dial nine-one-one; do what you can to let the authorities know. Go! We gotta let people know. Val..."

"I know, kid. You're gonna be pretty busy in a while. I'll hang up now and let you work."

"Thanks, Val. You may have just saved a bunch of people's lives..."

"Hopefully. I hope it's not as bad as I think it is."

"Talk to you later, Val." And then I hung up. "Everyone - you heard Val: There's currently a big fire in the Jackson Residential Building. If you have friends who live in the Jackson Building, give them a call; find out where they are, and if they're home, tell them to evacuate now; if you're near the building, stay away, and help make a cordon and keep everyone away; keep everyone safe, keep yourself safe, until the authorities get there; if you have factual information, or on-the-scene information; give us a call here: the number's 555-2878; but if you don't, try not to call to keep the lines free.

"I'm going to turn you over to Talia Roberts in a bit, but, again, let me repeat..."
 

***** (Talia) *****

That kid never ceases to amaze me. If I didn't know any better, I think this kid's some kind of professional correspondent or something. She's managed to summarize everything, got the word out and got our telephone number out.

Of course, she's relying on the word of some girl. Hopefully this Val person isn't exaggerating or just looking for attention.

But, for some reason, I trusted our sexy litle heartbreaker's instincts and decided to carry the ball for her.

"Trace," I said to Robin's producer, "it's still early..."

Tracey shrugged. "Yeah, but I think Robin is planning something. So, would you be okay for me to turn over..."

I nodded. "Yup, yup. Now go and leave already, and let me start my show." I gave her a wink to let her know I wasn't being a dick.

Tracey nodded. She scanned her board and adjusted everything that needed to be turned off or tuned to zero.

By tradition-slash-custom, she got up from the chair and tapped me on the shoulder twice to indicate she's transferring the booth. I nodded, sat down, and gave the standard response, which was a thumbs-up, meaning I'm officially taking over.
 

***** (Tracey) *****

After a quickie, sign-off, Danny, I mean Robin, and I met in the bullpen. "So what's the plan, boss?" I asked her.

"Trace, I think we need to go on-location and cover the fire. People need to know what's happening."

I looked at her in growing excitement. Wow. First field assignment!

"What about the guys?" I asked. "They'll be here in a few minutes. What about our brunch? What about your band practice?"

"This is more imporant, Trace..."

"But..."

"We'll make it up to them, Trace," she said. "I promise. So, let's go! By the way, what do we need to cover the fire?"
 

***** (Danny) *****

Before rushing out, Tracey grabbed a bunch of stuff from the cabinet in her mom's office, put them in a big backpack and thrust the backpack into my hands.

She then went to the receptionist's desk. She shooed me out of the office and threw her purse at me, saying to meet her by her FJ Cruiser, and then she rummaged through the posters and other junk by the desk.

She clearly knew what she was doing, so I just passively went to the basement with not one peep, and went to her Toyota. I used the fob on the keyring inside her bag and opened the doors.

The big backpack was awfully heavy, and I felt a bunch of hard, heavy things with sharp edges in there. I sat in the back seat and looked at what she had inside the bag.

There were a pair of walkie-takies in a box with two earpieces - each looking like a wired iPhone earphone with mic, but with only one earbud instead of two; a packet that had two earphone extension cables; a Canon 80D as well as one wide lens and one really long telephoto lens in separate carry pouches; something that was obviously new and said it was a "gimbal stabilizer" on its still-sealed box, plus a separate "gimbal shoulder mount holder," also new and also still in its sealed box; a square black gadget labeled a "Blackmagic Web Presenter"; another boxy gadget labeled a "Teradek VidiU Pro"; a hotshoe-mount LED floodlight; what looked like a 110VAC battery pack-inverter; a battery-powered amber emergency bubble light with a suction cup at the bottom; and a Lenovo ten-inch Android tablet.

I had an idea what all this tech was going to be used for, but left it to Tracey to tell me. Tracey and Mrs. P clearly haven't thought about equiping a field person for remote broadcasts yet coz this was too slap-dash and complicated. Maybe later, they will.

It's been fifteen minutes already - Tracey should have been here by now... Putting everything back in, I jumped out of the car and found Tracey had already come down. She was currently taping rectangular paper signs with our station ID and logo onto the car's doors.

Tracey explained that she cut them out of a couple of posters for Sally and Harry's program. Anyway, what was left of the posters were a pair of two-foot by two-foot squares that had our logo and the legend, "KRPQ News and Current Affairs" above it. Using magic tape, Tracey taped them to the doors and made sure to stick on the tape flat, and rub the tape down, making it practically invisible and securing the paper very firmly. The signs didn't look jury-rigged at all.

She rummaged through the backpack and came up with the bubble light, smacked it down smartly on the roof just over the driver, tugged on it to make sure it was securely suction-cupped, and turned it on. The amber light came on and started to rotate. She then pushed a button on the dash and extended the car's two radio antennae from the car's roof. She wasn't really going to listen to the radio, I'm sure, but did it to make the car look more... newsy, I guess.

"Et voila!" Tracey said. "Instant news van!"

I looked at her and the car with admiration.

"Well?" she said after jumping in. "Get in already!"

"Yes, ma'am!" I said, grinning while I saluted, and jumped in.

"Don't tell mom but I got a police scanner," she said. "She won't be too happy about it." She sped up the ramp, then out onto the street, and then started to drive towards the Jackson Residential Building. "It's what I used upstairs earlier."

I nodded, accepting the rectangular device that was the size and general shape of an old-timey transistor radio, complete with antenna. I turned it on and tuned it until I got the police band for our local area, and we listened in.

"Dispatch, dispatch," someone said on Tracey's police scanner, "the fire's really getting bad. ETA on the fire department?"

"Fire department says they're on route - fifteen to twenty minutes maximum, Roy," the dispatcher replied.

"Thanks, Sheila. But you better ask them to step on it. The fire's starting to come down. It's on the fifteenth now, but it'll spread to the foureenth and thirteenth any minute."

"Relaying your message, Roy. The chief sez they're doing their best. How's the evacuation?"

"Pretty slow - the building's full of residential folks, with a lot of elderly people and kids, so you know how that can be. But we got the top floors evacuated already."

"Good work, Roy. Hang in there. I'm sending over more backup."

"Thanks, Sheila."

From there, we could hear Shiela the dispatcher calling in more police, and several of them responding. Small town police were very casual.

In minutes, we were there, and screeched to a stop at the police barricade.

Tracey handed me a three-by-four card attached to a lanyard, plus an ID holder with a pin. "Put the lanyard around your neck, and slip your ID in there," she said. "That way, the cops will know that we're legit. Here." She also handed me the broken wireless mic from the booth, but it now had a cardboard cutout pasted on it that said "KRPQ." Just like those mics you see reporters use.

I looked and Tracey was wearing a lanyard as well, and her ID was clipped to her leather jacket. The white card on her lanyard said "PRESS - KRPQ Radio" in big red letters, just like mine.

I grinned. Seems Tracey had been working on the computer and the printer while I was rummaging through her pack.

"Tracey?" I said, "you know this mic's busted. How..."

"That's just for show, Danny, oh, I mean Robin," she giggled. "You'll actually be using this."

She got one of the little walkie-talkies I saw earlier. She switched it on, fiddled with its keypad for a bit and plugged in one of those earphones. She had me turn, clipped the radio to the back of my jeggings, and I put the earphone into my left ear, the little mic was just at the right point so it could pick up my voice. With the walkie and the earphone's wire underneath my fancy borrowed jacket, I knew they wouldn't be too noticeable.

"Okay," Tracey said, and started to explain: "It's been encrypted - no one will be able to understand our talking. It's a two-channel walkie and it's gonna be permanently on, meaning I will hear everything you say, and you will hear everything I say. And everything we say will go directly on the air unless I press this button." She demoed on her own radio. "So watch what you say. And use the wireless microphone like a prop so you can act like a TV reporter."

"Will you be able to pick up other people's voices?"

The walkie's earphone pickup has a minimum three foot radius, so whoever's in front of you, I will hear. Just make sure you're facing them, 'kay?"

I breathed deeply, trying to calm my nerves.

"Okay," I said finally. "I'm set. How 'bout you?"

Tracey had the Canon camera mounted on the "gimbal stabilizer," which was mounted on the shoulder thingie which was, in turn, straped to her shoulders. A wire went from the camera to the backpack, which she was wearing on her back. There was also a wire going from her walkie-talkie into the backpack (the walkie-talkie was clipped onto the shoulder thingie's harness), and she was wearing the earphone. Undoubtedly, the rest of the equipment was in the pack and running.

She was talking to Morgan on her smartphone's hands-free speakerphone.

"Morgan, I'm going to have the streaming video up. Be sure to have the link running on the website. You call me if there's an issue. Be sure to coordinate with Talia, okay?"

"Got it Trace," Morgan replied. "Anything else?"

"Have her announce us on the air, and get her tech to have the audio from the streaming video spliced into her board."

"I got Jerry on it."

"Great. Signing off now!" She clicked off her phone. "I'm set," she said to me. "Let's go!"

We stepped out and started making our way to the policeman who seemed to be in charge, all the while she had the camera pointed at me and I had the fake mic out.

"I take it Morgan's at the station?" I asked.

"Yes. The whole gang, in fact. They arrived while I was printing. I explained to them what we were doing and where we were going, and they promised sit tight at the station until we're back." Tracey pulled the tablet out of the backpack and tapped on the screen. At the moment, I saw on the tablet that there was a static picture of the station's logo on the streaming video channel.

"Okay, Robin," she said. "I'm going to start it in five, four, three, two..." and then she pointed at me.

"Hello, everyone," I said into Tracey's Canon EOS camera, "this is the Nighthawk, live on streaming video. We're currently here at the Jackson Residential Building a few minutes from KRPQ headquarters, where a fire has broken out. I'm here with officer..."

I turned to the policeman in front of me, holding out my fake mic.

"Sergeant Roy Gibbons, miss."

"Sergeant Gibbons, can you tell us what exactly's happened?"

"Well, about twenty or thirty minutes ago, we received a call from a concerned citizen and he said that a fire had broken out on the top floor of the building." (I wisely held my tongue and didn't say that it was my program that got these people to call them) "As far as we know at the moment," Sergeant Gibbons said, "it was mostly accidental in nature."

Tracey had moved in to get a better two-shot.

"How about the evacuation, Sergeant Gibbons?" I asked.

"It's slow going," he said. "It's a residential building, and there are a lot of children and old folks, and the fact that the building only has a few elevators and only two fire escape stairwells is impeding the evacuation."

"Is there any way to speed that up?" It was very frustrating for me to just listen. I wanted to help, but I knew I'd just get in the way.

"Not really," Roy said, "although as soon as the fire department arrives, the spread of the fire will be under control."

"The fire department isn't here yet?"

"There's a problem - the town only has one fire department, and it's at the farthest end of the town from here. Their ETA is fifteen minutes."

"Won't that be too late by then?"

"Oh, no. The building's within code so..."

At that moment, there was a scream from the bystanders, and we all looked up.

I turned back to Tracey's camera. "It seems that, from what we can see, a large portion of the building's upper floor has just collapsed, and burning embers and debris have started to fall on the street. No one has been hurt so far, and the burning debris are being put out by the police and some of the bystanders..." Tracey got shots of the people as well as shots of the roof. She had on the wide lens at the moment, so the roof shots would probably not be too nice.

The air was suddenly filled with the wailing of fire truck sirens. I gestured to Tracey, and she got good footage of the arriving fire trucks while I did some monologuing.

Someone from the lead truck jumped down and started directing the firemen. The first thing that they did was connect their hoses to the fire hydrants, and as soon as that was done, firemen climbed up to the ladders - one to each ladder - and hung on as the ladders extended upwards. However, the ladders didn't reach high enough - at their maximum extension, they only reached approximately as high as the twelfth floor.
The firemen on the ladders switched on the fire hoses mounted at the end of the ladders. They started spewing out a steady stream of water, but with only two of them, plus the fact that they were a little lower than where the fire currently was, they were hard put to properly cover the fire.

As all this was happening, I gave a blow-by-blow, and I did my best to channel Anderson Cooper, that is, if Scarlett Johansson was playing Anderson Cooper in a movie... However, what I really wanted to do was help. But I knew I'd just be getting in the way if I did.

"As two firefighters spray the blazing sections of the building," I said in my best Robin voice, "several are keeping people away since debris dislodged by the water may hit them. All the other firefighters have started to enter the building while police continue the evacuation. Let's see if we can find out what the fire department has planned."

I started making my way to the chief. As soon as I got near, the chief noticed me.

"What do you want?" He said gruffly.

"Hello, Chief?..."

"I'm Fire Battalion Chief Nelson Smith."

"Good morning, Chief Smith. I'm Robin. I'm from KRPQ radio..."

"Just call me Smitty. Everyone does. You're from KRPQ?" He looked me up and down.

"Ummm, yes, sir."

"Hmmm. Would you happen to be the Nighthawk?"

"Ummm, yes again?..."

"My daughter's a big fan."

"Ahhh, that's good to hear, sir."

"And I'd like to thank you for raising the alarm. You may have saved some people. Well, young lady, make it quick - we're very busy, as you can see."

"Ah, yes, sir. I was just going to ask what your plan of attack is."

"We're going to make what we call fire breaks. That means, when my guys get to the fire, they're going to cut out sections of the wooden floor and walls where the fire is, as well as on the floor below. That' so that the fire can't spread out to fresh parts of the building. And then we are going to wet down the rest of of the floors below and at the fire. My guys are going to the water access cabinets on the floors concerned now to start doing that."

I looked at the fire chief. "You don't look happy, Chief."

"Well, it's a fire - no one's happy at a fire. But I guess I'm worried. We found out, en route, that the building's floors are wood. Why are there wooden floors in this building? And why only two fire excapes. A building this size should have more. Plus the fire spread awfully quickly. I can only assume that the water sprinkler system isn't working on the floors concerned."

"Smitty!" someone on his walkie-talkie called. "This is Ted. We're at the fourteenth. The fifteenth totally gutted and this one's a goner. I'm gonna tell the guys to concentrate on the thirteenth."

"Fire breaks won't help, Ted?" the chief, aka Smitty, asked.

"Fire breaks!" Ted scoffed. "There's mostly no floor anymore! I got all our guys evacuated down to the thirteenth and they're wettin' it down now and looking for stragglers. Some of the police said there are some still on that floor. As for the fourteenth, It's just me and Luke left here."

"Civilians?"

"Police sez no more people from the fourteenth up."

"Thank god for that. Did you double-check?"

"That's what Luke and I are doing now."

"Well, given what you said, you and Luke stop what you're doing and get yourselves to safety on the thirteenth. I'll ask the ladder guys to start pumping into the fourteenth floor windows and -"

"Luke!" Ted suddenly exclaimed.

"Ted! What happened!"

"Smitty, the walls between me and Luke just collapsed. Luke's trapped!"

"Goddammit!" The chief pressed the button on his radio. "Luke... Luke! Fireman Hoskins, check in! Dammit, Luke..."

Smitty went up to one of the ladder trucks and talked to the guy in charge of its pumps.

"Increase the pressure," Smitty said to the fireman manning the pumps, "and get the ladder closer to the buidling. We have to help Erica start spraying the fourteenth, near the western side. Luke's trapped there."

"Ohmigod, chief!" I said. "How will you get Luke out." I was desperately wanting to help, and was using as much self control I could muster not to climb up the ladder or go in the building.

"Well," Smitty said, "normally, since we can't get to him from inside the building, we'd get a ladder close to one of the windows and get some people in there that way, but I'm short-handed. All my guys here on the street are manning the pumps or helping with the evacuation, while everyone else is up there in the building itself. Best I can do with such a small fire team."

He looked at some of his people doing crowd control and apparently decided to get a couple of them to climb up and get Luke. As he was going to them, there was another explosion, and another shower of debris. The fireman manning the ladder truck's pumps exclaimed. "Chief!"

Smitty looked back and saw the guy pointing up. We looked and saw the firefighter up on the ladder, Erica, slumped, hanging precariously on the ladder's rungs, her fire hose pointing downward instead of at the building, and uselessly raining water on everyone. Thank god she was in the ladder's basket or gondola or whatever you call it, otherwise, she'd probably have fallen.

"Goddammit!" the chief said.

I couldn't take it anymore and decided to do something.

"Hey, kid!" The fireman at the fire truck's controls called and tried to snag me, but I was too quick and was already on top of the truck and climbing up the ladder.

"Robin!" Tracey called. "What the hell are you doing!"

I pocketed the useless mic and used both hands to climb. Thank god I was wearing a pair of jeggings instead of one of Danielle's fancy tight skirts, so I was able to climb up very quickly. So far, when I wear gaffs, I've been scared to tuck my, ummm, jewels into my abdominal cavity, so I try and avoid gaffs when I can. Good thing I was just wearing men's thong briefs this time coz it paid off - I could climb up without getting squeezed to death. I just hoped my thong was close-fiiting enough so it keeps me from spilling out and outing me. Also, the dark-gray color of my pants should help hide my... stuff a bit.

"Goddammit, Robin! Come back!"

"Sorry, Trace," I called back. I was already more than halfway up. I looked down and saw I was all alone, with no one following me yet.

After about a minute of climbing, I found the girl, Erica, unconscious. "The girl's been hit by something," I said to Tracey via the walkie-talkie. "I don't know what, or how, even."

"Chief?" Tracey said, and relayed to him what I just told her.

"Okay," Robin said, "the chief said that the explosion probably blew something at her and knocked her out."

"Sounds logical. Anyway, she's bleeding profusely from a cut above her nose, as well as from the nose itself. It's obviously broken."

"Okay. Someone is gonna be climbing up to check on her. The chief is asking if she's belted in."

I checked. "Yes, she is."

"Good. She's breathing?"

"Yes."

"Good. The chief sez she's fine, then. Keep her head bent forward so the blood doesn't go down her nose and just let it leak out."

"Gotcha. Make sure everyone's clear of the area down there, then." I looked down Erica's torso and saw another belt, so I buckled that around her as well. "Robin, what's this red-colored lever on the side here?"

Robin asked. "The chief says that lever extends the ladder a further twelve feet."

"Huh? Then why..."

"That part of the ladder isn't strong enough for the hose under pressure. That's why the nozzle is permanently mounted where it is."

"I thought so." I made sure my feet were on sure footing, wrapped my arms around the sides of the ladder, and threw the lever.

With the sound of an electric motor whining, the end of the ladder extended some more, bringing me up with it.

When the ladder stopped, I noted that it had brought me parallel to one of the fourteenth floor windows, which was what I was hoping for.

Because of the ladder's angle, I was now only a foot away from the building. In fact, I could stretch out my hand and touch the glass if I wanted.

"Here goes nothing," I said to myself.

"Robin!" Tracey screamed. "Don't do what I think you're thinking of doing!"

I took my belt off, making sure my walkie was still secure, re-threaded it through the two back belt loops of my jeggings, and buckled the belt around one of the rungs. Hope the jeggings were strong enough...

After leaning forward a few times, the pants and the belt looks seem substantial enough and I felt safe enough so I stepped onto the windowsill or ledge - one foot on the ledge, and my other foot still on the ladder. With one hand still on one of the ladder's rungs, I then kicked out with the foot on the ledge, and hit the window with the heel of my boot. I kicked out half a dozen times more and the glass exploded inwards. A wave of hot and smokey air wafted out making me cough and move back.

"Whee-ooh!" I exclaimed. That air was awfully hot.

"Whoa!" Tracey said. "That's a pretty strong kick you got." Tracey probably switched to the telephoto lens and could see me.

"That comes from picking the right parents," I joked. "I decided I wanted good genes, so I picked the right mom and dad." Don't know if Tracey got my joke.

I continued to kick out and got the remaining glass shards to pop out of the frame's crumbling putty. I then unbuckled my belt from the ladder and jumped throught the window.

I rolled into what looked like a corridor. To my left were a bunch of apartment doors, all of them ajar, while to my right was the concrete wall with windows about ten feet apart - the window I jumped through being one of them. The smoke wasn't too thick for me to not see everything, but it was noticeably getting thicker.

"Mr. Fireman," I yelled. "Luke! Are you here? Luke!"

I walked through the acrid-smelling smoke and fumes, coughing occassionally and squinting through the smoke. Knowing that most of the wooden floor was already damaged, I walked gingerly.

As I walked, I tripped on something and, feeling around, I knew I found Luke. That wasn't all I found - he had his arm around an unconscious little girl, his face mask, which was fed by his airtank, strapped to the girl's face.

"I found Luke," I told Tracey, coughing a bit. "He's unconscious, probably from the smoke. That's coz he gave his mask and oxygen to a little girl he found."

"Wow."

"I'm bringing them out to the window now."

"Someone's there at the ladder. Go, Robin! The fire's still spreading. You need to hurry."

I grunted as I lifted the unconscious fireman in my arms, with the little girl lying on his chest. The smoke was thicker now, but I remembered where I was, and what path to follow.

"Dammit," I said to myself, "firemen are fuckin' heavy."

Tracey giggled. "You can do it, Amazon Girl. The chief says that's partly because firefighters are weighed down with a lot of heavy equipment, including the air tank and other things. If he's too heavy, take off his jacket and you'll be taking off almost fifty pounds of equipment."

"No time to take off the jacet! Whee-ooh! You're one heavy fireman, Luke!"

I walked while leaning backward to make sure the fireman wouldn't fall out of my arms, almost hunched over from the weight. My back felt like it was about to break, but I was able to bring the two to the window somehow.

"Kid!" someone called.

I put down my load and, after I got my breath back, I looked out the window and nodded to the fireman who was outside and hanging onto the ladder. "Stick Luke's head out the window so he can have some fresh air!" he yelled.

Crouching down, I took the girl off his chest and put her on the floor for the moment. I then stood Luke up and leaned him on the wall in such a way that his head was sticking out the window.

I then took the girl, but I had to take off the bulky mask and airtank. I carried her in my arms and all three of us had our heads stuck out the window.

The cooler air seemed to have revived the little girl because I felt her move. I looked and, sure enough, the little girl was awake and looking at me.

"The air feels good," she said to me.

"It sure does, honey," I said, and kissed her on the cheek. "Nice and cool, especially after being inside with all that smoke and stuff."

"Yeah," she said. "Are you an angel?"

"No, honey. Just a girl who happened to be around."

"I think you're an angel."

I gently smiled at her. "If you insist."

I looked at the fireman outside. "Cool, fresh air never felt this good!" I said.

"Not exactly fresh," the new fireman said.

"Fresh enough for me!" I laughed. "What now?"

"We got to bring those people down one at a time. This top part of the ladder won't be able to take the weight of all four of us. Pass the little girl through first, and I'll get her down. Someone else will then come up and get you, and then they'll get Luke last."

"No!" I said. "Luke before me!"

"You're a good kid, but rules are rules."

I didn't want to argue - there wasn't time. "How about Erica?" I asked.

"She's being taken down to the paramedics right now."

"Great!" I said as I held onto the little girl.

"Hey! How were you able to get up here so fast? We were watching you, and..."

I shrugged. "I don't know... I climbed fast?"

"Kid -"

"Seriously, man! Just coz I'm thin doesn't mean I'm not fit!"

"Simmer down, kid. Okay, let's do this. Can you secure yourself to something there before you hand me the girl?"

I felt behind me, and my belt was still hanging back there. I struggled to a sitting position on the concrete window ledge, the girl in my arms, and buckled my belt around the metal frame of the window.

"Here you go, Mr. Fireman," I said. Before I handed her over, I snuck a kiss on the little girl's cheek. "You're safe now, kiddo," I said. "See you on the ground later."

"Thank you, pretty lady," she said.

I made sure the fireman had the girl securely in his hands before I let go, and watched him as he climbed down. When he reached the part where the nozzle and the basket were, I knew I could try climbing down now.

I went back in. "Okay, Luke," I said to the unconscious man, "let's do this." I looked at his uniform and I had to agree - with all that junk, he looked like he was at least fifty pounds heavier.

I took all of his equipment off by taking off the thick PPE jacket and pants (the pants didn't have any belts or anything like that - it hung on the man's shoulders via fire-resistant suspender-like things). Of course, I had to take the boots off first.

So, with everything off, it left the guy in a t-shirt, boxer shorts and his fireman's hat and socks. I had to giggle. Oh, well.

I detatched the suspenders from the pants (they had heavy-duty cargo-strap type buckles instead of clips or buttons), sat him on the window's ledge and used one strap to secure his arm to the window frame.

I then used the rest of the straps like a harness, slipping one strap under his arms, which I then clipped in such a way that there were now loops at the ends where I could put my arms through. So I got him hitched to my back now.

There was one left-over strap, which I used to strap around both our middles, sort of like a belt around both of us.

I did all this strapping, buckling, tying and stuff while I had him sitting on the window ledge while I essentially sat on his lap.

When I felt that we were securely strapped together, I took off the strap that attached us to the frame, reached out with both hands and firmly gripped the sides of the ladder.

I took a deep breath, and with sheer muscle power, I managed to wrap my arms around the ladder, and held on to it while I pulled both of us off the window ledge.

Fear and adrenalin can make you do superhuman things, and while I was holding onto that ladder with a superhuman grip, I was somehow able to swing both of us around, all the while I was grunting and almost screaming from the effort and and the burning pain in my biceps.

Now that I was in the proper position, I was able to put my feet securely on top of one of the rungs while I held onto the rung that was level with my face with both of my hands. I stayed there for a minute to rest a bit.

But when thick white smoke started billowing out of that window, I knew I had to move.

With deliberate slowness, I moved one of my feet as well as one of my hands to a lower rung, and then, when they were secure, I did the same with the other foot and hand.

It took me about five minutes to get to where the fire hose nozzle and basket were mounted, and that was when the window where we came from exploded. I froze while little bits of wood and debris showered us.

"That was close!" I said to no one in particular.

And then, after another five minutes, I got us both down to the top of the truck. I guess I was slower at the beginning because I was still getting a feel for the ladder, but as I got into the rhythm of it, my climbing down became faster.

I was shaking with sheer fatigue by then, and had trouble keeping my grip, but when I finally stepped onto the truck, the chief and a couple of his people were there and started unstrapping Luke from me. His two guys took care of Luke, bringing him down and then to one of the ambulances, while I basically crumpled down on the truck in sheer fatigue. My arms trembled, threatening to cramp.

After he gave me a minute to rest, the chief lifted me up and carried me in his arms, almost like a baby, brought me down and laid me on an ambulance stretcher. Two paramedics rolled the stretcher away and to an area where they've been taking people that needed help. There were about a dozen people there, all wearing masks and were being given oxygen. My paramedic also tried to put a mask on me, but I waved it away.

I looked around and saw the little girl was in a stretcher about four feet from me, with a man and a woman who I assumed were her parents. The woman was holding the little girl's hand and crying.

"Thanks, chief," I whispered (I was so wiped out), "but I'm okay."

"Yes. You're totally okay, Robin," the chief said. "You're amazing, in fact."

"Yep," Tracey said, "she is."

"Dammit, Tracey," I said, "get that camera offa me..."

"Okay..." Tracey took some shots of the crowd and the building instead. I found out later that those kinds of shots were called B-roll shots.

"The KRPX guys are here," she said conversationally.

"They are?" I said. "Then I guess it's time for us to sign off, then." As I was looking at the little girl, she turned to me. She smiled and waved to me, and I waved back.

"I'm Phoebe," she said.

"Hi, Phoebe," I answered. "I'm Robin."

"Hi. Robin. You're real pretty..."

In the background, and in my earpiece, I still heard Tracey.

"Okay, Talia," she was saying. "We're gonna shut down now. The TV folks are finally here now, and they can finally take over."

"Okay, Tracey," I heard Talia reply. "Well there you have it, folks, a blow-by-blow field report of the ongoing fire in the Jackson Residential Building downtown by KRPQ's own Nighthawk and her sidekick and producer Tracey, and her amazing rescue of one of the firefighters, overcome by smoke as he himself was attempting to rescue a little girl. The little girl and the firefighter are fine now, as well as our Nighthawk - they're currently being tended to by the paramedics on-site. As to the fire, our latest information..."

I wondered why Talia was talking that way and then I suddenly realized that we were live streaming the whole time. I looked at Tracey, who was looking at me with a small smile on her face. She had the camera down by her side now, and I couldn't hear her or Talia in my ear anymore, so I knew she wasn't transmitting anymore.

"Tracey, you fink," I said mildy, and she laughed out loud.

"What's so funny, Robin?" Phoebe asked. She was standing beside my stretcher now, and smiling down at me, her mom and dad beside her.

"Oh, nothing, honey," I said, and reached for her hand.

- - - - -

A few hours later, I was home in bed, sleeping. Needless to say, the band and I weren't able to practice, but Dale and the guys didn't blame me for it.

I begged off being brought to the hospital, and after the paramedics were through checking me out, they didn't protest too much and let me go home

I decided to leave my car in the station's basement parking for now, and asked Tracey to bring me home instead. By the time the guys came by, I had already had a quick shower and, after taking some paracetamol, was sleeping soundly. When I woke up at around eight, the guys were still there. Danielle, Nikki and Morgan were in my bedroom - Nikki and Danielle sitting on the bed and Morgan quetly playing with my old Playstation 4. The rest of the guys were downstairs, no doubt gorging themselves on mom's food. Dammit...

"Hey, sleepyhead," Nikki said, and kissed me gently on the cheek.

"Hey, beautiful," I replied.

"How's our hero" Morgan asked while he sat in front of my TV.

"Still out of it, I think," Danielle said, giggling.

"No, I'm not," I said, and caught myself yawning.

"No, she's not," Danielle said, correcting herself.

"That was amazing, what you did," Morgan said, coming over and tousling my hair. "You did good, bud."

"Thanks, Morgan."

"But you don't ever do that again!"

Morgan then read me the riot act, his point being I could have been hurt or killed, and, worse got other people hurt and killed. Danielle, Nikki an the other girls were of the same mind, but the guys weren't - they were more proud of me than mad. After all, I was "some freakin' hero now, dude," as Mike put it.

I contritely agreed with Morgan and the girls, of course, although, in the back of my mind, I thought that Luke and Phoebe would have died had I not done what I did. I didn't say that out loud, of course.

Later on, I found out that everything that happened, from the moment I started talking with the fire chief until the time I got Luke and Phoebe down, and I was put in the ambulance stretcher, had all been been live-streamed. And with the permanently-on audio, everyone heard each aside, burp, swear-word, self-monologue and side-conversation. As for my... vigorous calisthenics and gymnastics, they saw most of it courtesy of Tracey's telephoto lens. I must have been blushing in combination mortification and shame the whole night as the guys recounted everything.

Yep, the whole thing was on the internet. It was automatically coded and parsed by Tracey's system into five consecutive five-minute videos, and they were all trending.

Morgan had the five files uploaded into YouTube, and he put links to them on the station's website. At that moment, the site's counter was up to two hundred thousand unique hits per video file, but I was sure the YouTube count was much, much higher.

- - - - -

Tracey told us that KRPX had paid the station for rights to our video, but since Mrs. P didn't really restrict access to them, anyone on the net could actually watch the video for free. KRPX still paid, though, so that they could officially put their station and network logo on them (without it, putting their logo on the videos would have gone against Fair Use practices). Of course, Morgan and Tracey put our own station logo to the copies that KRPX got.

Our agreement also gave KRPX carte blanche to edit and shorten the video to something that network TV would like, and, of course, KRPX's national network could pick up and use KRPX's version.

But then, Mrs. P also gave the same permissions to the other two national networks as well as CNN, allowing them the same rights. I'm sure KRPX felt a little miffed by that, but business was business. The station could use the income, plus, with four networks airing it, that meant more free publicity for me, or rather me-as-Robin, and the station.

Of course, KRPX had one big advantage - since they were based in town, they were easily able to supplement our video with their own coverage and people, splicing their video and ours together in such a way as to make it appear that our video was really just a part of their own coverage, especially with our call sign being very close to their call sign. KRPX suddenly started calling us their "sister station," and started calling me "KRPX's very own Nighthawk."

Other more professionally run stations would not have dared to say that, what with network and employee contracts, broadcast rights, copyrights and such, but before Mrs. P could react, it seemed KRPX's network gave them a call, forcing KRPX to quit calling us their sister station and the Nighthawk as "their own." They were also made to air a "clarificatory announcement" later on. That announcement, in part, said, "KRPQ Radio, and Robin, KRPQ's Nighthawk, are in no way affiliated with our network and KRPX TV."

Of course, no one really saw that announcement since they aired it at two AM. That necessitated a call to KRPX by Mrs. P, and they were forced to make the same announcement everytime they re-aired our video.

Ahhh! Sweet revenge.

We didn't actually see KRPX's version. What we did see was CNN's version which, we were told by Mrs. P, was going to be aired on their 9PM Saturday program. The whole gang crowded around our TV in the living room.

With twelve kids in our living room, it was pretty crowded, but no one minded. Everyone was unusually quiet: no doubt they didn't want to bother our folks - they were just upstairs, after all.

Needless to say, mom and dad knew about my moonlighting as Dannie and as a DJ, but, to be honest, they really didn't want to know much more about it beyond that, so Danielle and I never really bothered to update them much.This particular escapade of mine was part of the "not updating them much" thing, so they knew nothing about it. I could just imagine what my dad would have said and done if they knew about this.

I missed dinner, and mom and dad had gone up already to leave us alone, but Danielle saved a plate for me. And as I polished off my second turkey leg while we sat in front of the TV, our program came on.

"Nowadays," CNN's anchor began his program, "most of the nation is quite obsessed with the goings-on in DC and in the government. Sadly, our own network is caught up in this national obsession as well, and much of our national coverage is centered around the government and our leaders, and the scandals and political shenanigans that they indulge in everyday. But, tonight, I'd like to begin the show with something different from this usual fare - something quite uplifting and inspiring for a change. We haven't focused on small-town America enough, and this particular story from small-town America might have been missed, if not for the internet. I'm glad that we were lucky enough to have stumbled over this little piece, so we're showing it to you, and, perhaps, even for a few minutes, you will all feel uplifted and proud that there are still those in our country who exemplify our country's ideals - of others first, and self-sacrifice."

The show shifted to an overhead helicopter shot of our little town. Maybe they got it off Google Earth.

"So we take you now to this little burg somewhere in the eastern side of the country. It begins this morning, with the local radio station, KRPQ, and it's early morning program."

Part of my progam's audio from this morning replaced the sound, and we could hear me bantering with some some girls about makeup, clothes, music and, especially, boys. After a few seconds of that, it switched over to another on-air conversation I had, this time with a bunch of geeky boys, about music, movies games and, especially girls. All this over a panoramic moving sky-shot of our town.

"Doesn't sound like anything special, right?" CNN' anchor said. "But you'd be surprised to hear that this fun little early-Saturday morning program is the most popular program in that part of the country at its time slot, beating the ratings of all of its competition in its particular timeslot, on both TV and radio. Overall, it's the highest rated single program in that area, and that's due mostly to its fans - almost all of them kids.

"It's fanbase is also growing, too - with many of the small stations in the surrounding franchise areas clamoring for syndication rights, and its streaming audio over its website getting the most unique hits compared to any other streamed radio show during that time.

"Why, you may ask is this little program, and therefore its little ten-kilowatt radio station, so successful?"(At that time, the video switched to random pictures gleaned, most probably, from our website.)

"You might say it's the unique call-in talk format. You might say it's the unique target market of young adults, pre-teens, adolescents and, yes, even young kids. You might say it's the squeaky-clean patter of its host, or the relatively unique selection of music it plays, which are almost exclusively eighties and nineties pop songs. It might be the exposure that its gotten on local TV care of a few specials, and the sponsorship of some big companies, including Rockrgrrl, currently one of the hottest manufacturers of musical instruments.

"Yes, if you said those things, you'd be correct. But only partially. You see, the success of the program, and its home station, is largely because of its host."

At that point, they paused the video on the picture of me, or rather Robin - the one that hung in the station's waiting area showing me by the board of the old station in a sassy white top, jeans, ginormous headphones on my head, and with me winking at the camera saucily as I held out a peace sign.

"This is Robin, or the Nighthawk, as her fans know her mostly. Previous to KRPQ, she was totally unknown, and we have had little time to unearth more information about her. But it is an incontrovertible fact that this beautiful young lady is the mastermind of the Nighthawk progam, its unique style and its stong appeal to the youth of their town." They started to show the few pictures we had of Robin from the website, but after they showed the dozen pictures from the site, they had to repeat them in a cycle.

"This young lady is quite talented and unique, and boasts a loyal following, almost fanatic in their devotion to her, which is growing every week. The squeaky-clean content of her shows fit the demographic which her program has targetted to a 'T,' and even the most conservative of radio listeners wouldn't have a problem with her. But there are also racey moments, too, especially when Robin has to deal with some unsavory callers who seem to target young ladies like her. But Robin would dispatch these callers with quiet efficiency that even Howard Stern would be impressed, and all with a gentle charm all her own." In the background, we could hear excerpts from my show where I handled what Tracey calls the "creepeys."

"There is also some ocassional high drama on her show, too, such as the time when she dealt with a suicidal young woman and convinced her not to push through with her plan on the air." We heard some excerpts from that time when I had that chat with Val. I got a bit teary-eyed there, and Nikki and Danielle gave me a hug.

"It wouldn't surprise you to learn that Robin and that girl are now fast friends, and the girl is doing well." I smiled at that, and Tracey gave me a big grin and a wink when I caught her eye.

"This is one exceptional girl, but we just didn't know just how exceptional the Nighthawk was until this morning."

Over my picture, they played Val's call where she told us about the fire. "... we can see the Jackson Building plain as day!"

"And, like any good media person, Robin immediately raised the alarm." They then played part of the last few minutes of my program.

"... there's currently a big fire in the Jackson Residential Building," I said in Robin's voice. "If you have friends who live in the Jackson Building, give them a call; find out where they are, and if they're home, tell them to evacuate now; if you're near the building, stay away, and help make a cordon and keep everyone else away; keep everyone safe, keep yourself safe, until the authorities get there..."

The video showed some news footage of the fire, but artfully edited to show the fire as it was still ongoing instead of being after the fact.

"The word spread like wildfire (forgive the word heheh), and the authorities who, at that time were still unaware of the fire, finally mobilized. Robin's announcement helped save everyone in that building.

"But the young lady wasn't happy with just announcing the fire, as you will see in the following video, care of KRPQ.

"In the absence of any news media on-site, Robin and her producer, Ms Tracey Piper, decided to cover the fire themselves for KRPQ." They then played the opening of Talia's show.

"Good morning, everyone. This is Talia Roberts for KRPQ Radio. I know you guys were expecting my usual program, but we're pre-empting that for the moment. KRPQ News and Current Affairs is cutting in with a breaking news story. Come in, Nighthawk..."

And then they showed the opening footage of my, ahem, 'coverage:' "Hello, everyone," I said into Tracey's camera. "This is the Nighthawk, live on streaming video. We're currently here at the Jackson Residential Building a few minutes from KRPQ headquarters, where a fire has broken out..."

"We have to give Robin, as well as Tracey, props for innovation," the CNN anchor said over my video. "They could well have just covered it as a radio item for KRPQ, but they did one better. She and Tracey, using a lot of talent and innovation, covered the show as well as any TV news team could, and actually live streamed it on the internet."

They showed a closeup picture of Tracey shooting video with her Canon camera. "Like many vloggers do, Tracey and Robin used used a video-capable DSLR camera, a radio microphone, and off-the-shelf hardware and software to post their piece on the internet." They then showed an excerpt from our coverage, mostly me trying to act like Abby Hunstman.

"The coverage was more than competent, even though it was a bit hamstrung by their limited equipmen,t but the dynamic duo of KRPQ News and Current Affairs did a bang-up job. Not even CNN war correspondents could have done better.

"Ultimately, though, it was just a fire in a small town, in a residential building where no one was hurt. What made it interesting, at least to us here, is this..."

"Hey, kid!" The fireman at the fire truck's controls called as he tried to snag me while I climbed up the ladder, and Tracey calling me on the walkie-talkie: "Robin! What the hell are you doing! Goddammit, Robin! Come back!"

"Sorry, Trace," I replied, puffing a little as the video showed me climbing the ladder rapidly, my jeggings-encased booty wiggling noticeably.

"Woohoo!" Mickey exclaimed. "Sexy butt!"

"Shadapp!" Joanne said, and threw a cushion at him.

Thank goodness for the dark pants and the late morning shadows - no telltale outlines were evident. I did note to myself, though, that I need to wear gaffs more regularly.

The video then cut to me checking out Erica, the girl firefighter who was knocked out, and me sticking my hand out and giving the people down on the ground a thumbs-up sign, which was greeted by a cheer from the people on the street.

The video then cut to me at the top of the fireladder kicking in a window more than a dozen times. "Robin!" Tracey screamed. "Don't do what I think you're thinking of doing!" It then showed me jumping through the window.

"We believe that Robin took took a big chance doing that," the news anchor said, "since only professionals are trained to do such things. But, nevertheless..."

The video then showed me sticking Luke, the fireman's head out the window, and then Phoebe the little girl, and me sticking our heads through the window, too.

"Are you an angel?" the little girl asked.

"No, honey," I replied. "Just a girl who happened to be around."

"I think you're an angel," the little girl repeated, and I smiled at her.

"If you insist," I said.

"In a coordinated effort," the news anchor said, "Robin then handed little Phoebe Clarke to the fireman outside, and she was eventually brought down to safety. But, instead of waiting for the firefighters to come back to rescue them, Robin did the incredible."

Courtesy of Tracey's telephoto lens, we saw me take off Luke's fireman's jacket and pants, and, along with them, all of his heavy equipment. The guys laughed and giggled at the almost naked fireman wearing only an undershirt, shorts, socks and his fireman's hat.

I then sat him on the window ledge, tied his arm to the window frame, sat in his lap like he was a big, bony chair, and then strapped the both of us together.

"Oooh!" the girls around me said.

"Oh, shut up!" I replied.

The video cut to a shot of Fire Chief Smith. "The reason Robin took of Officer Hoskins' jacket and pants," he explained, "was so to quickly divest him of all of his firefighting equipment. Most firefighters carry close to fifty pounds of equipment with them, such as a fire axe, breathing equipment, lights, radio and other things, and these are all attached to a fireman's jacket and pants. And taking them off was the quickest way for Robin to lighten her load by at least fifty pounds. And for a girl as tiny as her, she really needed to do that. Robin is a pretty sharp girl. She did good. Ummm... we do apologize, though, for Officer Hoskins' choice of underwear..."

The people from the network zoomed in on a static shot of Luke's boxers, which showed Snoopy prints all over them. We all laughed. I didn't even notice that at the time.

"That was not a moment too soon," the TV anchor said, "because, a minute after Robin started moving down the ladder..."

The video cut to me and Luke about a dozen feet down the ladder, and then an explosion, with smoke, fire and debris shot out of the window we just came from.

"Needless to say," the news anchor said, "the last two people rescued in that fire were little Phoebe and Officer Lucas Hoskins. For the record, there were no fatalities in the Jackson Building fire."

Everyone in our living room cheered and clapped at that piece of information, and the video then showed a final static shot of me and Phoebe lying across from each other in ambulance stretchers, smiling and waving at each other.

"The police and fire department are conducting an investigation while social services are helping out the displaced residents. Initial findings show that the fire may have been caused by old or faulty electrical wiring, and the rapid spread of the fire may have been due to faulty water sprinklers. The builidng is almost fifty years old after all.

"Nothing is definite at the moment, but we do know is that that tragedy was averted due to a good samaritan calling in to a radio show, and for an amazing young woman who, almost singlehandedly, mobilized her town's fire department and police, provided incredible coverage of a fire that real newspeople essentially ignored, and rescued a man and a little girl all by herself.

"We'll be keeping an eye on this amazing girl, and let you know whatever amazing things she will be doing in the future, and I for one do believe that they will be amazing."

He then wrapped up that segment and continued on with his program, and the gang all cheered and clapped while Nikki peppered my face with kisses, and Mike gave Tracey a kiss on the cheek.

"Oooh!" we all reacted to that.
 

***** (At the "Center," several hundred miles away) *****

Ray Lomax, Dani Marks, Sheri Kirsch, Rita McFadden and Heather Davis were all in the Center's break room, relaxing and unwinding after a day of unremitting derring-do.

Ray switched on the TV, and the girls cheered, but instead of tuning in to something fun, Ray switched the TV to CNN, and the girls booed.

"Quiet, girls," he said. "I just want to check if there's anything happening that we need to know about." He dodged some throwpillows as well as a cupcake (the cupcake was courtesy of Heather - she had saved it from their dinner earlier. She was regretting throwing it now. "My yummy cupcake," she muttered sadly).

Instead of the news, they had tuned in to a program that was just starting, called "Anderson 360," and Sheri got comfortable - it was one of her favorite programs - one of the few that she liked on CNN, and prepared to enjoy the show. But, after a few minutes of watching, though, she realized who the program was about.

"Ohmigod," she said, and looked at Dani and Heather. "It's about Dee!" ("Dee" was their nickname for Danny.)

Ray called to a girl who had just entered.

"Vee," he called. "Call Kris."

"Huh?" replied.

"Just do it, Vee! Call Kris! Get her in here. Now!"

"Okay, okay! You don't have to bite a girl's head off... Jeez!"

A minute later, Kris Keys, with Liz in tow, plus a little cat everyone called Miss Bonsai, came in.

"What up, Ray?" Kris said.

Ray took her hand and pulled her close to the TV.

"Look at this, Kris," Ray said.

And everyone watched the ten-minute segment largely in silence.

"Wow," Rita said. "That girl is really something."

"Too bad, though," Heather said. "It could have been better if Dee did it as The Black Widow, she giggled.

"I don't know Heather," Dani said. "I think her Robin disguise is pretty cute. She looks good as a brunette."

"I think she looks better as a redhead," Heather said.

"Keys!" Colonel Harris called. They hadn't seen him come in.

"Yes, Colonel?" Kris replied.

"Can you get me the file on Daniel Fairchild?"

"What? Now?"

"If you can manage to tear yourself away from the television," he said a little sarcastically.

"Why?"

"No reason. Curiosity, mostly. And also, maybe it's time to update her equipment." With that, he turned around and walked back to his office.

Liz stuck her tongue out at the colonel's departing back.

Kris sighed. "Can't that man switch off, even for a moment?" she said.

Ray gave Kris a kiss. "I'll get the latest scoop on Dee, and get it printed up in a few."

"Thanks, Ray," she said and turned back to the TV. Too bad CNN's news anchor had moved on to something else. "That girl really is something," she thought to herself, unconsciously echoing Rita from a few minutes ago. She was certain Dee's and their paths would cross again, and thought of how the "Black Widow" would look as a brunette.

She thought of passing by the quartermaster's office, and see if they can put together an equipment update for Danny, and maybe even a more sexy Black Widow outfit.

- - end - -

 

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