Gotham City, NJ | December 31st, 2013

It’s been another year.

Since I’ve returned to Gotham nearly four years ago, I’ve dealt with the worst of society and at the cost of everyone around me. My former relationships that I had forged all those years ago crumbled and all I was left with was two men who welcomed me back to Gotham with no false pretenses—Alfred Pennyworth and Lucius Fox. My relationship with even my own family has been rough at best; Jacob Kane had never forgiven my father for leaving the responsibility of raising me to Alfred Pennyworth over his own brother-in-law and I could tell that whenever he and I met as equals. My other uncle, Phillip Kane was too self-obsessed to care about anything—which is more concerning considering his daughter has to live under that smugness and false sense of pride. I’m not sure what I hate more; a pointless discontent or a complacent arrogance. Both are things that Gotham does not need and at a level are responsible for this mess.

But here I am, despite all of that—showing support for the Kane family as I approach a New Year’s celebration as they welcome me and my wards under their roof for a night. I’m not sure I want Dick or Harley to see how the other half of the Wayne-Kane family acts, but they are here for another reason as they happen to be friends with Phillip’s daughter—Mary, though I hear they call her “Bette” instead.

As my hand reaches the door I shoot a glance to Dick. “Consider this our night off.”

“Bruce! Welcome, welcome!” The voice of Phillip Kane’s wife, Bethany, speaks out with a fake smile. Being “Gotham royalty” is where I first learned how to use a façade to get by and fool people into seeing the Bruce they wanted to see. It’s an old tactic, misdirection, and I’ve employed it in many facets before.

“It’s been too long.” I say with the same smile as I walk in to the party which was full of acquaintances of the Kane family for the most part.

Her eyes shift from mine to Harley and Dick, “These must be those children you are supporting in that program of yours.”

I hate that. I am not simply keeping Harley or Dick around because it ‘looks good’ that ‘playboy extraordinaire’ Bruce Wayne is ‘reaching out’ to the ‘poor pitiful orphans’. It’s my responsibility to them to fix Gotham, and I am the only one in this city who will ever understand the dark shadow that looms behind them. Despite my feelings however I do as I do—I smile and nod.

“Yes. This is Harleen,” I say gesturing to my left. “…and this is Richard.” I add as I gesture to my right.

“Wonderful, please follow me—Mary Elizabeth will be thrilled of your presence.”

As Bethany Kane escorts Dick and Harley I decide to take my approach to the main hall.

From here I can tell Phillip Kane is making it ‘a show’ as I can overhear him mentioning some achievement of sorts—he’s quite well off at Gotham General and he likes to mention how many lives he saves in a given month compared to his peers as some grandiose display of how he’s not a worthless human being. I didn’t know my uncle much from when I was younger—he was off showboating and ‘living the life’ as he often did then. The press has in a way compared me to him as his exploits weren’t too far from the playboy persona I have used as my public face for the past four years; so in a way they aren’t wrong.

That’s when I notice another Kane and one who I’ve been on rocky terms with due to my relations with Alfred as well as my supposed playboy lifestyle—Jacob Kane. Phillips’ older brother rarely had the patience for parties like this so I have to wonder why he is suddenly here.

“Bruce.” He says as I walk up to him—which is conveniently plopped next to a table propping up food and drink. Looking surprised I turn and nod as I speak in reply.

“Jacob.”

I can tell my not referring to him as ‘sir’ or ‘uncle jacob’ is unwanted for the most part or perhaps disrespectful—but I have no love for the man who abandoned me because he wanted my father’s money or responsibilities. He hasn’t been my uncle for some time, not really—and I admit it’s a little petty but I’m not being particularly empathic here toward him.

“I would assume you would be out at that penthouse of yours.”

I smirk and shake my head, “I decided not to throw a party since Phillip was so kind to invite me.”

“First you disappear for nearly ten years and now you think you can integrate yourself into our lives. It’s funny.” He scoffed.

“I’m not quite sure that I get the punch-line.” I retort cheerily, though I am pretty much not amused by his attempt to cause a reaction out of me. Part of me wants to go on an emotionally-addled rant about how he ran away from his own brother-in-law. But he’s not worth such a reaction—I keep a level head. As I take a drink of the punch I’ve just served myself I start to move away from my rigid uncle when I hear a voice that takes me completely off my feet.

“Bruce?”

The voice is familiar and not one I find leaving me with a sense of distaste; I turn around toward the voice with my expression being one of surprise.

“Kath?”

We’ve both changed a lot since the time before my parent’s death and I feel a sense of nostalgia overtake me.

“It’s been forever.” I manage to add to my initial realization of my cousin’s appearance. The first of two daughters to the uncle who I share no love for and my closest friend in childhood, Katherine Kane, takes me back to a time—albeit briefly, where I wasn’t surrounded by death, obsession, and decay. It’s pleasant, and I rarely get to have a reminder of something that isn’t molded in shades of black and gray.

She nods, “It’s good to see you.”

As I look at her I can see something suffering behind the surface she’s showing—she’s seen and experienced something that’s changed her and by her posture I can tell she hasn’t been home in years much like I hadn’t been home until four years ago. The only thing I really know about her as an adult as that she had been serving with the military since she had turned eighteen and had earned several accomplishments overseas. I may have to investigate this later.

“So how long are you back in Gotham for?”

It’s an odd question, I know, but ever since we were children we could play off one-another’s expressions and thoughts fairly easy; which was always strange considering I’m not her twin sister, Elizabeth.

“I don’t know, maybe for good.”

That’s definitely peculiar, but I’m not going to press it.

“Welcome back to Gotham, then.”

Rhiannon Palmer was concluding her lecture to her bio 101 at Gotham State as she turned to see most of the students tuning her out.

Oh really...time to some fun with this class.

Trying very hard to control a smirk she said, "But then Dr. Emmett Brown and Dr. Leonard McCoy disproved Dr. Nelson's theory on photosynthesis with the use of a flux capacitor. The flux capacitor makes the hyper drive in the transporter room work and gave us the theory of the big bang."

Some of the students kept writing as though Rhiannon made perfect sense while there were about 4 in the classroom of 28 who stopped writing. Rhiannon looked at those four very quickly and gave them a wink, and they smiled at her.

Rhiannon still couldn't believe that some of the students were still writing or typing. She again looked at the other four and gave them two quick winks and said, "For your journal entries I want you all to explain how Brown and McCoy were able to disprove the photosynthesis theory I spoke of with the Flux capacitor, and I want them in by Thursday morning failure to do so will result in an F. That's it have a good one and thanks for stopping by."

The four students who she looked at smiled her and Rhiannon gave them a very quick "OK" hand sign and a smile.

Once the classroom was emptied Rhiannon went down to her office and closed the door. She sat at her desk and looked at stack of papers and her calendar and just shook her head.

Let's see grade a few dozen tests...questioning whether or not the students are actually paying attention and making me question my career choice...attend the faculty mixer which will once again involve the spectacle of everyone sucking up to Dr. Allen who hasn't had an original thought in his head since getting the department chair position in 3 years, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cline trying not to look like they're having a relationship inspite of the fact that they're both married to other people, and of course Dr. Pillsar hitting on me and thus beginning our annual trek to H-R.

Rhiannon cut on her radio and said to the stack of papers, "I live a very sad life if this is the highlight of my day."

She began grading her papers and just as she finished Rhiannon heard sirens going by and a breaking news bulletin. There was a bank robbery at the R & T National Bank with hostages being taken.

Rhiannon stopped grading her papers and said, "That's less than two blocks from here."

Rhiannon stood up and transformed into The Atom. She quickly made her way out through the air vent and floated towards the bank situation.

Okay time to punch in and punch some creeps out.

"Duela, these results are appalling..." The massive figure infront of her scolded, broad muscles bulging through his checkered white shirt. He crossed his vast arms, glaring down at her with murky blue eyes, one coppery eyebrow curving expectantly as he awaited an answer.

"S-sorry, s-sir..." The young girl mumbled, slumped back in her shabby plastic chair. She moped miserably at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He barked vociferously, belting the desk that stood between them with one bulky fist. Duela bolted upright, her ears ringing viciously from the sheer force with which the man's hand had struck the wooden surface of her desk, startled by the sudden outburst. Meekly raising her head to examine the individual who was addressing her, the teenager was greeted by a look that was brimming with aggression; his face discoloured by cheeks that were flared crimson, a vein visibly bulging in his creased forehead.

"S-sorry, sir..." She muttered softly, her tone of voice and flinching body language highlighting the obvious fact that she was intimidated.

She could hear snickering from all around her, echoing off of the classrooms uncostly plaster walls. The fact that her teacher was not even attempting to stop her peers from openly mocking her did little to bolster her already shaken confidence.

The hulking educator tore his eyes away from her, turning his attention to the crumpled sheet of A4 paper that was gripped firmly in his free hand.

"3(X+2Y) equals 24..." He read off of the sheet, the manner in which he spoke making it clear that he thought very poorly of the answer she had supplied him with. "Would you care to enlighten me as to how you came to that conclusion, Miss Dent?"

The entire room went silent for several short moments, Duela only speaking when she came to the unfortunate realization that it was highly unlikely some enchanting creature would appear and whisk her off to a magical realm where snide classmates and overly zealous math teachers didn't exist.

"I guessed..." she said softly, unease gripping every cell in her body, her cheeks turning purple with embarrassment as she became more and more flustered.

The humongous maths teacher bore down on her with searing rage abundant in his eyes. His gargantuan frame was shaking with a worrying amount of animosity, and for and agonizingly long moment Duela was practically certain that he was about to strike her. Fortunately, he simply scrunched up her homework, before placing it on the desk in-front of her, and then marching back to the front of the class to continue teaching.

The fact that he had simply and wordlessly abandon her was more wounding to the teenager than physically beating her ever would have been.

Duela could feel the eyes of everyone around her judging her, she could feel their intrusive stares, hear their derisive whispers as they ridiculed her under their breath. She felt like curling up into a ball and simply ceasing to exist.

The young teenager put her head on her desk, shut her eyes, and tried to force herself to fall asleep. All she could think about was how utterly useless she felt, and by the time the lesson had finished she was on the verge of tears.

*

The mass of scars that criss-crossed the surface of her wounded face throbbed with an un-yielding pain, not at all helped by the fact that she had managed to draw blood whilst trying to cull the agony that was infesting her likeness, by raking her own skin with her bestial nails, in a similar fashion to which an infant might scratch at their chicken pox, yet with the fiery strength and vigour of an enraged jungle cat.

Running her serpentine tongue over her fang-like teeth, Duela surveyed the situation before her with a hawk-like gaze.
There was an air of silence lingering throughout the establishment, yet the atmosphere was the farthest thing from calm; an unspoken hostility ever-present, visible in the patrons hunched body language, and the burning electricity in their squinting eyes.

Her long fingers scrapping over the blemished glass of her cup, Duela pulled back the woollen scarf that was covering her deformed visage, taking a lingering sip of bourbon, hoping that it would in some way contribute to numbing the blistering pain in her face. Pulling the scarf back into place, she gently placed the glass back on her booths table, letting her posture slip as she reclined backwards.

There were no more than a handful of people in the bar, which made it the perfect place for Duela to lay low, at least until the heat died down. Unfortunately for the young fugitive, a sudden gust of cold air from the world outside, blown in as the bars front door swung violently open, followed by the entrance of a rugged looking figure in a trench coat and weather beaten fedora, soon indicated that she was perhaps not as well hidden as she had previously believed.
She recognised him. She’d seen him before somewhere.

She’d first caught sight of him a few days after she’d hauled her ass out of the Nethers, catching a brief glimpse of a faint silhouette in an un-stylish hat, as he trailed her in his worn out hatchback, and he’d been tailing her ever since, never more than a few steps behind.

She wasn’t sure if he’d been hired privately or if he was ununiformed GCPD, but she was certain that he hadn’t been in the exact same place as her for the past week by sheer coincidence.

Duela watched as he slowly made his way over to the counter, presumably to question the barkeeper as to if he’d noticed any scarred faced young girls come in or out of the bar recently, his eyes darting back and forth from place to place, taking in everything around him. At this point in time Duela was particularly thankful that her booth was shrouded by the flickering shadow that was cast by the bars dimly glowing lights.

Her pulse was quickening, and her breathing was becoming increasingly rapid. Steadying her nerves, Duela downed what little of her bourbon remained, before cautiously making her way across the bar, setting her sights on the front door, all the while making sure to try and keep herself out of sight.

Her rudimentary combination of scarf and hoodie might work well enough against strangers, but she doubted it would do much to fool the prying eyes of someone who knew what they were looking, almost certain that her coat-wearing pursuer would be able to see right through her masquerade, should he catch sight of her.
She was contemplating making a mad dash for the door, but didn’t fancy running the risk of drawing any more unwanted attention and potentially ending up with her own personal stalker for the rest of God-knows-how-long, and so she took one careful step after the other, drawing ever closer to the door, and to freedom.
Reaching the foot of the bar, Duela made a special effort to shuffle past her trench-coat clad friend, watching cautiously from the shadows as he spoke to the barkeeper, whilst attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.

A mere few steps from salvation, Duela could practically feel the outside breeze against her wound-ridden flesh, the beat of her black heart quickening tenfold inside her. Duela took a confident stride forwards, only to have her hopes suddenly and brutally crushed as she felt a firm hand clamp down on her lean shoulder.
Cursing under her breath, Duela reluctantly turned around, now face-to-face with her pursuer, catching a brief glimpse of the barkeeper out of the corner of her eye, noticing as he watched both of them from his station behind the counter, one eyebrow arched with curiosity.

The trench coat wearing man grinned through broken yellow teeth, dark stubble clinging to his beefy chin. Flaring his nostrils, the broad man recoiled slightly, even going so far as to make a slight gagging sound.

“You don’t ‘alf stink love…” He observed bluntly. She hadn’t had the chance to wash the stench of the sewers off of her. She wondered if that had tipped him off, or if he’d always know she was here.

“Mind taking off that pretty lil’ scarf and showin’ us what’s unda’neath?” He asked in a manner that clearly indicated his query was a demand and not a request.

By this point in time they were starting to draw the interest of more than a few of the bars patrons, and she could feel their iniquitous eyes bearing down on her, even without looking. It reminded her of her time back at Gotham High, when those pricks had intruded on her personal space with their indiscreet staring, thriving off of her humiliation. The resurfacing of old memories made her skin crawl, and she suddenly felt like vomiting.
Steadily raising one hand to her mouth, Duela slowly begun to unravel her scarf, her eyes franticly searching for a means of escape, her heart beating faster and faster. Trench coat man gawked at her with his piggy little eyes, an obnoxious smile that glowed unbearably with self-infatuation plastered across his pudgy face.
He thought he’d won. She’d show him otherwise.

Spying an empty beer bottle on the counter, Duela’s one free hand shot forwards, snatching the bottle up off of the counter, before smashing it into the side of trench coat man’s smug face. He let out a startled gasp as the brittle glass shattered on his ugly mug, causing him to stumble and lose his footing, momentarily losing his hold on her as he fell to the floor.

Tearing herself away from the man’s quaking grasp, Duela bolted towards the door, hearing the sugar sweet sound of her stalker loudly swear as he noticed the steady trail of blood that was oozing from a brand new hole in his stupid head, followed by the fairly amusing awkward yelp from the barkeeper as he instructed the pair of them to “take it outside”, stammering in a broken voice. At this point in time most of the other patrons were up and out of their seats, transfixed by the sight of the injured man scrambling uneasily to his feet, and of the young girl who was making a speedy escape.

During the ruckus Duela’s scarf had come loose, and as she burst out of the establishment, dashing forth into the grimy streets beyond, her warped face was exposed for all to see, her miss-matched eyes glistening in the pale moonlight, a mischievous grin gracing her plump lips. Leather boot clad feet pounding against the rock-hard pavement, Duela sprinted onwards, cold night air hitting her like a fist as she felt icy winds beat against skinny body, propelling herself forwards, trying to put as much distance between her and trench coat man as she could manage.

A thundering shout booming from somewhere behind her, Duela craned her scrawny neck, just about managing to catch site of trench coat man as he came barrelling out of the bar, powerful legs pumping vigorously as sprinted after her, one bloodied hand pressed up against his gore-stained forehead.

She tried her best to press onwards at full pelt, but soon found her dodgy leg giving out on her, causing her to slow to an awkward hobble. A few weeks ago she’d gotten into a scrap with some thugs, and it had cost her more than her dignity; leaving her with a crippled leg, several fractured ribs and a few missing teeth. Her time as empress of rock bottom had made her arrogant, and that arrogance has cost her dearly. Things weren’t the same without her girls; she couldn’t afford to play the role of queen bitch anymore.
Flinging herself into a nearby alleyway, Duela pressed her frail body up against a grubby brick wall, panting hysterically as she waited for trench coat man to come bursting around the corner. Reaching down the back of her jeans, one ragged hand reassuringly grabbed hold of her .45, long fingers coiling around the handgun.
By the time trench coat man came running full pelt into the back alley he found himself staring down the barrel of a fully loaded firearm.

The arrogance that once radiated from his face was gone in an instant, replaced by eyes wide with fear and trembling lips. He raised two hands above his head in surrender, looking at her with sheer terror seeping off of his very form.

“P-Please missus, I gotta wife ‘un kids…”

As he stood there, shaking uncontrollably, his rasped breathing making his broad muscles bulge visibly through his mucky t-shirt, he reminded her of a maths teacher she’d once known.

The noise of a bullet erupting from her gun sounded like a powerful fist beating against a wooden desk.
*
Duela awoke early the next morning, waking tirelessly for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Thin rays of light broke through the cracks in her blinds, beaming down into the otherwise dark apartment.

Her back popped loudly as she stretched, a content yawn escaping from her mouth. Duela half climbed, half rolled out of bed, wadding through the piles of clothes that had been strewn across her floor as she made her way over to the lone full figure mirror in her apartment. She gazed wearily into the reflective glass, peeking through foggy eyes and strands of unkempt raven streaked hair at her naked form.

Her arms and legs were practically skin and bone, but she still retained some of her old thickness in her broad hips. Turning, she noted that her bum was bigger than she would have liked, and her belly was beginning to bulge like those malnourished children from the water-aid adverts. Her skin was warped and slight grey, although not quite to the extreme hue it had been around the time she’d stuck a needle in her arm every other night.

Scavenging what clothing she could find off of the floor, Duela slowly begun to get dressed. She’d once had to fight an uphill battle to fit into her fashionably torn jeans, but she now slipped into them easily, finding that she even needed to use a belt to stop them from falling off of her. Fitting a spotted purple bra into place, Duela was far happier than she’d admit that her quest to scourge traditional beauty from her body hadn’t cost her any cup sizes. Slipping into an oversized A7fold t-shirt, the young girl fished a set of keys off of the nearby table, before slowly making her way out of the cramped apartment, shutting the door behind her.

Jonathan sat in his recliner at home, in his small apartment near the heater. He had a Newspaper in his hands, and was skimming through it with a light curiosity. He had always thought it important to stay caught up on recent events. It was only a light knock on his front door that made him set the paper down, and answer his door.

“Hey, Johnny. Long time no see, man. I was hoping I’d catch you here, you mind if I come in..?” It was Oliver, one of the few high school friends Jonathan had ever made.

Oliver had more copper skin and was darker haired. Shorter, yet stocky, he had a slash running down his right cheek. A horrifying reminder of how lucky they had been, a few years ago, when more insanity struck Gotham and nearly killed them during the Haley’s Day massacre. Jonathan had escaped unharmed, Oliver wasn’t so lucky.

“Of course you can come in, Oliver. It’s nice to see you again too. Come In, come in!” Jonathan waved the man in before nervously checking the hallway of his apartment complex for intruders or eavesdroppers. Satisfied with the emptiness of the place, he shut the door and slid the bolt lock into place.

The two men made their way to the living room of Jonathan and sat down. Jonathan picked his newspaper back up and thumbed through it idly, waiting for Oliver to speak. Eventually, the young man did.

“You know Johnny, I heard they’re always looking for Doctors with Psychology degrees at Arkham Asylum. You know they pay well too! Have to, in order to get people to put up with working in a nut house like that. Ever think of going there..?”

Jonathan nodded politely, his sky blue eyes sitting calmly behind his spectacles.

“I have thought about it, actually. But I don’t know if I want to devote my life to helping fix broken men just yet. It is easier to build strong boys than fix broken men. It’s why I like to teach. I see the same enthusiasm in my students that I had while sitting in those same old desks they sit in now, only a few years ago too.”

“You’ve only been teaching at the University a year! Surely you can’t have sunk your roots in too deep, have you..?” Oliver seemed genuinely surprised that Jonathan was growing attached to teaching. Jonathan was the kind of man that didn’t get attached to anything.

“Of course not, but I have steady income and am doing something I like, I don’t want to risk it all for nothing.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and stood up with a shrug. He made his way to the front door, and Jonathan held it open for him. After Oliver stepped into the hallway, he turned back to his older friend.

“Well, my brother works in the Asylum and just wanted me to ask around for him. They’re in need of Good Doctors out there.”
“I’m sure they are.” Jonathan said curtly.

“And Shannon works out there too.” Oliver said with a twinge of excitement, knowing how Jonathan would react to this news.

“Shannon…?” He seemed paler than normal, and slightly dumbfounded.

“Yup. Remember her..? Long red hair, cute button nose, and eyes as green as Jade. She was a hell of a girl in High School. Still is. Her eyes are as green as ever, and her legs just as slim. Of course, she’es engaged to marry Bruce now… I know you too never saw eye-to-eye.”

“Indeed we didn’t, Oliver.” The coldness and distance had returned to Jonathan’s tone and eyes. Shannon had seemed to warm his heart, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’d mind seeing you some. All that High School nonsense is over now. We’re adults. She works as a Nurse there, so if you worked there, you may even be her superior.” Oliver was using Shannon as bait, seemingly desperate to get a hire for his brother. Things must have been more dire there than he thought.

“Goodnight, Oliver.” Jonathan said cooly, shutting the door noiselessly and locking it. He lean against the door for a moment, listening to Oliver sigh heavily on the other side of the door and step heavily as he made his way down the hall.

He turned around and made his way to his bedroom, looking into his closet, he found a row of clean and crisp black suit all hung up, formal and very dignified; he liked the look of them. But he also liked the look of something else even more…

Pulling a cardboard box out of the corner of his closet, he took it to his room and sat down with it, opening it slowly. Inside was a notebook filled with complex equations and chemistry nonsense. Jonathan’s father had almost created a perfected anesthetic, and Jonathan had been tweaking the formula slightly to see what would come of it. It was one such late night in the lab, he had discovered the second object in the box, a mask.

It was made of burlap and felt rough in his hands. Two eye holes were cut in the mask, as well as a grizzly smile. He had discovered it in Saint George’s Redemption Church many years ago while he was a boy. He remembered the day clearly.

He had disappointed his grandmother Harriet for one thing or another, and she locked him into the crumbling church with a sneer and a lecture, before from outside ringing a large bell that summoned a flock of crows so thick and savage, they had nearly pecked the eyes from Jonathan’s skull. They had ruined his clothes and given him many a knick and scratch, but the boy survived just fine. Physically at least. Inside this had been the beginning of understanding Fear, of understanding what it meant to be truly be Afraid.

He did not know what the mask was doing there, nor how long it had lain. But as the swarm of crows struck the boy, he fell onto his side in-between a pair of pews, and as he lay on his side crawling into the fetal position, he noticed it lay in the dusk and dirt of the floor in front of him, only a few inches away.

At first he had kept it because it looked cool, than as a monument to his vanquished fear, and the death of his innocence. Soon it grew more and more in importance to him, and though he had never worn it out of some misplaced fear, he knew the mask held a great destiny for him.

Sighing to himself heavily, he took his sharp looking spectacles off his face, and rubbed his face sleepily. He laid the box on the bedside table and lay down, suddenly exhausted. He had forgotten to turn the light out in his room, as well as undress, but sleep soon came for him all the same…

“What are the colors of the spectrum, what do they represent, and who do they owe their origin to?”

“Green is Will—the domain of Ion. Red is Rage—the domain of Atrocitus. Orange is Greed—the domain of Ophidian. Yellow is Fear—the domain of Parralax. Blue is Hope—the domain of Adara. Violet is Love—the domain of Zamaron. Indigo is Compassion—the domain of Proselyte. Those are the spectrums.”

Alan Scott folded his arms with a smile at his daughter’s recital. “Struck that one to memory, Jade?”

The green-skinned half-human rolled her eyes as she looked to her father. “I have been a lantern for a year now; you have to learn these sorts of things.” She chimed back. Why was her father even continuing to test her anyway? She didn’t get it—had she not already proved that she was more than ready? The Guardians had only sent her on tiny missions where she didn’t even play a big role in mediating and she had to wonder if it was because she was a new member or if her father was an old member.

“Few lanterns know the entities that the spectrum owes its power to. They just jump in with their blinders on and want to punch crime in the face.”

“Crime is bad.”

“Crime is bad, yes,” he chuckled, “But knowing the history of our order and anything relative to it is just as important as doing our job. Being a Green Lantern is more than giving Kilowog a headache or testing Katma Tui’s patience.”

Jade hated that look. But really, was it her fault that her former instructors were total pains? She wasn’t exactly completely at fault there. “Yeah, okay.”

“…’Yeah, okay’ what?”

Jade smirked, “Yeah, okay—dad.”

“That’s better.” The forty-four year old stated with a smile. He wasn’t easy on his daughter, but he was only doing what he thought he had to do; after all, Abin Sur had been his mentor when he was in the same position and that led him to diving headfirst into historical archives that the guardians had. It had helped in practically most of his life as a Green Lantern and without it he wouldn’t have thought much of The Blight’s re-emergence last year. He was only glad that he stopped that before it became a problem—a locust-esque race reigning down on the galaxy with supposed unlimited power? That would have been a bad day.

“I just want to get out there.” Jade stated a few moments later and Alan knew where this was going.

“And you will.”

Alan paused for a moment before speaking again, “There’s a whole galaxy out there, the guardians aren’t going to ignore talent like yours and never use it. Just keep using that brain.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

Alan laughed at his daughters retort. “True.”

Themyscira

Diana stood on the coast of her island home peering over the waves, pondering the situation she now found herself in. Months ago she was angry at her mother for hiding her true parentage as the daughter of Zeus from her, but seeing what lengths Hera has gone to wipe out the other daughters of the Olympian had opened Diana's eyes to her mother's plight. The war of the Olympians would soon find its way here and across the rest of Gaia, and there were far too few who hoped to stand against its might. The Amazons would do their part, but it was more likely that they would fall in battle then emerge victorious.

The war was not the only thing the Princess of the Amazons had to worry about, though. She now had a half-sister, the only other family she was ever bound to have, to take care of. Cassie was an impressive young girl, but she was green. She had never been combat trained, and only had raw ability to fall back on. Her abilities were significant, of course. She was a demigod. Cassie had proved herself when she helped Diana take down Giganta. But an untrained monster was not the same as the armies of Ares. If they attacked the island now, Cassie would fall, and Diana would fail. That was not something she was planning on doing.

"It's beautiful here," Cassie's voice carried from behind Diana. The girl was a mere sixteen years of age, yet she carried herself well. The divinity in her blood clearly shone through. Her flowing blond hair fell down to her shoulders, shining like golden wheat in the moonlight. She may not have been born an Amazon, but she looked like one. And the way she took to the combat training Diana had been putting her through, she may one day be considered one. "Why would anyone ever want to attack this place?"

"Ares is a coward," Wonder Woman seethed. "He has always saw our people's part as defenders of the peace as an affront to him. So he looks to destroy us. How he has warped the minds of the other gods to come to his side."

"We have some on our side, though," Cassie said in an upbeat mood. She was not wrong. The Amazons' patron goddesses had sided with Zeus, as well as Hephaestus and Hermes. But Zeus had disappeared, and other than Artemis and Athena none of the goddesses were schooled in war. It was an uphill battle to be sure.

"We have righteousness on our side, Cassandra," Diana said, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. "And more will join us."

Just then, the horn signalling the beginning of the war council sounded. The two demigods smiled at one another, and Diana said slyly, "Race you."

Cassie took off, calling back to Diana, "No flying!"

The two sisters took off through the jungles surrounding the city of the Amazons. They ran through the underbrush and branches as if they were creatures of the forest themselves. Diana had done this many a time as a child, using the instincts granted to her by Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Cassie managed to stick with her without said senses. Another impressive feet for the young warrior.

When they burst forth from the brush, they hit the cobblestone streets of the city, scattering Amazons in their wake. Some yelled at the two, but most smiled and shook their heads. They were the two golden children here, and they were given a wide berth.

Diana slid into the grand chamber annex, turning back to her sister who leaned against a column shaking her head, "Nice try, young one. But you still have ways to go."

"Yea, well watch out, the young gun is coming for you," Cassie hit Diana on the shoulder playfully.

Entering the grand chamber, Diana approached the center table where Athena was holding court with Hippolyta, looking over a map of Earth. Next to the Goddess was Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Hermes was leaning back in his chair, not paying much attention to the proceedings. Cassie stopped towards the back, but was beckoned closer by her sister. Diana insisted Cassandra learn as much as she could.

"We have scouts set up everywhere we think Ares's forces could cross over onto Gaia,' Athena said, pointing to all the locations. "We cannot put significant forces at any of them and risk narrowing our focus. At this point in the conflict, we need a solid line of communication first and foremost."

"No, what we need are more allies," Diana spoke up. A gasp rippled through the atrium from the Amazons listening in. They most likely found it appalling one of their own would dare to question the great Athena. But Diana cared not. She had dealt with the Gods enough over the past year. This was now a fight, and she was going to make her opinions known.

"Where do think we should begin with that, Diana?" was Athena's response.

"I have an idea," Wonder Woman said, standing. "I'm going to go to Atlantis."

His throat was dry, his vision blurred, and there was a dull ringing echoing in his ears. He ran his parched tongue over his cracked lips, but it yielded no moisture. On the inside he felt himself shaking violently, yet on the outside he remained completely still, gazing into nothingness with dead, emotionless eyes.

“Sir?

A thin layer of water obscured each eye, making everything turn blurred and glassy. He felt like he was an abstract being, watching someone else’s life unfold in front of him. He drifted aimlessly, caught up in his disembodied state, his grasp on the world broken and fragmented.
“Sir…?”

He slowly came around, blinking away salty tears, and looking the man who was addressing him straight in the eye. When he was younger they’d told him he was bad at making eye contact, something to do with his asperses, but right now he fixed the man with a cold, unwavering stare, his own eyes never once wandering astray, or seeking solace by burying themselves in some quiet, isolated corner of the room.
“Sir?!”

The sudden increase in volume tore him from his ethereal non-sleep, forcing him at last to re-join the realm of the living. Reality hit him like a fire truck, and he suddenly felt the whole of existence screaming around him.

“Sir…I’m so very sorry” There was a genuine sounds to the man’s tone, but neither his words nor the sympathy in his eyes did much to comfort him.
“If it’s any consolation it would’ve been fairly quick and…and painless. She…she wouldn’t have felt a thing.”

He still remembered the first time he’d laid his eyes upon her, the first time she’d graced by with her soft, sensual movements, the first time he had been blessed with the sweet, soothing sound of her voice. It had taken his everything to muster the courage to speak to her. He was so she’d be just another pretty face; that she’d turn out to be as hollow and lifeless as all the beautiful girls.

But she’d been everything he could have ever wished for. She had been so…perfect. They had been so happy together. And now she was gone.
“She wouldn’t have felt a thing.”

He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry or scream.

He felt sick.

'If you hurt inside get certified, and if life should treat you bad…Don’t get even, get mad!'

*

Doctor Sulivan sat across from her patient, her auburn hair tied back into a ponytail. Unnerving didn’t even begin to describe the maniacal look in his venomous eyes. His face was thin and angular, his flesh far paler than anything that wasn’t devoid of all life had any right to be. His hair was a mess of toxic green strands, his cheek bones chiselled in an almost feminine fashion. His nose was long and crooked, and there were deep laugh lines visible on the corners of his mouth. His lips were red like fresh blood seeping from a gaping wound, his teeth vicious and yellow. His body was lean and gaunt, making him seem almost skeletal in appearance. He wasn’t particularly well-built, but there was definitely some muscle on his frame.

The maniacal looking figure was bound in metal shackles, and clad in a strait-jacket, clearly meant to restrict his movements. Despite all of his constraints an aura of intimidation still radiated from him, making Sulivan shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Doctor Sulivan, so lovely to see you! I do so enjoy our little chats” The Joker exclaimed, a vicious grin spreading across his porcelain features. A moment of elongated silence lingered between them, the Joker only speaking once more when it became evident that the Doctor was making no move to speak herself. “Did you by chance manage to read my little journal?” He queered in a sign-song voice, raising one toxic green eyebrow into an arch.

Sulivan gazed through her spectacles at the battered book that was laid out in front of her, resting comfortably on the room’s loan table. “I’m afraid I had some trouble actually managing to make it out, Mr…Joker.” She admitted with a slight laugh.

“Unfortunately, between my enthusiasm and my choice of ink, well…I may have sacrificed something’s, legibility being one of them.” Throughout the entirety of his sentence the same unsettling grin remained on his face, and it persisted even after he had finished speaking. “But that book is filled with every observation I have made in my special time on this earth. EVERYTHING. And I have observed soooo much, Doctor.”

“Would you like to walk through it with me?”

“That would be very much appreciated, Mister Joker.”

Sulivan opened the book, bound in what she assumed to be leather, turning to the first tarnished page. The Joker nodded to the page in question “This page is about something I did to a young man with a dog, and no sense of humour. And his dog.” He leered at her as he spoke, that smile of his ever-present, his noxious eyes catching the light and glistening venomously.

Sulivan could tell that he was trying to unnerve her; she’d had the same thing from several other patients in the past, so she didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting in any discernable manner. She simply nodded at him, before turning to the next page.

“This page is about my little incident at the circus…” Sulivan had spoken to him about this particular topic matter in the past, so she simply turned to the next page, not wanting to discuss it further.

“Now THIS page really is special…” He begun, pausing for dramatic emphasis. “It’s what I’d do if I ever met an eight year old boy named Brian.”
Suddenly, Sulivan felt her blood run cold, an icy chill creeping up her spine.

“M-my son is eight…and his name is Brian.”

“My, my! Isn’t that a pleasant little coincidence?” His vicious grin spread further and further across his face, now spanning each corner of his likeness.
He leaned in towards her, coming as close to the doctor as his bonds would allow.

“Now, Doctor Sulivan, I want you to listen VERY closely…”

In the greater cosmos, the people are protected by two sides in the interstellar justice system; the Lanterns who investigate crimes and the local authorities who prosecute the offenders. The call came in at seventeen forty-seven, Oa Standard Time. A domestic disturbance on an asteroid base out on the edge of space in Sector 2814. That makes it my problem. My name is Kai-ro. I carry a ring.

| A S T E R O I D • B L U E • H E A V E N |

The small spacecraft exited out of the singularity, a blue glow radiating from the ion drives as power was diverted to the sublight engines, the kinetic force combining with the resulting inertial to propel the pristine vessel toward the massive rock which hung like a rogue planet against the backdrop of space. Inside the space craft, a feminine voice echoed and said, "We have entered Sector 2814, quadrant Gamma-9. Adjusting vector for approach to space station Blue Heaven."

"Domestic disturbance," the squirrel-like creature growled, blowing smoke from a distinctly non-regulation cigar as he barked, "What are we now, marriage counselors?"

Bringing a hand up to his face, the young Chinese boy waved the smoke away from his face despite knowing all-too-well the futility of his actions. In such a confined environment, even with Aya's carbon scrubbers working at maximum efficiency to recycle the air quality, the noxious odors continued to burn at his nostrils everywhere in the ship. "Blue Heaven is a private enterprise. WIthout local government law enforcement, it is necessary for the Corps to provide for community police protection in order to prevent this quadrant becoming a..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not the Poozer here, kid," Ch'p growled, interrupting the young Green Lantern before blowing smoke in his face. "This is, what, third time we've been out?"

"Fourth," Kai-ro corrected, coughing as the smoke choked the back of his throat.

"Well, maybe if you'd busted some heads the first, second, or third time, we wouldn't be out here again," the H'lven chipmunk snapped.

"There was no criminal complaint alleged and therefore it would be unconscionable to impose..."

"I'll show you 'unconscionable' if you don't shut up and arrest something," the grizzled Blue Lantern barked, waving with his cigar toward the back of the cockpit. "Now hit the beat, kid."

There were creatures in this world - in this universe - who tested the patience of even the most virtuous monk. With a sigh, the young Green Lantern hung his head as he resigned himself to the fact that Clarissi Salaak had, for whatever karmic slight Kai-ro may have caused in a prior life, partnered him with just such a creature. "Kao yao," the youth muttered in Chinese as he started toward the airlock.

"Yeah, moo goo gai pan to you too, kid."

The comment from the H'lven reached Kai-ro's ears just as he started through the exit of the cockpit, drawing his shoulders up in the only tangible display of irritation. Peace. Compassion. Peace... the boy repeated to himself, drawing in a deep breath which he let out slowly as he did the right thing and just walked away. As he stepped into the airlock, the boy brought his right hand up, adjusting the distinctive ring on his middle finger. A green aura enveloped his small form, as the exterior hatch was pulled away like a curtain to reveal the naked cosmos outside. Gently, the boy's foot drifted from off the deck as he floated freely into the vacuum awaiting him.

Space could be frightening the first time. There was no concept of up or down. No compass points with which to orient the mind. Some never overcame the vertigo. But Kai-ro? Kai-ro felt like this was true freedom. Putting his arms by his side, the child ducked and then pushed himself out through the void like a dolphin sliding through the sea. Gliding across the emptiness, the youth arced upward to arrive at an airlock that would give entry to the asteroid base. A pulse from his ring and the door parted for him, and Kai-ro stepped inside.

A century before, the asteroid had been cored out by a mining corporation. Left an empty shell, the remains of the mining station had been hastily converted into a port of call for people out on the fringe of this part of space. Pirates. Smugglers. Drug runners. The Green Lanterns knew that Blue Heaven, as it had come to be called, was nothing more than a waypoint from criminal elements drifting through the sector. But suspicion didn't amount to evidence, and so the Green Lanterns could do little more than keep an eye on the station. Still, it remained a lawless wonderland. A ghetto in space. Trash crunched under foot, along with something squishy that Kai-ro immediately tried not to think about as he made his way inside of the shoddy asteroid port.

B37T4-A, or Big Bertha, had originally been programmed as a lab assistant for a chemical company. Later advances in robotics and artificial intelligence design had led to Bertha being thrown out with the trash, but instead of being resigning herself to being reduced to scrap, the rusted automaton had wound up opening a bar out on Blue Heaven. There, she'd met up with a waste disposal unit that everyone called 'Marty' and the two had mixed like oil and water. Their passions for one another were, perhaps, impressive given the limitations of their designs, but that passion led to destructive behavior - usually by Bertha - which was of increasing concern to the residents of Blue Heaven.

That alone was concerning. It took a great deal for someone who lived on Blue Heaven to want to call the Lanterns.

As the young Green Lantern walked through the doors of the bar, an ion bolt buried itself into the wall about three feet to the left and two heads higher than he stood. The smell of residual gas coolant gave credence to the notion that such hadn't been the first shot fired, which would explain why someone would have been willing, if not eager, to call the Lanterns. In space, with the risk of the hull being compromised, no one won a gun fight.

Bertha was behind the bar, plugged into a voltage converted that had obviously made her onboard components drunk from the power surge. In one of her reedy, articulate limbs was a relic of the Trandoshan Civil War, a gas-powered ion bolt caster that was little more than a high-tech slug thrower. "You whore," the robotic bar tender managed, loudly slurring her words as her servos were unable to precisely calibrate for motion. The rifle waved wildly toward a squat, dirty-looking robot. "I... I kill you and... and that automated hussy!"

"Perhaps we could begin by placing the weapon on the..."

"Bertha, my love! My binary blossom, it was nothing!" Marty's roughly synthesized voice interjected, as the squat box-like robot seemed to dance from side to side. "A thirty second upload in a parallel connection, I swear! She means nothing to me!"

Turning toward the squat machine, Kai-ro looked sternly over at the waste robot and offered, "I do not believe such protests will be effect..."

"Upload!?" Bertha echoed, drawing both Marty and Kai-ro's attention to the chemist-turned-barmaid at the distinctive sound of the caster bolt being drawn back. "UPLOAD!?"

"Upload? No, I didn't upload in her..." Marty uttered weakly.

This was, in the boy's mind, exactly what a train wreck in slow motion must look like. "Go se," the child swore under his breath, as a large green shield appeared between himself, Marty, and the bar as several ion bolts slammed into the willpower construct. This was not what he'd envisioned when he'd been chosen as Green Lantern.

"I had reconstructive surgery for you!" Bertha barked, pausing her barrage as she gestured toward what were obviously a new set of oscillating processor tubes across the front of her torso.

"Yes'm, those are nice," Kai-ro quipped vapidly, not entirely certain that made sense, and less so just what he was saying, but it made sense to say something as he gestured with both hands for her to put the caster down. "We can talk about this rationally and without the need for viol..."

"Bitch, you best recognize that's my man!"

There were very few times that Kai-ro would have offered the opinion that discussion was a useless endeavor. As the automated food processor came wheeling into the bar, however, the Shaolin monk had to resign himself to the fact that this was one of those times.

"Oh, hell no!"

As Bertha roared and snapped up the rifle, the spry, young Green Lantern was already in motion. Quick as a snake, a sweep of the boy's leg had sent the Trandoshan rifle skidding across the bar top, as a series of green handcuffs snapped onto her reedy limbs. "Weapons discharge in an enclosed space environment is a class five misdemeanor," the youth asserted in a matter-of-fact tone. "I believe some time apart on Oa will help in alleviating this conflic..."

"GET YUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!"

As he turned, Kai-ro saw Marty lunging for him, as the food processor came wheeling after. "That's my man!"

Had he mentioned that he hadn't signed up for this?

One Month Ago
Star City Memorial Hospital
Star City, CA

Everything hurt. When he took a breath, it hurt. When he attempted to shift his weight in bed, it hurt. When he ate, it hurt. Hell, he even felt pain when he was asleep, if that was even possible. The beating that had been put on him by Danny "Stonewall" Jackson, Count Vertigo's right-hand man, had been savage and brutal. If it wasn't for the arrival of his police detective ally John Diggle, Oliver would probably be dead right now. Luckily he had tipped Diggle off as to where he was going to confront the count. John brought back up, but managed to get Oliver out of the situation before the other police, who were still looking to arrest the Green Arrow, could get him. Diggle created a cover story that Oliver had been mugged to cover for the beating.

The fact that Oliver had been at the free clinic which he set up in the Glades, underneath which lay his secret lair, got the story past his mother. His sister Mia, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. Speedy had been suspicious after her drug dealer was put away hours after she had nearly ODed. Ollie's change of attitude towards partying and her troubled ways were also a red flag to her, considering he had been as bad, or worse, as her before.

Ollie knew she was catching on to him, but he didn't care. She was cleaning her act up. If she managed to figure him out, he'd at least be happy his sister was safe again. That's all that mattered.

"So you really can't remember what the guys looked like," she asked, finally looking up from her phone.

"No."

Christ, even talking hurt.

"Good thing the cops have set up a perimeter around the clinic," she said sarcastically. "Wouldn't want it to happen again."

"Do you have a problem?" Oliver asked, the annoyance showing in his voice. "Last time I checked, getting almost beaten to death was cause for pity."

Leaning back in her chair, she shrugged, "I dunno. Your new 'defender of the little man' crusade makes me wonder if you went looking for this."

"Mia," he laughed, wincing in pain, "there's is no way I went looking for this."

"Maybe you just suck at fighting," his sister winked.

"Thanks, Mia," Oliver smiled. The relationship between them was the best now then it had ever been. Mia was getting clean, and Oliver was making sure that happened. It was the one good thing in his life since returning from the island. Hell, it was probably the best thing in his life before that too. "Now I think I need to get some sleep."

They said their goodbyes, and once she was gone Oliver stood, hobbling to the window. He was healing quickly thanks to how great shape he was in. Once he was ready, he was going back after Vertigo and Jackson.

And this time he'd be ready.

| G U A R D I A N • S H I P • S E N T I N E L |

From out of a pocket at the back of his hip, the H'lven Blue Lantern produced a thimble-sized flask from which he put a little kick into the coffee that had gone cold about two hours ago. Swirling the dark liquid around in the miniature cup, the veteran law enforcement rodent tested the potency of his concoction before putting the flask away again. It still tasted like swill, but at least it took the edge off a little bit. Grimacing slightly at the bitterness, the squirrel-like Lantern put the coffee cup back down and stuck the well gnawed, stub of his earlier cigar back into his mouth in order to try and get the taste of the human beverage out of his mouth. The kid had thought that introducing the H'lven to coffee might help the rodent to focus. What Ch'p discovered was that this coffee looked good, smelled better, and tasted like hammered trog swill.

A perfect metaphor for humans.

Speaking of trog swill... "How's our poozer doin', Aya?" the Blue Lantern inquired gruffly, pushing the cigar stub over to one side of his mouth so that it dangled from the corner as he spoke.

A holographic rendering of the interior of the space station was overlaid in front of the usual cockpit HUD. The projection depicted Kai-ro struggling to restrain a multi-armed robot from assaulting a waste disposal unit, which had Kai-ro in a headlock, and using one leg to hold back an automated food processor, which was cat fight slapping at the first robot. Various ring construct hands were attempting to pry and pull and seperate the lot of them, but to no avail. "I believe that Green Lantern may require assistance," the feminine AI voiced sympathetically.

"Eh," Ch'p uttered with a shrug, as the cigar traveled to the other side of his mouth and he picked up the cup of coffee again.

"Blue Lantern, I am receiving a transmission."

The coffee mug stopped just a half inch away from the H'lven's face. Turning his furred head back slightly, the diminutive Lantern asked, "From?"

"The transmission origin is tagged as Oa."

A colorful string of words in a variety of languages were muttered under his breath, as the H'lven looked down into his coffee cup and then tossed it. Running a hand through his scruffy face, the Blue Lantern finally gave a nod. The holographic projection of Kai-ro was then replaced by the face of a reddish alien with a rather elongated cranium. "Clarissi," Ch'p stated politely, addressing the Slyggian by his title.

"Blue Lantern," Salaak intoned in kind. "We show you to be in Sector 2814. What's your present location?"

"Asteroid Blue Heaven," the H'lven supplied evenly, his tone becoming gruffer still as he asked, "Why?"

"Good. You're close to Gemini in Sector 2815," The Slyggian remarked cryptically, turning as though to acknowledge someone who was off screen. When he'd turned back to the Blue Lantern, Salaak explained, "The Graxions have requested our assistance with a homicide case."

The H'lven frowned, the cigar again trailing over to the other side of his mouth. "Homicide?" the Blue Lantern echoed, plucking the stub from out of his teeth and waving it around as he spoke. "What the frell? When did we become the galaxy police? It's a murder. They've got detectives. I'm sure they can find the smoking gun."

"The Graxions have... reason to believe this might be a Consortium hit, Ch'p," the Clarissi stated, nonplussed by the H'lven's insubordinate barking. "Arisia's handling a treaty negotiation at the moment. I'd prefer that she handle this, but if it is the Consortium then we have to get out in front of this one."

The H'lven was speechless for a moment. But only a moment. "Frell fracking hell, Sally, I'm training a fracking poozer here, not leading an Alpha unit," Ch'p argued, anger slipping into his voice as his cigar-augmented hand gestures only grew more articulate. "This is a Consortium job? How bad?" the Blue Lantern demanded.

"An entire family. Kids. Even the pets."

Were it not for his fur, the H'lven would have appeared to have blanched. He'd seen enough murder scenes to know that they weren't pretty to begin with. And when kids were added to the equation, nasty business only got that much more disturbing. Now tack on the Consortium's so-called business rules and it wasn't as simple as just killing someone. "Frack, Sally, kid's ring won't work for a month if he sees that," the Blue Lantern uttered flatly.

To be quite honest, Ch'p wasn't all that certain his would either.

"He'll be witnessing worse if we don't stop this, Ch'p," the Green Lantern administrator stated matter-of-factly, folding all four of his arms down on his desk as he stared down at the small chipmunk and said only, "Good luck, Blue Lantern."

And then he hung up on them, leaving Ch'p staring at an empty field of stars. In which he caught his own reflection and wasn't all that certain he liked what he saw any more.

---

The young Chinese monk was struggling. His protective aura kept Marty's arms an inch away from his neck, but he could still feel pressure pushing up against his throat. And the food processing unit's wildly slapping arms were beating against his leg and, occasionally, smacking between them, sending inadvertent shudders of phantom pain through him created by his own subconscious in sympathy for the abuse that his body was taking. Large, green constructs in the form of a pair of hands were holding back Bertha, as Kai-ro felt his foothold beginning to give way.

It wasn't his balance. His own will was starting to falter.

Luckily, hope always shines brightest when that happens. True to form, the eruption of blue energy was startling to everyone - including Kai-ro - as a massive backhand issued a pimp slap that sent all of them scattering across the floor. As the robots and Kai-ro looked up, standing in the doorway to the bar was mighty mouse himself.

"You." the H'lven barked, pointy a stubby finger at Bertha and then directing his attention over toward Marty with equal vitriol. "And you. Get a fracking divorce." With that said, the Blue Lantern turned to the automated food processor. "And you. A waste disposal unit? Do you have any idea where that's been?"

The three robots got to their servos, shamed into silence by the short, blue rodent. Kai-ro's mouth was hanging open, speechless as the H'lven's dark gaze fell next on him. "You, back on the ship."

Nodding, mouth still agape, the young Green Lantern got to his feet. As he started to obey, the boy paused and looked back at Bertha for a moment, then back at Ch'p. "But... the weapons discharge..."

"What?" the H'lven uttered sharply, then spied the rifle on the bar. Turning to glare at Bertha again, the squirrel-like Lantern growled. "You're gettin' a warning this time,"

"WHAT!?" Kai-ro snapped in disbelief.

"Don't make me come back here," Ch'p growled, pointing at the three robots in turn. "I'll be angry. And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

With that, the H'lven turned and marched back out the way he came. Jogging to keep pace with the shorty Blue, the young Green Lantern fell into step beside his partner and trainer. "Why are you..."

"Shut up," Ch'p barked shortly, offering only. "We've got a job to do."

Unknown Location

Zazzala Ayesha, the Queen Bee, stood front and center in front of five teenagers with an expression that could only be described as pure wickedness. The biyalian national had been plotting amongst her Secret Society allies and she believed it was finally time to put things into motion and the target her and the society had decided on to headway their attack on the Justice League’s credibility? Gotham.

As it stood, the true founder of the Justice League was the illusive Batman and his crusade in Gotham was almost mythic, but it was not Ayesha’s job to fight the Bat but put her pawns in place in the city and wait until Ra’s sent word that it was time for the mission to start. While the biaylian didn’t exactly trust the illuminati aspects of R’as al Ghul—he claimed to be Batman’s greatest enemy and he did have the manpower to ensure the Bat and his brats were sufficiently distracted when the time came to turn Gotham into the true aspect of chaos. The HIVE leader looked to her Fearsome Five and spoke to them in their current secret headquarters in the United States.

“We are ready to move you into phase one; I do sincerely hope you are ready, my children.”

A chill went down Nicole Diaz’s spine as the word children left the Queen Bee’s voice as if it oozed with venom. She had been loyal to the program since they took her off the streets and cared for her like nobody else would. But there were certain words the Queen Bee would say that made her uncomfortable—more uncomfortable then when Nicole was considered a hellspawn or a witch and driven out of her foster homes. But standing here with her four friends in the Fearsome Five she felt it was an uncomforting feeling she could temporarily stand. After all, the Queen Bee rarely decided she needed to speak to them directly.

“We are.” Nicole stated with confidence in reply.

“That is good, Jinx. We are moving you five to a city in this state of New Jersey, Gotham.”

“Gotham?!” Nicole’s thoughts staggered as she found herself unsure of their success with The Batman backing down in the shadows. She didn’t show her lack of confidence on her face though, there was no point to being scared—she was a leader after all.

“I understand.”

“Good,” Queen Bee noted as she looked over Nicole Diaz’s expression—it was firm, but she saw the indecision… yet she didn’t make mention of it as she spoke again. “We are placing you in The Narrows—a sort of urban area aloof of orphans and the poor. You five should blend in—but I want you all to be smart, The Batman cannot know we are in his city so don’t give him a reason to look for you until I give you your orders.”

“The old sit and wait! Sounds fun!” Irwin Schwab retorted, interrupting the steady flow of dialogue between Jinx and Queen Bee.

“Ambush Bug…” Mikron O'Jeneus, aka ‘Gizmo’ muttered as he nudged Irwin’s side.

Queen Bee only chuckled, “It is good to see you having fun, because there will be much more of it in the coming months.”

“Ooooh secret fancy!” Irwin whistled in anticipation.

“Indeed, very ‘secret fancy’, Ambush Bug.” Queen Bee replied as she looked back at their team leader. “Your only priority is to do that. But do not worry… it will not be long until you all will operate as expected.”

“When do we leave?” Nicole asked.

“Within the next few days.”

“Right.”

"You are going over your withdrawal limit."

Kal's voice was mellow and inferred a playfulness. The robbers, that had thrust guns into the faces of the many bank members, were now staring the savior of Metropolis directly in the face. They weren't the usual robbers that would throw their guns to the side and fall to their knees. No, these men seemed even more confident then most men that he had stopped. "We were waiting for you...Superman." One of the men said whilst he and other man pulled a syringe from their pocket. Superman's vision instantly turned to X-Ray, scanning the syringe to learn what it was. Unfortunately it was nothing had seen before nor could his eyes breakdown the chemicals to see what lied inside. What he did know was that one of those syringes was glowing in the same way that Kryptonite did.

The men placed the syringes in their arms. Whatever was contained in them shot straight into their veins. One of the men's eyes turned a bright red. His veins turned red in color as his muscles bulged outward ripping parts of his clothes. This man wasn't the real threat. It was the man behind him that was the true problem. His veins, his eyes and even his skin was no glowing with the same radiation as Kryptonite. It was an overwhelming feeling. The same weakening feeling on the same day that his father had died. Like every cell in his body was burning and wanted to escape. Kal dropped to his knees in agonizing pain.

"Look at you. Super in defeat." The green veined robber chuckled.

"Who are..." Kal's words were cut short as the red veined robber struck the kryptonian's face with such force that it sent him flying back through several tables. Kal was in disbelief from how they could such harm to him. He had not met a human yet that could truly harm nor any that knew of his weakness. There had to be someone that knew so intricately about it and that's when it all hit him .The gang that had been at STAR Labs last year and had killed his father. They were the only ones.This information sent chilling anger through Clark's body giving him the adrenaline to stand. The red veined robber attempted to attack again only to have his fist caught in the palm of Superman's left hand. Before he could strike back, he felt the kryptonite radiation grow closer. Suddenly he felt a pain in his stomach from the red veined robber's fist then the feeling of of the man's hand around his throat.

"Hehe. This..kryptonite....is lovely." The green veined robber laughed uncontrollably.

"Kara." Clark spoke in hope that Kara's super hearing would catch his words.

The mechanical wings flared out, leveling the small boy in the air as he prepared to dive into a canyon-like divide between two walls. Already, a number of concussion grenade tipped RPGs were shooting up from weapon mount points along the smooth, metal walls below. Just like Beggar's Canyon back home, the bald-headed youth thought, dropping a pair of green goggles down over his eyes before he made the suicide run. Reaching into the pockets of the mechanics coveralls he wore, the boy produced two disc-like objects, which proceeded to unravel themselves into multiple plates, each resonating with a different frequency or magnetic signature.

The explosion was deafening, drowning out the gleeful shout as the child's short frame shot from out of the debris cloud as he dived from out of the air and into the confined space of the canyon. Columns shot up from out of the floor and the walls, creating an obstacle course that required the youth to maneuver over and under objects with sparse seconds with which to calculate the margins of error. Point defense cannons were popping up next, as the boy tapped a Playstation like controller on the wrist of his suit. Bomblets detached themselves from the exo-skeletal wings, streaking through the air to take out the anti-personnel weapons.

This was a race, but he was competing against himself. Trying to improve his time and performance over the last time he'd run this course. That made it a challenge, and Gizmo liked challenges. He didn't get enough of them, and with several days to kill between now and their field trip to Jersey... Gizmo needed something to keep himself occupied.

As the boy neared the end of the canyon, the walls and the floor shot columns out in unison, intertwining to form a barrier. It had stopped him last time. But not this time. Pressing a button on the front of his vest, the boy's harness detached, continuing to sail on as the bald-headed youth tumbled to the ground. He didn't have the finesse of Jinx. He hit the ground hard, rolling with a grunt as he came up sore and painful. But as he looked up, the jetpack collided with the wall, its warhead arming and sending chunks of the twisted, scorched debris showering the canyon. Bracing himself, the youth held up a hand to shield his face as the flaming bits of wreckage rained down like hail around him. As the smoke began to clear, the youth lowered his arm and grinned wickedly at the sight of the passage blasted straight through the wall.

"Scorch me, baby!" the youth uttered, breaking into a run as he made for the exit. Leaping up, the youth gingerly watched his feet as the industrial-quality soles came down on sharpened points of broken and smoldering metal. Picking his way through the tunnel he'd blasted, the young Gizmo dropped down to the floor on the opposite side. He dropped to a three-point crouch, flipping the goggles back up on the top of his head as he stood to face the final challenge between himself and the finish line.

Mammoth stood between them, the giant teen pounding a fist into his palm and grinning as though giving testament to what he planned for Gizmo.

"Aw, crud," the boy muttered to himself, propping back to his feet. In a blur of motion, his right hand ducked into a cargo pocket on his thigh, whipping an object through the air toward the lumbering oaf of a teenager. "End of the line, snothead!" the eccentric technopath shouted defiantly.

Unfazed, Mammoth merely caught to object in one hand, closing his fist around it as though ready to crush it as he turned his palm toward his face to see what it was. The teen was perplexed for a moment, then held the object out as he glared at the boy. It was an old Motorola flip phone. "Want me to call your mommy for you?" the giant boomed.

The familiar Motorola ring tone heralded an explosion, as the battery overloaded and broke open the packet of sand and salt peter that had been stashed inside. What happened when those came together with the internal metals of the phone components was nothing short of Fourth of July beautiful. "Science, mothercruncher," Gizmo shouted in triumph as Mammoth hit the floor, unconscious. "Can you hear me now?"

Atom arrived at the R & T Bank in downtown Metropolis to a scene of controlled chaos. She lands unnoticed on top of a police car and sits next to the hood ornament shaped like a person.

She looks at it and asks, "Come here often?"

The police already had the area sealed off, but there was rampant speculation as to how many robbers there were, what kind of weapons they had, how many hostages there were, there was no luck in anyone hacking into the video feed, was there going to be any ransom demands, had there been anyone killed, and of course there was an unconfirmed rumor that Superman was in the bank.

Well if Superman is here I can probably get back to grading my papers and let him handle this one. He gets a nice big picture on the front of the Daily Planet, people cheer, the bad guys look like they just watched their dates dump 'em at the prom, Superman tosses 'em to the cops, he smiles and takes off, Rinse, Lather, and repeat. There are times I wonder what in the world I'm doing here with Superman and Supergirl in town.

Atom shook her head for a moment and said to the hood ornament, "Sorry I just think it's hard to be taken seriously in this town sometimes when a Hoover Upright is a threat to me in comparison to two people who can lift the Metropolis Memorial Clock Tower without even breaking a sweat, but you know what I still can make a difference and I am Justice Leaguer, so time to get to it. Besides I gotta admit seeing Superman in action is really awesome."

Atom stood up and said to the ornament, "You're a very good listener maybe after this is all over you and I could get together you know?" She shook her head and said, "Yeah you're probably right besides I can only take the strong silent type routine for so long."

As Atom floated towards the bank she saw Inspector Maggie Sawyer and floated next to her and said, "Hey Maggie what's the scoop?"

Maggie turned looking for where the voice was and saw Atom floating next to her. She shook her head and replied, "Seeing someone floating like Superman is one thing, but seeing someone your size and floating is something that I still am trying to get used to Atom."

Atom said, "Well I would try ground level but getting stepped on tends to make me a bit grumpy. Which by the way like the shoes. You think they got some in my size?"

Sawyer said with a bit more tension in her voice, "I doubt it, but if you can get any kind of intel for us as to what's going on I'd be willing to fix up Barbie's Dream House for you."

Atom asked, "Two things one why is MCU running point on a bank heist and two what about the rumors that Superman is in there?"

Sawyer looked around and said in an almost whisper, "One the Mayor's daughter-in-law and grand daughter are in there. If the robbers find out who they are they become very valuable bargaining chips. Two I saw Superman go in there.." she looks at her watch and says, "Three minutes ago."

Atom replied, "That's about two minutes and thirty seconds longer than he should be in there."

Sawyer nodded and said, "Yeah and I'm starting to get worried. Any minute the Mayor is gonna be down here and things could get ugly real fast. We can't just storm the bank blindly and we can't the robbers know what we know. This was very well planned out and executed." She looked at Atom and asked, "Can you get in there and give us some intel or some kind of update as to what's going on?"

Atom replied, "On my way."

With that Atom floated as quickly as she could to nearby air-duct and shrunk to two inches and slipped in. She could hear rumblings and a table break.

Well looks like Superman has got this on just about done.

Then she heard a couple of people gasps in fear and this made Atom feel uneasy.

Usually that gets people cheering when they see the Big Guy taking people out. Something is off here.

The Atom gets to the front of the vent and sees a sight she never thought she'd see; Superman being choked and from the looks of it in great pain.

What in the world? I don't believe it! This can't be happening to Superman!

Atom floated out of the vent and landed near a counter top. She hid behind a plant and noticed Superman's skin tone and the veins of the two robbers.

Uh-oh this explains everything. Can't get back out to Maggie right now if I go by the time I get back in here Superman will be dead.

Atom scanned the scene as quickly as she could and saw a cell phone nearby.

Good thing I know Maggie's cell-phone number. Hope no one sees me and that she gets the message.

Atom floated to the phone and activated it, She quickly hopped up and down on the key pad and sent the message: Hostages fine for moment...If Supergirl arrives stop her! Two robbers with Kryptonite! Superman in trouble!

After she sent the message Atom noticed that a shadow was upon her.

Uh-Oh! At least I got the message out!

Atom looked up just in time to see one of the robbers standing over her with what appeared to be a large metal brick. He said, "Well well well if it isn't the littlest superhero. What ya gonna do? Kick me in my pinky toe."

He laughed as Atom began to float up, but she wasn't controlling her floating.

She asked, "What's happening to me?"

The robber replied, "Oh simple this thing here is a special kind of magnet. At your size it's locked in on the iron in your blood. I can increase the pull.." He appeared to squeeze the magnet harder and Atom began to float faster to the magnet. While she felt as though her body was being torn apart the robber then said, "or I can decrease it." Atom began to float down, but at the rate she was going if she hit the ground she would be a splotch on the ground.

The Robber increased and decreased the rate of pull bringing her up and down. He said, "Check it out! A yo-yo with no strings." He laughed as Atom was in unreal pain. Finally he brought her up and she was flattened against the magnet as Atom struggled but to no avail.

The robber said, "Hey look here..." He walked over to a paper shredder and said, "I love that movie 'Fargo' the wood chopper scene. I get to act it out and as a bonus I get to kill a superhero! What a day for me!"

As the robber bent down to start the shredder Atom shifted her weight to her normal weight causing the robber to stumble. When he stumbled he let go off the magnet which released Atom. Who shifted her weight back to microsized and punched the robber in the jaw. Atom floated down to the desk and gathered herself.

She then floated up and looked at the robber choking Superman and said, "Hey! He's my friend! Let him go before I drop you like I did your friend."

Just then Atom felt a weight drop on her and slam her to the desk. The other robber had gotten up and slammed a glass on top of Atom trapping her to the desk.

He said, "Okay little one! Let's see how long it takes for you to suffocate."

The baseball bat slammed into Duela’s gut with unrelenting force, smashing into her stomach and knocking the wind out of her, sending her sprawling back across the uncostly carpet that dominated most of the apartment’s floor. She fought vigorously for breath, sucking helplessly at the air as she crashed into the ground with a distinct ‘THUD’. Her chest was searing with pain, and she could have sworn she could feel her ribs cracking underneath her tightly drawn skin. A well-aimed kicked hit her directly in the mouth, strands of deep crimson fluid seeping down her now split lower lip.

Her ears were screeching vociferously, and as she sluggishly staggered to her feet she felt every fibre of her being roaring with a burning agony unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. Duela coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood, droplets of the scarlet substance flecking her open palm. Failing to stand, the young teenager simply fell to all fours, a stream of dark red dripping forth from her mouth and landing in splatters on the musky carpet.

“I d-don’t h-have any money…” She just about managed in-between fits of rasping coughs. A dominant fist clenched tightly around the front of her t-shirt, wrenching her up off of the ground with worrying ease.

The figure that was dangling her in front of him was thuggish in appearance; possessing a square jaw, broken nose, broad shoulders and shaven head. He stood a fair few feet above her, and a darkly inked swastika stained the base of his thick neck. “Keep slipping up on your rent, and we’re going to be having more little incidents like this, miss.” He stated in a dreary matter-of-fact tone. Dull eyes gazed at her with the thing furthers removed from sympathy evident in them.
She’d be dammed if she was going to let others dictate her own fate for her. ‘Better to die standing, then to live on your knees’.
Her long fingers shot forwards with a sudden burst of feline grace, grim-stained nails that had long been un-cut digging into the white of her attackers eyes. Her let out an abrupt scream, losing his grip on her long enough for Duela to slam her feet into his muscular stomach, partially to knock him off of balance, and partially to provide her with enough force to propel the young teenager backwards and free her from his clutches.
Duela’s attacker came crashing down to the ground, hands grasping desperately at his wounded eyes. Seeing her opportunity, Duela rushed towards him whilst he was still dazed, flinging herself into him with enough force to keep him pinned to the ground. Acting on impulse, she bore down on him with her jaws, knife-like teeth tearing away a sizeable chunk of his neck, his blood mixing with her own as pools of hot body fluid flooded her mouth. Pieces of broken apart flesh trickled down his collar, caught in the insistent flow of enflamed liquid that was being pumped out of the new hole in his neck. He screamed in mixture of sheer horror and disturbing revulsion, frantically clutching at his newest wound.

Duela searched frantically for a weapon, her near-skeletal hands gripping tightly around the hilt of the baseball bat that her attacker had been relentlessly beating her with, a warm rushing flooding through every ounce of her body as her fingers coiled around the sturdy wood. Conjuring inhuman strength, Duela sent the bat veering into the neo-Nazi debt collector’s face with such force that a constant ‘CRACK’ rang throughout the room for several moments after her weapon had connected with his jawbone. His neck snapped loudly, and bent round at an irregular angle, indicating that she wouldn’t be getting any trouble out of him anytime soon.

“This gig ain’t working out for me…” She muttered to herself, limping towards the apartments forced open door, baseball bat slung back over one shoulder.
A soft purr, followed by the rustling of papers, soon alerted Duela to the movements of something at the far end of the room. Emerging from under a pile of scrawled up magazines, a black cat with coarse fur and a face as warped and twisted as its owners came scampering over to Duela.

“Come on Ugly Cat…” Duela cooed in a matron-like manner. “Time to go find a new home.”

The sun shone adminst the tall steeples of the churches and the other towering spires above London. The otherwise peaceful scene was quickly broken by the the sound of shot echoing through the mid morning sky line followed by shattering glass. Stashing the sniper rifle in the League's drop spot, Lady Elaine Marsh-Morton, otherwise known as Lady Vic, quickly made her way across the roof tops, her mask fixed firmly in place as her red outfit blended against the clay tile shingles. The job had been a particularly easy one, one headshot ordered to the some uppity living off his inherited wealth. The only reason that she had taken the job was in hopes of running into Britain's Knight, Lady Vic avoided the simple jobs. Initiatives could easily take care of those jobs, Lady Vic only accepted the jobs with a high risk and a high payout.

The sound of a motorcycle from below caught Lady Vic's attention as she turned her gaze towards the street spotting the horse shaped motorcycle as the Knight riding it locked onto Lady Vic's position. Now this was why she had taken the job, plus there was an extra million involved for her if she could leave the Knight as nothing but an empty shell of armor. Dropping down roof top after roof top, the Lady made her way into an alley as she landed with a graceful somersault onto her own motorcycle. Revving up the engine, she pulled the crotch rocket up into a wheelie as the Knight came around the corner. Charging forward, Lady Vic drew her sabre as the Knight drew his own sword, charging towards each other, Lady Vic sneered confidently as she pointed her blade forward. Clashing with the Knight, neither blade managed to strike its intended target as Lady Vic slid her bike to a halt, turning it in a hard 'U'-turn as the Knight mounted his bike onto the wall and turned himself around barely raising his blade in time as Lady Vic's arm sliced across his arm, blood spilling out onto the blade. Revving the blade, the Knight sped out of the alley and back onto the open street. Feeling over confident she had the advantage, Lady Vic followed suit as she weaved her motorcycle through traffic keeping track of the Knight as he led her through block after block of the city. Perhaps had the Lady been thinking more clearly she would have realized the Knight was normally accompanied by a Squire. But her head was caught in the battle and overwhelmed by blood lust. Coming into a small park, the Knight suddenly slammed his brakes on coming to a halt as he climbed onto the sit before launching himself in the air.

Snarling, Lady Vic revved her bike harder only for her to be thrown to the ground suddenly. The rough landing dazing her as she felt asphalt rip her arm open. Looking around with her head spinning, the Lady noticed the line crossing the road that had swept her off the bike, the Knight coming towards her with his sword drawn and the Squire now by his side. He had indeed led her into a trap, Lady Vic, a sect leader in the League of Assassins had been followed by an irrelevant vigilante. She was almost half tempted to kill her self on the spot and spare her the shame. Yet though, perhaps she could earn herself some extra money with the girl Squire now at the Knight's side. Forcing herself to her feet, Lady Vic back flipped away, drawing her pistols from the back of her belt firing off a volley of shots at the pair. Deploying a shield from his forearm, the Knight deflect the first couple shots as he pushed the Knight aside his Squire before moving himself out of the line of fire. Landing on the ground, Vic drew her sword and an offhand dagger as she ducked into the bushes.

"We're only prolonging your deaths." Lady Vic called out as she stalked her foes through the trees of the park. Coming upon the Squire, Vic smashed her sword down only for the Squire to spin around and block the blow with her staff. Out of the nearby shadows the Knight emerged, raising his own blade causing Lady Vic to block it with her off hand dagger. The Knight's two handed blow nearly breaking her arm as she barely managed to deflect the blow away from herself. Freeing her sabre, Lady Vic spun the blade towards Knight as she delivered a spinning back kick to the Squire sending her sprawling away. The Knight deflected the blow with her sword as Lady Vic gripped her sword with both hands and unleashed a flurry of slashes against the Knight wearing him down as she slowly back him up against a tree. Raising her sword above her head, Lady Vic slammed it down repeatedly, each blow becoming harder and more vicious until both blades broke under the force of her final blow. The Knight sunk to his knees while Lady Vic stumbled backwards only for a resounding 'THUD' to echo between the trees as Lady Vic flopped to the ground. A panting Squire was left standing behind her fallen foe as she lowered her staff.

"Guess we got 'er."

The Kent apartment was quiet preluding up until the robbery that entangled both the Atom and Superman, with Kara-El finding herself divulging in more of Clark’s informative media as she had done since she got comfortable on planet Earth. Sitting firmly before the television set came a loud whisper—the call for help from Kal-El. The hardest thing in her time on Earth had been this particular viable asset of “super-hearing” and Kal had for the most part tried to help her tune out most of it, but there was no complete deafening of it so when we she heard her cousin’s voice in pain and worry she narrowed her eyes as she spun out of her Earth clothes and into the kryptonian suit underneath which upon last year she had programmed to visibly appear like Superman’s costume.

In a flash she was heading for the overview of where Superman’s voice had come from.

“It’s Supergirl!” The voice of one of the citizens barked as she hovered above the building. Kara left a smile as Kal had often told her to put on ‘a show’ to reassure the public everything was going to be alright, so that’s what she had found herself doing in situations like this.

Switching over to her variable visions she saw the scene before them—seventeen subjects, two superheroes, six criminals, nine hostages. The most worrying thing is that these robbers seemed to have the heroes on the ropes and she could tell this from the apparent hue of the green death that was upon them. This was not unlike Metallo, but with hostages. Though Kara very well knew she couldn’t throw an automobile into the crowd of robbers even if they were what Kal had called “powered” as the hostages would be at risk. But she couldn’t wait around either and she needed a plan of action.

Quiet and quick she sped into the entrance of the bank, blasting the man who had been “attacking” the Atom with a minute shot of heat vision at his hands. It wasn’t enough to melt human flesh in this capacity but it was just enough to mimic touching a hot stove or burning fire.

“You guys are cheating.” Kara cooed as she shot a destructive blast of heat vision at the “super magnet”, the robber holding it dropping it as it turned into goo.

“Why don’t you come closer, superbaby?” One of them spat as he noticed she was keeping her distance.

“Get away from my cousin and maybe I will.”

Kara smirked cockily as she put her hands on her hips—she swore she had seen this from one of those new “Earth movies” she had stumbled upon in her year since landing on the planet. Her next step was the firearms of the individuals as with a third superhero here and keeping her distance they’d look to threaten the hostages. So she decided she’d melt their guns at a distance as well.

It was pretty simple.

December 31st, 2013.
Gotham, New Jersey.


As Harleen Quinzel walked up the Kane family estate's driveway side-by-side with Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson, she couldn't help but think how much of a difference a year could make. Twelve months ago to the day, Harley had been frustrated with the lack of progression in her training, and angry with Bruce for his unwillingness to allow her an active role in his crusade against crime. Now, though, Harley had what she wanted; Bruce had finally inducted her, along with Richard, as a soldier in his war. As Batgirl she was Batman's partner, and as such she was no longer relegated to stay in the cave and watch from the sidelines as Bruce donned the cape and cowl on his own. Now she played an active role in saving this city; in curing Gotham of the rampant disease plaguing it. So, even though she would rather be in costume forcing Valestra or Falcone thugs to spill information regarding their bosses, she would play the part of the good little girl and accompany Bruce and Richard to this New Year's Eve party.

If Harley were to be completely honest with herself, she'd recognize she needed the time off for relaxation anyways. She hadn't spent much time away from her role as Batgirl in the past year, and the strain her absence has caused is beginning to show in her social life. Harley's friends, although they didn't understand the reasons, realized that she had been pulling away from them, and they were constantly trying to get her to join them in activities outside of school as a result. That was part of the reason Harleen hadn't fought Bruce when he had informed his wards as to his decision to give them a night off with his extended family. She hoped that spending time with one of her friends, Bette Kane, at this party would appease the rest of her friends, convincing them that she was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

The door to the Kane home opened and a woman of about forty greeted them. She had on a blue party dress, and had her golden hair done up in an extravagant manner. Harley recognized her from photos as Bette's mother, Bethany. Harleen had never met Bethany Kane, despite having been at the Kane residence several times before in middle school at the invitation of Bette, but Harley had heard much about Bethany from her daughter. Bette had often said her mother was as fake as they came; full of vanity with little genuine compassion for anyone, and Harley could tell this was the truth as soon as the socialite opened her mouth.

"These must be those children you are supporting in that program of yours," she was saying.

Harley didn't know whether she wanted to laugh, or punch Bethany more at that moment, but she managed to not do either as Bruce introduced them.

"Yes. This is Harleen." Bruce waved his left hand towards her and she offered a polite, innocent smile, but if Bethany were to have looked in Harley's eyes at that moment she would have recognized the hostility behind them.

Bethany Kane didn't see this however, barely looking over the young girl before offering to take her and Richard to see Bette. Harleen followed behind closely, even though she already knew the way to Bette's room, staring daggers at Bethany's back the whole way. When they came to the closed door, Bethany knocked lightly.

"Mary Elizabeth, sweetie, your friends are here." The door opened before Bethany could even finish her sentence.

Bette grinned when she saw Harley and Richard. "Thank God, I was dying of boredom."

Mary Elizabeth Kane - Bette to her friends - was a very pretty girl; a near duplicate of her mother with the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and model-like figure. She was even wearing an identical, red version of Bethany's dress, though Bette's was more modest. Unlike her mother, however, Bette didn't find the life of the Gotham elite to be enjoyable. Although she would dress up when her mother had a social gathering, Bette would rarely make an appearance, instead opting to stay in her room where she could be free from the boring interactions with her parents and their guests, and tonight was no different.

"Thank you, mother." Bette said. "You can go now."

If the elder Kane woman was at all bothered by her daughter's dismissal she didn't show it.

"Have fun, sweetie." Bethany glanced at Richard, her phony smile still in place. "Make sure to leave the door open, and I'll come to get you before midnight so you can all join us for the countdown. Richard, Harleen, it was a pleasure to meet you both."

As soon as Bethany was out of view, Bette pulled Harley and Richard into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Hey, Harlz." She hugged Harley and smiled at Richard. "I was starting to worry you two weren't going to show up."

"Sorry, we got held up because Dick couldn't decide on what to wear." Harleen said, using Richard's nickname, and tousling his hair playfully. It was a joke between all of the girls in Harley's group of friends; Richard liked to think of himself as a bit of a ladies' man, which resulted in constant teasing from the girls at his expense.

Bette grinned again, knowing that Richard wouldn't get too upset by the teasing. "Well, at least he didn't wear a dress like mine. That would have been awkward." She winked at Richard.

As Alfred drove the black Rolls Royce up towards the Kane family home, Dick couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the lavish features adorning the antique mansion. This was the home of Bruce's mother's family, the 'other side' of the Wayne-Kane family and from what Robin had gather, the less desirable side of the family. Bruce himself only seemed to be here out of obligation and image and Dick was fine with that, he too could play along with that game. Though he felt significantly over dressed compared to Harley, he noted as he looked over at her nonchalant wardrobe. A simple pair of jeans and a hoodie was all the girl had bothered to put on, having not interest in rubbing elbows with the Kanes. Dick on the other hand had pulled out three piece suit for the occasion.

Unbuckling his seat belt as Alfred parked the Royce, Dick stretched slightly as he opened the door letting Harley climb out before he shuffled in behind her and Bruce as the trio entered the mansion before them. Looking around the elegant hallway, Dick took in his surroundings before realizing Bruce was addressing him.

"I always imagined my night off with more pizza and video games." Dick replied quietly as he politely nodded his head to those who moved to greet them. Looking ahead, Dick saw Bethany Kane approach Bruce as she greeted him and made a comment about Dick and Harley and how Bruce was supporting them through a social program.

"Yeah if that supporting program includes lessons in twenty seven martial arts and running around all night in capes and masks." Dick whispered to Harley with a gentle nudge to the ribs and a knowing wink. Listening to Bruce introduce them both, Dick suddenly piped in as he emphasized his own name to Bethany Kane.

"Yes I'm, Rich-ard!" Dick said stifling a chuckle while he maintained a straight face. Though he looked happy on the surface, the little remark about Harley and Dick being part of some orphan social program definitely hit a nerve. To the Kane's, Dick and Harley were likely thought to be nothing more than moochers, living off of Bruce Wayne's fortune. Looking over at Harley, he stifled another chuckle as he realized the girl was holding back a punch. Thankfully the woman was delivered from a world of pain as she left Dick and Harley to hang out with Bette. As Bethany bid the trio goodbye Dick smiled sweetly sending her off mockingly.

"Pleasure to meet you as well!" He waved before turning to Harley and Bette, both the blonde girls relaxing within the Bette's room. Turning to Bette as the girl made a joke about her dress Dick smiled as he responded quickly while fixing his hair as Harley tousled it. "You definitely dodged a bullet, that dress was my first choice. Lucky for you I settled on this suit." Dick ended with a small wink as he looked around the room admiring the various trophies. Letting out a low whistle, he turned back to Bette remarking on the collection.
"Let me guess," He started as a he picked up a particularly shiny one. "This trophy is for having so many trophies. I should know, I have one just like it." Laughing, Dick looked from Bette to Harley, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke again.

"So what exactly are we going to do until midnight?"

In the interstellar justice system, the people are represented by two sides: The Green Lanterns who have the will to serve and the Blue Lanterns who hope to protect society from those who would do it harm. But fear is the criminal's weapon. The point of terrorism is to invoke terror. And when Green and Blue Lantern arrived at the home in Sector 2815, terror and fear were waiting for them the moment that they walked through that door.

| P L A N E T • G R A X O S • I V |

The young monk sank to his knees as the stench overwhelmed him. He felt the color drain away from his face as his eyes grew larger and larger and the sight in front of him. His mind struggled with what must have been madness as he fought to comprehend what he saw. He wanted to look away, but he found that he couldn't. His breath choked in his lungs, as his throat seized up on him, so that each attempt to take a breath only sent him that much closer to hyperventilating.

"Breathe, poozer! Breathe!"

"Heart rate is elevated. Blood pressure beginning to fall. I believe that Green Lantern is about to..."

"Just breathe through it, kid!"

Kai-ro lurched forward, a blue container forming in front of his face as the boy pitched forward and violently expelled the contents of his stomach. Coughing, sputtering, heaving, the young Green Lantern doubled over onto the floor until there was nothing left for him to throw up. That was when he saw it. A humanoid eye, staring up at him from where it lay partially crushed down into the carpet fibers.

"Fracking frell," Ch'p muttered, absently elevating the container away to dispose of it as the H'lven surveyed the massacre in front of them. They had been a family of four. Mom, dad, two kids - an older daughter and a younger son. They had two pets. And they had all died together.

Well, not together. At least, not all at once. And not at the same time. "Fracking frell," the Blue Lantern muttered again.

"I do not understand why it was necessary to kill the pets," Aya commented dryly. "They were incapable of functioning at witnesses to this event."

"They probably died first," Ch'p uttered gruffly. "Consortium business rules. A show of intent. Or of their sincerity. Just some sick frack who thinks that'll get them talking," the H'lven looked at the bodies - or pieces of bodies - in the room, taking in the arrangement of the gore and the splatter patterns. Someone had painted on the walls with the kid's severed fingers like they were crayons, spelling out a message that said: We want the money.

"It wasn't a robbery," the Blue Lantern remarked aloud.

"To what do you attribute this hypothesis?" Aya inquired curiously.

"Look around," the Blue Lantern commented, pointing at family heirlooms and glass cases that were still relatively intact. "They want money, but I get the impression nothing was stolen." Holding up his ring, the H'lven said, "Ring, DNA and forensic sweep."

Swallowing against the continued efforts at heaving up, Kai-ro rose on shaking legs as he took a cue from the H'lven. "Ring, DNA and forensic sweep, please," the boy commented, his hand trembling as he put his ring hand out.

And nothing happened.

Ch'p merely grunted, the sound making the young Green Lantern jump despite himself. Poozer was all kind of freaked out. And who could blame him? "Take a break," the Blue Lantern commented dryly, moving on with his investigation. "Aya, start calculating time of death and then get me what you can on all four of our victims."

Elongating one finger into a slender, cylindrical probe, the robot AI carefully examined an open laceration on the chest of the man, the central figure in the house of horrors. "Time of death, one point four solar rotations ago," Aya reported stoically. "I believe that the man was the last to die, and did so while the attackers were still attempting interrogation."

"Give me the play-by-play," Ch'p remarked gruffly, stooping down by the daughter as he swept over the body with the ring.

"The blood spatter on the mother's legs belongs to the son, however, she does not appear to have moved either voluntarily or involuntarily after the blood splashed her," the robot commented in a matter-of-fact tone. "In contrast, the daughter and father also have blood splatter from the son's head being crushed which indicates that they were still alive at the time. However, the daughter has blood from the father on her which indicates that she was still at the time."

The H'lven looked up at the corpse of the Graxion father. "He doesn't look like much to me," the Blue Lantern noted gruffly. "Banker. Accountant maybe..."

"Computer software programmer," Aya supplied in answer. "He was the president of a small software firm that supplied a translator matrix for several languages native to this sector."

"Huh," Ch'p uttered. Merely that, as though what the robot had said had not at all factored into whatever it was the Blue Lantern was considering about the situation. "Not the type to get mixed up with Consortium business. Let alone hold out like this. Why didn't he just give them what they wanted?" Or, maybe he had. And the Consortium did this to convey a message.

"One cannot supply information one does not possess."

The H'lven and the robot both turned their heads to look over at the young Green Lantern. Still pale, the young boy merely said, "Perhaps... he didn't know."

Ch'p nodded faintly. "Sounds about right," the Blue Lantern noted, standing and moving away from the teenage girl. "Whatever did this was large. The physical violations were enough to have killed the mother and daughter. Pulverized their internal organs. They were bleeding out inside even before the tards cut their throats."

"Likewise, the boy's head appears to have been crushed by hand," Aya noted.

"And no DNA on the bodies," Ch'p added dourly. "Whoever did this was clean."

"Actually, I think I have something," Kai-ro noted, holding up a dark strand of hair. As the robot and the H'lven looked over at him, the boy explained, "I didn't think much of it at first. I saw it while I was throwing up. But, neither of the girls have dark hair."

"Huh," Ch'p uttered simply, as a blue light encased the hair follicle and began running an analysis. "What makes you think it's a woman's hair?"

"I don't know," Kai-ro answered sheepishly, giving a slightly shrug as he added, "It's... longish and... just seems like a girls."

"Hardly a scientific basis," Aya supplied in disappointment.

"Well, I'll tell you what it is," Ch'p remarked, looking up at the two. "It's not Graxion. It's Tamaranean."

Aya and Kai-ro exchanged a brief look, before the young Green Lantern asked, "What's a Tamaranean doing out here?"

"That's just one of many questions, my young poozer," the Blue Lantern quipped dryly.