The first sound of contact was a sickening, the collision of swift metal with bone and flesh. The first was the more striking, but no less startling as a cacophony of sound followed: Cra-Cra-Cra-Cra-Crack!
A glint of silver curved in the air, cutting a path through the raptors. And ahead of Barbara landed a flying man in a bright red cape, dark blue surrounding it. But it was not a farm boy from Smallville, but a man with long golden hair and a beard. As he held his hand up, Mjölnir returned to it. His free arm reached for her.
"Are you well?"
He saw the crash, and the blood. There were very few vigilantes in his world. The woman's costume reminded her of Rogers' with her unusual helm.