W E I S M A N S T R E E T M A L L

---

A thousand-thousand bright lights danced upon Fenrir’s retinas, the smell of brimstone and cordite hanging heavy upon his nostrils, nauseating and confusing in equal measure. He snorted, trying to clear his head. One of the Jokerz – a tall, emaciated man wearing a silly hat and carrying an orange pumpkin, who Superboy had named Ghoul – had thrown a handful of pellets, shaped like tiny grinning skulls, at his face. The pellets had then summarily exploded. Ghoul’s laughter was still echoing all around him, trill and mocking. As soon as his world stopped imploding, Fenrir was going to tear the Jokerz’ arms off. See how funny he found that.

The feral teen’s thoughts of violent retribution were interrupted – momentarily – when a large, unyielding shape collided heavily with him. One of the stronger Jokerz must have used his distraction to throw a car at him. He was quickly coming to hate the group of motley fools. When his world stopped spinning and his vision stopped bursting, he realised that it wasn’t a car, but the leader of his group, Superboy, who had been thrown at him. He felt slightly vindicated, knowing that he wasn’t the only that was being made a fool of.

“Sorry, Fenrir,” The Kryptonian half-breed muttered. Fenrir eyed the clone askance. Leaders shouldn’t apologise. Apologising was the same thing as admitting fault, and admitting to fault was admitting to weakness. A weak leader was more dangerous than a strong enemy. It was a problem, but one for another day. First, they had the Jokerz to deal with.

After that though? After that, there may be a reckoning.

He eyed the enemy ranks closely, a low growl emanating from the back of his throat. As much as he’d like to start with Ghoul, to repay the insult from earlier, he knew the best way of ending this was to take out the Jokerz leaders. Cut off the head of the snake, and watch the body die. It may be a cliché, but was still effective tactical thinking. Shayera had taught him that. At least, that’s the justification he gave himself for singling out the twins. The real reason, the one that whispered in his soul, that tugged at the marrow of his bones, was the need to test himself against the strongest of his foes. Chucko and Bonk may look bigger, but he reasoned that if the Dee Dee twins were the Jokerz leaders, then they must be the most powerful.

So, they would be the first to fall.

Superboy exchanged ‘witty banter’ with the twins – a part of the job that Fenrir had never understood, nor been particularly good at, according to Shayera – before surging forwards. Fenrir was hot on his heels, lips hitched up from his teeth in a wordless snarl, eyes bright with anticipation. With hunger. The Twins watched him coming, their mocking grins fading quickly to be replaced by pale-faced looks of alarm. Prey, recognising the predator. The lone deer, frozen at the sight of the mighty wolf. Dangerous, the Dee Dee Twins might be, but they weren’t stupid.

Mere feet separated them, Fenrir’s fingers curled into talons, ready to rend flesh and break bone. His mouth watered at the prospect, his heart beating faster and faster and faster, the sound of howling loud in his ears. It took him a moment to realise that he was the one making the noise. He was on the twins now, claws raised high, their frightened faces looking up at him, terrified, pleading and –



His world exploded for a second time that day, and suddenly he found himself flying head first through the air, his jaw and the right side of his face on fire. His headlong trajectory ended with a sudden crunch. It was long, slow heartbeats before he realised that was because he had hit a wall, and that crunch was probably his face. He hit the floor hard, taking a moment before trying to right himself. He could hear voices behind him.

“Don’t worry boss, I’ll splatter dog-breath.” A sigh of relief sounded, probably the Dee Dee’s considering their timely deliverance. Fenrir rolled onto his back, groaning slightly. The largest of the Jokerz, the hammer wielding Bonk, was stalking slowly towards him, that big mallet dragging behind him, leaving a red smear on the floor-tiles as he passed. That’s probably my blood. Fenrir realised, though the thought didn’t inspire the kind of emotion in him that it should have. In fact, he was having some trouble feeling much of anything. The clown was getting closer, and he couldn’t even summon the will to get up and face him. It just felt like too much work.

“Hoo-Boy, you’re still breathing, huh? Gee-fucking-willickers, but you took that one like a champ.” Bonk was standing over him now, feet planted shoulder-width apart, while that mallet was raised skyward. Fenrir eyed it gingerly, knowing what was coming, but not sure how he could stop it. Seemed like all his thoughts where coming slow and sluggish. “Let’s see how you take this.”

The mallet came down, like a thunderbolt from high heaven, crashing into Fenrir’s torso with all the force that a seven-foot man mountain dressed like a crazy clown can muster. There was a crack, like the earth was breaking apart, and a sudden, shooting pain in Fenrir’s chest. Ribs, probably. Finally his body tried to fight back, throwing up a hand that Bonk dismissively slapped aside, before that hammer came down a second time, upon the exact same spot as before. This time there was no crack, but it felt like Fenrir’s insides were tearing, and he suddenly started coughing blood.

The mallet continued to fall, but Fenrir lost count after the sixth time. He might have passed out. He wasn't sure. If he did, then the next blow of the hammer woke him back up.

“Eww, gross,” Giggled Bonk, feigning disgust before lifting his hammer once more. Fenrir didn’t know how much he could take. Surely there was only so much of a beating even he could be subjected to. To be killed by a clown though? Of all the embarrassing ways to end it, after all he’d been through. He tried to summon his strength, one last time. A last, pained effort to raise his arms, to bare his teeth, to get back to his feet, to do anything before the hammer came down.

It was all for naught. His body just wouldn’t move.

“Play dead, doggy.”

The hammer came down.

Fenrir caught it.

He clamped both hands around the haft, the gore encrusted head mere inches from his helmeted skull. Bonk gasped in surprise, before leaning all his tremendous bulk onto the weapon. The veins in Fenrir’s arms stood out in sharp relief as he slowly fought upwards, inch by excruciating inch, forcing the sweating Bonk back. The two foes were locked in their struggle, the rest of the world lost to them. The rest of Fenrir's team might have been dead for all he knew, or raucously celebrating their victory. He didn't care. He only had eyes for Bonk.

He was back on his feet, bloody spittle drooling down his chin, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, painful and electrifying in equal measure. Bonk, panicking, tried to stamp his boot down upon the feral teen's foot. Fenrir hardly seemed to notice. Bonk swore, spat, pleaded, cried, but nothing he did seemed to stop Fenrir as he slowly twisted the mallet out of his foe’s hands. The clown stumbled back, tripped over his own feet, and fell backwards onto his rump. The wolfman glared down at him for a moment, white knuckled fists gripped tightly around the haft of his new trophy.

“I. Am not. A dog.” He snarled, rather than spoke.

He twirled the hammer above his head before swinging it downwards, ignoring Bonk’s pleas for mercy. Does the lion stop at the bleating of the gazelle? The mallet cracked into the Jokerz’s skull, which pounded noisily upon the ground, cracking tiles. For a moment Fenrir thought – hoped, maybe – that the clown was dead, but then he picked up the faint, but incessant drum beat of his opponent’s heart. Unconscious then.

Hawkwoman didn’t have quite as stringent a no-kill code as some of the other Justice Leaguers, but she still considered killing an absolute last resort. For her sake, if nothing else, Fenrir tried not to kill where possible. Still, looking down at Bonk, he was sorely tempted. The Beast inside railed. It demanded the clown’s death, hungered for it. It was hard to refuse, harder still to ignore. Part of him wanted to surrender to those urges, to let slip the halters he had placed upon his more ferocious urges, and to reveal in the hunt, to the kill.

It was with some amount of effort that Fenrir dragged himself away, the mallet still clutched tightly in his fists. It was time to see how the rest of the team were doing.

W E I S M A N S T R E E T M A L L

---

As Superboy and the rest of the team engaged the Jokerz, Tachyus was just wrapping up evacuating the citizenry from the Kord Store. Just in time, he noted, as Chucko exploded into the store for a second time. Tachyus was standing at the emergency exit toward the back of the store, waving the last shopper through the door and into the mall's parking lot, where the police were already starting to form a perimeter. With his charges now relatively safe, he turned his gaze back toward the battle. Chucko was apparently out cold, so he surveyed further abroad. His eye caught Fenrir in trouble, with the hammer-welding brute Bonk standing above him and striking him repeatedly. Tachyus focused for a moment, allowing delving deep inside and pulling the proverbial lever that would open the gate to the Godspeed.

A thunderous rumble seemed to emanate from him, and an aura of shimmering golden light began to waft upwards off of the young demi-god. So focused was Quickling on helping Fenrir, that he hadn't noticed Chucko stir, and turn to look at him. With the Godspeed in full flow, Tachyus shot forward toward Fenrir with a thunderous boom. One step brought him halfway through the wrecked store, tearing up the linoleum tiles beneath him, the next would take him outdoors, where he could assist his teammate, who seemed to be in dire straights. Tachyus watched Bonk's hammer raise in slow motion (to him) and begin it's downward swing. He watched the hammer so intently that he hadn't noticed Chucko's arm reach out to trip him.

Suddenly, Tachyus' world spun end-over-end as he exploded violently through the wall of the Kord Store and into the streets outside where the battle raged. He dropped his staff in the tumultuous somersault, skipped off of the floor once, twice, and a third time, then was stopped hard against a wall on the opposite side of the fighting. He shook the disorientation from his head and looked back toward the Kord Store with a glare. What he saw made him smirk, despite the residual disorientation. Chucko sat holding the arm that he had used to trip the demi-god. It was pulled out-of-socket and hanging limply. That should teach the fat clown, Tachyus thought, rising to his feet. He looked to Fenrir, who much to his surprise, seemed to have turned the tables on his opponent, Bonk.

With Fenrir relatively safe, Tachyus took a moment to locate his staff. After a few seconds of searching, he saw it laying twenty-or-so feet away. The Godspeed was easy to reach, having opened the floodgates so recently, and so, clad in a golden aura, Quickling shot of to gather up his most precious belonging. With the staff in hand, he took a millisecond or two to survey the situation. Ghoul seemed the most unpredictable opponent, and perhaps the more intelligent of the bunch. Tachyus decided to take him out as swiftly as possible, in the hopes that he would be removing the Jokerz ace-in-the-hole. He rushed forward, a golden blur.

Luckily for Quickling, his being tripped-up by Chucko had him keeping an eye to the ground, which allowed him to spot (just in time) a pile of marbles spread onto the floor. Apparently he had been right to assume Ghoul was the brainier of the bunch. He must have dropped them when Chucko tripped me, the demi-god thought. Another tripping hazard, and Tachyus wasn't keen on a repeat of recent events, so he shoved his Caduceus staff into the tile floor and vaulted high, twisting to meet the Mall's cieling with his sandals at a run. The sheer speed kept him moving along the ceiling for a few paces, and he kicked off hard just above Ghoul, who was slowly attempting to follow the blur that was Tachyus. The demi-god landed with a knee in Ghoul's shoulder, smashing him to the ground almost instantly. He released the Godspeed and smirked down at the crumpled villain.


"You break way too easily, clown." Tachyus said with a smirk.

"Maybe," Ghoul replied through gritting teeth, "But the mind breaks even easier!" on "easier" the clown threw his good arm up toward Tachyus, and let fly a small knife. Tachyus had less than a second to react, he tried to summon the Godspeed, felt the floodgates crash open, and then felt the knife run home in his left shoulder. He yelped in pain, lost his concentration, lost his grasp of the Godspeed. His world went fuzzy and he staggered backward.

"See? All it took..." Ghoul wheezed through the pain of his own injuries, "Was a few chemicals slathered on a kitchen knife. To take down a god. I'm... not impressed." The clown braced his shoulder and took a step closer to Quickling, his wince becoming a wide smile as Tachyus eyes began darting left and right, not truly seeing anything. The symptom of the toxin the knife had been laced with.

Tachyus stumbled backward and fell, unable to regain his bearings, his equilibrium, his sense of direction. As his head hit the tiles of the floor, swimming from the poisoned knife, he tried to say "Help," but a moan of disorientation was all he could manage. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning, and lost consciousness.

---

I hate clowns.

Though none could see it, the heroine known as Twilight was reaching the end of her patience. When the team had gotten the notice, she had been in the middle of a video-call with her brother Leo and was forced to quickly hang up, suit up, and hurry over to the Weisman Street Mall all on account of a gang of rampaging clowns. Twilight had been around the world, but had mainly operated in Metropolis up to this point, and was therefore unused to the more psychotic breed of criminal that Gotham city was famed for. The fact that a group of makeup-clad Joker groupies had come all the way from their cesspool to wreak havoc and interrupt her leisure time was quite galling. And while Twilight had been impressed with her team's response time and the efficiency in which Tachyus began to evacuate civilians, she was more than a little irritated by the fact that the Jokerz had somehow managed to encircle them. An undisciplined and untrained gang of D-List thugs had somehow managed to surround them and it annoyed her to no end.

And Twilight was annoyed with herself most of all. She hadn't expected the clowns to have powers, as minor as they were, and she hadn't accounted for their pure savagery. They hadn't come close to breaking her defenses, but they fact they had caught her off-guard was unforgivable. She was better than that. She had to be. And so as Twilight circled up with her teammates, such as they were, the young hero was quite eager to wipe those smug smirks off of the Jokerz' faces. She assessed the situation, quickly evaluating her next move while there was a lull. But Twilight didn't move until it was time, waiting for Conner to make his own move, like how Twilight had been taught to operate since she was a sidekick. Some of the others, like Fenrir, might have been hotheads but she was made of different stuff. She was a professional and she would act like it.

But being a professional didn't mean Twilight couldn't allow herself to smirk when she saw Conner punch that fat clown through the Kord store window. Normally, she'd be leery of property damage but she somehow didn't mind in this case, and Ted could easily pay for the damage. She'd send him a card or something later on. And Twilight enjoyed watching Conner work. But she couldn't think about that now. It was time to get to work. Fenrir was even quicker to the draw than Twilight, and the young metahuman was both impressed and somewhat unsettled by his power and ferocity as he tore towards Dee and Dee. A big portion of her wanted to intervene and stop Fenrir from going too far. Twilight might not have been as strict with force as other heroes, but she had never killed anyone, and it would definitely be disastrous if a hero ended up eviscerating someone. But it'd also be a potential disaster if Juno diverted her attention and efforts to intervening and let the other clowns run amok. Focus on the fight first, that's what mom would have said. And if two psychos ran out of luck because of it, well it wouldn't be her fault.

Fenrir probably had the twins covered and Conner had knocked Chucko out of contention. Only Bonk, Ghoul, and some normals were left. Twilight knew that she was more powerful than either of the remaining clowns, by a wide margin. And baseball and knife wielding thugs were less than nothing to her threat-wise. Especially now that she was no longer caught off guard by their savagery. But the fact that several of the thugs turned away from the fight to launch themselves at a group of nearby civilians cinched it for her. There was always a few idiots who thought they could hang around and gawk at a brawl, and it was a huge liability. But she wouldn't let them die on her watch. She had a reputation to maintain. And no matter what she thought of her teammates, she was sure they could handle the Jokerz and their other cronies.

Three thugs lunged at the civvies, who turned to run. Twilight flew over the lead thug and dropped from the air, her feet glowing with a sheen of white light as she dropped down. Twilight landed on the man feet first, her hardlight field crumpling him to the floor under her weight. The pain would be pretty intense and that suited her just fine. The two other thugs stumbled back in surprise as Twilight stepped off of their friend, delivering a hardlight kick to his ribs as he did. She picked up his bat and burned it to a crisp in her hand. Then she cracked her fists as they shimmered with light, a white aura wrapping around Twilight as as she stood in front of them. Twilight could have easily picked them off with some well-placed stun blasts. But she needed to work out some stress.

Twilight crossed her arms with a smirk and said, "What's the matter? You guys afraid of a girl? I thought you were the Jokerz not the Chickenz."

Besides displaying her wit, there was a practical purpose to Twilight insulting them. There were some exceptions but most thugs were pretty dumb and easily angered. And being angry made idiots even more stupid and easy to take care of. True enough, her barb made the two thugs shout and rush headlong at her. Perfect. Twilight dropped her hands to her side, faced sideways and let them come at her. They'd learned how to fight in bar brawls and alleyway scraps. She'd learned from Wildcat. Even without powers, they wouldn't have had a chance.

The first thug swung a bat wrapped wire at her with all of his strength. It was clumsy and slow. Twilight raised her arm in a block and let the man's bat shatter on her shielded arm. The thug winced back from the explosion of splinters and Twilight shifted her focus to the second man who lunged forward with a knife. She sidestepped the thrust, and grabbed him by the wrist twisting it as she slammed her light-shielded palm into his elbow. The man screamed as his arm broke, the knife clattering to the floor as Twilight twisted back and flipped him over her shoulder and onto the concrete, her enhanced strength sending him to the ground with a heavy thud. The thug's head slammed on the street and Twilight knew he was out for the duration. His friend had recovered by now and advanced with his fists raised, though Twilight could tell from his quick breathing and shaky stance that he was rattled. Twilight smiled, remembering her training in the ring as she raised her own fists and came to meet him. The thug rabbit punched at Twilight, but she leaned her head to the side and easily dodged the blow before her own fist lashed out. With her strength and hardlight field, he was knocked out cold.

The whole thing had taken only a few seconds. Her teacher would have been proud. She made to see how the rest of her team was faring. Then Twilight heard a scream and she turned around, ready to pounce. She turned to find the first thug she had landed on had somehow gotten off of his feet and grabbed a girl, who for some reason hadn't learned her lesson the first time, and held a knife to her throat. Twilight grimaced. She wasn't hard enough on him the first time. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Twilight raised a hand to placate the thug, "It's over. Put the knife down and surrender. You're just making it harder on yourself. Let her go and I'll see to it that you're treated with lenience."

The girl was sobbing as the thug backed himself up against a wall, his free hand shaking as the girl's friends cowered nearby. The knife was pressed to the girl's neck and Twilight knew she had to proceed with the utmost caution. The man was terrified, and cornered animals were often the most dangerous.

The thug shouted, "Sh-shut up! You fuck off and let me walk!"

Twilight shook her head, "You know that's not going to happen. By now the cops have this whole place on lockdown. You're going to jail either way, but you don't have to make it worse for yourself. Let her go, and come in quietly."

The man was quiet and Twilight knew that if she had more time, she could get him to drop the knife. She had received training from some of the best negotiators the League had for exactly this kind of scenario. But she ran out of time.

Twilight heard repeated thuds nearby and she turned to see Bonk slamming a hammer onto Fenrir. As she watched, she saw Quickling glow as he sped up, rushing for the werewolf but Chucko tripped him and he went crashing across the street. Twilight mentally cursed. Amateurs. Rushing in half-cocked. But they were her teammates. She would be damned if she'd let a fellow hero get ended by some no-name. She had to save Fenrir. But she had to save the hostage too. For the first time since the fight started, Twilight hesitated.

The man sensed it and like a drowning man, he grabbed desperately at any chance to float, "You wanna save your friend right? Well, I can wait, but can you? Let me walk! Power down and let me walk! Or your friend dies and so does this bitch. How about that hero?"

Twilight grimaced, trying to work out a plan as she heard Bonk hit Fenrir again and again. She didn't know how durable Fenrir was, but she had to do something. Her mind raced through the possibilities, and there was a short pause before Twilight raised her hands, her aura shimmering away, "All right."

The man gasped, exhilarated that his plan paid off. Twilight locked gazes with the hostage, who was wide-eyed and shaking in terror. Twilight said, "It'll be ok. Close your eyes." The hostage shut her eyes as the world whited out in a flash of light. The thug yelled, clutching at his eyes as he stumbled in temporary blindness. The hostage dropped to the ground, forgotten and Twilight erected a field to shunt her to the side to her friends while Twilight punched out with her fist. A starlight construct in the shape of her fist but the size of a person flashed into existence and slammed the man against the wall like a linebacker. He fell to the floor, out cold.

Twilight shouted to the stumbling civvies, "Get out of here! Go!" They finally took the message and left in a hurry.

Twilight turned around to Fenrir's position. But the werewolf had somehow managed to knock out Bonk with his own hammer and stood on his own two feet, though he was bleeding and battered. Twilight was impressed. He was a tough customer. However, while Fenrir got himself out of trouble, Quickling was hurt. Her teammate was out with a knife in his shoulder. Twilight had no idea how bad the wound was, but Quickling needed medical aid immediately.

Ghoul stood over him, grinning widely and pulling out another knife as he reached down to grasp Quickling by the hair. Twilight snarled. She didn't know Quickling very well. But he was on her team. And nobody hurt her team like that. Twilight's form flared into pure light and she launched through the air with her fists outstretched like a speeding car at Ghoul.

Ghoul had held up his knife and made to slice Quickling's throat, but the light caught his attention and he had time to look up and freeze like a deer in the headlights before Twilight slammed into his midsection. Ghoul went flying through the air clear across the street and by pure happenstance, landed on Chucko in a clownish heap. He had certainly broken some ribs in addition to his other injuries and Chucko was even worse off. They wouldn't be back up anytime soon.

Twilight leaned back to Quickling, her hand stretching out as a pair of starlight tweezers appeared to pluck the dagger out of his shoulder, as delicately as she could manage. Twilight knew the love that Joker and all those associated had for poisons and Twilight pressed her glowing hand to Quickling's shoulder, cauterizing and disinfecting the wound at once. Quickling barely even stirred and Twilight winced as a starlight bandage wrapped around her teammate's shoulder. He needed to get out of here. Fenrir was injured but Quickling's wounds took priority. Triage. Just like she was taught.

She cast one last look around the battlespace. Most of the Jokerz were down with only the Dee twins and a few thugs still in the fight. If the rest of her team couldn't handle it, then they just had no business being in the superhero game. Twilight lifted Quickling for a moment before erecting a starlight stretcher beneath him. Then she took off, flying quickly but as gently as she could to not jar her teammate. In a few seconds she reached the police barricade where ambulances waited. Cops pushed the crowds back as people surged forward with camera lights flashing.

Paramedics rushed immediately to her and Twilight said, "Stab wound. Left shoulder. He's a superhuman, but it's probably poisoned. I disinfected and stopped the bleeding but you need to get him to the hospital. The poisons these guys use are no joke."

Some normals froze up in situations like this. But they were professional. One of the paramedics nodded, "Got it Twilight. I'll step on the gas."

Twilight nodded back at the man and the medics lifted Quickling onto their own structure, Twilight releasing her constructs from existence. Quickling was tougher than her. She had to trust in the medics to take care of him. For the moment, all she could do was see to the rest of the team. She lifted off once more, flying back to the fight in a few seconds before hovering next to Fenrir, "Fenrir, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?"

The werewolf looked like hell, but Twilight suspected he could keep on going. She waited for his answer as she looked to see how the others were faring.

W E I S M A N S T R E E T M A L L

---

Kassy was never going to get used to this.

In the two weeks that she’d been a member of the Young Justice Initiative, the young Atlantean was still struggling with her new life. She felt displaced, and not just because she was new to the surface world. No – she felt outclassed by leagues when compared to the others. Sure, she had her power, and she managed to get in her battle suit and on the way just as fast as everyone else. But the others were just… better. Connor was in charge, and he was obviously meant to be there. Others, like Andy, and Juno, moved with obvious experience. This battle was just another day to them. Everyone seemed to simply know what to do- and then they did it.

Kassy simply did not.

She started slightly as Hellfire called for her and two of the others to get in the mix. “R-right, of course!” She managed to squeak out, getting her magus staff at the ready. But what did he want her to do, exactly? She understood that the team could be overwhelmed by these two strangely dressed girls. How could Mirage help, though? Maybe if she hit one with her staff? Or blinded them with a light illusion?

While she was still trying to figure out what to do, Batgirl entered the fray without hesitation. Mirage stepped back, scowling slightly and inwardly berating herself. Why couldn’t she just do something? She was starting to think that the king had made a mistake in thinking she was good enough for this team…

She was so busy insulting herself, that she didn’t immediately notice Batgirl’s mistake. It was only when the two taunting girls’ voices doubled to four, that Mirage jerked her head up and realized that her teammate was in trouble. This was just what Hellfire was worried about. She couldn’t let the others get hurt. But what could she do against an enemy that could just make more?

Make more…?

Mirage smiled, and then disappeared. It was as easy as breathing for her, now. She’d mastered the trick of making herself invisible when she was a child. Simply not being present was enough to keep her away from the ire of others. Even in the middle of danger, she could do it without a thought. More complex illusions took work.

Around Batgirl, a third pair of Dee Dee’s popped into existence.

“We’re going to have FUN Batgirl!” Dee 5 piped up.

“Yeah, let’s get her!” Dee 6 said.

They too, stepped forward to join the fray. But Dee Dee 6 accidentally stepped on her sister's heel.

“Hey, watch it! Hit her, not me!”

“Oh, sorry!” Another punch was aimed, thrown… and instead of into Batgirl, it was into Dee Dee 3.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“She did it, not me!” Dee Dee 5 pointed at Dee Dee 2, whining and pointing.

Now that they were side by side, an observant watcher might see that the two newest twins were just slightly different… They were missing freckles, and the hair color was ever so slightly brighter. Dee Dee 6 gave Batgirl a quick glance and wink, and then went back to "fighting", throwing chaos into the already busy battle.

W E I S M A N S T R E E T M A L L

---

He managed three steps before he stumbled, tripping over his own feet like an old man who had just run a marathon. He caught himself from falling at the last moment, and thrust Bonk’s captured mallet under his arm, a makeshift crutch. His chest beat like blacksmith bellows, but no matter how many great lungsful of air he sucked in it felt like he was suffocating. Black dots danced upon the surface of his vision, while his head pounded fiercely, almost like that damned clown was still swinging away at his temple. A low whine escaped his lips. What was happening to him? His body had never betrayed him like this before.

What if Bonk had broken him? What if he’d suffered damage that could not be fixed. Was this to be his life now, dizzy and breathless, blind and uncoordinated? In a word, weak. He felt the sharp edge of panic brush at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn’t live like that. The broken warrior. The de-fanged wolf. It was the promise of a life not worth living, chill and mocking. Anger rose to meet the growing terror, and with it a new surge of strength. He wasn’t going to roll over and surrender to meekness, not so easily as this. With a cackling growl he ripped the wolf-shaped helmet from his head, determining that if his vision was failing him anyway, it wouldn’t pay to impair it any further.

The relief from his torture was near instantaneous. Within seconds his head pain was receding and the stars that flooded his vision dimmed. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest moving more freely now. The solace that flooded him was tinged with confusion, until he caught a glance at his helm, which now sported an indent larger than his clenched fist. Bonk’s first mallet blow must have caused it. No wonder he’d been feeling so weak. That gouge would have been pressing down upon his skull. Bloody helmet, if it couldn’t protect him properly, what good was it? Shayera’s next offering would have to be of higher quality.

"Fenrir, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?"

Twilight was hovering nearby, eyeing him critically. They’d been on the team together for only two weeks, and the two had barely exchanged words. Not that Fenrir was all that talkative to begin with – he struggled with words, finding his mastery of speech to be clumsy and inept, and generally preferred to remain silent rather than open his mouth and subsequently make a fool of himself – but he felt that the light-wielding heroine looked down upon him, as if he was something dirty, unworthy of her time or attention. Even now, it felt like she was judging him.

He turned his nose towards her, before hawking loudly and spitting a glob of bloody phlegm. He wondered how bad he looked. The side of his face felt sticky, so he was reasonably certain that he was half-covered in slowly cooling blood – most of it his, unfortunately. Nothing he couldn’t deal with though. No need to involve doctors. He wasn’t some weakling that couldn’t take a beating under his own power.

“I’m fine.” he muttered softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She was immaculate. How’d she manage to get through this without getting her hands dirty? He wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed or impressed. He settled for the former, pointing at the rest of the team who had surrounded the Dee Dees, new victims to vent his frustrations upon. “Let’s finish.” He hefted Bonk’s mallet, and took a step forwards.

@GreenGrenade

(Coding to be added later.)

Once they returned to the Sanctuary, and were subsequently berated and dismissed, Kassy went straight to the kitchen. She drank, refilled, and drank a gallon-sized pitcher of water that was set aside just for her. Even though she'd done practically nothing in the battle, her body was tired and she did feel a bit dried out. When Andy and Stephanie stepped in to start cooking, she quickly vacated the kitchen, heading for her quarters as quickly as possible. Once there she shed her suit and flopped into the inlaid pool that she had in place of the bed, letting her legs slide and shift away into a long orange tailfin.

Another mission - another failure. At the very least, she’d avoided getting hurt. Then again, she’d avoided doing anything of merit at all during the battle. Sure, she’d managed to startle the psychotic twin girls into disarray, and maybe save Batgirl from a few bruises. However, Fenrir managed to recover and rejoin them shortly after that. He’d either seen through or sniffed out the fact that she wasn’t an enemy, which tipped off the Dee Dees. Mirage quickly cleared the area to let the real fighters work. Honestly, she felt that her presence on the team was rather useless. Again, the doubt started to fill her mind. Was she really ever going to be more than dead weight?

The call for dinner blared from the communication system that linked every room in the Sanctuary, startling Kassy out of a doze. She sighed and surfaced, dressed and joined the others. A small part of her was wishing she had more understanding of how to manage the kitchen. She was good at chopping things and preparing them, but the actual cooking evaded her. Dinner was the usual rowdy affair – cooking for three or four different diets wasn’t easy. Rannik ate nothing with meat, and Magnus seemed to eat nothing else. Kassy herself wouldn’t have minded some fresh fish every now and then, but she was pretty sure the others wouldn’t want to eat it raw. Maybe she could request a lesson in proper cooking? Hopefully the others wouldn’t laugh at her for asking. They made it look so simple.
After she was finished, Kassy washed her used plate and set it away. She was quite ready to escape back to isolation, but Andy called for training. Or dodgeball, whatever that was.

“Um. Andy?” She stepped closer, tugging at her curls in a nervous way. “Can I… join you if it wouldn’t be in the way?”

---

Earlier, Juno had watched Fenrir closely. Bruised, beaten, and bloodied. But not broken. The young werewolf had looked like he'd been run over by a semi, but he still stood on his own two feet. Some part of Juno had been impressed. Another part had been frightened. Was this really the kind of person they wanted on their team? Someone who was almost more beast than man? He was dangerous. That much was clear. But he was powerful too, and Juno had seen it first hand as Fenrir helped clean up the Dee twins. For now, Juno would keep an eye on him. He deserved a chance to prove himself as hero material. But if he turned rabid, she wouldn't hesitate to take him down.

But she'd put the thought to the back of the mind as Juno helped cover the team and helped the authorities clear away the worst of the debris. It was a duty she was well-used to after accompanying her mother and other members of the League into fights, and she did it in typical efficient fashion. It was a good PR move with the locals too. After retrieving a recovered, but somewhat flustered Quickling from the hospital, they returned to HQ for some much needed downtime. Unfortunately, Dinah had been a bit less than impressed, which embarrassed Juno. The original Black Canary had been a mentor and role model for her, and the team's lackluster performance did not paint Juno in the best light either, despite her usual excellent performance. If she wanted to prove herself as hero material, then she needed the team to succeed as well. And that meant that the team needed to start acting like one.

At least dinner was decent. She had been skeptical of Andy's culinary skills beforehand but the teen had proven himself a decent cook, even if he was still an amateur hero. The food was unfortunately the most enjoyable thing about dinner, however. The company was somewhat lacking, Juno having not quite clicked with any of her team after this short time and she found herself eating in silence for the most part. She missed her friends. She missed Leo. And she was far too involved in the superhero world to be entertained by fake superheroics on screen. Give her Game of Thrones any day. Although now that she'd been thinking about it, she did find Conner to be startlingly similar to Jon Snow in certain ways.

After the meal concluded, Juno stood up and said, "It was great, Andy, thanks you. You too Stephanie. But yeah, we could all definitely use some gym time. Training specifically. We should work on our small team tactics. We shouldn't be letting D-List gangs get the drop on us." Juno had been trained to work in a team since she'd been in junior high. Some of the others had to catch up. Or else the next time they might not just get away with some bruises.

T H E S A N C T U A R Y

---

The team was mostly quiet on their way back from the mall, subdued in the face of their victory. Fenrir was reminded of a quote Shayera had made him read once, written by a man who’s name he had summarily forgotten: “…nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won…”. He hadn’t understood it at the time, a victory was something to be relished. What aspect of dominating an enemy wasn’t to be celebrated? Looking at the morose features of his teammates however, he could almost begin to understand the meaning of those ancient words.

At least Dinah Lance-Queen, the woman who insisted upon calling herself Fenrir’s ‘den-mother’, didn’t seem to share the other’s pensiveness. While hardly enthused by the group’s performance, she did seem to recognise that they had been victorious. She mentioned that they would need further training, but allowed them the night off. He trooped out after the rest of the team, still dragging the mallet he had commandeered from Bonk. He wasn’t sure why he had taken it, but it felt right that he had. Perhaps he would keep it, as a trophy. That was a good and proper way of celebrating a victory.

Andy and Steph made dinner, Fenrir watching them like his eyes were glued to their forms the entire time. When presented with his steak he accepted without a word, instantly tearing into it. He gobbled the meal down, quick and messy, pausing every ten seconds or so to cast suspicious glances around the room, as if afraid that one of the others may have been planning to steal the meal from him. He finished long before the others, and spent the rest of the meal time licking his fingers clean and picking shreds of meat from his teeth with the talon upon his index finger. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

The others finally finished, and talk shifted towards the night’s activities. Hellfire was of a mind that they should all do something together, training or dodgeball, while Twilight pushed for practicing working as a unit. Mirage simply wanted to be included. She was the runt of this litter, but at least she knew her place. There was something to be said for that kind of self-realisation. Most everyone else he had ever met spent all their energies jockeying for a place they had neither earned, nor deserved.

Tired of the talk, which seemed to wind round and round itself in an endless loop, he pushed himself up from the table and began walking towards the door and down towards the training rooms. The rest would follow in his wake.

Wreathed in golden light, and gritting his teeth in frustration, Tachyus growled as he shot across the training-room floor, a bee-line directly toward his target. He took the dummy with an extended arm straight to what would be the throat. There was a creaking as the dummy's support pillar snapped, and it shot across the room, to land in the pile that the young demi-god had already gathered. The others had chosen downtime upon returning to Mt. Justice, but not Tachyus. His frustration would have made him bad company, so as soon as their transports had arrived, he had sulked silently down to the training room. The others were heavy in his thoughts at the moment, which only fueled his frustrations. Of all the team, only he had been incapacitated. Was he not the son of a god? Had he not been trained by some of the finest warriors on the planet since he was a child? The irony stoked the fires of his frustration even more, and a mask of fury passed over his face as several more training dummies popped up from the floor.

He bolted to the first with the sound of a thunder crack, and took it to the floor with a palm to it's face, tearing it from it's support pedestal and dragging it along the floor a few paces, then leapt into the air, tossing the broken sparring dummy into it's closest counterpart hard, snapping it to the ground as well. When he landed, he snapped to the last dummy standing in a fraction of the blink of an eye, and shoulder-rushed it with all of his momentum, blasting it into several pieces.

He paused and released the Godspeed, surveying the decimation he had caused by releasing his frustration. He was suddenly embarrassed, considering what the others would say. He expected a witty comment from Batgirl, maybe a look from Andy, but as soon as he stopped to think what she may have to say about it, his embarrassed frown mutated back into a grimace of anger. Juno. She had not only removed him from the fight, carrying his humiliatingly limp body to the paramedics, but then proceeded to essentially save the day. The fact that she was obviously more League Material than he was ate at him, but there was something else. He couldn't bring himself to actually stay angry at her, as much as he wanted to. Not only because it wasn't her fault, and she was just doing her job. There was something more. She was... she was really... He let the grimace go with a sigh, and moved to the bench, slotting on more weight than was reasonable.

Suddenly, the door to the gymnasium opened. Dressed only in knee-length white basketball shorts and covered in the sweat of his exertions, Tachyus turned, red-faced. He hadn't expected any of the others to come here, and especially not before he could clean up both the mess he had made, and himself. He brushed his disheveled, sweaty hair out of his face and gave a weak half-smile, the right side of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"Uhm... sorry. The training grounds on Themyscira are made of... sturdier stuff." He said as the others stepped in.

Tachyus, though still rather embarrassed, had been preparing for an argument, and so he was disarmed by Andy's chipper and calm demeanor. His grin broke into a full smile as Hellfire suggested holographic training dummies. He didn't realize those existed, but he could see the usefulness.

"Would you still feel an impact while hitting a hologram?" Tachyus asked with a chuckle, "If not, I'm not sure they'd be worth the investment." He sat down on the bench, the weights equaled just about his limit, but he had learned long ago that his limits must continue to be tested. He paused, leaning back on his elbows and cocked his head, looking at the two others who had entered the room.

"I'm curious, Hellfire," Tachyus said, "Do your powers have an effect on your physical strength?" He stood up as he asked, gesturing to the weight bench. He was truly curious, as he hadn't fully wrapped his mind around Andy's abilities. He neglected to offer Fenrir the same question, as he was certain the beast was quite strong. Besides that, he wasn't sure how much control Fenrir actually had over his transformations. He didn't want the gym to be wrecked any more than it already had been.

---

Juno followed the others, not waiting to see if Rannik or Stephanie would fall in step, though she suspected they would. She had some knowledge about the current Batgirl, had rubbed shoulders a few times over the years, but Juno wouldn't call them friends. As for Rannik, well he was an alien, and there was very little so far that Juno could find in terms of common ground. She didn't want to keep bombarding him with questions about his culture either. That'd be uncouth. But it was early days, Juno figured that she'd have her chance to get to know each of them better soon. She looked over the others. Andy was rough around the edges, but the Batman had to have seen something in him. And he was powerful, of that there was no doubt. If he reached his full potential, he'd be one to look out for. As for Kassy.... she had proved useful in the last fight, but Juno had more than a little reservation about the shy Atlantean. Juno wondered if she had the conviction and discipline it took to be a hero. And how much of a liability her... lack of training would cause in the field.

She mused on the team's strengths and shortcomings when she was taken aback by the state of the training room. Not that she showed it. She was a professional. But even she had to quirk an eyebrow up as Juno looked over the shattered remnants of several training dummies. They had been obliterated. And there Tachyus stood, looking quite embarrassed. She understood immediately. He had let himself down in the field today and now he was trying to work it out. She'd been there before, she could sympathize. And it wouldn't do to kick him when he was already down by chastising him. Instead Juno smiled slightly and said, "Impressive." That was all she said and she let Andy and Tachyus continue their conversation, only partially listening as she continued examining the remnants of the training dummies. Juno had been honest. It was a somewhat petulant display, but the raw power Tachyus demonstrated was undeniable. He was dangerous. Especially with that temper. But Juno would by lying if she said there wasn't something appealing about that, the same way there was with Magnus. Though Tachyus was much prettier than her rugged werewolf teammate. Even when he was sweating.

Juno stopped herself. She was acting like a schoolgirl or a cape-groupie. No time for things like that. Especially not on a team. Things got messy, she'd seen it before. And yet she couldn't quite put it out of her mind. Juno spoke up after there was a lull in the conversation and said, "That's all well and good, but how do you guys want to train now, with this, shortage? I could project some targets if we want to train against enemies. Better than a training dummy really. Not really in the mood for a game, especially if we want to keep our edge."

T H E S A N C T U A R Y

---

Magnus knew Andy was following him, even before the younger boy spoke. The advantage of superior senses. There was an odd smell that seemed to linger around Hellfire, too faint for a normal person to scent, but heady and pungent to the wolfman. It was like the high-summer sky before a thunderstorm, the aroma of sweet and tangy ozone. No one else he had ever met carried such an odour. It was like a promise of power, a signifier of the puissance held within the boys unassuming frame. And powerful he was, if half the stories about Hellfire’s supposed potential were true. Of course, great potential meant very little if you couldn’t realise it. Magnus didn’t let people’s potential influence his opinion of their abilities. After all, he had the potential to be a great poet, but no one was studying the body of his romantic works, because he hadn’t written any. Judge a man on the acts he had committed, not the acts he was capable of committing. And so far, Andy hadn’t committed many.

He pushed the door open, leading a gabbing Andy into the gymnasium, to be met by a scene of mild destruction. Training dummies lay in a haphazard broken ruin, littering the vinyl floor. The perpetrator of the destruction stood amidst his handiwork, and embarrassed smile upon his sweaty face. The stink of shame filled the air, tinged with a hint of the unknown. Tachyus always smelt different, though not in a way that Magnus could place. It wasn’t as if his scent changed, it was more that his aroma was completely identifiable, equal parts mysterious and surreal, almost like it was halfway between a physical sensation and an abstract one. It put Magnus’ hackles up, and he disliked being around the godling because of it. At least, that was one of the reasons.

Tachyus had been to only one of them left unable to finish the fight, and therefore had marked himself as the weakest member of the team. Even the runt, Mirage, had fared better. It was an embarrassing display for someone who consciously described themselves as a ‘demi-god’. Breaking some metal puppets wasn’t going to make up for that failing.

Not that you’d know he had failed, the way Andy consoled and joked with the weakling. Massaging his bruised ego. A soft growl escaped Fenrir’s lips, involuntarily vocalising his annoyance of the pair. ’Don’t sweat it’? Naivete. If they had all performed as poorly as Tachyus then they’d all be dead and the Jokerz would still be free to continue their rampage, to ruin more lives and spill more blood. He and Andy came from two different worlds, that much had been clear from the beginning, but he hadn’t been aware of just how blind to the real world his team mates really were.

The whiff of artificial freshness came wafting towards the gymnasium. Juno. She clarted herself in expensive cosmetics, thinking it added to her appeal. Magnus detested them. They clogged the air and stung his nostrils. He much preferred a person to wear their natural musk proudly, rather than try to mask it with foul, imitation scents. Ironically Juno had quite a pleasant smell. It filtered though the wash of her nauseating products occasionally, earthy and sweet. He didn’t know why she would try to cover that up.

"Impressive." Came her voice at his shoulder. She was surveying the wreckage Tachyus has wrought. Worse, she looked like she meant it. He had thought that she would be the person on the team most likely to agree with him in that the Godling shouldn’t be coddled in the face of his incompetence, but it seemed she was as bad as Andy. He growled again, a pang of anger sparking in his chest, though it was oddly directed at Tachyus rather than Twilight.

“No,” He replied, knowing she hadn’t been speaking to him, but unable to resist the urge to answer. His frustrations were getting the better of him. “It isn’t. Dummies don’t hit back.” He glared at the Godling, clenching and unclenching his fists, over and over again, blood up. He had voiced the sentiment loudly, but if she heard him she didn’t react. That annoyed him even more. By the time she mentioned training he was more than ready to get his claws stuck into something. Though her suggestion for training against projections was less than enticing. He didn’t like to fight against anything that didn’t bleed. It didn’t feel right. It lacked viscerality.

Still, it was better than nothing.

“Fine. Make projections. Quickly.” He was eager to get started. If he didn't vent some of these pent-up aggression's soon, he was in danger of gutting someone. Probably Tachyus.

Kassy trailed along behind the others, eyes down and looking at her bare toes. She was still feeling very bothered. Years of practice had made her very quick to read emotional tension, and she could feel something in the group ready to spill over. At the very least, they were agreed on the training. Maybe defeating some imaginary enemies would diffuse the energy.

The door opened, and she was rather stunned to see that Tachyus had already done some diffusing. Everything was... quite honestly, a mess. Stuffing everywhere, and Tachyus looking in need of a bath. She backed, her instincts ready to escape the scene of an argument. But instead, Andy seemed to laugh it off, playing it as if it wasn't a problem. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one. Magnus, who carried tension in his whole body like a readied trap, looked less than pleased about all of it. Juno didn't look much better, but evidently she was going to let it slide too. Impressive, she said. It wasn't impressive, it was -

"No. It isn't. Dummies don't hit back."

Magnus said it before she could. Kassy agreed- beating up on something defenseless was not impressive. Anyone could do that.

While the others started to debate over how to train, Kassy stepped warily toward Magnus. "Um." Her voice came out as a squeak, and for a moment she regretted coming close.

"I- I think you're right. Destroying dummies that don't move is not impressive. You may as well hit a child." There was something slightly cold in her voice, perhaps the barest hint of teeth. "I don't see how that would make him any stronger, or fix his mistake for next time." Her gaze was still on her feet, but she tipped her head up to peek at Magnus through her white curls. "Can I ask you a question, Magnus?"

It was out of her mouth before she realized, and she went rosy-red with embarrassment. Still, it was there, so she plowed forward. "You were hurt. Bad. How... how did you get up again and keep going? I... I need to know how to do that." Her tone laced the question with the undercurrent that this was not about the body getting back up, but the will to do so. The fighter's will. In one brief, horrible moment months ago, she'd touched it, and was too afraid to come close to it since. She could hurt someone.

"Would you be able to teach me?"