---

The Professor gave Piotr the location of the child, Sarah. It was a tough break but he had to be quick, she could be hurt at any point. Not to mention with the brotherhood becoming more active he had other duties to attend to, primary heading to Alaska in search for Cyclops. A man also known as Scott Summers and in self imposed exile... though that wasn't a topic for thought right now. Piotr stood outside the church, and at the same time he appeared he pulled back as he saw the woman from earlier move upto the church. He shouldn't really have been surprised. She did seem to be looking for the same person as him after all, what did surprise him however was the fact that the plants seemed to grow and move on their own. Piotr switched straight to his metallic form and took off at speed towards the main door as he heard the noise and surprise from inside the church.

Obviously the womans entrance had surprised the occupants of the church almost as much as it had him, what concerned him was that they would be as armed as the man had been in the house whatever kind of person she was that was still a lot of firepower to deal with. He still wasn't entirely sure where these so called Purifiers got their equipment. So he had two missions here, save the girl and if possible get any information that he could. Piotr took off towards the door shoulder first, into the door.

The door burst open under his weight and figures stood around the room in the same outfit as the ones he had encountered earlier. Someone swung a hammer at him and he raised his right arm to block the blow, swinging his left low punching his assailant in the gut the man doubled over in pain as another man came at him. Piotr raised his voice "We have no need to fight, release the girl and lay down your arms."

---

---

O L I V E R Q U E E N ’ S A P A R T M E N T,
S T A R C I T Y
1 1 : 0 0 P M

“Oliver – you’re broke.” Those were among the first words to leave Walter’s mouth when Oliver re-entered his office earlier that night, seeking an explanation for Walter’s cryptic words that morning. Oliver didn’t understand at first – Great, he thought, More metaphorical mumbo-jumbo – but as Walter explained himself, a sinking feeling settled into his gut, and he went numb with outrage, spreading through him like pins and needles.

Stellmoor International, as he’d learned but a dozen hours ago, had acquired Queen Industries through a hostile takeover, and in doing so had gained near complete control of Oliver’s finances. For whatever reason – and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find one – QI’s new CFO, Isabel Rochev, had ordered all of his accounts frozen, effective immediately. His savings, his fortune – all gone. He still had two million dollars safe for an emergency such as this, but who was he kidding; that money wasn’t going to keep him afloat forever. Sooner rather than later, it was going to run out, and when it did, he’d drown.

Walter was right. He was broke.

Now, Oliver lay on his couch in his expansive living room, accompanied by his dog, George – a massive, wolf-like beast of a canine, rescued by Oliver’s green-garbed persona from a dogfighting ring – who curled at Oliver’s feet with his eyes half opened, looking like little more than a harmless puppy as he tried to fight off the coming tides of sleep. A half-empty coffee mug stood steaming on the table next to them, the bitter smell of caffeine lingering in Oliver's nostrils.

He didn’t need it to keep awake. The sleep didn’t want to come. It avoided him as he thought of how this could very well be the beginning of his final nights in this apartment. Slowly but surely, his money would deplete to the point that rent appeared all but unpayable, and then what? Where would he go? Where could he go? He had two kids and a dog to take care of. Roy had enough on his plate trying to provide for himself and baby Lian, and Diggle would certainly not be able to afford to accommodate them – not in his tiny, room-for-one apartment. And Dinah… Dinah wasn’t an option. Oliver wouldn’t dare ask for her help, not after what he did he to her, to their relationship. As far as he knew, she still hated him, even after all this time. He didn’t blame her.

He was snapped back to reality by George, his teeth bared in a threatening growl. The demi-wolf leapt down from the couch, stalking around it – Oliver followed suit, rolling into a low crouch. He followed his dog with caution, creeping around to the other side of the couch – to be met with tip of an arrow, mere inches from his face.

A black-hooded man stared at him behind a full-face mask, lean, muscular arms holding his bow and arrow in place.



“Hello, Oliver.” His voice was distorted, deep and menacing – but beneath it was something else. Oliver could hear it. Joy.

Whoever this psycho was, he was enjoying this.

Oliver’s instincts took over. Without a second though, he flipped backwards through the air, landing behind the coffee table. He kicked it, catching it as it flipped towards him, the coffee mug shattering as it fell to the floor. Holding the table up as cover, he called for George, his dog obeying as the intruder’s arrow thudded into the wood.

Down the hall two doors opened, voices ringing out in alarm.

“Dad?!” shouted Connor.

“Ollie?!” exclaimed Mia Dearden, running towards the commotion. She was a good kid, Mia; one of the most naturally gifted archers Oliver had ever met – a former sex worker turned superhero, she’d gone through hell to get to where she is now – and Oliver would be damned if he let her or his son get themselves killed.

“Connor! Mia! Get your bows! Now!” he yelled, and with a mighty heave he pushed at the table, sending it flying towards the archer, who dodged it with ease – giving Ollie a perfect opening.

Using the couch as a launching pad, he flew into the air, sending all of his strength into a fist as he crashed down on his attacker, catching him across the face. He followed it with an uppercut to the chin, backed up by a cross – he couldn’t let the intruder recover, couldn’t let him catch his breath. He kicked the man in the chest, sending him stumbling, and followed it with yet another cross – the archer made to nock another arrow, and Oliver kicked his bow hand, sending the weapon clattering onto the ground. He punched him three times in quick succession, ripping his mask off after the third – revealing a man little over thirty, brown stubble covering his cheeks. Blood trickled from his nose, and he smirked at Oliver – sparking an anger within him he knew all too well.

Gripping the man’s lapel, he growled. “You come into my home, you attack me, you threaten my family – who are you?! What do you want?!”

He got no reply – just a low gurgle, barely resembling laughter.

His eyes narrowed, Oliver pulled the man closer, his voice little more than a menacing growl. “Tell. Me. Now.”

The man’s laugh was easier to make out this time, short and stilted, and reeking of amusement. His voice was no longer filtered as he spoke, and he stared into Oliver’s eyes, not a hint of fear showing in his own. “You don’t have much time left, Queen,” he said, “Komodo is coming. And when he does, you will wish you’d have let me kill you.” He bit down on something, and Oliver’s eyes widened as he realised what it was – a cyanide pill. Before he could do anything, the man's mouth began to froth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Fear him,” he gurgled, his body convulsing. “Fear him.”

Oliver stood, watching him as he took his last breath. Mia and Connor stood behind him, bows in hand.

“Dad?” asked Connor, resting a hand on his father’s back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Oliver, his eyes distant. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Xavier Institute
Upstate New York

Jean Grey waited as the night sky rained, and offered rumblings of thunder so far in the distance she hardly heard them, seeing little more than flashes of light far in the distance between black clouds and mist over the trees that surrounded the mansion. She stared and took another sip from the Scotch glass with it's weighted bottom. Charles had poured it for her almost forty minutes ago, and brought her out to the balcony outside his study. The mostly glass door leading from the balcony to the study still hung open since Charles left it open on his way out, allowing warm notes of a lonely piano to drift in with the rain and the echoes of thunder from afar. The music would come and go; one of the new students acquainting themselves with the grand piano in the music room, near the back stairs upon the second floor.

The mansion was quieter, somehow, even with more people in it now. After their first very public conflict, parents of mutant children, and mutant chilren with no parents or guardians that would claim them, had begun making their way to upstate New York. To the large house on the hill, to Charles Xavier and his X-Men. They came because they were scared. They came because they were eager, and every possible reason inbetween. Charles was there to accept them all, while Jean had hidden away with Cerebro in the sub-basement. New students whispered about her, gossiped about the X-Men and the fight that had taken the life of one of their own, and sent Scott Summers running away.

"You're right. They're there, and then...they are not. Ghosts in my machine."

She never looked up at the open door, only took another, longer, sip of the scotch. She'd told Charles about Cerebro's 'ghosts'--and asked him to verify what she was seeing and feeling from the machine. He had wanted to ask her how she was, he had wanted to talk to her about pain and loss. Jean never gave him the chance. "Opal City, right?"

The man nodded, and carefully made his way around her to the seat next to her own, to the seat he'd been in before running off to double check Cerebro. Back to his own double scotch, plain. Rain and soft spoken piano keys filled the air as Charles grew quiet, thinking, and sipping at his drink. "I've never been to Opal City."

"My mother and I went a few times for Daughters of the American Revolution events. The city always kinda gave me the creeps."

"You should go. You should find out about these ghosts, I think." The look shared between them needed no telepathy to send a message. A message that left him with a chuckle, dry and half-hearted as it was in that moment. His eyes drawn to the glass he held between finger and index finger, swishing the golden liquid within around a bit. "Scott will be okay. You, Jean, will be okay."

"And Warren?" This time there was nothing said in the eyes of either as they stared at one another. Only rain and the lonely piano.

Xavier broke his gaze off her and let his eyes take in the sky, the night and the rain and the storm so far in the distance, it almost could've been a dream. "...yes, well. I still think it would be good for you to go and see about this. Scott may have ran off, Jean, but just because you've been here--physically--doesn't mean you haven't gone into hiding yourself."

Depression. Loss. I can't...shake the feeling. Every time I smile at a new student--

--is a mask worn for the new student's benefit, lacking any of the warmth or heart in which they look to you for.

When her head turned back to him, she found his eyes on her again, and she sighed openly. "Opal City, huh?"

"Ghosts, yes. Go deal with Cerebro's ghosts, and your own, I think. Bobby and Hank are with Kitty, but--"

Jean threw back the little that remained of her scotch, and interrupted Charles with the heavy sound of her glass hitting the small table between, and hitting it with a touch of emphasis. Charles stared at her, even as she stood. "It's alright. I'll go alone. None of us know Opal City very well, anyway. No, if I need help, I'll look for it there."

"Do you know what you mean to me?"

Jean could've cried, or she could've smiled, as Charles Xavier looked into her eyes and asked her that question with every ounce of his being. He's afraid I won't come back. After a short pause, she smiled--a ghostly thing, there one heartbeat, gone the next. Carefully she leaned down and kissed her lips into his forehead. "I'll be back."

---

Opal City
Pennsylvania

There were more clanks and clinks and taps than Jean could follow as she sat herself in the far corner of the Starbucks on 11th and Allison. Every minute or so the entire room would come alive with the humming of the milk steamers, and the cappacinno machines, and the coffee machines, and the mixers, and the blenders, and the cash machine, and on and on and on again. It was a little bit like sitting in the middle of a bee hive; everyone buzzing this way and that, a constant blur of activity as people eager for their fix of caffeine, or chocolate, or just chatter came in and out.

It was a good place for a telepath to start. At the airport in which she'd flown in, there was little helpful information: most of the airport people were focused on where they were going, what they were doing, or what they might be leaving behind. Jean brought up the cappuccino cup to her red, semi-glossed, lips and appeared to return her attention back to her phone--but her attention wasn't there. Reading your phone was the modern day equivalent of reading a magazine or a newspaper; just something you did in public to make people think you were occupied with the mundane, not spying on anyone.

Not spying on their thoughts, like Jean was.

She hardly even heard Ella Fitzgerald's "Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall" playing in the background of the coffee shop, so caught up was she. Just down the street one way was OCPD's main building, adjacent to that the district courthouse. Go down the street from 11th and Allison in the other direction, and it wasn't even five minutes before you hit City Hall, and Litigator's Lane--a street that was known for it's art deco buildings from the 30s that now housed, mostly, trendy eateries and law offices.

Because those were two things the world needed much more of. It was a bitter thought, and one quickly pushed aside in order to allow her to re-focus on her spying efforts. Such a location for the coffee shop allowed an interesting array of people coming in and out. She had gotten little and less in her nearly hour stop at the centrally located coffee shop. She'd gotten a few bits of political intrigue, but given Jean's not caring about Opal City politics...it wasn't exactly helpful. The rest of her time she spent warding off suitors.

A pretty woman, seated alone, reading her phone? Jean found herself looking up at several men to give them chilly, uninviting glances, in order to dissuade them from approaching her like their thoughts indicated they wanted to. One was rather cute, and seemed a good guy just from the quick "look" she got at his immediate thoughts. But she was far too focused, and quickly went back to the hunt.

It was finally a duo of cops that gave Jean something she couldn't toss aside:

I wish we could look into that kid's murder. Seems wrong, to just punt it.

But the second cop didn't share the first cop's thoughts on the matter. In fact, in searching the immediate thoughts of the second cop only resulted in something ugly: Stupid fucking monkey. He's probably a mutant. Maybe I could bring up to Sarge we should "check" on the fucking monkey's registration status? It was interesting, despite the savage tone. So she looked further, using every mind within a mile radius as one computer might use a cloud of computers to augment their processing power and information gathering skills.

In minutes, Jean had "Detective Chimp", and the good and bad about the character from a thousand various minds. He was an Opal City fixture, seemed a detective capable of making grown men police officers jealous of his skill, and possibly a mutant? It was the best option for help she'd uncovered since her arrival earlier in the morning to the Pennsylvania city. A last sip of her now cooled cappuccino, and Jean was out of her seat and out the door, leaving the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop for the mean streets of Opal City.

It didn't take her that long to find him. People's minds went bright when they saw this Detective Chimp, allowing Jean an easy trail to follow. A trail that lead her to the mouth of a cave: or, at least, a bar that felt more like a hole in the wall sort of cave to Jean. "Gilly's", the sign read, neon white cursive on an Irish green background.

She took the seat next to the Chimp, and ignored the index cards on the bar counter before him. "Single Scotch, plain," the barkeep nodded, and thought about warning the pretty redhead about the chimp she had sat next to. Dressed in black high heeled boots, low cut jeans, a navy blue shirt with white horizontal pinstripes, and a black leather jacket that fit her like a glove. It was all designer; the boots and jacket Prada, the jeans and shirt Burberry. Her perfume a hint of rose and lavender, and no more.

When the right earbud was snatched out of the chimp's right ear, she half expected him to swat at her. Instead, he seemed to Jean to just try to repress anger at another irritating hew-man. Jean tried not to smile. "Jean Grey, Detective; mutant activist and combatant with Charles Xavier." What else, she thought, would I call us X-Men right now? "I'm getting the feeling you aren't a mutant, like some of the OCPD think you are...just the same I think you can help me. I know you've got a case, so my offer is I'll help you with that case, and in return you help me with what I'm looking into. I'll pay you five times what your current client is paying for your current case."

Her drink arrived, and a bright, radiant smile was unleashed on the barkeep. "Thanks, so much." A quick sip, the departing of the eavesdropping barkeep, and Jean was turning back to her left, to the chimp. "And if you don't do partners, I'll pay you ten times what you're being paid now...and you can just consider me a tag-along. I'm new to the city and I need help. You're my best option right now. You know this city."

Kitty Pryde was deep in concentration. It had all come down to this, a moment she had clawed her way towards for weeks. Poking out between pearly white teeth, which were freed from braces a little over a year ago, and pink lips, the tip of her tongue hung out the corner of her mouth. It was a sign of just how much she wanted this. A bead of sweat rolled from her brow, just below her maine of dark, brown hair, before dripping off the tip of her nose. Kitty was ready to make her move, she just hoped it would be enough.

With a flick of her wrist, it was done.

The air hockey disk careened off the side of the table, before floating by the outstretched arm of Bobby Drake and into the goal. The assembled students of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youth erupted in cheers as Drake’s howl of defeat melded with their celebration.

He looked up at Kitty, who was in mid victory dance, dabbing with some of the younger boys. She shrugged, a broad smile painted across her face, “And that, Bobby Drake, is how you do it.”

The air hockey table itself was something of a pet project of hers. When she first moved to the mansion, she found it broken and wasting away in the basement. Professor Xavier let it slide that it was his as a child, and Kitty got to work fixing it. She was good with tinkering. Better when it came to computers than mechanical equipment, but she fixed the table up just the same. Once it was working, it became her in to making friends at her new home. Three years later, she was now the one the younger kids looked up to.

Some of them had put together the tournament in their spare time. Of course, once word got out, everyone wanted in. It took weeks to get to the finals, but Kitty was ecstatic that she got to play her best friend. Beating him was the cherry on top of the delicious sundae.

“Sometimes I hate you, Pryde,” Bobby shook his head.

“No, no you don’t,” she stuck out her tongue at him. Bobby and Kitty were each other’s first real friend at the mansion. Being about the same age and background in a place where so many different ages were mixed made them easy pals. Since then they’ve trained together to be X-Men, both becoming part of the team in recent time after the unfortunate loss of Warren Worthington and the disappearance of Scott Summers. There was no one she’d rather fight alongside.

That is, if they were ever sent out on a mission. So far Professor Xavier hadn’t sent them out. She was starting to get slightly annoyed at the waiting game, even though she knew the headmaster and leader of the X-Men was just looking out for her safety.

“You wanna go grab some-”

<Kitty. Bobby. Please come to my office immediately.>
The two students winced as the Professor’s telepathic message meets them. Kitty had yet to get used to telepathic communication. She had practiced with it during her sessions with the X-Men, as using Jean’s telepathic abilities allowed them to communicate without tipping their enemies off. It was smart, but there was still the odd sensation of someone entering your mind. Kitty got weirded out when it was someone she allowed it, she couldn’t imagine what it was like if she didn’t want them there.

The two teenagers made their way quickly to their summons. When they got to the main office, they found the feral-looking visage of Hank McCoy sitting with Xavier. Kitty beamed at the man who was her mentor and teacher at the school. Hank looked like the cross between a lion and a gorilla, but with blue fur. He’d be the kind of mutant you’d put on a propaganda poster to scare dumb humans into hating mutants even more than they did. The reality of the situation, however, was that Hank McCoy was probably the most gentle and thoughtful person you’d ever meet.

“Hello, Katherine,” he smiled, showing his feline-like mouth’s sharp teeth. It’d set some to be uneasy, but to her it was one of the most welcomed sights there was. He had been teaching her college classes since she arrived. Kitty was always smart, but McCoy had managed to get her to work even harder. She was already a college level computer programmer, and was advancing in computer engineering as well.

“Good afternoon, Professors,” she took a seat next to him, in front of Xavier, who sat behind his desk with hands folded over. Xavier was one of the most cerebral men Kitty had ever met. Even without reading your mind he could read what kind of person you were. He was a great mentor for the entire school, but there was an unmistakable sadness he tried to hide. The loss of one of his X-Men had done that to him.

“Thank you for coming,” Xavier smiled at them. “As you know, we’ve had exceptional growth in the past few years. Still, some mutants that want to come to our safe haven cannot make it, whether due to external threat or inability to pay for travel. I’ve been sending some of the X-Men to pick them up. Peter is on such a mission as we speak.”

Peter Rasputin, also known as Colossus, was the physical powerhouse of the X-Men. The gigantic looking mutant’s physique wasn’t the only impressive thing about him. He could turn his skin into living metal, making him virtually invincible.

“I know you two have been chomping at the proverbial bit to get out in the field,” he smiled slightly as the two kids exchanged an excited glance. “I believe we have that time. You’ll be accompanying Hank to New York. A young mutant there by the name of Jubilation Lee has asked for our assistance in getting out of the city.”

“She’s being threatened?” Bobby perked up.

“We don’t know, Mr. Drake,” Beast, which was McCoy’s codename, answered. “Her mother seems to believe they are being watched. We’re there to ensure the girl is brought here safely.”

Kitty smiled broadly. This was it. It was finally time to become a real X-Man.

“So, when do we leave?”

“Now, Ms. Pryde,” Xavier responded. “We want to get her out as quietly as possible. Keep that in mind.”

Fun fact here; did you know that when put together, all the ants in the world would weigh as much as all of the humans in the world? If they somehow possessed our intelligence and could learn to work together, it would probably result in a fair fight between both species. Now minus the humans and add in a whole bunch of tiny killer robots. That might not be a fair fight!

Despite this, Scott Lang knew that they were needed if he ever wanted to beat the Bug Eyed Bandit’s bugs. He focussed, calling out with his helmet and attempted to summon his buddies from up on the roof. At once, the skylight through which he had fell through grew darker as his ant squadron began to burst through after him. Carpenter ant’s led the air assault, while the sudden appearance of a swarm of red across the floor originating from the warehouse’s main entrance signified the appearance of the rest of the troops; a mixture of Fire Ants and Bullet Ants.

While they were more than capable of dealing with the robots themselves, Scott knew he wouldn’t last a chance against those things, especially given what had happened to the original Bug Eyed Bandit. Aptitoxin was what the woman on the screen had called it. Obviously the stuff was bad news. However Scott knew of one way in which he could possibly avoid it and so he activated his pym particles and willed himself to shrink. The smaller his body, the less chance of being stung.

It also meant that Scott could punch them. Punch them hard.

Leaping high into the air, he headed against the oncoming swarm head on. Such a move would have probably seemed stupid, although in this case it actually worked. Scott was surprised to learn that he was actually faster than them. On at least faster than it had taken them to originally react to his attack. As he managed to grapple hold of one mid-air, he came to the conclusion that the new Bug Eyed Bandit that had spoken to him on the screen must have been controlling them remotely. That meant that he had an advantage.

As he proceeded to rip off the current bug’s robotic wings and avoid a jab from another’s metallic stinger, he activated his coms link.

“Hey Raz, any chance you can help deactivating these things? Must be some kind of external signal you can block? ” He asked as he leapt to another target, the previous bug descended to the floor due to its lack of wings.

“Any chance you don’t call me by my name again? ” Raz replied, his voice slightly agitated. “Don’t really want a super villain turn up at mine and my boyfri.. ”

“Little help first? I’m a little preoccupied. ” Scott interrupted. As he spoke, another robotic bug attempted to impale him. He yelped slightly, letting go of the bug he was attacking, and letting himself fall out of the way. Luckily he managed to drop down onto the back of one of his loyal carpenter ants, allowing him to temporarily get himself clear from the bug on robot-bug skirmish.

“Yeah, yeah.. ” Raz began, the sound of him typing on his keyboard echoing down his mic. “I think I’ve got something Ant-Man, although it’s encrypted. Give me a minute? ”

Scott wasn’t even sure that he be able to last a minute, although he agreed anyway. After a quick glance towards the Fire Ants down on the floor however, he got a small idea. As he circled the mass of robot-on-insect carnage, he raised his hands upwards, telepathically contacting his ground troops. At once the fire ants on the floor began to move, with Scott willing them to pile together. Quickly and efficiently, two bright red hands, formed from the compacted ants, rose from the ground either side of the swarm of robots, mirroring his own. Now came the hard part. As quickly as he could, he commanded all of the carpenter ants in the area to get the hell out of there. As they began to obey, Scott brought his hands together. As such, the two giant ant-made hands followed suit. They slammed together, seemingly crushing the robotic bugs within.

Unfortunately that hadn’t entirely been the case. While a large proportion, nearly half, dropped to the floor, the rest seemed completely fine. They shot out of the ant-hand’s grip with ease, engulphing them in the process. Before Scott could cry out in protest, Raz’s voice sounded off in his ear.

“Done. ”

At once the room grew silent, the buzz of the robot’s wings disappearing. The robotic bugs began to drop from the sky like flies, littering the floor below. At the sight, a smile began to creep across his face, although that quickly faded when he remember that some of the corpses on the floor belonged to some of his ants.

After giving them a silent goodbye, he turned his attention back to the screen where the new Bug Eyed Bandit had spoken to him. Unfortunately, as soon as her control of her insects had disappeared, so had she, the screen now empty. Scott sighed loudly as he leapt from his ant and grew back to his regular size. It would seem that they weren’t done with this war yet. She’d be back. But why? Who the hell was she? Where was she now? And why had she killed the previous Bug Eyed Bandit. All these questions flooded through Scott’s head as he approached the computers once, although one remained at the front of his mind, one which he voiced aloud.

“Why do i always get the lame villains?”

I think you need to see this.

Steve looked into the IT's man face and what he saw there didn't fill him with confidence. Still the Super Soldier stood up and ditfully followed the man back to his fried computer. It no longer looked like a computer. It was more a jumbled mess to Steve's mind. Wires were everywhere and sprouting from every conceivable area. How anyone could comprehend it was beyond Steve. Still he looked to where the tech pointed and looked. And looked.

"Um." Steve started off unsure. "What am I looking at?" The screen (at least he assumed it was a screen) he had been pointed at was black with white words on it. A lot of it looked like code. At least it wasn't English.

"Information."

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin as an accented female voice spoke from just behind him. He did spin around, nearly giving himself whiplash. The redheaded woman smirked at his reaction, obviously pleased.

"It's classified Justice League Information." Natasha elaborated before Steve could even ask.

The poor tech was slinking away while Natasha spoke. But the Russian snagged his arm and steered him back into the chair.

"Was he able to access everything?" Natasha's voice was low and sultry. Steve and Natasha might not have been friends, but he had worked with her due to their positions. And he knew that tone. She was working the tech like she would and informant. Right before she started breaking bones, or threatening to do so.

Steve made a small sound, barely audible, but it was enough. She looked back at him and gave a slow blink. The tech missed the by play; focused on typing on one of the many keyboards attached to the nearly fried computer. The silence was awkward.

"When did you get back?" Steve grasped on the innocuous question.

"A few hours ago." Natasha said without breaking eye contact with the words scrolling across the aforementioned screen. "I heard what happened and thought I'd check in."

Steve clearly heard what was left unsaid. If she had arrived hours ago she had heard about the break in hours ago. She must have come up empty in her investigation. Or hadn't cared about it before this moment. Steve didn't know the woman enough to hazard a guess. She was even more secretive than Luthor. At least Luthor had a reason because he ran a multi million dollar organization. Natasha was a spy. A former KGB spy. Her loyalties were never something Steve trusted. Turned spies were inherently untrustworthy.

Steve's musing was cut short by the Tech. "Okay. Yeah." The guy muttered. "Looks like he did manage full access."

Natasha swore under her breath in Russian. Steve didn't bother translating it. He could tell what it was by the general tone.

"What does that mean?" Steve asked the two. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it wasn't good. But he needed cold hard facts.

"Well, with the computer fried we can't see what he looked at, but we know that he had all access to everything. All the Leaguer's personal information. All of Lex Corp's secure files. Everything."

"Oh." Steve said lamely. That was really bad.

She took the seat next to the Chimp, and ignored the index cards on the bar counter before him. "Single Scotch, plain," the barkeep nodded, and thought about warning the pretty redhead about the chimp she had sat next to. Dressed in black high heeled boots, low cut jeans, a navy blue shirt with white horizontal pinstripes, and a black leather jacket that fit her like a glove. It was all designer; the boots and jacket Prada, the jeans and shirt Burberry. Her perfume a hint of rose and lavender, and no more.

When the right earbud was snatched out of the chimp's right ear, she half expected him to swat at her. Instead, he seemed to Jean to just try to repress anger at another irritating hew-man. Jean tried not to smile. "Jean Grey, Detective; mutant activist and combatant with Charles Xavier." What else, she thought, would I call us X-Men right now? "I'm getting the feeling you aren't a mutant, like some of the OCPD think you are...just the same I think you can help me. I know you've got a case, so my offer is I'll help you with that case, and in return you help me with what I'm looking into. I'll pay you five times what your current client is paying for your current case."

Her drink arrived, and a bright, radiant smile was unleashed on the barkeep. "Thanks, so much." A quick sip, the departing of the eavesdropping barkeep, and Jean was turning back to her left, to the chimp. "And if you don't do partners, I'll pay you ten times what you're being paid now...and you can just consider me a tag-along. I'm new to the city and I need help. You're my best option right now. You know this city."

"Once I had a love and it was a gas, soon turned out had a heart of glass..."

Debbie Harry's sultry voice blasted from the earbuds now resting on the bar. DC heard the music, but he wasn't listening. Instead he was looking a bit stunned at this woman sitting next to him. He was outraged that she had rudely snatched his earbuds from his head and acted like nothing had happened. And they called him an animal...

But...

She was interjecting herself into his mystery. That usually made him very upset. These were his cases, adventures he never really shared with anyone except maybe Effie. The whole damn reason he was in this hellhole of a city was to solve mysteries and now...

But the money...

And she would help him with his case? Help? Like he was a dumb primate who couldn't do it. He--

But the money...

And he was intrigued by this Jean Grey. A mutant? He'd never met one of those before. He knew about them, of course, he'd looked into mutation wondered if chimps were now becoming mutated like humans, but he could find no definitive answers. His own condition was not a genetic mutation, but he had still held out hope that there might one day be a Chimp who might be like him.

A mutant with a mystery. The dame walked into the place and gave me all kinds of hell. Isn't that how these things were supposed to go? The tough as nails PI dealing with a beautiful client. It was the stuff that Chandler and Hammett wrote about, but he was a talking chimp and she was apparently a mutant.

"One thousand dollars," he said as Blondie faded away in the earbuds and Talking Heads took their place.

"Watch out you might get what you're after..."

"That's your down payment for this tag-along and my service fee for whatever it is you feel you need my help on." DC took a long swig of his own drink before turning back to Grey. "Sound good?"

New Troy, Metropolis

It had taken Clark Kent all of two seconds to realise the trouble he was in. As he’d pierced Corben’s aura, he’d felt that same feeling he’d felt in Lex Luthor’s office. The life and strength had been sapped from him in an instance, the nausea that ran bone-deep set in, and when the two men crashed against the ground there was actual pain. He didn’t know how but Corben was powered by the meteor rock. That meant he’d bitten off more than he could handle. He was no longer in a fight but a struggle for survival. Each blast of energy Corben let loose, every punch, brought Clark to the edge of unconsciousness. It took everything he could to bop and weave drunkenly around them. His punches were like feathers against the man’s chin and the pounding headache in his head made it near impossible to aim his heat vision. Clark was in a fight for his life. And it was one he was losing.

Worst of all was that Jonathan Corben knew it. He pounded on Clark, seemingly taking no pleasure in it, and with every opportunity for a coupe de grace would stall. Finally as Clark puffed for air desperately the metal man loomed large over him and let out a sigh.

"You’re a good man, Superman, I know that much. You help people. It’s why I feel bad that I have to do this. I hope you understand that I take no joy from any of this. The opposite, in fact."

Clark frowned through the pain as the word “have” caught his attention. At last the reluctance seemed to make sense. He’d had Kent at his mercy more times than he could count without finishing it.

"H…h-have? Who… who’s making you…?"

Corben shook his head, the last vestige of skin clinging to his skull shaking loose as he did so, as he lifted a glowing green hand in Clark’s direction.

"Tsk, if I tell you that I can’t imagine my benefactor is going to be very pleased with me. He seemed pretty fond of his anonymity."

From the ground, Clark reached out a shaking hand in the man’s direction.

"You don’t… you don’t have to…

Corben gritted his teeth a little and lowered his hand. He watched as Superman, the Man of Steel, writhed in pain in his very presence. As the cars had been stripped of paint and paints had withered, Superman seemed in anguish in Corben’s very presence.

"What’s wrong with you?"

Clark reached up and pointed towards the green energy pouring from his attacker.

"It’s… the…"

Corben sneered and pulled open a metal panel at the centre of his chest. It contained a green, beating heart impaled by shards of meteor rock that throbbed and beat without rhyme or reason.

"Oh, you mean this old thing?"

Clark shook his head at the sight of it. It wasn’t possible. There was nothing else inside of Corben’s chest. No lungs, no organs, just a beating green, meteor-rock studded heart. The only one with that kind of meteor rock was… Lex. Could it be a coincidence that he’d shown it to Clark and that this had appeared but a day afterwards to make Superman’s life Hell? Before Kent had the chance to ponder the thought, Corben was on him, his metal hands clamped around his throat as he lifted him to his feet.

"I wasn’t always like this. I was a man once, a normal man, but… someone made me like this. Don’t you worry though, once I’m done here I’m going to make sure they get what’s coming to them too…"

As he struggled for breath, Clark coughed and spluttered as he tried to push a word from his throat.

"No..."

Corben frowned and loosened his grip some to let Superman speak.

"No? No what?"

Clark’s piercing blue eyes, turned bloodshot red with stress, stared at Corben earnestly despite his vice-like grip.

"It doesn’t work… revenge. It… it never works."

For a moment there was a look of reluctance on Corben’s face. He pondered Clark’s statement for a second before thoughts of what had been promised him in return for killing Superman crept back into his mind – a normal life, love, his body restored to what it had once been. All of that awaited him if only he poured every ounce of meteor energy coursing through his body through Superman whilst clamping down on his neck. Were Corben a stronger man he would have let Superman slip from his fingers but… he was not. Fewer men were. Instead of loosening his grip, he tightened it and willed the meteor energy to overload the Man of Steel’s cells.

"You’re a better man than I am. When it’s my turn to account for my sins, I’ll tell them that, Superman. I’m… I’m sorry about this. I really am."

With a wince Corben clamped down and the green energy around him slid along his arm and enveloped Superman. Clark cried out in pain, writhing in Corben’s hands as he struggled to break free of the metal man’s grip, but it was no good. The meteor rock had weakened him to the point that he couldn’t muster the strength to pry Corben’s fingers apart. A futile blast of heat vision missed its mark and Kent’s leg kicks became more frenzied, more desperate, before slowing some as the life began to drain from Clark altogether.

His whole world was going dark. He felt the life slipping away from him, the warmth slipping from his limbs, as thoughts of Lois, Martha, and Jonathan began to creep into Kent’s mind. He had let them down. He had let them all down. Not by failing but by leaving them alone. Clark prepared to say a silent goodbye to his loved ones when suddenly a red blur knocked Corben’s hand from around his throat. Clark fell to the ground with a heavy thud and Corben was spent sprawling away from him. Kent felt the life rushing back into him and his strength returned to him in almost an instance. He said a silent prayer as he pushed himself up from the ground and opened his eyes to find that it wasn’t God he needed to thank for his salvation.

It was a Goddess.

Ivy's bare feet stepped carefully over the uneven stones. Then she was out of her ring of destruction. People in hooded robes were in the middle of leaping to their feet. Ivy bared her teeth at them and moved forwards towards the closest. A small humming sound stopped Ivy dead. She turned her head and stared down the barrel of one of the weird guns David had used earlier. She lifted her eyes to look at the woman holding the gun.

"Are you going to kill me?" Ivy gritted out past her rage.

"Death to mu-" The woman deadpanned.

Ivy's leg snapped out and kicked the woman in the gut. The shot went wild right past Ivy's hip. The heat from the weapon burned a little, but she wasn't severely hurt. Ivy reached out and grappled for the gun from the woman. She could hear the others moving in closer. Though everyone paused when a voice boomed through the building.

"We have no need to fight, release the girl and lay down your arms."

Ivy took advantage of the momentary distraction and twisted the gun out of her hands. Ivy wasn't the best with guns. She didn't use them. Had never used them. But she straightened her back, hefted the gun and pointed it at the advancing group.

"Move and die." Ivy hissed dangerously. The group slowly raised their hands. She had them all move to the doorway where her lovely vines grabbed a hold of them. That should keep them. Smug, Ivy turned to the woman who had tried to shoot her.

"Where is Sarah?" Ivy demanded, pheromones wafting out of control into the air around her. "Where is my daughter?!"

New Troy, Metropolis

Clark was as dumbfounded by Wonder Woman's appearance as he was grateful. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd come scarily close to unconsciousness there. Perhaps even worse. Her sudden appearance had gifted Clark an opportunity to catch his breath back and knowing Corben aside as she had done allowed the Man of Steel a brief reprieve for exposure to the meteor radiation. His powers had flooded back to him as the warmth of the Sun's rays washed over him. He felt strong again, if somewhat bruised, and Diana's question hung in the air for a few moments before Clark looked at her with a bemused expression on his face.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

In the distance Clark saw Corben, who had crashed into a parked car down the road, pushing himself to his feet.

"All I know is that he's powered a fragment of Kryptonian meteor rock that seems to weaken my powers."

"My name is John Corben."

Corben spat as he strode towards Superman and Wonder Woman.

"I was... I was a soldier before I was turned into this abomination. I helped people too, believe it or not, I even tried to do good things. When you're dead and I'm me again, maybe I'll even be able to do good things again. First you need to be in the ground, Superman, and if I have to go through your little girlfriend to do it, then so be it."

One of Corben's hands extended in their direction and he unfurled a blast of energy towards them. Wonder Woman stepped in front of Clark, crossing the enchanted bracelets around her wrists, and parried the blast away without breaking a sweat. Clark could feel himself weaken for a second as the energy passed by him. He looked to Diana slightly sheepishly.

"I... I hate to break it to you, Diana, but I don't think I'm going to be much help on this one. I can't get close to Corben without my powers being sapped. I'll use my heat vision to try to distract him but you're going to have to do most of the heavy lifting this time around."

---

"Doctor Banner..." Hulk lifted his eyelids, he was groggy. Tired, why was Hulk so tired. "Doctor Banner, can you hear me?" Hulk grunted in answer, the puny human who was speaking to him must have taken that to mean a yes. "Listen Doctor Banner, I can't say who I am right now. I only have so long before the recording systems kick back in. A friend told me you'd be here-" there was a couple of sounds from nearby. "I need to go Doctor Banner, goodluck."

_{"Puny Banner not hear."} The man paused, obviously surprised as to the fact that Hulk actually said something.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"PUNY BANNER NOT HEAR!" He pulled at the nodes that held his arms and feet in place, he was finally awake. He pulled, and pulled. He found that they budged a little. Shouting he pulled again, trying to pull his arms down towards his chest. Screaming as he did the man before him had a look of terror on his face as he pulled away, running out of the room. Hulk continued to pull as another figure walked into the room, someone Puny Banner knew. A old rival, Samual Sterns. Though he had a different look in his eyes, and a yellow tinge to his skin. He was flanked by the silver man who he thought back in Pinos Altos.

"It's nice to meet you again Hulk." He walked over to the green goliath, with a tablet in his hand looking at several readouts as he spoke. "I would call you Doctor Banner but I know that you don't like that name." He chuckled slightly. "Oh how someone with such intelligence can have something go so wrong, and for what?" He raied the tablet with a picture of Rick Jones on the screen. "For this hooligan, driving on the firing range of a nuclear weapon? Well. Natural selection, the idiot would have been killed if not for you, in fact I was ready to take over your work when the explosion killed you." He withdrew something form his pocket, the vial of Hulks blood that the silver man had taken earlier.

"Though somehow, something miraculous happened and you became something more. A pity that you became a mindless brute. However they say if you don't succeed the first time-" He brought up a picture of Abomination. "-Try, try and try again. Though that day you created that monster, you gave me something more. I am becoming what you were meant ot be. The next step in human evolution, I have been designing theorems that even Lex Luthor would have trouble understanding. With a sample of your blood, I will become a true Leader among men. It's all thanks to you Bruce." He turned around and laughed. "What am I saying? You're just a mindless brute. I'll create a world in my image"

Hulk chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You're Ugly."

---

---

Lexcorp Bulding - Metropolis - United States - Midgard

---

---

Thor's large frame barely fit in the Lexcorp elevator, built for the exclusive use of Mr Luthor the elevator had been precisely measured to the dimensions of Lexcorp's CEO and had quite a disorientating effect on other occupants. Thor felt on display in the glass box and was not certain he enjoyed the sensation.

His journey from Khandaq had taken hours, long enough for him to have received a summons from Lex's thrall. Mercy Graves was a formidable woman and Thor liked formidable women. Upon hearing her in his earpiece Thor had barked a hearty laugh, anyone on the ground below might have heard it as a cry from the Heavens themselves.

"Thor, come in."

"Whence have I heard such sweet tones?" Thor had said with a grin, "Tis the voice of some siren come to tempt the son of Odin!"

"Focus please Thor," came the curt reply, "Mr Luthor wants to see you."

"Ah! Good fortune," Thor had laughed once more, "Where Lex goes, Mercy is not far behind! Have I ever told you of how I once-"

"I would imagine so." Mercy had listened to Thor's tales in the weeks after he had come to Midgard, upon realising that stories of his prowess were intended to entice her to bed, however, she had made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was no one's 'groupie'. Thor did not know the word but he took her meaning. He did enjoy the telling of tales though and regretted that there were fewer people to listen.
"Just go see Lex, he's in his office." Mercy's professional veneer had slipped in her frustration, such a familiarity would have gotten such a servant thrown from service in Asgard but Thor had let it go, she was not his servant after all and he had an inkling of what had occurred recently between the girl and her master and would not dishonour himself by calling attention to such impropriety.

Regardless, Thor had made his way to the Lexcorp building in Metropolis, just as the grand spires of Asgard were erected to celebrate the majesty and power of the Gods, mortals venerated themselves with great buildings and works of architecture. Lex took this further than most mortals by having his name etched onto the building itself, Thor found such self-exaltation somewhat gaudy but did not begrudge Lex his vanity, the man was only mortal after all.

The doors of the elevator now opened and Thor stepped into Lex's office.

LexCorp Building, Metropolis

Lex smiled as he heard Thor's hulking footsteps making their way from the elevator and into his office. Thor Odinson was the closest Lex had to a Superman. Luthor had spent tens of millions searching the Earth for superhumans that would help him take the metahuman arms race to the next level. Thor was his walking deterrent. If it ever came to it and Luthor's Cold War between Lex and Superman turned hot, Luthor could only hope the Asgardian had the power at his disposal to take the Man of Steel down. In their conversations about the subject, Odinson seemed to revel in the thought of breaking Superman. Whether he could actually do it was another thing.

"Ah, there you are. Stopped causing international incidents, I hope? I had a rather irate Kahndaqi on the phone this morning complaining about your foray into Africa. Isn't it amazing how quickly the temper cools when someone offers you ten million dollars?"

Odinson stared emptily at Luthor as the billionaire smiled at him wryly.

"I digress, I obviously didn't call you in here to talk compensation."

Luthor gestured towards the television on which he'd been watching Corben and Superman fighting. A third combatant had arrived some seconds before Thor's heavy feet found their way to Lex's office. Wonder Woman. She had stonewalled Lex, given him a shoulder colder even than the one Superman had given him, and her disdain for the Justice League and Luthor was was apparent. For the time being, that was the least of his worries. All Luthor cared about, all Luthor wanted, was Jonathan Corben back in his possession.

"You see that man, Thor? His name is Jonathan Corben and he is very dangerous. Very dangerous, indeed. So much so that he made short work of the Man of Steel a few moments ago. Were it not for Wonder Woman, our old friend Superman would be but an unpleasant memory."

A grin appeared on Odinson's fiercely Nordic features. It was a grin Lex noticed and pounced upon in seconds. He needed Thor hungry, he needed him motivated, and there was no greater way to motivate the Thunderer than to challenge him.

"I need Jonathan Corben, Thor, and I need you to get him for me. He's too dangerous to be left on the streets and far too dangerous to fall into the hands of that false god Superman. His powers are radiation-based. You understand radiation, I hope? Well, if he's not brought here before the hour is out the entire city is going to be turned into a nuclear wasteland. You might survive it but us mere mortals certainly will not. You can see the dilemma. I need Corben back and Superman and Wonder Woman want to keep him to themselves. If they do, innocent people will die. You don't... intend to let that happen, do you, Thor?"

I begin to hear voices, like those coming through a thick wall or if you had cotton balls shoved down your ears. I open my eyes, and light floods in like a tidal wave. The illumination is so intense it disorients me and throws me into a vertigo like state. A strong pair of hands stops me from falling out of bed, “Whoa, buddy. Easy there.”

Luke’s voice is a welcomed sound to hear after the previous night. My vision begins to regulate, and I find a myriad of faces looking back at me. Next to Luke is Jessica Jones, a former vigilante and fellow PI. She’s also Luke’s girlfriend. Next to them is Claire, checking the medical equipment hooked up to me. Behind her is Colleen Wing, PI and vigilante.

And to my right is the most beautiful sight in the world. Under the afroed poof of jet black hair is the face of Misty Knight. Her brown eyes are ablaze with either anger at what I got myself into or happiness to see me awake. The two of us have had a bumpy relationship, and are currently in the midst of one of those bumps.

“Oh crap,” I cough. “I must be dead.”

A small smile curls the end of her lips before she manages to hide it, “You keep doing stupid shit like this and I’ll make sure of that myself.”

I let out a laugh before recoiling in pain, “Oh god don’t make me laugh. Or breathe. Or live. Basically everything hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you get pumped up with a powerful neurotoxin,” Claire mutters. “I had to give you every countermeasure I could think of. You’re going to be sore as hell for a few days. The only reason you’re alive are your abilities.”

“Yay…” I groan.

“Danny, you have to be more careful. I don’t want to have to take care of Luke once you’re gone,” Jessica deadpanned.

“Danny, be careful? That’ll be the day,” Colleen added in.

“Well, I’m glad I’m alive too,” I cough.

“Oh quit being dramatic,” Misty elbows me in the shoulder sending a wave of pain through my body. I look up at her with anger filling my eyes. As our eyes meet, she flashes me a wink. The gesture takes away all my pain. Funny thing about that. Even in bad times, that special someone can melt your worries away.

“So what did they take?” I ask about the robbery.

“Some stone,” Luke explains. “Has to do with some ancient Indian superstition. Did the thief say anything to you?”

I try to remember the night before, but the poison has fogged my mind. I remember bits and pieces, but not a ton.

“She called herself ‘Copperhead’, and was really into the snake thing,” my head hurts as I try to concentrate. “Something about me being an infidel.”

“Sounds like a religious fanatic,” Luke rolls his eyes. “The religious nuts are always the worst.”

“Maybe, but that poison she used and her distinctive look will leave a trail,” Colleen ponders.

“Yea, there’s no way a fear-based toxin won’t have some sort of reputation,” Jessica nods. “I’ll crack some skulls, maybe can find something.”

Luke shoots her a worried look, “Don’t be afraid to call for backup.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Please, you just stay fine.”

“Meanwhile Colleen and I will take a look at our slain cop’s murder scene and final crime scene,” Luke nods at the fellow vigilante. “Misty came through with his case file. He was investigating a drug call on the docks. Guessing whatever he saw there he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“Any word on the partner?” I ask about the officer called Burr. “Has anything happened to him? Any incidents?”

“Nothing,” Colleen shook her head.

That’s odd, to say the least. If the two officers stumbled upon something that people were willing to kill to hide, the fact that one of them was still alive casts a shadow on our surviving cop. Could he be involved in this?

“Well, I’ll do some research from bed,” I sigh. Sitting around while my friends risk their necks is never something I’d sign up for. I’ve always been the one to jump into situations like an idiot to help them, not the other way around. Knowing Copperhead is out there doesn’t help either. She’s dangerous. If she gets the drop on them they’ll be right next to me, or worse.

“I’ll help,” Misty insists. “You need rest, and two pairs of eyes are gonna be better than one. Besides, you’re notoriously bad at paying attention.”

My eyes narrow, as I know exactly what she’s talking about, “Come on, it was the playoffs!”

“And you had to play off yourself for a few weeks after that,” she chuckles. Even if she’s ribbing me, that laugh gets me.

Damn her.

Luke laughs heartily, “Oh damn, man. You got owned.”

“Thanks, buddy,” I sigh. “Thanks.”

---

---

Lexcorp Bulding - Metropolis - United States - Midgard

---

---

Thor listened passively as Lex talked, the man was a font of words, his keen mind reminded Thor of his brother Loki; the younger prince of the Realms always had some scheme in progress and could dream up more ways to sow confusion and mischief than Thor would ever know. But he loved his brother and the memory brought a sharp pang of hurt to the Thunder God's chest.

"-Jonathan Corben and he is very dangerous. Very dangerous, indeed."

Thor turned his attention to the screen that Lex was showing him, three figures were exchanging powerful blows and- no, two of the figures were attacking the other. Thor focused on the screen and recognised the garb of-

"-Superman and Wonder Woman want to keep him to themselves. If they do, innocent people will die."

Thor understood what was happening, Superman had engaged into battle with this 'Corben' and had been defeated, but rather than accept his death like a warrior he had summoned assistance from Wonder Woman and were dishonourably overpowering their foe by numbers alone.

Thor had no trouble imagining Wonder Woman was a formidable warrior in her own right and Lex had mentioned many times of how Superman's abilities were an inevitable threat to Midgard itself.

This would be a bout worthy of the Mighty Thor! Or it would be if Lex's words had not struck a chord with the Odinson.

Thor looked Lex directly in the face, "Thou dost say Corben must be brought back? Whence was this danger here before and why was it given leave to go?"
Shaking his head, Thor whirled Mjolnir, "Corben will be recovered, but we will have words upon my return."

With that Thor loosed the hammer and went flying through Lex's wall into the Metropolis skyline. He could feel the tug at his senses leading him towards the battle at hand and allowed himself to surrender to them, flying into the city of Metropolis itself.

---

---

New Troy - Metropolis - United States - Midgard

---

---

Thor's flight had been brief this time, he felt himself be dragged through the air by Mjolnir's power before coming to a halt over the fray that was rapidly coming to an end. Thor hung in the air with his cape flowing behind him, he raised Mjolnir to the sky and immediately the skies themselves were covered by clouds. Thor began to descend slowly and, as he did so, he called upon the clouds to let loose a moderate rainfall.

Thor's feet touched down lightly on the ground with the first drops of rain and he surveyed the battleground with a warrior's keen eye.

Superman was standing, barely, to Thor's eyes the 'mighty' alien looked to be breaking out in a sweat and appeared under the influence of some illness even. Still, Thor nodded in appreciation, whatever was causing the alien's weakness the man was at least on his feet.

Wonder Woman was glorious, Thor had never met the hero but had made it his business to learn about her. Claiming relationships with a pantheon just as prevalent on Midgard as Thor's own, Wonder Woman was clearly a fighter and, from the looks of her, she respected her lineage to a much greater extent than even Thor did. She was clearly no exile bearing arms and equipment of the make that she carried. Thor yearned to test himself against her, first on the battlefield and then in the bedroom. The Greek Gods were pampered and played like children, it would do the Amazon good to see what a real God was like.

A moan from Corben brought Thor's attention to him, the mortal looked wrong. Thor knew the humans experimented with new forms of technology each day but to see such a merging of man and machine made his gut clench in revulsion. A possible instinctive response to the 'radiation' that Lex had mentioned was emerging from the pathetic looking figure on his knees by the school bus. Thor was not worried about himself but was aware that such elements could prove fatal if left unattended and mortals were such fragile things he knew he needed to hurry.

"Hold warrior!" He called to Wonder Woman who looked prepared to continue her assault on Corben even as he lay there. "Thy opponent is vanquished, render him unto my Godly care and the matter will be closed."

Pointedly ignoring Superman, Thor strode towards Corben and placed himself between the fallen man and his would-be attacker.
"Thy reputation is one of fairness and reason." Thor kept his voice calm but firm as the rain beat down upon them all. "Sully it not with the blood of this creature."

As he spoke, Thor placed Mjolnir upon Corben's back and let go. The weight of the hammer sent Corben's body to the floor and pressed his face into the rubble; try as he might Corben could not shift the hammer even a fraction. The situation, as far as Thor saw it, was contained and his message was clear.

"What say you?"