The immediate crisis averted, Taylor remembers that she is talking to two animals in broad daylight. "I'm going to find a place to change", she whispers. 

A nearby park has some tall hedgerows. Taylor ducks behind one, makes sure no-one can see her (why does her brain associate this with changing clothes, she is putting more clothes on, not taking anything off) - and asks Coyote to give her her costume. Or, well, to recreate it, as the case may be.

The costume swirls into place around her, and he produces her very eerie mask with a flourish. 

Safely masked, Taylor steps out of cover. "We need a team name", she says.

Actually, she also needs a cape name. She's leading a team of animals who, in fact, have all the powers on the team. What would be appropriate? Ringmaster - ugh, no, they're not a circus show, and she'd have to call herself Ringmistress and that just sounds bad. Ringleader - no, that's a kind of criminal, isn't it. No rings.

What do you call someone who works with animals and talks to them? An animal whisperer? A beast tamer? A pet-ter?

Taylor is struck by an idea, and once again her mouth speaks it before her brain has finished processing.

"I will be The Ranger, and you are my Companions."

Bounce bounce! "Do we get our own cool names? I want to be The Devil Cat!"

Coyote laughs. "I approve!"

"Devil Cat, then. Coyote, do you want a cape name?"

"I'm just Coyote."

Yeah, fair.

"Team! We are going to help people and thwart evil-doers! Without bothering anyone too much! Do you think we can do that?"

"Absolutely!" Bounce! 

"Of course."

Then they will proceed vaguely sea-wards. Taylor isn't sure what's going to happen next, but she'd like to just relax and unwind for a bit. Things can definitely go wrong - later, and she would like not to think about that too closely for the next while. A lot has happened in too little time, really.

She can have that! For almost half an hour!

A cape in costume walking down the street (and a flying cat) draws glances; worried, curious, sometimes hostile. As they move from a residential neighborhood to a more commercial district, people become less worried about a cape fight outside their house, and more excited about a cape fights outside their cafe (this is Brockton Bay). Some people take photos. One kid asks for an autograph, making Taylor very happy and also tongue-tied.

Eventually they attract the attention of some named characters fellow capes.

Two men step into the road in front of them.

One is carrying an enormous sword. Unlike most Big Fucking Swords, which tend to be either very long or very heavy, this one is very broad - a whole foot wide - narrowing to an impractical-looking tip. The man swings it idly with one hand, as easily as if it's made of styrofoam. Two green glowing orbs are set into the sword's middle.

His head is topped by an absolutely ridiculous bright yellow wig. At least half its volume is gathered into one enormous spike sticking up like a unicorn made of triangles and hair gel. Taylor finds it hard to focus on his face or clothes, the sword and the wig absorbing all of her attention. 

The second man is big and muscular and has a gun for a hand.

Or several guns, really, a pepper-box design with six barrels welded together. It's not clear if they're meant to be a giant revolver or to fire together. There's no trigger, either; Taylor would think she was missing an obvious explanation that was not a gun at all, if she wasn't seeing it next to that sword (and the wig).

"Halt, intruders!" the first man booms. He has a theatrical, carrying voice; it would make for an imposing presence if not for everything else about him. "I am Cloud Strife, mercenary soldier" - he yells the last word - "and defender of this sector! What is your business here?"

"You're not very good at this," Coyote observes. "You have the voice wrong."

The two men go into a huddle.

"I told you to let me talk!" says the gun-armed one. His voice is surprisingly high-pitched for such a big man, and his body language seems... off somehow. "Cloud doesn't talk! He doesn't care enough, he's not being paid to talk!" 

"Every time you talk our viewership tanks," complains the swordsman, "I'll need to edit this out anyway -"

"We need to be authentic! True to the source!" And to Coyote: "You are right, you're so right, let me do this over", as he rapidly presses buttons at the base of his gun.

They flicker, and are suddenly standing on the sidewalk again.

"Halt, intruders -" the first man starts again.

"Shut up!", the gun-man interrupts. "Don't forget your skinny ass is working for me now!" 

"You!" He is pointing his gun-arm at Taylor. Alarmed, she steps back behind Coyote. "You call yourself a hero? The planet's dying! It's dying and it's all your fault!"

He presses some buttons again, and music begins playing.

The music is coming from a winged golden ball flying overhead! It makes a few circles around them, and suddenly everything Taylor can see swirls together like the world is being sucked into a giant whirlpool of color - she stumbles -

Everything snaps back in place, the two men standing in the road, pointing their sword and gun at Taylor with unfriendly expressions.

There is some kind of distortion, like a curtain of hot air, in a wide ring around them, and everyone else who was on the street is on the outside (and busy either taking photos or fleeing for their lives).

The golden ball continues playing its music, which sounds like an unholy marriage of cellphone ringtones and a bunch of one-note trumpets.

Is that a SHINY BIRD? It flies, it sings, and there's only one way to find out if it cronch -

POUNCE!

(Devil Cat is... Somewhat unnervingly good at murderizing flying things, actually. Cats with wings: every bird's worst nightmare.)

The golden ball tries to fly away and hide behind the two men!

Mwahaha you're going nowhere, little maybe bird! 

Now: does shiny maybe bird CRONCH? (Devil Cat, unbeknownst to her, now has a supernaturally powerful bite.)

Given enough bite, the ball absolutely CRONCHES!

It flops sadly in her mouth. Does she want to keep it up in the air?

Nah, she'll drop it - it does not taste good! - and bat it a little to see if it does anything interesting.

It beeps sadly but doesn't move. The music has stopped playing.

"Monster!" the big man roars. "How dare you break my - the free press! It's my turn!" 

The gun on his arm starts spinning with a whine, faster and faster until it's almost a blur, and he points it at Devil Cat -