The New Enterprise Tower, The Beauclaire Lounge

The tradition of the 'Election Party' was a tried and tested tradition, the journalists and other primary staff of the major papers and news networks of Metropolis, that weren't involved directly in the live broadcast of the results, all gathered in one place, dolled up and often drunk, regardless of result.

Clark had, of course, never been to one before, he had heard the previous one had been somewhat of a muted affair, what with the vast majority of the media's elite being in favour of a Clinton victory. Then everyone had got well and truly hammered, and it nobody seemed to remember a thing. The location was a grand sky-skraper resaurant, the name of which he'd remember if he truly tried. One of the glass walls, that would usually present a view of the city scape below, had been covered by a projector, displaying in fine detail a variety of news stories, polls, and other data about the vote as it progressed. Clark lent upon the bannister overlooking much of the restaurant floor, taking a sip of his drink. A triple rum and coke, it could only possibly effect him if he directly allowed it to. That had been a relief, when he'd gained control of his power to the extent he could reduce them at will, not just for getting drunk.

He might do so this very night, it looked as if Luthor was going to smash Trump, in an almost historic win for the Democrats. Clark Kent had no love for Donald Trump, but Luthor brought up more questions Clark wasn't ready to answer, about himself, and about the America he knew.

"Not in Kansas anymore." he mumbled to himself, turning his eyes back to the screen.

The screen was currently dominated by the Planet's Media Group's own coverage of the event, a panel of experts and journalists discussing the election and reporting the results as they came in live. Among them, central, sat one Lois Lane, conservatively elegant, as befitting the situation. He actually knew she was rather frustrated at having been selected to anchor the discussion, not her favourite part of the job, and, honestly, she would have rather been at the party. Clark would have probably been willing to switch places, had the offer been on the table.

There was a sudden commotion throughout the room as the coverage jumped, gone were the graphs and interviews, instead simply an image of Luthor, looking as Presidential as ever, a graphic, and beneath it some very important words. Luthor wins Florida. Clark was almost abuzz with deja vu, he had been in almost exactly the same situation four years prior, watching as Florida pushed Trump into the lead. Nothing could better surmise the turnaround over the last four years then the very same state securing victory for Luthor. There would likely be an announcement soon, Luthor was not one to wait, if anything, the press would likely be more interested in any public statement from the now outgoing President. Clark wouldn't wait for either, he was already on the move, heading for the exit. There was much to consider.

The Following Week, Gotham City

BREAKING NEWS;
TERRORIST ATTACK IN DOWNTOWN GOTHAM
ALL DOMESTIC AND INTERNATIONAL FLIGHTS GROUNDED
ALL CITY CENTRES TO FOLLOW EMERGENCY PROCEDURE.
REMAIN INDOORS.

Gotham was on fire.
The night sky, turned starless with smoke, was lit up by a thousand fires. The worst of it raged in downtown, but some of the damage was spreading to the more affluent areas of the city, a trend even the crime of Gotham rarely dared to strike against.
None could tell where the attack originated, one moment all was calm, and the next there were cries of gas. then all hell had broken loose. People were attack each other, or roving in large violent gangs, open and brash, unlike the usual insidious caution of Gotham crime. An hour has passed since the first reports, but response is still limited, for what can be done when a city rips itself apart?

“Well, ain’t this fuckin’ grand.” John Constantine grumbled, flicking the smoldering remains of his cigarette butt over the side of the balcony.

John had spent the past few days staking out Boss Zucco’s place, carefully planning out how he was going to slip inside the mobster’s apartment with the subtle excellence of an international superspy, but then the whole city had spontaneously decided to set itself on fire, and the streets had fallen into chaos.

Constantine peered through the discount store binoculars he’d brought himself a few nights ago, fixing his gaze on Zucco’s apartment.

He could see the mob boss through the window; fat and bald with a bare chest of thick black hair, plopped down on an expensive-looking sofa, with two suit-clad henchmen no more than a few paces away. His forehead was thick with sweat, and he was barking something at the men, but whatever it was John was too far away to make it out.

His best guess was that Zucco had shat himself when all hell broke loose, and started calling some of his goons over for extra protection.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to take the ‘guns blazing’ approach, Johnny boy.” He said with a flat laugh.

---

Anthony Zucco took a long drag from his joint, trying desperately to draw some kind of reassurance from each puff of cannabis. He was dressed in a wife beater and black pants, but even still he was sweating buckets.

“The fuck am I paying the pigs for if I don’t get the heads up on this kind’ve shit?” He hissed, speaking to himself as much as he was his two guards.

“Pompous fuckin’ feds think they’re betta’ then me, think they can just leave me outta the loop?! Well, fuck ‘em. We’ll see how fuckin’ powerful they feel when they end up at the bottom of Gotham River.”

Just then, one of Zucco’s thugs came wandering into the room.

“Ey, Boss, there’s a limey at the door. Says ‘e wants to talk to you.”

“Tell ‘im to fuck off!” Zucco barked “what are you, fuckin’ retarded?! The cities gone to shit, and you’re openin’ the door to strangers?! Christ, I’m surrounded by morons!”

The thug vanished.

He reappeared a few seconds later, flying back through the doorway and landing face-first on the coffee table. He came crashing down on it -hard-, spraying glass shards across the carpet.

“Jesus FUCK!”

The joint fell from his hand.

Zucco was on his feet in a flash, and his bodyguards had their weapons drawn and pointed at the doorway.

Shortly after, a blonde man in a grimey trench coat came wandering inside.

“Don’t suppose any of you lads have got a lighter? Mines out of gas.”

“The fuck do you think ya doin’?!” Zucco barked, his mouth bobbing open and closed like a goldfish gasping for air.

“Stay back, asshole!” Bellowed one of Zucco’s guards, pointing his gun squarely at Constantine’s forehead.

“I’m only here to have a little chat with ya boss, geezer,” Constantine smirked “let's put the peashooters away.”

He raised both hands, extending his fingers.

“hAjIZemPOdOoDeONoZ”

The air seemed to ripple, as a potent blast of sheer unadulterated force pushed itself forwards, sending the henchmen hurtling back across the room, their weapons falling from their hands.

“What in the-”

“Never seen magic before, mate?” Constantine grinned.

One hand slipped into his coat pocket, and when it reemerged he was clutching a Webley Revolver.

Constantine squeezed the trigger, firing off two shots, and burying a round in each of the fallen henchmen. Bits of brain splattered against the white wallpaper, spraying Zucco with thick droplets of carmine.

“Fuckin’ hell!” He yelped, raising his arms above his head in surrender “look, whatever you’re aftah, just take it, man. I don’t want no trouble!”

Constantine cocked back the revolver’s hammer, aiming it at Zucco.

“I know you’ve had dealings with Mister Haly and his circus,” Constantine said firmly “I also know that they once worked with a gypsy woman; Rosa Quatuor. I need to know where to find her.”

“Yer doin’ all this for some gypsy slut?!” Zucco blurted out.

Constantine pulled the trigger, firing a shot mere inches above Zucco’s bald head.

“We’ve got a pretty simple system in place here, which I’d really like you to respect. Goes a little somethin’ like this; I’ve got the gun, I ask the questions, dickhead.” Constantine snapped.

“Alright, fuck! Yeah, I remember Rosa. Not the sort of face your forget. She did some mystic bullcrap for Haly for a little while, then something went sour, I dunno what. Last I heard she’d fallen in with the Religion of crime.”

“Cheers.”

Constantine fired a shot Zucco’s clean through Zucco’s shoulder.

“GAY! The fuck was that for?!” The mobster screeched, grabbing at the bloody hole.

“Got some issues I need to work out, like.”

“You’re a fuckin’ monster!”

“I’m on the side of the angels, mate.” Constantine said dryly.

@Ezekiel

With the entirety of Downtown Gotham tearing itself apart and the city looking to be torn apart by the chaos, fire and the gas attack - one might say a hero was needed.

That was what Alicia Snow aka the superhero know as Ice did. On one part, she also used to live near the Downtown Gotham area - as well as that the fire could likely spread further. As such, with the threat of gas in the air - Ice improvised at that, one thing she was good at that. Using a slightly modified paint-mask to prevent from breathing in the toxic gas at that.

She flew through the air into the Downtown area at that, using her ice powers to suffocate the fires raging around the area. It wasn't much, but since it was chaos down in the streets - and the fire department likely at worst, days away, it was her task of getting the fires down before they spread and started engulfing the people inside them in flames. She used her powers to boost herself from roof to roof - coating the fire raging inside them with a sheet of ice, suffocating the flames and much more at that.

Being dressed in her usual uniform, namely a blue leotard that allowed her maximum skin. Which was the way how her powers operated, in someway that she was still trying to understand how. As the chaos in the streets were getting worse, she took the chance and jumped down - encoating her entire body in a large body of ice. Upon landing on the ground as an ice golem, she quickly started freezing the large gangs and those, whom were causing the most destruction. A little chill here and there, but it wasn't anything harmful at that, just enough to stop then until the police got the area under control.

It was a good thing that ice was both tough, and insulating - since the chaos on the streets was, for a lack of a better word - a chaos.

Mari McCabe was in Metropolis for the last few days doing a photo shoot. Her agents had told her that a charity show was being held in Gotham and that she needed to be there by the end of the week. She had been working on a line of new clothing inspired by the Tantu Totem and the powers that came with it. Because of these powers Mari had dawned the mantle of Vixen and began to fight crime where ever she was, robbery, gangs, and killing sprees, she had even fought Cheetah on an occasion or two and won.

Her plane had landed in Gotham hours ago and now she was at he venue for the charity trying her best to get rich politicians and dignitary's to donate their money, this money would go to helping orphaned African children. While she was talking to some Senator, an explosion blew the front doors off the building ,sending many people back and wounding a few, the lights went out and all you could see where the fires from out side rage on as you heard all the rich folk and scream and guns, fighting, and violence from out side. Pople ran out side, but Mari went to her black bag that carried her black and orange costume. After putting it on she exited the hall and went out onto the street of downtown Gotham. It was madness, people are running fires where burning and crazies where out.

Vixen began to help local authorities, deal with the gangs she found squads of cops being bullied by some small groups of gun wielding thugs in back allies. She channeled the cheetah and swiftly took care of the thugs with lighting speed. When she channeled an animal she not only took on its physical traits but she became that being and had learned with control she could use this to her advantage. She could use the instincts, and precision that a cheetah had as she took down her foes with ease and moved onto the next group. As she did this she noticed the fires beginning to die down and soon go out and a ice golem fell fro the sky and landed in front of the larger gangs.

Vixen saw it was freezing them and did not attack it instead she moved to help, by disarming the gangs. Fighting who ever the golem missed and knocking them out. Using her speed she jumped in front of it and waved casually. "Hi Iceman thing. I don't know who you are but maybe we should work together to help this situation?" She said to it as chaos raged on.

His name was Barry Allen, the fastest man alive, and... he was late for his flight. Barry had been in Gotham the past few days helping the Gotham Police Department on a connecting case. Now he was stuck in traffic taking a cab ride to the airport. Barry was always the type to be late to things before he got his powers and decided to keep on doing so once he did. The guy who's always late couldn't possible be the fastest man alive. He was almost tempted to just get out and run there. If he was too late he'd have to stay in Gotham another night. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he was ready to get home.

His thoughts of getting home was then interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He took it out and checked to see that he had gotten a missed call and a text message. Was he that out of it that he didn't notice the phone call? The text was asking him if he was at the airport and if he was okay because of all the chaos. Barry looked outside the window and noticed the smoke rising in the city. He asked the cab driver to turn on the radio so they could find out what was going on.

The news station talked about a terrorist attack in Gotham and suggested that everyone stay inside so they could be safe. They also announced the grounding of all flights. Not that Barry was planning to go home anymore anyway. He couldn't leave Gotham like this. Up until now he decided to not even hero up while in the city. It wasn't his place to do so. Not unless there was something going on around him.

"Stop the car." Barry said as he started unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Traffic isn't even moving." The driver replied confused as to why he'd even want to stop the car anyway.

"Right. Right." Barry looked at the meter and took the fare out of his wallet. He even gave the driver a little extra. He then got out of the car and waited for the driver to pop open the trunk so he could get his suitcase. Once he did Barry was out of there. He ran normal speed to an alleyway and hid his suitcase before pulling out a ring. He put the ring on and touched the top causing it to spring open and release an expanding suit. Barry used his super speed to put the costume on and became the Flash.

As soon as the suit was on he was out of the alley and speeding through the city. Whenever he came across a group of criminals he knocked them out them out and left them for the police. He got civilians to safety whenever he came across them and he even put out a few fires. He was feeling back in his element. He missed this and just hoped any of the resident heroes wouldn't mind him helping out.

As he went through downtown he could feel a change in temperature from the rest of the affected areas. He turned a corner and noticed what looked to be an ice golem and someone else in a costume. He was expecting more to see the infamous Batman but the night wasn't over yet. He ran up to the duo and said, "I'm the Flash. Need any help?"

@King Kindred@Queentze@Ezekiel

Ice breathed heavily after the gangs were dealt with and was surprised - when another woman came to help her out at that. And judging by her appearance and attire, it was likely she was another superhero at that. "OH? Uhm, sure. Of course," replied Ice from inside the golem at that. Despite the rebreather she still sounded female at that for Vixen to understand.

Then they got another one at that. Namely that being the Flash - the so-called fastest thing alive on Earth. Well, two superheroes in one day, either things were getting better or the situation was just that bad.

"Oh. Uhm," muttered Ice, not sure on how to use their powers for that. She only knew how to throw around Ice and not lead people. "We got gangs roaming around this place. Also we got fires in the place. We need to get both under control, in the case it might spread further."

"I can handle the fires. We would need somebody to handle the gangs. And thirdly to get the cops here," she spoke, thinking logically in this case. "Some police officers should be around the vicinity - or likely overwhelmed. They are likely the best bet to help keep the citizens safe. Somebody has to go either rally or rescue them, so we have somesort of push against the criminal element running wild here."

"And this will work? I've tried countless combinations, it never quite seems to stick with those of a...higher constitution." The emaiciated figure of Doctor Crane sat hunched over his work station, deep in the Gotham underbelly, once a respected figure on the science of the mind, he had, without a doubt, broken his own. The pursuit of his goals had become absolute, and this presented a bound towards the perfection he yearned for.

"Quite certain, the toxin added to the serum should overpower all but a few notable exceptions, but, this is only to be released when instructed." In contrast to the hunched figure of the doctor, the man that stepped out of the shadows was the model of sophistication, a fine tailored suit and dark rimmed glasses of expensive taste. This was the sort of money that required anonymity, not fame.

"Of course, of course." The Scarecrow responded, a little too quickly, he grated under the impression of control, but it would be worth it, to have continued access to the hidden substance that amplified his already potent work. "You may thank the Presiden-Elect for his generous investment." He turned to look at the man standing aside from him, a crooked grin spread across his features. The other man only frowned.

"You will not repeat that, under any circumstances, or there will be a price to pay."

Now

The small gathering of heroes, three together at once, seemed to herald the next stage of the chaos that was Gotham City, something equally felt by the mystical mind of one John Constantine. A wave of darkness seemed to pass through the city, unnoticed by those not attuned to the ways of magic, a curse, screamed with uncomparable fear.

In the next moment, however, the consequence was more than visible to all. The riots that had swept the city descended further into a violent orgy of paranoid attacks. Roving gangs that had united against the monsters they all saw in the shadows, suddenly turned on each other, seeing the same darkness in their hasty allies. Those police units deploy to maintain order and contain the panic when they could not, found their equipment no defence against whatever new threat attacked them. Soon, the spattering of gunfire in the night air became a blaze, as the National Guard turned on itself.

Gradually, in the minds of those capable of perceiving such things, John Constantine among them, the pulse of this new attack brought with it the feverish whispering of words, a sobbing cry, echoing across the pulse of power;

Azarath Metrion Zinthos