[b]SIXGUN[/b]

Ben Brady was entirely uncertain what a "holla" was. Maybe it was like challah, that bread the gang had stolen from Chlomo Weiss when they were starving in the Utah territory. But that didn't make sense, did it?

He was snapped out of his reverie by Marconi looming in front of him, the unimposing man demanding to know what happened, what they had found. "Well, sir, you got one less wizard to worry about, not to mention about a dozen fewer hired guns. The lab ain't running no more. Also got this," he said, sliding the smartphone across the desk. "Could be somethin' worthwhile on there. 'Fraid I got some bad news, though, sir. Chunk didn't make it. He ran in without waiting for me, got hisself killt." Sixgun removed his Panama hat and bowed his head, a gesture of respect he didn't feel. "If it makes it any better, there's some hitters down in Dixie I can reach out to. Know guys in New Orleans and Tallahassee, quality muscle. For the right price they'd be glad to lend a hand." Sixgun hoped his offer would be accepted. It would mean an opportunity to insert more League members into the Outfit.

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[b]SONJA[/b]

"Polish. Right. Thanks, Mr. Computer Man," she said as she infiltrated the bloodstained max security cellblock, doing her best to keep to the shadows. She had happened to be near it when she dropped off Styx, it had been a short run from the VTOL. The worst of the worst were in here, the Pole had said. Guys like Xaxx and Knightmare and naturally the Schizoid Man. Just one of them could swat her aside without too much trouble. Which meant going in swinging wasn't likely to work. Trickery and confusion were needed. Sounded like a magician.

She licked her lips, focused. The way Sonja felt right now she figured a kitten could probably defeat her without undue exertion. Using magic in the dampening field, on top of the problems she was already experiencing- it was like running a mile after having wet cement poured over you. But she had to do something, try to buy a few seconds. She focused on the room, the situation Mr. Computer Man had appraised her of. She focused heavily, marshaling what little strength she had left, until her voice layered over itself, two voices speaking at once. Much like a possessed person. One of Legion's slaves. It was worth a shot.

The cellblock filled with the two voices speaking in unison, echoing through the narrow corridors to reach the ears of the unleashed supervillains. "You cretins, don't you recognize a League trap?" she demanded imperiously before striding out in full view of all of the escapees. Her sunglasses hid her decidedly normal eyes, not to mention the squint of intense concentration. This was taxing, she couldn't keep it up for long. She pointed to the actual Legionnaire, spoke again in the booming double voice. "Do you not recognize Destiny behind his disguise? If you step through that portal, you'll merely be in a more secure facility in Antarctica. I should not have to debase myself by taking the body of this pathetic conjurer Simpson merely to save you from your own foolishness!"