"I do not know with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein

"The supervillain known as Creon was killed this New Year's Eve during an attempt to initiate a mass human sacrifice of revelers in Downtown Gotham. Creon had used his sorcery to erect a barrier that cut off a large section of Gotham from the outside world, including members of our own reporter team. However the local JLU response team managed to bypass the barrier and went on to rescue the trapped Gothamites with minimal collateral damage. Creon was killed by the sharpshooter Deadeye when he took several innocents hostage in exchange for his escape. The only official word from the JLU was Superman himself delivering his condolences to the families of those who perished during Creon's attack. Experts believe Deadeye will be fully vindicated by the formal GCPD inquiry. Experts also observe that Deadeye AKA Zoe Lawton, heir to the Lawton fortune, is part of a growing number of Leaguers who are forgoing both secret identities and the so called 'no-kill rule' of the superhero community." - Summer Gleeson, Gotham Insider, WGBS

---

Manhattan, New York City

---

Wesley Dodds, the man once called Sandman, was alone.

It was an unusual state of things for the former superhero, who had fought besides the likes of Dinah Drake and Ted Grant when he was a young man. Out of the oppressive, paranoia-laced era of the Cold War and the cynicism and apathy of the early 21st century, Wesley had found friends. Family.

But now as the Second Cold War raged in the shadows and the threat of mutually assured destruction once again loomed over all, Wesley was alone. Wes, an old man now, was normally always either in the company of his adopted son Sandy and his family or that of his former teammates, especially so on days such as this. Despite the ongoing hostilities between the Justice League and Legion of Doom, there was always an unstated truce around this time of year. The Legionnaires had their own families and very few villains ran amok as Christmas passed and the world prepared to welcome the New Year. Even now, the majority of the Justice League would be gathered in Astrapolis, the city in the sky with the Watchtower at its core. Leaguers on duty would be congregating at their local Halls of Justice.

They'd all be gathering on their balconies or around the screens, ready to start counting down and cry out in one jubilant voice. They'd laugh, they'd smile, they'd hold each other and kiss. In minutes, magnificent displays of magic and technology would light the night and unite humanity in one bright, shining moment. Wes wished he could have seen it one last time.

Because he was going to die.

Ever since he was a young man, Wes' dreams were different than others. They came true. The message was usually obscured by bizarre images and surreal sounds, closer to nightmares than true dreams. But as he grew older, Wes came to realize they were portents of things to come, of the possibilities that fate laid before him. And the more clear one vision was, the more certain.

The night after Christmas Day, Wes had seen it clearly. He would not long outlive the old year. Wes had long become accustomed to the idea of death. He was over 80 years old, and though his metagene made him biologically closer to 50, he had no illusions about immortality. As Sandman he had brushed alongside Death too many times to count. And ever since Dian had died, despite the joy he took in his grandchildren and the young heroes-to-be he helped teach, life had lost its luster. In some ways, Death was just as old a friend as Jay or Alan or Dinah had ever been. He wasn't afraid of it.

It wasn't his own mortality that caused him to wake with a cold sweat the morning after Christmas Day. It wasn't the prospect of reuniting with comrades long gone or his beloved that sapped the smile from his face. It wasn't his imminent entrance into the Heaven he wholeheartedly believed in that drained his vitality, making him look like the weary old man he was. He wasn't unwilling to show his face to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren because he knew he was going to die.

Instead it was because of the other visions he saw. The nightmares that had robbed him of sleep and driven him into desperation until here he was in this moment, resigned to his fate.

He didn't know when death would come, only that it would come soon. He had done all he could, the rest was up to the others. All he had to do was wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

Wesley Dodds was sitting in his favorite armchair in the dark clad in his leather coat, pants, and boots when death came for him.

One moment there was nobody else there, one moment later, a figure seemed to manifest itself from the shadows, their features still obscured in the dark.

Wes stared defiantly at his killer before he said, "If you're gonna do it. Do it like a man. Face to face."

The figure paused before coming into the light, their face bare for Wes to see, "I suppose it's only fair. And there is little use in hiding from a dead man."

Wes snorted, "Of all the enemies I've made, the people who'd want me dead, you're the one who comes calling. Well, you're forgetting one thing."

"I'm not dead yet."

Sandman pressed a hidden button beneath his hand and yellow gas sprung from hidden nozzles to begin filling the loft. He dove off of the chair, slipping on his gas mask and drawing his gun.

He rolled into a crouch, ready to empty the clip of caseless high-explosive incendiary armor-piercing rounds into the target's chest. The whole motion had taken less than two seconds. But the assailant had disappeared in the haze of gas. Sandman scanned the room, his breathing calm and his heartbeat steady as he put his back to the wall and began steadily advancing to the door. He knew that the silent alarms would be cut. A jammer would scramble any attempts to call the outside world. But if he could reach the door...

Something stirred in his peripheral vision and Sandman wheeled around, gun at the ready. A strong hand shoved the gun barrel away, wrestling with Sandman for control of the weapon as a heavy kick shot out at his knee. Sandman rebounded the strike off of his thigh and lashed out with his own punch to the assailant's midsection. He may have been old, but Sandman had trained at melee combat ever since he was a teen all the way to now. He could pack one hell of a punch. He was rewarded with a grunt of pain and Sandman used the momentary leverage to wrest the gun from his opponent's grip. But not before the assassin managed to release the pistol's magazine in the scuffle and dodged to the side.

The old hero tracked the target and fired off a shot as the assassin tried to seek cover behind a wall. The shot struck the side of the target's helmet with a spark but the figure kept going. A graze. But enough to pierce the armor and expose the bastard to the gas. Sandman was empty and he swiftly turned to run once more for the door.

As he ran, the hair stood up on the back of his neck and he instinctively rolled to the side. The assassin had leaped through the air at his back and come up into a crouch into a fighting stance. Sandman knew they must have been holding their breath or else patched up the helmet quickly, it was hard to tell in the shadows. He was backed into a corner, facing either success or death. That was fine by him. That was way a hero fought. He came at his opponent a kick towards his neck. The assassin fluidly blocked Sandman's foot and Sandman twisted, kicking up at their head. The assassin dodged under the foot and caught Sandman's other kick aimed toward their chest, was driven back a few inches by the kick. The assassin was fast, Sandman would give them that. And strong.

Sandman pushed off of the assassin's chest with his foot and came back up into a boxing stance, the assassin already advancing with their own fists raised. Sandman dodged the first punch, barely, and struck out with his own fist. The attacker blocked and they traded blows and strikes for what could have been an eternity but was really only a few intense seconds. The assassin was quicker than him, stronger. And Wes was getting old. He took hits to the shoulder, the side, the thigh, always managing to deflect a hit aimed at a more critical area. But it was taking his toll on him and Sandman knew he was out of his league.

But that didn't mean he was going to give up. Instead of dodging or blocking the next punch, Sandman took it right in the stomach. He had been expecting it, had steeled himself. But it still drove the wind out of him. And yet in that moment he was able to clock the would-be killer right in the armored face. There was a crack of a visor and Sandman smiled beneath his gas mask even as his own hand throbbed in pain. He felt like a young man again even as he doubled over. Then the assassin came back and drove their elbow into his back. Sandman was driven to the floor, a boot pressing on him even as he twisted his head back.

The assassin covered the crack in their visor with one gloved hand. There was a spark and the helmet was made whole once more.

"You don't deserve to die like this. But at least you won't see what comes next."

They reached down and tore the gas mask from Wesley's head. He didn't bother to hold his breath. This gas, his last batch, was his most deadly. It was designed to let someone drift off into a deep sleep that they would never wake from. It was better than the alternatives.

As the blackness started to take him Wesley saw the most beautiful visions he had ever witnessed. Wonderful sights that he couldn't have even imagined. Visions of paradise. Peace and tranquility. He saw his wife, framed by bright lights and panoramas of color.

And so Wesley Dodds died with a smile on his face.

---

Bangkok, Thailand

---

The city was on fire.

As far as the eye could see Bangkok burned. The pauper's shacks, the salaryman's arcology apartments, and the aristocrat's penthouses were all alight. The air was heavy with the scent of gunpowder, blood, urine, feces, and burning flesh. The screams and shrieks of civilians were drowned out by the sound of heavy artillery and the occasional thunder of an explosion. Tanks rumbled down the street, mobs of rioters overturned police cars and dragged screaming fat cats from their homes.

Though it was night-time Argonaut had no trouble seeing the hundreds, thousands of bodies in the streets, many of them being gnawed on by dogs or pecked at by carrion birds, as he flew overhead. A VTOL spotted him and wheeled towards him to intercept but was quickly taken out by a rocket somewhere down in the city below. Argonaut didn't even watch as the aircraft crashed into a hospital, blowing everything and everyone in the immediate vicinity apart.

It had taken nearly the whole day, but Bangkok had almost fallen. It was the work of years of subtle manipulation, though only several months on Argonaut's own part. Flooding the Thai black market with cheap weapons. Sowing the seeds of discontent in the military junta and rebellion in the common populace against their King and the aristocracy. The armistice prevented any nation of the Shiruta Pact from making an aggressive attack on another signatory of the agreement. But technically the Thai people were ripping their own country apart in the bloodiest civil war in their history. Argonaut had simply helped give them the means and motivation and on paper, the Shiruta Pact had nothing to do with the actions the rogue Legion of Doom.

They had attacked in the morning, as the city luxuriated in the afterglow of the New Year's festivities. They had softened them up first with bombings in the coast guard barracks, the police stations, city hall. Then they attacked with the rebel and mercenary army, aircraft quickly streaming into the city as ground forces surrounded Bangkok and systematically moved in. More troops spilled out of cargo ships in the harbor, smuggled in with their weapons. The Legionary strike team had attacked from above, villains either flying in or dropping from a cargo flyer, some of them without parachutes. They had wreaked bloody havoc upon the military police, sowing chaos, confusion, and carnage wherever they went. The Junta hadn't stood a chance. Neither did many of the civilians that were caught in between.

Argonaut watched as the mercenary army Sin Tzu had helped train overpowered the Junta forces, unused as they were to real resistance. He chuckled as the Legionaries, a force of metahumans and maniacs, ripped their way through the city. They had been told to leave the civilians be, but they weren't always the best at listening. Argonaut saw one pryokinetic summon a firestorm in a crowded plaza, burning several tanks and countless soldiers to a crisp while also setting all the shops alight. That wasn't much Argonaut's concern. Their job was to conquer the nation. What came afterward was of little importance to him. That was Sin Tzu's problem.

Argonaut keyed the radio, about to speak, until the Junta-controlled aircraft carrier in the bay was hit by a massive tidal wave, an immense wall of water that overturned the warship and sent it crashing into the harbor. The flash flood drowned hundreds immediately, overrunning much of the harbor district as the city proper still burned. The destroyed carrier and its escort flotilla destroyed even more, until finally the wave receded. The Junta had called in the battle group for reinforcements but it seemed as if the Legion's rebel Atlantean friends had seen to that. Argonaut waited for the titanic spectacle and ungodly clamor to die down before finally keying the radio again. He wondered if this was what E-Day had been like.

"All points this is Argonaut. Sin Tzu's army is taking care of the regulars. The city is ours. All that's left is to get rid of the General. Dead or alive, I don't care, once he's taken care of the rest of them will surrender easily."

The airspace around the parliamentary building was swarming with VTOLs and jets strafing each other with missiles and machine guns, rebels versus the junta. A cordon of tanks and APCs, machine gun nests everywhere, was trading fire with a battalion of rebels. Parliament swarmed with guards, setting up with sniper positions and rocket launchers to fight for every inch of ground. The briefing had called for a coordinated assault but they didn't yet have a firm target and Argonaut had his doubts that the team would stick to a tactical plan if he made one. They were having too much fun.

"Eliminate all threats with extreme prejudice. First one to breach that underground safe room gets a bonus. I'll have a location for you all in a minute."

Argonaut dove and started blasting the armored column with his solar projectors, burning through the metal armor of a tank and cooking the soldiers within inside of a few moments. He moved on, his shoulder ejecting a barrage of guided mini-missiles, strong and smart enough to pierce armor and kill the drivers or disable the weapon weapons. Ten seconds after he arrived, a quarter of the column was gone. Argonaut dove down, crumpling the barrel of a tank gun in his armored hands and ripping off the main turret after a few seconds, throwing it to crash into a nearby APC. He kept shooting, using the superior mobility of his boosters and the element of shock to its full advantage.

One of their half-trained metahuman soldiers tried to shoot a lightning bolt at him but Argonaut dodged before the meta could let loose. The meta's chest was lanced through by a concentrated energy beam, leaving his chest cavity a smoking crater. Argonaut took cover behind a downed tank and ripped through its chassis, the lone survivor inside wildly shot at him. Anything that actually connected was shrugged off by the armor plating. Argonaut casually stepped inside the tank and drove his fist through the man's head. He reached a hand out to the tank's control panel and after a few seconds, Argonaut had broken through the encryption.

The Junta's local comms were now open to him and he began scanning the signals, looking for the target. After several moments of analyzing radio chatter, as the rebels continued to fight the armored column around him, Argonaut found the location. The safe room was hidden deep underground the Parliament building, accessible only by an elevator in the heart of the complex, past all the guard teams inside a building that was sure to be filled with more guards as well as auto-turrets and other defenses. Easy.

"Marking the location of the safe house. Uploading blueprints of the building including defense emplacements to all your HUDs. Get me that General. Argonaut out."

Argonaut stepped out of the tank and dove back into the violence, killing as casually as if he were mowing the lawn. He wondered when the Council would give him a challenge.

---

Warpath, New Mexico

---

Vigilante walked down the yellow center line of Main Street, gloved hands brushing against the grips of his revolvers. "Bloodsport!" he yelled to the man standing in the street ahead of him. "I done told you you had 24 hours to leave town. That was 24 hours and 30 minutes ago. Your options are to turn around and walk away or fill your hand. I don't much care which."
He looked up, reassured himself that his Rough Bunch was on the case. Normally Cinnamon and Nighthawk would be invisible once they had assumed their positions, but years of working with them had trained him on what to look for. Vig nodded, knowing they had their Winchesters trained on Bloodsport in case he screwed this up. Somewhere behind him was Madame .44, somewhere behind Bloodsport was the Whip. Bloodsport was corralled, now all that was left to do was finish him.

Bloodsport merely laughed at the ultimatum. Standing in the middle of the road himself, he met Vigilante's stare dead on. "I told you, wannabe, I ain't going nowhere. Warpath is mine. You get out of the way, the Legion might just let you and your rodeo clowns live." The hot noon sun beat down on the two of them, sending rivers of sweat pouring from Bloodsport's bare arms. Vigilante, used to the desert heat, hardly seemed to notice.

"I don't want to kill you and you don't want to be dead," Vigilante yelled back to Bloodsport. He saw where this was going, planted his boots on the softening asphalt. "But this town ain't big enough for the two of us, and it sure as hell ain't big enough for the drugs you're bringing across the border." Vig's fingers twitched, hovering inches above his twin revolvers.

Bloodsport saw the movement and laughed. "What are you packing, cowboy? A couple of .45s? You know what I got here?" The Legionnaire patted the futuristic device strapped to his leg- Vig could faintly make out a soft humming coming from it. "An AmerTek Toastmaster BG-88. Directed plasma pulse with a fusion energy core. A single shot from one of these babies could knock Superman off his feet. What do you think it's going to do to you?" Bloodsport wiped sweat off his chin. "They're going to have to scrape you off this street with a spatula. You want to be fried, scrambled, or sunny-side up?"
Vigilante shrugged. "Well, then, that doesn't sound so good for me. Guess I ought to stand down, right?"

Bloodsport nodded. "Now you're talking sense."
Vigilante made a show of pondering the suggestion. He noted that Bloodsport's mask was beginning to become damp with sweat. The noon heat was getting to the other man, he was blinking more to keep it out of his eyes. Now was the time.

Vigilante shrugged, then said one word.

"Draw."

Bloodsport, sweat dripping from his lashes, reached for the Toastmaster strapped to his leg, but then cringed as it was torn away from its leg holster and sent clattering down the blacktop, just as the roar of Vigilante's revolver reached his ear. He hadn't even seen Vigilante's hand move- he had drawn in the space of one of his involuntary blinks. Gasping, he turned and reached for the Toastmaster where it had landed, tantalizingly close, but gunshots rang out from nearby rooftops- Cinnamon and Nighthawk were doing their jobs well. Asphalt went flying, between Bloodsport's outstretched fingers and the gun on the pavement. He spun to see Vigilante unhurriedly advancing on him, pistol twirling jauntily on his fingers.

Bloodsport drew the 12-inch Bowie knife he kept on his other hip, a masterpiece of metallurgy, a steel blade sharpened to an edge that could cut paper. "You come a step closer and I'll cut out your heart!" he yelled to Vigilante.

Another blurred motion of Vig's hand, another gunshot, a jerk at his wrist. Bloodsport gaped at the broken knife in his hand, then dropped the useless handle. He turned, ready to run, but suddenly felt a tough hemp rope around him, securely pinning his arms to his torso. Bloodsport knew it was hopeless and sagged to the ground in defeat, as much as he could against the taut rope. He knew snipers were trained on him and Vigilante was approaching.

"Mighty hot day," Vigilante said conversationally. "Keeps up like this you could fry up an egg on the sidewalk. Just like you were talking about doing to me." He yanked on his lariat, sending Bloodsport tumbling to the ground. "Now, I might be an egg, but someone's gotta be the meat in this here dish, right?" He looked over Bloodsport's muscular frame. "Well, you're a pretty meaty guy, guess that's you. Now, I'm a generous fellow, so I'll let you choose what kind of meat you want to be, Bloodsport." Vig leaned down close, right into the Legionnaire's face. "You want to be a steak or a pork chop, Bloodsport? It's up to you."

"What?" Bloodsport gasped in confusion.

"Well, I got some questions for you, partner. Like namely the source of all them drugs you've been running up from south of the border. Like a good cut of meat, you would say I'm grilling you. And well, once you're done grilling a steak it 's bleeding pretty good. But if you do a pork chop right there's no blood at all. So what's it gonna be, Bloodsport? You want to be a steak or a pork chop?" He cocked his pistol, twirled it slowly.

Bloodsport shook his head. "I want to be a pork chop."

"Wise man. Start talking."

---

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

---

They waited for nightfall to cloak the desert. They hadn't had as much time to plan as Perseus would have liked, but they had to act on Vigilante's intel as quickly as possible. If Bloodsport had been telling the truth during his interrogation, and there was little doubt he was thanks to the Martian Manhunter, then they were on the verge of busting one of the biggest illegal Miralco labs in North America. The drug was made illegal after both Rex Tyler, the creator and original Hourman, and his son and successor Rick had grown addicted to the drug. Indeed it was the current Hourman, the metahuman grandson of Rex Tyler, who had advocated for Miralco Prohibition. Unfortunately, the formula had leaked long ago and in recent years chemically-enhanced mercenaries and criminals had been using the drug for their own purposes.

If Bloodsport was to be believed, the lab was even experimenting on civilians to alter and improve the original formula. The lab had only been in operation for little over half a year, but already hundreds of innocent people had been killed or maimed because of the Legion's experiments. Waiting longer to prepare a more in-depth strategy would have left more people to the mercy of the Legion, and that was simply unacceptable. They had taken the time necessary to inform the Mexican government of the mission and seek permission for it, outfit a strike team, and transport the selected Leaguers from the Watchtower to the Albuquerque Hall of Justice before proceeding to the mission site by Javelin. Vigilante, who provided the intelligence, met them in Albuquerque before joining the team. Most of the Leaguers had been unavailable due to holiday leave or prior assignments, so the team slated to seize the Miralco lab consisted of a very disparate group of heroes from several different regional operational areas.

Five minutes out the Justice Leaguers had disembarked from the Javelin and moved in to approach on foot, using the terrain and the quick descent of darkness to cover their advance. The lab appeared to be nothing more than a farmer's shack in the middle of the desert, but it commanded the approach on all sides from its position atop a steep hill. A quick scan of the area had revealed that the laboratory complex extended far beneath the lab into the hill and the underground, though shielding prevented the scanners from providing any more detail on the interior of the lab. For all they knew, the Legion could have had a whole company of heavily-armed enforcers in the bowels within. Even Bloodsport didn't know everything there was to know about the lab, only having visited on occasion. He acknowledged that there could be hidden defenses he knew nothing about. But the League couldn't afford the luxury of back-up from the Federal Police or the military. That would have cost too much time and alerted the Legion to their approach besides.

The only support the JLU team would have was a squad of Albuquerque Hall Peacekeepers. The Peacekeepers were clad in desert-pattern camo armor plate with similarly marked weapons. Perseus didn't often use Peacekeepers in missions, but with the lack of intelligence to the enemy's capabilities, their firepower might come in handy. Even if it rankled the more restrained sensibilities of other Leaguers. Perseus finished scanning the shack with his visor. There was a small fire-team of guards, three men and one woman dressed in civilian clothes with automatic weapons. He picked up several sensors and cameras, as well as signatures that could indicate security mechs waiting to be activated in case of a breach. The sensor picked up what might have been mines as well. If they weren't careful the mission could turn into a loud brawl, and their job would only get harder.

Perseus crawled back to where the rest of the team was, hidden from view of the house behind a nearby low-lying hill among a clump of large stones and scrubby trees. Bloodsport himself was placed in handcuffs with a Peacekeeper keeping watch over him. Perseus talked in a low whisper, "Two foot mobiles on patrol, two more on overwatch. The approach is mined and several mechs are inactive, waiting for an alarm. I detect several sensors and cameras. If we get bogged down in a stand-up fight, we might lose the intel in that lab and the villains might be able to escape. We need to infiltrate the lab quickly, but quietly."

Perseus turned to Toxin, the mutant, "Toxin, I need you to move in. I'll mark the locations of the mines on your HUD as well as the tangos. You need to get in close and implant the security scrambler to one of the devices on the security network." Perseus handed the thumb-drive sized device to his teammate, "It'll put the security footage on a loop and disable the sensors. Then our marksmen can take out the guards and we can move in. We'll take the elevator down to the lab and sweep the facility. Bloodsport will give us directions. Check your fire for civilians and noncombatants and preserve the scene as much as possible. Capture the local Legionaries if possible. Understood?"

Perseus looked each of his teammates in the eye, confirming they were all on the same page before nodding, "Let's get to work."

Star City, California

---

Roy Harper, awoke to the sound of his alarm, groggily looking over to the clock on the right side of his bed. Instinctively, he reached for the snooze button, but found himself unable to press it at first. The scarred stump poked out from beneath the comforter, and the scarlet archer gave a small sigh. He propped himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing past the fog of sleep as he turned the alarm off with his left hand. On his feet, Roy was a rather imposing figure. He stood at 6’ exactly, and remained in near peak physical performance. He slowly made his way to the bathroom to shower, shit, and shave.

Everything seemed a little more difficult once you lost a significant part of yourself, but you learn to adapt. Roy was a testament to that. With the same ease as someone with twice the number of working arms, he was able to complete the most basic tasks of the day. After a quick application of aftershave, Roy made his way to his closet. He chose a simple outfit: A matching Red and Black sweatshirt and sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and fuzzy slippers with a Superman logo on them. The last of these was a Christmas gift from the apple of his eye, a traditional “jab” of a gift to remind him that he was a man with a bow and not a man of steel.

Arsenal shuffled his way out of his room, and was not surprised to find no one else stirring in the house. Stanley Wilson, the butler of the Queen family, was forced to take the day off by Oliver himself. And so it was only Roy stirring in the house. Well, except for the Tabby Cat with tiny reindeer antlers on its head that brushed up against Roy’s leg. The Tabby was the gift he had gotten Lian for her birthday earlier in the year, and she was awful with names. Roy scooped up Dragon and let the cat rub its face against his as he made his way down the grand staircase of the Queen Mansion and to his study.

Roy’s study was one of two in the mansion, the other belonging to Oliver himself. Both were outfitted similarly, though Roy’s was only a story tall. A bookcase covered the entire wall opposite the door, and contained everything from the translated Art of War to Art of the Grill. Roy made his way over to one specific, unremarkable book on his shelves, an old copy of Moby Dick. He placed his thumb on the spine and lowered his head, causing a red laser to scan over his left eye. After a couple seconds, the bookcase began shifting and revealed the stereotypical hidden compartment, namely a walk-in armory. Various guns, swords, explosives, and other weapons lined the wall, the small room being entirely lit with the white panels that lined the floor, walls, and ceiling. On the far side was his costume, the red and black sleeveless kevlar jumpsuit he had worn for years. No reminiscing smile graced his lips as Roy looked over the arsenal before him. He simply liked to check to make sure everything was still in place, since he was far too familiar with heroes having their equipment stolen and used against them. To Roy’s pleasure, the arsenal remained intact, and he exited the room.

For an hour and a half, whilst everyone remained asleep, Roy simply exercised in the indoor gymnasium. It helped to clear his mind, and he needed to work off the calories he had gained from the dinner with the rest of the Queen family the night before. Once finished, he wiped the sweat from his brow and mad this way to the kitchen. It was nearly noon, which meant Oliver and Lian would be down any minute. Roy maneuvered his way about the kitchen, assembling a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast with ease. He had just finished plating everything when he heard quick, hurried footsteps approaching. With his back turned, Roy braced himself as Lian Harper rushed towards him and tried to kick out his legs. With a deft dodge to the left, Roy swung his good arm down to catch her fist as she struck. The two went at it for a minute, Lian desperately trying to get a hit on the body of her father. In an effort to humor her, the scarlet archer missed blocking her right leg as it impacted against his side. He gave an exaggerated cry as he slowly fell to the ground. “No, I have been defeated… AGHHHH.”

The teenager rolled her eyes at her father, making her way towards the kitchen counter to wolf down her simple brunch. She wore a sweater and black jeans, one of her usual casual outfits during winter break. The two bantered for a few minutes as they ate, talking about nothing in particular. Roy didn’t remember much of their conversation, his mind fading elsewhere. from the news he was watching as he was working out. Bangkok was in shambles, the city nearly wiped off the map by “rebel” forces. He had seen these stories far too often, and knew what it really meant. But that was not his concern at the moment. He almost missed the arrival of Oliver Queen into the kitchen, looking as sharp as ever. He was in a white shirt, tie, and black suit pants. He had always insisted on dressing up for nearly every occasion these days. Roy had just finished eating, and gave a smile as he embraced his adoptive father. “I’m surprised you actually woke up in time, Ollie.”

“Please… I’ve fought aliens in the Sahara Desert. A little hangover isn’t going to keep me down.”

The two gave a brief chuckle as Oliver broke the embrace to hug his granddaughter, who herself had finished breakfast a few minutes prior and happily hugged the old hero. Those two were incredibly close, perhaps because Lian looked up to the elderly archer for his past exploits as a member of the Justice League. Though, it was more likely because Oliver Queen treated his granddaughter like a princess and spoiled her like most grandparents tend to. Roy began clearing the dishes with his only arm as the other two began to excitedly go over their plans for the day. A movie and a trip to the mall in town was a tradition since Lian had entered their lives, but Roy often stayed behind so the two could have something for themselves. Besides, Roy had to prepare the New Years Turkey he always made, and it took quite a bit of time when working with only one good arm.

Within a few minutes, the two had made their way to the lobby already and Lian quickly put on her beanie. Roy had hung back, making himself a cup of coffee before moving to join them. The two were peas in a pod, and Roy was always worried because he ended up having to be the responsible one when they got together. And yet, he was happy that things were normal around this time of year. They could act like a family without having to worry about the war or politics. Of course, the normality could never last that long. The League always made sure of that.

A soft hum emanated from the mansion's holo-projector near the grand entryway. After a moment, the digital form of Albert Luthor manifested. He was dressed casually by his standards, in a button down shirt and tie with a violet vest. It was clear Albert hadn't slept all night by the bags under his eyes, marring his otherwise immaculate appearance. Albert seemed pleasantly surprised to see Oliver and Lian, "Mr. Queen, pleased to see you. We missed you at the New Year's party on the Watchtower. I hope you and your family had a wonderful time."

Albert smiled at Lian and nodded his head courteously, "Ms. Harper, charmed. I've heard great things from the instructors at Titan's Academy. Perhaps they'll put you as a sidekick in one of the patrol teams soon?"

Finally he inclined his head to Roy, "Roy. Good to see you. It's been too long since we've had you up here."

Albert turned back to Oliver and Lian, "I hope I'm not interrupting something?"

Oliver gave a slight nod of his head, his more traditional two piece black suit fitting the older hero well. He gave a quick stroke of his signature goatee, though a bold silver that comes with age. “I’m getting too old to knock back drinks with you kids, but I hope you haven’t been working through your holiday, little Luthor.” His eyebrows raised at the last remark, a sign age had not taken away the archer’s edge.

Lian, a rather lean and tall girl for her age, gave a small formal bow. While the daughter and granddaughter of Leaguers, she was far from used to interacting with those she deemed to be her idols. Her blue eyes rose to meet the projection of Albert’s, and her nervousness would be instinctively apparent despite her usual behavior. “I.. Thank you, Mr. Luthor. I doubt my father will let me see combat ever.” Her combative and arrogant demeanor began to return as she eyed up her father, who returned the gaze with a small smile.

Roy set his “World’s Greatest Dad” mug on a nearby decorative table in the lobby of the great Queen Mansion, walking over and giving his daughter a brief side hug with his remaining arm. He looked down at his daughter, a coolness in his voice as he spoke. “You’re nearly there, kitten. But as we promised…” The father and daughter spoke the next bit simultaneously, a clear sign to even Percy that this discussion had occurred many times before. “When you can get a hit on your old man with his arm on.” The two smiled at each other and broke the embrace.

Oliver spoke up at this point, fetching his coat off the rack near the door. “Lian and I are going to see a movie in town, and then go shopping. It’s a bit of a tradition, so I am sorry we must leave you, Mr. Luthor.” Within a few moments, the Roy’s father and daughter exited the front door, leaving the semi-retired, one-armed Leaguer standing alone with the projected image of Albert Luthor.

Roy’s voice had more of an edge, one that was built up over years of fighting and not dulled by the presence of his family, as he addressed Albert. “What’s so important that you’re calling me on New Years Day, Al?”

Albert nodded with a smile at Oliver Queen and winked playfully at Lian before turning back to Roy, "The Justice League is very concerned about the recent invasion in Thailand. Thailand isn't a signatory of our charter and the coup is superficially an internal Thai matter, but the Legion is getting more and more bold. I wanted to tell you personally that the higher-ups are going to be taking even more of an interest in the education of the Titan teams. Making sure they're ready for the threats they'll face out in the field. And that reservists like yourself are going to be on call more and more often."

Luthor continued, "For example. A Leaguer in New Mexico got a lead on a massive Miralco smuggling operation. Intel suggests that hundreds of civilians have already perished due to experiments they're doing with the formula and that the lab is helping distribute Miralco to mercs and thugs all over North America. We're putting together a mission to knock it out. I know you're not normally up for missions like this but many of our Leaguers are either on leave or engaged in active assignments and time is of the essence. We need to act on this intel now." It was left unsaid that Albert was a polarizing figure in the Justice League and many in the roster disliked working with him. Albert needed people who could be professional in his team and he needed them urgently.

"I know it's New Year's Day, but I could really use you out there Roy. You're one of our best combat operatives and this is going to be a fight."

Roy sighed, picking up the coffee as he hesitated to answer. He would have jumped on this opportunity years ago, but things were different for him now. "I appreciate you coming to me, Luthor...but my position is clear. I'm not an operative anymore, and the higher-ups have let me train the Titans here because they saw this coming." The archer looked to the ground for a moment before turning his gaze back towards the protection of Albert. "I can't help you on your operation today. The New Mexico Peacekeepers are solid combatants, trained a few of them myself... I just don't think I'm ready to get into the fray again right now, Al. Besides, I'd only be able to offer you and your boys a hand, not two." Roy, with the shit-eating grin that marked his younger years, raised his stump to accentuate the point.

"Please send me the details of the operation, and keep me updated on your progress. If things escalate and change in the future, I may be able to offer my services. But right now, Lian needs her dad to do her laundry and cook dinner. And those things take a bit more time these days."

Albert smiled grimly, nodding, he had anticipated this, "I understand Roy. If I was in the same position, I don't know that I would do differently. I'll send you the mission briefing and the AAR once it's done. Please give my regards to Mrs. Queen as well as Connor and his family. Mia and Emiko also."

Albert moved to stop the transmission, pausing, before saying, "You're a warrior Roy. You sacrificed and suffered enough, I know. You gave up the fight and if you manage to stay out of it, more power to you. But now the war's coming. And you're going to have a choice. It's not fair. But that's the job."

Roy gave a curt nod, the smile and sarcasm fading from his expression. "I know, Al... Happy New Year."

He smiled sadly one last time, "Happy New Year Roy."

ISLAND OF THEMYSCRIA

---

Juno walked at a brisk pace though the halls of the Royal Palace, clutching a small computer pad in her hand. She had a stony stare as she quickly walked towards the Royal wing. The Amazons who saw her knew this meant “stay the Hell out of the way” and gave her a wide berth. Something was definitely up, they knew. The Polemarch’s aide usually did not walk at a hurried pace.

Turning into a large hall, lit by sunlight streaming though the windows that lined the hallway, Juno walked quickly past the various statues of women warriors that had died in combat for Themyscria before the war. Women like Antelope and Dianna Trevor. Normally when she walked down this part of the palace she would look up at them, silently honoring each as she passed by. Today however, she simply walked past them, for she had other thoughts on her mind.

Ahead of her was the archway that lead to the royal apartments. And two Amazons, both armored and armed. Both guards were part of the last line of defense for their Queen and Polemarch. Not that Donna or Dianna really needed physical protection. Instead, their job was to restrict entrance into this part of the palace. Juno was one of the very few who had permission to enter without prior notification, and even she needed to stop and state her business.

Of course, the guards knew Juno well. But orders were orders, and Juno got the same treatment as all the rest. As the Polemarch’s aide approached, both guards stamped the bottom of their spears on the floor, and crossed them in front of the archway, baring further movement forward. Juno stopped about 10 feet in away.

“Halt!” the guard on the right barked. “Advance and be recognized!”

Juno stepped forward one step. “Juno, aide to the Polemarch, here on official business,” she replied. Assenting, both guards uncrossed their spears and resumed their normal stances.

“Pass!”

Juno continued past the guards and up the marble stairs leading to the private chambers of the Queen and Polemarch. At the top of the stairs were two more guards, armed and armored similar to those below. However, these two simply watched her as she came up the stairs. At the top, Juno passed the guards and turned right, heading towards the Polemarch’s residence. Left was strictly off limits, for that was where the Queen’s residence was.

Stopping in front of a wooden door, the likeness of a female lion intricately carved into it, Juno looked down at the computer pad for a second to make sure it was still on and working. She then knocked.

“Polemarch,” she said. “it’s Juno.”

There was no response.

Juno was not surprised. Donna had been up very, very late last night celebrating and talking with various guests. Juno knew the Polemarch needed some well earned rest. But what she had in her hand was much too important.

Juno knocked a second time, and again there was silence from behind the door. Juno sighed and straightened her tunic before slowly opening the door. From the light streaming in from the open door, Juno could see that the Polemarch was still in bed and apparently asleep. Juno eased her way into the room. She could make out Donna’s back was towards her, her upper left arm and head exposed from under the blankets.

Juno approached the bed and placed her hand on Donna’s arm. She gave it a gentle shake.

“Polemarch,” Juno said in an apologetic tone. "I have something that needs your attention,”

“That better be news the Legion has surrendered en masse, Juno.” Donna replied, causing her aide to jump back in surprise.

Donna rolled over and sat up.

“Good morning, Juno,” Donna said, stretching and then reaching over to turn on a gas lamp on her bedside table.

“G-good morning, Polemarch,” Juno stammered, still a bit surprised.

“I heard you knocking, but I was hoping it was just a dream,” Donna explained. She then spied the data pad in Juno’s left hand.

“I guess not,” Donna added, and put her hand out in a silent request for the pad.

Juno handed the over to the Polemarch and took a step back to wait. She had already read the report about the invasion, which is why she had rushed over.

As soon as Thailand was hit, the League’s satellites were all over it. They were feeding back a wealth of information to the Tower and the League’s intelligence analysts in near real time. This report was put together by the Tower and send down to the Watch. It was a quick summary of what had already happened. Juno could see in the dim light of the computer pad the Polemarch’s face turn ashen.

“The Gods preserve us,” Donna muttered as she scrolled through the preliminary causality figures. Hundreds of thousands were already assessed to be dead, and most of Bangkok destroyed. And the rest of Thailand was not doing much better.

Donna finished reading the rest of the report in silence before handing the pad back to Juno. She then threw off the blankets and climbed out of bed, still very naked except for her two silver bracelets.

“Any indications of Legion involvement,” Donna asked in a hopeful tone as she threw open the curtains, bathing the room in bright mid-morning sunlight.

“Unfortunately, none yet, Polemarch,” Juno answered as she winced from the bright light.

Donna grunted in acknowledgment as she sat down behind her dressing screen and started to pull on clothes. If it was the Legion, and Donna was willing to bet her shield it was, any such activity was either hidden well, or connections already buried deep.

“The Queen?” Donna asked from behind the screen, referring to her sister, better known as Wonder Woman.

“Her Highness has been informed and is expecting you, ma’am,” Juno replied. “A Council meeting has also been called for later this morning to discuss the situation.”

Donna nodded at that last statement, even though Juno couldn’t see her. Calling a council meeting was to be expected, but Donna knew baring some sudden shift in policy, nothing could be done besides diplomatic protests. Thailand wasn’t a treaty party, and thus not entitled to direct military intervention by the League or its allies. Unless Legion activity could be proved in time, or if at all.

Fat chance of that, Donna knew. The Legion wasn’t dumb after all, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had already.

Donna finished getting dressed and stepped out from behind the screen, wearing her normal black and silver costume, complete with its silver boots, and greaves. It was going to be a very busy day. Besides the council meeting, Donna was already anticipating a flood of calls from allies throughout East Asia who were all probably very scared right now and looking for some reassurances from friends.

Donna sighed inwardly. She had hoped today was going to be one of the very few quiet days she got. She had been expecting Robert to come for an informal dinner with her and Dianna tonight. Now that was out of the question thanks to this little crisis.

“Come Juno,” Donna ordered as she strode out of the room, heading for the stairs and her first meeting of the day. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Yes, Polemarch,” Juno replied as she followed behind, pausing only to close the door before hurrying to catch up.

BANGKOK, THAILAND

---

Chaos. Fire, smoke, echoing gunfire and screams. In a few words, Hell on Earth. To others, it was... well, it was still hell. But hell was a fucking blast. At least, that's how the psychopath-of-the-day felt. Craig Winters let out a low whistle as he watched what he assumed was once a tank fly off from the ground and tumble off to god knows where... What was that, he thought. Meta? Or just good old-fashioned ordnance? What was the difference, really? He laughed darkly, at that moment pulping the Junta fighter's head he'd had his iron foot to. If this was hell, he wondered what was so great about heaven anyway? There was a crackling in his ear, and Argonaut's voice came in on comms.

Vortex grimaced, rolling his eyes as he tapped to his ear, opening comms on his end. "The city is ours." He said in a mocking monotone, casually finishing off a civilian lying on the street with a burst from his pistol. "No shit, Goldilocks. Maybe put a little... Iunno, emotion into it? Or did daddy forget to buy you some of those?" the jab was followed by a deep laugh, and the sound of his weapons. "So, is it gonna be open or closed casket today?" He asked a moment later. Vortex was abrasive, and frankly insubordinate. But he always, always did the job. Better yet, to him the job was the pay. "Oh, you know what? I'm feelin' generous, I'll have that fucker hogtied at your feet before it's time for porridge." He said, switching off comms.

He stepped over to the edge of the rooftop, idly scraping 'Craig was here' into the brickwork with a clawed finger as he looked off toward the safe-house, his HUD updating with all sorts of fancy-pants readouts and information. He smirked as all kinds of caution lights began to light up around various defenses. "Oh, looks like I found the fun." He said, idly tapping his fingers together, controlling something. "Music, music... Something... classical." He said, bobbing his head to a tune his augments played directly into his inner ear. He disappeared, a thrum sounding out in the middle of the chaos below as Vortex reappeared.

"The sound of gunfire, comes through the night!" Two long bursts ring out from his pistols, crystalline darts
"Killing and Hatred, is a terrible sight!" seeking out and killing mercenary and Junta alike.
"Reports come in, of the heavy attack!" Junta forces turn their guns and rockets on him.
"Message is seen, we are moving back!" Gone, the gunfire and rockets obliterate another home.

"Preparations are made, for the journey back!" Back, a barrel jammed against a neck, a head turned to dust.
"It is a survival, supplies are packed!" A scream from nearby, pins pulled from a vest of grenades.
"No more nights, in this eternal hell!" A body kicked to a crate of rockets, guns are drawn.
"Destination is simple, we move out." The ghost is gone, screams drowned in flame.

"Killing time! You left from the line!" Reappear in streets below, a civilian gunned down.
"Killing time! Your turn to kill!" A meta raises his fist, clad in flame.
"Killing time! What do you say?" Arms held out in challenge, and gone.

"Killing time." Vortex said coldly as he reappeared, iron hands wrapping tightly around the poorly trained Meta's throat. The flames dissipated as he clutched at the cold vice, strangled gasps barely sounding out. "Tell you what... You kill that guy." He said, nodding toward a wounded man on the ground, crying out for... well, it was hard to tell. "And I let you go. Good deal?" He said, relaxing his grip just a tiny bit. The Meta wasted no time, the man screaming and flailing as he burned, Vortex clicked his tongue. "Beautiful. Just the right pitch." He said with a dreamy sigh, snapping the Meta's neck with a swift twist. "Happy fuckin' new year." He said as he combined his guns into the long-rifle mode, slinging it over his shoulder and marching toward the safe house, humming the tune to his song along the way. Hell wasn't so bad.

January 1st, 10:02am Gotham City Hall of Justice

Zatara took another sip of coffee, eyes transfixed on the television. On it images of Bangkok, burning. It was a rebellion that called themselves the Sin Tzu, it didn’t matter- they were legion backed. He sighed, he was tired. He had celebrated the new year in his office, combing through the old intelligence reports and completing overdue paperwork, the only thing different from his regular night was the bottle of whisky he was drinking was better, some topshelf bottle he grabbed as he was leaving Shadowcrest. He looked at his pocket watch, nearly 40 hours ago, he chuckled slightly; his mum would be abhorred if she knew how much of a batman he had ended up becoming.

He knew alot of the leaguers in Gotham had taken the night off for the staff party at Wayne mansion, or was it Wayne tower. Whatever, he couldn’t really stomach those things anymore, especially when someone got drunk enough to ask him to do a magic trick or two. He looked around his office, it was mostly a generic sort of chic space-agey looking room with the exception of two-meter-long photos and half meter wide.

“Llifer.” Rex whispered, his mug slowly filling back up with coffee. Magic really didn’t feel like magic anymore, but when he looked at the photos he remembered the time when the mystical made him feel the most alive. It was a photo taken about 10 years ago, on one of his first Justice League missions. They were fighting a legion of doom force in downtown Philadephila, and in the center of the photo was Rex, or Zatara as they use to call him – usually with a prefix such as “great” or “spectacular”. He was in a tuxedo, somehow immaculate despite him being in what looked to be a warzone (a few anti-dust spells but he never use to admit it). Standing defiantly in the street, all the cars and busses hovering several feet of the ground from his magic. It almost looked like he was performing someone wonderful street illusion. In reality he was using them as a projectiles in an effort to subdue a rampaging meta-human, but a picture can paint whatever story you desire it to.

The other photo was of his mother, back in her mid twenties. She was dressed in something similar to him and striking a similar pose. She was also lifting several cars, but she was on stage. It was a sold out show in New-york just after he’d been born. Things were different then apparently.

He moved back to his desk and sat down at his terminal and began to scroll through the reports. He had just now finished with everything that need to be done by the end of the year. Mission reports, Hero reviews, league applications. Now he could move onto new business.
He opened the first intelligence report, it’s title read;
“Creon dead: Further investigations needed.”

The magician sighed and opened the report, “New year, Same shit.” Rex muttered to himself speed reading the evidence.
The Justice league intelligence gatherers didn't have a clue what type of things they needed to be looking at to figure out how Creon was able to cast such a powerful spell. It didn't matter at this point, creon was dead. Shot in cold blood, the justice league he had joined didn't exist anymore. He was a soldier not a super.
“To defeat monsters we have to become monsters.” He quoted to himself, basking in his smugness because no one was around to call him out on it really.

What interested him most were the runes Creo had used to create the magical shield and to power up his sacrifice spell, they were abrahamic in design but he couldn't translate any of the words, this was magic he hadn't seen before, and that always terrified him. Zatara scanned the list of dead from last night, no one he recogonised- except Creo.
He gathered some traffic feeds to watch Creo's final minutes. He was threatening the group of hostages, trying to move them with threats of incineration. You could tell from his body language he was panicing and his real plan had been abandoned at this point. And then with no real cue at all, Creo fall's over blood pouring from his head.
The red light turned on and he looked into the camera above his terminal. He hoped he didn’t look too dishevelled, but he knew the chances of that were slim. The top two buttons of his white shirt which was beginning to stain, were undone and there were huge bags under his eyes.

“Flamebird, Gotham got hit by Creo, Deadshot's daughter shot him the head. The war's changing and in no way for the better.” He paused, this must have been the 12th message Zatara had sent the bat-brat in the last month, no one had seen seen him since May, he was offically K.I.A and while few suspected he was actually dead, many people were starting to worry he was ever going to return back to Gotham. But Zatara needed him in Gotham, he needed someone he could trust. Someone who knew how to play these games without eradicating life so carelessly. Most of all he needed his friend.

"Although no League casualties, for once. I don't know anymore maybe those new lethal leaguers have the right idea. If superman had just killed luthor 30 years ago I'd probably be performing magic tricks in Vegas." He chuckled a bit to himself, knowing deep down that would not of been the case at all.

His focus was beginning to drift from the message, he’d need to take a nap before he did anymore work.

“Oh, and happy new years James.” he added as an afterthought ending the transmission, he knew James was unlikely to reply, but he felt it was important that he knew he was missed, knew he was needed in Gotham.
He scrolled to the next message it’s title made his stomach drop

Kid Joker: URGENT RESPONSE NEEDED
Rex sighed, doubting if he was going to get that nap in today.

A rather fine way to spend a New Years Day. In the company of the Justice League, on a covert excursion to Mexico of all places. In her short 8 months with the League, this wasn't unusual, and by now she was getting used to being swept into these situations at the drop of a hat. The location? An apparent Legion lab. This one was going to interest her in more ways than one, and she was already thinking of the scientific discoveries that she would find in there. Enough research to take into her own lab and decipher at a later time. She was at Perseus's side while he explained the mission details.

She liked him. He was level-headed and sharp as a tack too. A good leader for what they were doing. There were apparently others who had held reservations about him, but being one of the greenest members of the team gave her only the perspective of the good he was doing, and so she trusted her own judgment on him. He was at least humble in a way, similarly to herself. She was able to put her trust in him that he wouldn't put her in a compromising position on any mission.

Before arriving in Mexico, she had been in her lab - enjoying the last of the festivities. Mulling over the last year of her life. Things had changed a lot, due to the Justice League, and to Wayne Industries. It was bittersweet in a way, she was just glad to have a real purpose again.

She took the thumb-drive from Perseus, nodding in approval at him before pulling the visor of her night-vision lens down. Once everything came into the clearing, she was able to make out what he had been speaking about. The mines, the entrance, the perfect spot to get in and get it done.

Attached to her belt, were two custom made pistols with a silencer - loaded with capsules of her own creation. When people asked what inspired their design, she had a tendency to waffle and try to make up some much more intelligent and reasonable answer than the actual one... They were simply re-purposed paintball guns. She didn't need bullets when she had enough sleeping solution to knock out an elephant. She smirked and made her way stealthily across the perimeter, a gloved hand twitching against the barrel of the pistol as she moved with ease towards her entrance, hoping she wouldn't have to use her weapon. To get in quickly and quietly was the aim.

As she approached, she backed herself up against the wall, allowing her mutation to take over - she could feel the movements of everyone inside and around her - even her team up ahead. It gave her sense of relief to have them close by. As she approached the guards and the security device, she primed herself. They were stood either side of it. She was going to have to shoot. Slowly and carefully she took the gun and with precision fired off two capsules - hitting one on his neck, and the other his shoulder. It didn't matter. The accuracy wasn't important. They wouldn't have felt it either - they would just breathe in the gas that had burst from inside. They were single doses that didn't disperse far from the targets. A violet trail of sleeping gas that found it's way to it's destination - the airways. The two guards yawned and slumped back without a fight. Silent but deadly. "Dulces sueños..." she said quietly.

She then took the thumb drive given to her by Perseus and planted it to the side of the now free security device. She knew that he would be watching, so she raised her hand and gave him a signal to let him know it was time for him to push the button on it, and move in.

Manhattan, New York

---

Mar'i Grayson, the half-Tamaranean hero known as Nightstar, had much better things to do on New Year's than to babysit. Just last night, Mar'i had been counting down the New Year and watching the celebrations from Astrapolis. She had made plans with Larissa Queen, Avia Free, and many of the other heroines of the Justice League to have a spa day in Italy. She had made dinner plans with Damian, and it was truly a herculean ordeal to drag the Bat from his cave. But the Legion's invasion of Thailand had changed everything.

Technically, Thailand was in the midst of an attempted coup, but the Legion's influence over the event was obvious. Thousands had already died, and thousands more would die from famine, sickness, and exposure in the days and weeks to come. But the Justice League couldn't do a thing about it. Thailand's Prime Minister had refused to sign the JLU's charter and so did not allow any Halls of Justice to exist within its boundaries. It was the military junta's decision in truth. And so, despite every fiber of her being itching for a fight, Nightstar had to stand down.

That was until the League was contacted by Mr. Juaa Demir, Thailand's ambassador to the UN. He was prepared to sign the charter and make Thailand a formal partner of the JLU. The League could then intercede in the violence and bring humanitarian aid to the populace. That's why Nightstar was here with a team of other Leaguers in the Carlyle Hotel, the residence of Mr. Demir. They had brought the charter for Demir to sign, and Demir would then bring it to the Thai PM who fled the country and was hiding in a secret location. There it would be ratified, and Thailand would officially be within the League's jurisdiction. Unfortunately, the Thais refused to reveal their PM's location, or the use of zeta beam travel, instead waiting for a Thai flyer to escort Demir and the charter to the Prime Minister. Nightstar and Lyta had argued strenuously with the ambassador, but Demir had held his ground, admirable as it was foolish.

And so here Nightstar was in Demir's hotel room with Lyta Trevor, the Wonder Woman, and Cassandra Cain. Zephyr, Vulkan, and Spitfire were on patrol. The protection detail was a bit light for Mari's taste, but most of the other Leaguers were already occupied with prior assignments or on leave. They would have to make do with the current team, as well as the New York Peacekeepers. Thai security was also in play, but Nightstar had her doubts about their usefulness. As for Demir, he was reading over the document he had just signed, a grim expression on his face. Thailand had been part of China's coalition in recent years, but it was clear that the Chinese had bigger concerns now. It obviously rankled Demir's sensibilities to turn to Western superheroes for help. That was just fine with Nightstar. All she had to do was keep him alive for another hour and hand him over to his people. Within a few days, the Justice League would be able to deploy to Thailand, stop the violence and bring order to Bangkok and the rest of the country. They would bring back power, set up shelters. They'd provide food and water. Lives would be saved. Nightstar could stomach Demir's sideways glances in the meantime.

Manhattan, New York

---

Now you might be thinking to yourself ‘just what are you doing at the Carlyle Hotel, James?’ And it’s a good question, really it is. But if you don’t mind we’ll put it aside for now. Things will all become clearer by the end of this entry. Suffice to say for now that I am exactly where I need to be.

I enter the hotel through the lobby entrance, and walk smack dab into a group of Thai security, hard faced men garbed in expensive suits, hands tight around their assault rifles. They don’t look pleased to see me, a couple pointing the business end of their weapons my way. I raise my hands slowly, grinning slightly to put them at ease. Or at least I hope it puts them at ease.

“Whoa now boys, I’m one of the good guys.” I call, gesturing at the big bird insignia plastered upon my chest. Really, what’s the point of these logos if no one recognises them. “See, Flamebird.” Their faces remain blank … Well, not quite blank. More apt to say hostile. I almost can’t blame them, considering the state their homes in, but I don’t have time to convince these guys I’m on their side. “Look, call it in alright. I know you’ve got Leaguers here. Let them know that Flamebird is here. They’ll vouch for me.”

The Thais glare at me for a moment, before the one I take to be in charge grunts in annoyance and makes a report down his Wayne Tech tactical smart watch. I take a deep breath, realising that there’s no stopping it now. I’d kinda enjoyed these last few months being ‘dead’. It was the closest thing to time off I’ve had in years. Now I was throwing myself back in.

All good things have to come to an end, I guess.

***

Nightstar, Wonder Woman, and Cassandra Cain were speaking softly among themselves. They were discussing the civil war in Thailand, and Lyta in particular was already drafting a strategic plan for the Justice League's response. Once the charter was affirmed by the Prime Minister, the Justice League could deploy a scores of Leaguers and several supporting Justice Battalions within hours. It'd be the largest deployment of Justice League resources in years, but it would be well worth it to quell the violence and save Thailand from the Legion's control.

Wonder Woman, the team leader, received an incoming communication from one of the Peacekeeper teams through her wrist communicator. She tapped the commlink and a holographic display of a helmeted Peacekeeper came up. Lyta spoke, "Is something wrong Sergeant?"

The Peacekeeper shook his head, "No ma'am. We received comms from the Thai security. They say Flamebird is in the lobby." Lyta's eyes spread wide in surprise as did Cassandra's. Mar'i covered her mouth to stifle an involuntary gasp of relief and shock.

Cassandra recovered first, "Can you confirm this Sergeant?" "Affirmative. I have a squad down there already. They confirm eyes-on that Flamebird, or somebody who looks a lot like him, is in the lobby. No magical disturbance detected, so it isn't an illusion or if it is, it's a very good one. Scans show the same vital signs and genetic profile. It's either an incredible deception, or it's the genuine article."

Lyta made a quick decision, "Cassandra. Watch the ambassador. Mar'i, we'll go see him. We'll confirm it's James and bring him here, we need to debrief immediately." She tapped the squad-wide comms, "I'm tasking greater patrols from the Peacekeepers. Team, Jame's is back."

Mar'i nodded and as a Peacekeeper opened the door, she immediately flew out, Lyta sprinting after her just as fast. Lyta jumped down the stairwell as Mar'i flew down, both of them reaching the lobby faster than any elevator. Zephyr, Jai West, was already there, pulling Flamebird in for a bear hug. He released James and patted him heavily on the back, mouthing archetypal West family jokes as he did so. Nightstar stopped in front of Flamebird, hovering a few inches from him, looking into his eyes,

"James, is that really you?"

***

A squadron of peacekeepers come down to verify I am who I say I am. Seems like the word dead guy come back to life just isn’t taken as gospel any more. I stand in silence as they subject me to tests and scans, making sure I’m not a sophisticated illusion, bizarre clone, or killer android. Routine stuff, really.

Imagine this being your life, were the possibility of being replaced by a killer android is routine?

No surprise really, but Jai’s the first Leaguer to come and greet me. I can almost feel his presence milliseconds before he’s in the room. Like I can feel an electrical current dance across my skin, making the tiny hairs upon my body stand on end. I’ve met a few speedsters in my time, and it seems to be common to all of them. Like it’s realities way of readying an average joe to encounter a conduit of the Speed Force.

“Flamebird! God, it’s really you!” The voice sounds in front of my face, and I didn’t even really see him coming. Wally West’s only son is getting faster, as hard as that is to believe. He throws his arms around me, and I’m pulled in for a quick hug. “You gave us a hell of a scare dude. Really thought we’d lost you this time.”

I force a queasy grin. I’ve never liked discussing mortality with Jai. It cuts a little to deep, since I got his sister, who was at the time serving as Kid Flash, killed during the original Legion attacks. Sure, he’s never blamed me for her death, always said that I did everything right, that I couldn’t possibly have saved her, that it was the life she chose, all that shit, but I still can’t help feeling responsible.

“C’mon Zephyr.” The Thai security guys are still hovering near by, so it’s work names for now. “Give me some credit. I’ve been doing this for a while now.” I play-punch him in the shoulder. “Deathstroke ain’t got nothing on me.” The speedster’s eyes sparkle. If he had any doubts that I am who I say I am before, that joke has began to assuage them.

“Oh, big bad Flamebird huh? What next? Cape and cowl? Faux Clint Eastwood voice? I am the night!” His Batman impression isn’t half bad, and I can’t help but chuckle. The laugh dies in my throat when I see Mar’i. She hovers midair, just a few feet from me. I can tell she’s having trouble trusting those glowing green eyes. I have been gone six months, after all. No doubt she, and the rest of the family, have already buried me. Buried me and moved on. This war, it doesn’t leave you with much time for grieving. You learn to leave your dead behind or run the risk of joining them.

And here I am, making everything difficult for everyone involved.

"James, is that really you?" She mouths tentatively, like she’s almost scared to hear the answer. For a second I don’t know how to reply. How do you reply in this situation? It’s not like they train you for this kind of thing.

“Hey Mar.” I settle for, hoping the rest will fall into place.

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

---

Inhale. Click, whirr. Exhale. Clang, clatter. Breathe in, take in the air. Breathe out, let it go. It was meaningless. But it helped. Maybelline Anne Albrecht, just 'May' to most continued her little exercise as the other arm was extracted, clattering to the floor with its twin. Breathe in, breathe out. Though her body no longer needed oxygen, the motions were still... calming. She was a rational person, she knew this process didn't harm her. But some frustratingly primal part of her still didn't take kindly to her limbs getting tugged off. The arms that she'd installed in her customized, ramshackle mobile lab worked as carefully as they could to remove her legs next, which was to say... not very. She grit her teeth, breaths becoming rapid and shallow as one leg was pulled away after the other, each with a small grunt. It wasn't so bad. She screamed the first time.

She relaxed a bit on the stolen stretcher that made for a makeshift operating table, just a torso and a head. "Guess I should be glad nobody can see me." she said to herself. She supposed she must look a little silly. Reminded her a bit of this kid in her class in elementary school that liked to dismember the Barbie dolls. She sighed, wishing she had fingers to drum as the machine got caught on her underwear, wiggling her leg stumps to help it along. Fully disrobed, the more... cosmetic synth-flesh plates on her body were removed, leaving the internals of her chest completely exposed. She looked up at the mirror in the roof, smirking some. Most might be... put off by seeing their insides at work, but to May it was the surest proof she wasn't dead yet... Not that she was sure there was an afterlife for her. Did cyborgs have souls? Questions for later.

As the ballistic-fiber covering was applied to what little flesh remained and her armored torso-plate was put in place, she heard a toaster oven-like 'Ding!' as her systems notified her that its task was complete. "Ooooh, yes, awesome. Give me the signal!" She said, a little bit giddy. When you spent as much time as she did limbless, voice-activated systems were a good investment. She'd been casing the area for several days now, and she'd witnessed something... interesting a few hours ago. And when she noticed a damn Javelin (If only barely) she knew that something was definitely about to go down. Imagine her excitement when she noticed that somebody among them was carrying vulnerable communications hardware? She heard a crackle as the device she'd remotely hijacked began transmitting audio, her Van's VI transcribing the admittedly patchy signal as best as it could on the monitor before her.

"-ity footage on a loop and disable the sensors. Then our marks- can take out the guards and we c- move in. We'll take the el... down... lab and sweep the facility. Bl-sport will give us directions. Check your fire for... noncombatants and preserve the s- as much as -sible. Capt- the local Legion- if possible. Understood?"

"So it was the League that nabbed Bloodsport earlier! Gah. and they're gonna start without me! Computer, patch me through." She demanded, her integrated lenses darkening to hide her eyes. Elsewhere, one of the Peacekeeper's phones would begin to ring, prompting said man to almost jump a little in shock. "Hey, Hey, Hey! Wait one second!" May's voice came through the device, crackling slightly as the Peacekeeper fumbled for the device. "Show me to whoever's in charge or I blow this thing up!" May said with a bit of an exaggerated cackle. The Peacekeeper, green as they come, obliged and showed the phone to Perseus shaking a bit. The screen flickered a bit, before he was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be... A one armed-partially armored woman. "Pfffft, Hahaha... I was kidding about the exploding thing." She said cheerfully, the Peacekeeper visibly relaxing a bit.

"Soooo, anyway, I'll get to the point before you get to angry about me 'hijackin' yer secure channels'" She said with a bit of a mock pout, chewing her lower lip as the machine slotted one of her legs into place. "You can call me... Nova, and we both wanna deal with whatever's going on in that shack. You guys just, well... this is kind of embarrassing, but those cowboy lookin' dudes nabbed Bloodsport ten minutes before I was gonna do it... _{It was really cool though, I liked the porkchop line.} -Anyway!" She muttered something, realizing that she was probably not explaining herself well. "I wanna help, and your plan sounds much better than 'Fly in and punch everyone with robot fists' like I was gonna do... J-just gotta finish putting my arms on." She said nervously, rubbing the back of her head. "Uuuuh, anyway, as a gesture of good faith I'm in the rickety-looking van about 200 meters south-south-west of where my instruments are telling me you're currently camped out, right by the road... This, uh... This 'hack your phone to contact you' thing sounded waaaay less incriminating ten minutes ago. Also tell Whoever's holding this thing that they shouldn't bring their personal phones with them on black ops."

She sighed as her last limb was slotted into place, covering her face. "Look, I promised some locals I'd take these guys out a couple weeks ago, and I feel like it doesn't make me look good if they see that some other group of dudes swooped in and did the job without me at least... helping, so if you need punching or electronic warfare I'm happy to do whatever you tell me. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of a beautiful partnership instead of a cybercrime conviction.

_{Featuring @MrDidact as Perseus and @Freeshooter92 as Nova}

What a way to spend the new year. Well, new Earth year in any case. Aken was familiar with the tradition, but still found it rather strange that one Earth year wasn't the same as one year on Ungara. Still, he wasn't one to pass up a good celebration. While mulling over some old historical records of Lanterns past on Oa, his mentor, Kyle Rayner, had come to him with another proposition: celebrate New Year's Day back on Earth with some of the other Green Lanterns, including his partner, Kai-Ro. Aken hadn't thought the young monk would've been one to celebrate, but he was keen to meet the other Lanterns from Earth, some of whom had worked with his grandfather before. The whole affair was lighthearted; many of the senior Lanterns in attendance talked to him at length about the deeds of his grandfather, while understandably skimming over his father's actions against the Corps. Humbled by the many compliments about his will to restore his family name, Aken spent a lot of the night enjoying himself.

He didn't expect Kai-Ro to approach him in the middle of the proceedings, pulling him away to some form of privacy outside of the convention hall.

"Kai-Ro? What's the matter?"

The young monk held him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"Aken, I need a favour. There is a mission going on right now in New Mexico. Justice League business. But I can't leave, not when the others are around. Do you want to take this solo?"

The Ungaran looked around rather sheepishly before replying.

"Me?"

"Yes, Aken. It will be your first solo mission. Do not worry. As soon as I am able, I will fly up to the Watchtower to keep track of you. And you will not be alone. There are other Justice League members there too. Think of this as your first real test of what I've taught you."

"I... Do you think I am ready, Kai-Ro? I don't want to disappoint, especially since this is the Justice League we're talking about."

Kai-Ro gave him a bright smile, a rarity for the monk, and patted him on the shoulder.

"If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have asked you to cover for me. You can do this, Aken. Don't worry. Now go join the others at the Watchtower. Say that I sent you."

So he left. A few hours later and he was seated aboard a ship alongside several other Leaguers and a platoon of soldiers.

After arriving at the mission site and hearing Perseus' plan, Aken and the rest of the team waited as Toxin completed her sweep of the shack. A few minutes later, two guards were down and the security system was compromised. Toxin gave the signal and Perseus nodded to Robert Queen, the Green Arrow, who was waiting nearby. He nocked two tranquilizer arrows and let loose, hitting the two guards square in the chest and dosing them with a heavy sedative. They were knocked out before they even hit the ground.

That done, Perseus was about to give the signal to move when they suddenly heard a beep from a Peacekeeper's smartphone. Commercially, holographic communication devices, or holo-phones, were the norm. But special operators sometimes relied on ruggedized smartphones for greater reliability in the field. Now for some reason, this trooper's phone was displaying the face of a somewhat manic-looking woman. Perseus looked questioningly at the Peacekeeper, who bashfully handed Perseus the phone. Perseus took the phone with the trademark Luthor glare, his gaze cold, "Threatening my men and hacking into Justice League communications is no laughing manner. If I weren't on a tight time table, I'd take you in for questioning right now. As it is, I'm going to have Green Lantern transport you here. Do not attempt to flee or I will consider you a Legion spy and proceed accordingly." Perseus hung up.

May clicked her tongue. It seemed like... negotiations were beginning to break down. She could be stunningly dumb sometimes, despite her apparent intellect. "O-okay, I understand that you're very serious and all, but I've kinda been hanging out in this desert casing the place for two weeks and then the Justice League apparently swoops in and is about to take the credit at the last second. Wh-whoah hold on, don't touch my va-!" She practically shouted, before the line was cut. Oh... fuck.

Perseus uploaded a scan of the woman's face and uploaded it to Albuquerque Hall of Justice, who would then route it to the Watchtower to look in the database for known metahumans. It would take some time as the woman's eyes were concealed. He turned to several Peacekeepers, "Have your EOD expert begin dismantling the mines while your engineer takes care of the inactive mechs. I don't want the cordon team to have any problems. Everyone start stacking up at the lab entrance. I'll deal with our guest. Aken, bring the van here."

May was in a bit of a panic... She didn't even get an opportunity to tell them why she cared so much about busting the place or even what was waiting for them in there. Spoilers: nothing good. Her last parts were affixed, and she immediately set upon the tasks that were most important. As they were likely about to drag her van over and throw the doors open, she should probably make sure her civilian parts were all hidden away. Last thing people needed to see was a disembodied pair of tits on the floor. That would be... difficult to explain.

Aken nodded to Perseus and wordlessly took off. The message wasn't hard to understand; this mystery woman was hiding out in an unmarked and old van a ways back from their position and Perseus required her here. Aken slipped his power ring, which had been off and in his pocket since they'd required stealth, back onto his finger and waited a moment as the light within covered him in its signature green shield. He dimmed its glow as much as he could and took off silently, gliding low across the ground so as not to attract attention, until he spotted the van on a road near the lab. He extended his arm and a beam of green shot from his ring, encasing the van in a solid globe of light. With some effort, he lifted the van as quietly as he could into the air and glided back across to where Perseus was, setting it back down onto the dirt and letting the light globe dissipate. The van thumped gently back onto solid ground, a small cloud of dust lifting up from its wheels. "Done, Perseus. Shall I open the van doors?"

She gritted her teeth as she felt the van begin to float, but it was a remarkably smooth ride, all told! Lanterns sure were amazing. At least, she assumed that's what was going on, judging by the green light pouring in through the windows. She rode out the short trip, and took a deep breath, time to make her big... second impression! Yes. She tried to open the doors and gracefully step outside... but the doors were, well. Already opened. So she ended up losing her balance and flopping face-first into the dirt outside the van.

Perseus nodded. Aken grabbed the door handles using two beams of emerald energy and opened the doors. Two Peacekeepers advanced with stun pistols raised. They both were taken aback by heap of cyborg that fell out of the van. Perseus raised an eyebrow, "Well if you're a Legion spy, you're either incredibly incompetent or a brilliantly clever one. And there is an outside chance, you're genuine. Until I know which you are, I'm not keeping my eye off of you."

The hero looked at Aken, "Aken, you're on guard duty for this woman. If she makes a wrong move, rip her limbs off. We'll take the torso and head in for questioning."

May grumbled a bit from her spot on the floor, slowly climbing up to stand, gingerly raising her hands in a hopefully non-threatening manner. Not how she envisioned today would go, if she was being entirely honest. She decided that maybe just talking might help. "M-my name is Dr. Maybelline Anne Albrecht. I am a Scientist specializing in Cybernetic Augmentation and the founder and former CEO of Lotus Security Solutions, a military research company. You can check your records but I'm sure I've been... un-personed. I wasn't great at managing a corporation and my board of directors managed to steal the company out from under me and throw their lot in with the legion, I've been running ever since." She said, swallowing.

She nodded toward the building. "I was hiding out near here when I heard there was some kind of... drug ring operating here. I wanted to help, but I saw a couple of goons wearing my augments wander into the place a few weeks ago, and the last thing anyone needs is more of them running around unchecked... Is that enough for just a little bit of trust?" She asked with a heavy sigh, looking between him and the lantern. "_{A-and don't rip my arms off, I just put them on...}"

Aken kept his ring trained on the lady as she stood, attempted to open the doors, but since they were already open, she fell flat on her face instead. He raised an eyebrow in disbelief as she then introduced herself as a scientist that specialised in cybernetics, what he understood as the robotics that made up most of her body. He kept his ring trained on her as he spoke.

"As much as I'd like to believe your story, madam, you are staying here until my mission is finished."

Aken turned to glance at Perseus.

Perseus listened to Aken and the so-called scientist speak, carefully watching her expressions and mannerisms, "I'll convey the information through our databases, but it'll take time to verify that. For now, I'll let you come with us, but with the Lantern watching you at all times."

The hero stepped forward, "I'm putting some trust in you. Betray it and I'll throw you into Bell Reve before you can blink." Perseus nodded to Aken and motioned for the team to form up at the entrance to the lab. The Green Lantern returned the nod and waited for the lady to step out of her van to follow them, taking up the rear as they made their way to the lab.

"Everyone is talking about the Second Cold War, about World War 3 being on the horizon. And they should. But everyone is missing the fact that the War on Drugs has been ongoing more more than 80 years, with no end in sight. Most of the west had legalized marijuana and decriminalized the use of hard drugs, which helped at first. But the game has changed. The Cartels have been almost wiped out, but that's not because of law enforcement or public policy. That's not even primarily because of the Justice League. It's because the Legion pushed them out. Miralco and Venom prohibition has helped create a massive black market for meta-drugs, and the Legion practically has a monopoly on it. Their dominance in Central and South American underworld activities has never been stronger. They might not be as loud as the old Cartels, but they're even more deadly. The coyote was killed by the wolf." - Eduardo Diaz, retired DEA agent and recovering Venom addict.

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

---

Soon all of the mines and mechs were deactivated and the downed guards were tied up for transport. A call had been put out to the Mexican Federales, who would provide cordon duty and would take custody of the mundane Legion soldiers if the ranking Legionnaires were captured. Perseus didn't much like relying on outside assistance, but JLU protocols called for cooperation of local authorities as much as possible, and Perseus wasn't going to give the press or the normie governments any excuse for haranguing the League if he could help it. The Peacekeepers led Bloodsport to the hidden elevator, where the team was already waiting. The security scrambler registered Bloodsport's visual profile on the camera but not the fact that he was handcuffed or was being escorted by anyone else. He was the only one detected on sensors. The digital operations division, headed up by Victory, had outdone themselves once again. It wouldn't have fooled electronic analysis but Perseus was well aware how complacent those on guard duty could be. There was little to no chance they were running analytics on their security footage or scanners to spot anomalies.

With Bloodsport held at gunpoint, the team advanced to the elevator. A peacekeeper turned over a couch and pulled aside a carpet revealing a trap door. Perseus nodded to Bloodsport who went forward and tapped in the access code before placing his palm on a scanner that opened the door. An elevator platform opened that was just large enough for the strike team to board. Perseus said, "We go in quick and quiet. Take down guards nonlethally if you can, but silence and the safety of the team is more important. If it gets loud, you're free to engage with any means necessary so long as there are no civilian casualties or unnecessary collateral damage. The main objective is to rescue the test subjects and secure the Legion's research. The Legionnaires are ultimately expendable."

Without a further word, he boarded the elevator, leaving behind a few Peacekeepers to cover their exit, before the team descended into the lab. It was a swift ride though the increased tension that naturally came about before one sprung into a deadly situation seemed to stretch the seconds into minutes. The doors opened onto a spacious hallway that ran past an archway guarded by a squad of foot soldiers. They had been expecting a lone Bloodsport, not a team of heavily armed heroes. That was why they were unprepared when Green Arrow strung back three tranq arrows and buried them in three different necks, neutralizing a quarter of them in the blink of an eye. A heartbeat later as the rest of them fumbled for weapons, Green Arrow loosed another volley of three, hitting his marks precisely. As the remainder finally began to raise the barrels of their rifles, three more fell. Perseus had by now closed the distance, and cracked the shaft of his spear on one man's head, making him drop like a stone. The next received a quick slam of the spear butt to his neck. Perseus moved to the last man and shield bashed his jaw. Both of them went down on the first blow.

Two heartbeats and the entire squad was downed. Robert nocked two more arrows and flashed a smile at Perseus, who nodded back. Perseus gestured to the Peacekeepers, who quickly tied up the downed Legion men with cable disabled their weapons and radios. It all took less than a minute and they were again on their way. Bloodsport led the way, notifying them of cameras and sensors in advance so that Green Arrow could fire a scrambler arrow to disguise their advance. The team took out several patrols in similar quick fashion to the first. Sometimes a Peacekeeper had to fire a burst from their suppressed SMGs with subsonic ammunition. Some Leaguers might have found it distasteful, but Perseus erred on the side of preserving the lives of his team and the integrity of the mission. Any unarmed personnel they encountered were quickly downed by a blast from a stun pistol and detained. This continued for several minutes, the squad sweeping the hallways and rooms and clearing them with silent, detached professionalism.

The hallways were dark, with very little lighting, as most of the power in the facility was drawn from geothermal tapping or solar panels and was devoted to the security systems and labs, as Bloodsport reported. The darkness helped shield the team, often an enemy patrol didn't even see them before they were neutralized. They disabled several inactive turrets and mechs as they passed, mechanical contraptions that were folded up in collapsible positions, waiting for an alarm. They cleared the mess hall, the common room, and the hydroponic garden before they found the labs, a large gymnasium-sized room. The team had emerged on a balcony overlooking the chamber, staircases leading down on both sides. And they saw a tableau right out of hell.

The team could clearly see a complex array of equipment for the distillation and manufacturing of Miralco and Venom. There were pallets upon pallets of tightly packaged Miralco pills and dozens of vats of pure liquid Venom. Workers were bustling around to process the drugs as labcoated chemists worked at complicated equipment. Armed guards were on patrol. But those were details that would be processed in the succeeding moments. The first thing the Justice League team noticed were the cages. They were large steel-barred constructions, and were completely packed with men, women, and children. There must have been over a hundred people in captivity.

There were more strapped to gurneys, surgeons wheeling them behind bloodied white screens where screams and shrieks of agony could be heard. More people were in isolation tanks as scientists scribbled notes and watched. One man banged against the glass of his tank as a robotic arm descended from the ceiling and injected him with a sickly green fluid. He became bug-eyed as he doubled over and vomited all over the floor, his veins ran green, his muscles bulging out grotesquely as he doubled in musculature and body mass within moments. But then he kept expanding, his skin bulging and rippling as his arms, legs, and torso practically ballooned. There was a sickening crunch and his screams echoed throughout the chamber, his meaty fists denting the glass before a scientist pressed a button and the room was consumed in fire.

In another tank, a scientist kept lowering the internal temperature until they could see icicles forming on the person inside. The woman shrank to the floor, clutching her sides and violently shivering. Suddenly her black, ice-dusted hair turned white as snow, her skin a bloodless white. She cried out, frost coating the glass where her breath touched it, and in seconds she became encased in a layer of ice, becoming as still as a sculpture. The next tank had a man who was being constantly shocked by a collar locked to his neck. The scientist shocked the man again and again, until finally bolts of lightning flew out from his fingertips, but the discharge was wild and erratic and the man's skeleton seemed to light up every time the lightning left his body. He wailed until he was a charred skeleton. There were more tanks, each more gruesome than the last. Some of the subjects survived, many didn't.

A Peacekeeper doubled over, vomiting in his helmet at the sight of the monstrous experiments, and Perseus whirled around to Bloodsport, a harsh whisper escaping him, "What the hell is this. You said this was a drug lab. They're torturing those people." Bloodsport smiled, "That's your downfall hero. If you live long enough to see it." Perseus knew what he was going to do next. He raised his hand to stop him, but Bloodsport lashed out with a kick that Perseus blocked. The Legionary swung his head back and crashed it into his guard's helmet, knocking the trooper back. Bloodsport jumped, Perseus narrowly missing his leg, and he landed past the railing and ran towards the guards, "Justice League! Kill 'em!"

Perseus shouted, "Take cover and engage! Watch the civilians!" Perseus jumped on top of the railing and extended his shield, taking the volley of assault rifle fire. The team scattered, finding cover in the boxes of cargo and lab equipment of armed guards began pouring out, over thirty riflemen. One scientist hurried over to a holding pen and released several muscular men who had Legion tattoos on their bare arms. The scientist removed a syringe and dosed the ten men with Venom. They all grunted in pain as their veins ran green and their muscles bulged out. They ran at the Leaguers, ignoring the bullets that shredded through them to jump at the League team. One Peacekeeper was grabbed by the neck and he barely pulled his pistol before the Venom soldier's fist clenched and the man's neck crunched like a soda can. A half-dozen miniguns extended down from the ceiling and began pouring volleys of automatic weapons fire. Perseus jumped from the railing and stood in the open, taking as much fire as he could as he engaged the Venom soldier who killed the Peacekeeper, jabbing at him with the spear. The man ignored the thrusts to his arms, legs, and gut before Perseus finally buried the blade through his neck, cut through his spinal cord, and ripped off his head.

As the workers frantically ran from the exits, a door opened on the far side of the lab and two men in hulking exo-suits walked out, steadily advancing with massive guns attached to them. They didn't let loose yet due to the Legion soldiers in the line of fire, but would soon be close enough to wither the Justice League's position with bullets. Bloodsport had his bonds broken by a guard with a laser saw and was handed a plasma rifle which he immediately turned on the Justice League team and began firing.

Perseus yelled out as he engaged another Venom soldier , "GL, we need cover! Therma fry those turrets! And somebody take out those exo-suits! Peackeepers, suppresing fire!" Green Arrow popped out and began loosing as many arrows as he could, not bothering with the tranq shafts and hitting the enemy with live arrows, firing an EMP arrow to disable one of the turrets and an explosive arrow to knock back one of the exo-suits before returning to the foot soldiers and the Venom troops. He hit a Venom soldier with an electric arrow and the man screamed but kept advancing with murder in his eyes. Green Arrow hit him with an ice arrow to the foot, but the man kept shambling on with one unfrozen leg. He fired a net arrow that pinned him to a wall but the man ripped free within seconds. He hit him with a concussive arrow that knocked him on the ground but he was back up in a few heartbeats. Finally Green Arrow used a standard arrow and the man stumbled directionless for a moment before collapsing with a shaft through his eye. The rest of the Venom soldiers were now upon the team as their cohorts filled the air with bullets and the exo-suits moved ever closer into firing positions.

If the team didn't respond quickly and effectively, they would be wiped out.

Warpath, New Mexico
January 1st, 2052

Danielle Steel could feel the rage course through her veins. It was nearly tangible. It was the first time she had felt such rage towards someone other then her parents after that fateful day nearly a year ago. She could nearly feel the waves of anguish and emotional pain roll off of the family as they wept over their son's shattered body. The drug use in Warpath had gone down quite a bit due to a few certain individuals active in the area but there was still the occasional idiotic user of one of the meta-drugs. No matter what the side effects were, someone was always looking to experience what life would be like as one of the meta-humans or while beefed up on Venom.

One thing Velocity had learned by observing those on the meta-drugs: Power tended to corrupt that type of person. They felt invincible, above the average citizen, and most of the time the civilians were the ones to suffer from the tyranny of those nutcases.

The drug that had been used in this case was one of the Meta-drugs, she didn't know which one.

The costumed individual watched coldly as the parents of the young man let out a wail of grief and anguish as the breath left his body and Velocity's body shook with barely contained rage. She didn't care much about either the Justice League or the Legion of Doom although at one point, in a darker time in her life she had considered learning more about the Legion but that had changed once she had seen what they were bringing across the border. A certain costumed member of the Justice League had been responsible for her transformation into what her "loving parents" had called "an Abomination". No...Velocity refused to aid either faction but if something or someone caught her attention then it had her complete attention.

And right now whoever had supplied the lunatic currently running through the desert with the drugs that had allowed him to tear this family apart now had her complete attention.

A brief moment later, the weeping family looked up as a faint wind and a faint vibration seemed to slightly shake a vase off to the side.

Outskirts of the Chihuahuan Desert
Mexico

Velocity tore through the desert at high speed as she locked in on her target. Said target was coming down off his Meta-high. He was laughing joyfully and had his hands raised to the sky as thought he was praising whatever force had given him his temporary strength that had allowed him to commit the brutal murder so easily. He was barely able to tell something was coming before the speeding blur knocked his legs out from under him. His cry of shock and distress was cut off as Velocity grabbed him by the front of his stretched out tunic before he could hit the ground and slammed him into the ground with a good amount of force. The meta-drug user stared up at her with shock as her fist violenctly slammed into his jaw twice in the time it took him to blink. "Why did you do it?" She asked in a calm and somewhat cold voice.

He looked up at her in shock as though he couln't believe that this was happening to him. Velocity slammed the back of his head into the ground and slowly lifted it once again and stared at him. "Why. Did. You. Do it?" She asked again. The Meta-drug user's eyes widened in fear. "M-Money, He owed me money! Wouldn't pay!" The man exclaimed in complete and utter fear. Velocity shook her head in disgust. "It usually does come down to money, doesn't it? Now...Where did you get the drugs?" The man paused for a moment as he considered his options. Either tell the clearly angry lady he didn't have a shot in hell of beating or having to deal with an angry representative of the Legion. Velocity smiled darkly under her mask and a moment later the murderer was gasping for breath as a vortex appeared around him that was rapidly cutting off his oxygen. A few moments later, he could feel the Oxygen returning to his lungs as the vortex disappeared and the masked woman appeared in front of him.

"Choose carefully."

Chihuahuan Desert
Mexico
5:37 PM

Velocity ran across the desert. If anyone were to look down from above they would see a barely noticeable blur easily passing a number of Federal vehicles that were heading towards the deep desert. Velocity had gotten the information she had needed from the drug user and learning a bit about Vigilante and Bloodsport before depositing him back in the home of the man he had murdered, what the family chose to do to him, she didn't care. He had earned whatever they had in store for him. After putting the dots of what was going on together, she had simply kept an eye out for suspicious activity and a number of Federal vehicles heading out into the deserts definitely counted as suspicious. It had been relatively easy to figure out where they were going once she had barely seen a far off building surrounded by Federal vehicles and heavily armed men.

Of course they never saw her coming. A number of them briefly felt a breeze that seemed to come out of nowhere pass by them but by the time they had to react, she was gone. She kicked her speed up a notch as she tore through the facility at high speed as she heard the sounds of the agents outside finally beginning to understand what was going on. A few moments later, she had found what she was looking for along with a few of what the Justice League called "Peacekeepers". Before they could react, Velocity had passed by them at high speed. She chose not to harm them. Her grudge was with whoever was running the drug lab. She wasn't sure if it was producing Venom or Miralco but either way it was getting shut down or quite possibly, blown up. As she raced down the elevator shaft she couldn't help but hear the sounds of combat. She figured she was going to have to deal with the League but hopefully they wouldn't start trouble with her. A moment later her eyes widened as she saw something she quite honestly wasn't prepared for as she approached a balcony overlooking a massive chamber.

It was pretty much a full fledged battle. Men who were clearly on Venom along with two figures in massive exo-suits were approaching the group she was watching from the hallway leading to the balcony.

An old saying came to her mind as saw one of the men who was wearing a dark purple jumpsuit with what looked like a golden cape over one of his shoulders somehow created a shield out of what appeared to be nothing as a barrage of firepower tore through the air and slammed into it: "The Enemy of my Enemy is my friend"

"Screw it." She muttered reluctantly as she watched him take out a venom solder by taking his head off. "Lesser of two evils." She sighed as she hit high speed and began knocking the guns out of the hands of those firing them. The first few or so were relatively easy to disarm but a few moments after she began her work she knew that the enemy forces were aware of her presence as a number of firearms were pointed in her direction. Gotta give credit where credit is due, they caught on quick. She thought as a number of bullets tore through the space where she had been barely a moment ago. Unbeknownst to her, one of the supposedly disarmed solders had managed to pull some sort of custom weapon that she must have missed and took careful aim in the direction the blur was going and fired two shots.

Velocity was actually beginning to enjoy herself as she continued disarming the solders. She was on solder number twelve and had just disassembled his weapon when she felt a sudden pain shoot through her side and a moment later another sudden shot of pain go through her left arm. She nearly hit the ground before she managed to steady herself and took off at high speed away from the solders and she tried to locate who had managed to shoot her. A moment later as she took a hard left and came back the way she had came from and saw one of the solders she though she had disarmed holding some sort of custom weapon that had managed to punch through her suit. She was barely able to dodge the next few shots before she grabbed the weapon from his hand and punched him repeatedly in the stomach. "That really hurt." She snarled as she smacked him across the face a few times with the pistol and then knocked him to the ground before running back towards the man with the cape.

She held her side with her right hand and was breathing heavily as she tried to get a handle on the pain she was feeling. "Anything else I can help out with?" She asked as she tried to staunch the blood-flow from her side.

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

---

May nodded sullenly. She supposed it made sense, after all. Just trusting her out of nowhere would be dumb as hell, even though she was sincere."Well, I'll just have to prove myself, then." She said, smiling to the Lantern. An... Ungaran, was it? Yes, that was the one. Her gaze drifted over the ring, chuckling softly. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close. I never quite expected to find one pointed at me." She heard Perseus chip in, prompting her to clasp her hands cheerfully. "Yes sir! You won't be disappointed!" she said, even going so far as to do a little curtsy.

She followed along with the rest of the group, idly looking over a disarmed landmine that had been dug up. Oooh, she remembered those. Nasty little pieces of work, though in fairness she'd had a very bad day when she submitted that design. It was interesting how often she'd been on the business end of weapons she'd designed, lately. Really put things in perspective. She eyed Bloodsport. She wasn't sure why they needed to drag him in, probably to enter all quiet and such. They had to have some kind of scanner or the like. She took stock of the rest of the team. Green Arrow and Perseus were the only ones of the lot she really recognized. Well, one was a Green Lantern and all, but not the Green Lantern.

She listened intently to Perseus' instructions... She was never quite sure why they'd even bother with non-lethal force in a situation like this. She was no killer of course, but there's a time and a place for lethal force and this seemed like one of those times. Still, she would follow his orders. Didn't want to risk pissing him off more than she already had."I don't got a lot of quiet stuff but I hear ya." She said with a small thumbs-up as she sauntered onto the elevator platform. she placed a device of some kind to her chin, the machinery expanding into a mask that covered her lower face. It served to protect her mouth from superficial damage as well as an amplifier for her voice should she need it.

On the way down she drew her Lance, carefully slotting a battery in as she inspected the firearm. Everything was in order, a quick cycling of machinery in her leg told her that her speed-loader was operational too. Her hard-light generator was in order, her Fusion Engine was functioning. Her Vertigo thrusters brightened a bit one at a time as they made a quiet whine before dimming at once, calibration slowly coming to an end. She tried to strike up short conversations, but nobody was having it. She'd even asked for access to their comm channel, but there was a no on that front as well. She sighed softly, tensing as they reached the bottom.

She expected chaos, but was greeted by surgical precision as Arrow and Perseus took the guards out one after the other, dropping them like dominoes before the alarm could be sounded. She followed, occasionally assisting with the disabling of sensors and cameras with her Lance's shock setting, one time even knocking out a guard with a brick of hard light. Overall though, she was careful to stay out of her new allies' way. Any amusing muck-ups would be a great deal less amusing down here. After a fair amount of prowling through the dark corridors they came into the labs... And it was a nasty sight.

Nova only let out a very light gasp as she saw what awaited them. She'd... seen her fair share of horrors in the realm of human testing, but that was always on, well, people that deserved it. Murderers and convicts. At least, that's what metaphorically helped her sleep at night, not that she slept anymore. These? Civilians, and not a one was even anesthetized. She grit her teeth, tightening her grip on the walkway's rails. Was... was this sort of thing happening at her labs, now? She very nearly flung herself over the rails to start punching the shit out of the scum right then and there. But, well, as it turned out Bloodsport was dead set on blowing their cover first.

"I got the right side!" Nova cried out as she waved her left arm, a field of hexagonal hardlight plates forming mobile cover for each of the rightmost Peacekeepers, intelligently arranging themselves for maximum protection without obscuring their own weapons fire overmuch. That said she didn't have enough for everyone. Occasionally, a plate wouldn't be able to take anymore punishment and would shatter, the shield shrinking overall. She turned to see the venom-enhanced goons rushing their positions, and despite the immense power of her weapon that didn't matter much if they didn't really care about getting shot. A few burning holes in the mutant's gut wasn't enough to save one peacekeeper, and she didn't take that well. "No!" She reached out, intending to at least finish him off, but Perseus saw to that. She eyed another try to jump up towards her group, and she clenched her fist. "No you don't!" In the blink of an eye her thrusters flared and she delivered a solid kick to the mutant's chest, the sheer velocity of the blow launching the brute across the lab and cracking his head on the opposite wall. She wasn't sure if he was dead, So she very quickly fired a beam right through his head before he had a chance to get up, her boosters propelling her to the ground behind some crates.

She threw up another hardlight panel above her, using it as a mirror to survey the battle. She saw the heavily armored goons march in, and she gasped. Another one of her designs... Well, mostly. It was a suit of armor designed to interface with the Mk. IV augmentation system, It wasn't finished before she escaped, but they must have touched up the design enough to produce it themselves. "Can I have those comms now?! She shouted at Perseus, creating more panels to replenish the barriers for the Peacekeepers.

---

Perseus grit his teeth as a barrage of minigun fire deflected off of his shield, he ducked behind a crate, collapsing the shield and letting it repair itself as he sighed and said, "Squad-wide channel only. Don't make me regret this." He quickly tapped his forearm computer and detected Nova's communication device, linking her in to the squad's net. He was fairly sure she was not a Legion spy, since she assisted the team with her shields. But he couldn't be completely sure. He hoped he hadn't made a huge mistake, a feeling he was very much unused to.

---

Nova nodded, a little beep informing her that she had access. "This is Nova, the big armored guys are wearing LSS Mk. IV powered armor. They are extremely well armored but I never finished the design, the plating along the back of the heel is thin and there's faulty wiring. One solid hit or a powerful electric shock to around the heel should make them crumple! Peacekeepers shouldn't bother shooting them, the armor's thinner there but small arms still won't make a dent, leave it to us." She called out across comms, using her hardlight panels to reflect her energy beams around cover and nail a few of the legion grunts, as well as aiming a few beams at Bloodsport.

Star City, California

---

Roy Harper sighed, looking at the massive spread of ingredients siting upon the kitchen island. He was cooking for himself, Oliver, Dinah, Lian… and more importantly the special guest who was 13 minutes late to helping him begin cooking. Roy was never a patient person, and he was also not at all a skilled cook. Which is why the arrival of Waylon was incredibly important. Needless to say, the doorbell’s chimes were a godsend.

Roy of course knew when he opened the door that on the other side would be a eight foot tall, hulking man with green scales. The two men gave a brief smile and nod, with Croc leaning down slightly to pick up Roy in his arms and squeezing him a little too tightly. Roy gasped in pain, but Croc replaced the hero back onto the ground where he belonged. “How’ve you been, Crocie?” With a smile filled with razor sharp teeth, Waylon smiled down at the scarlet archer. “Well… the consulting job has been paying nicely.”

“Perk of being a former super villain is you become a hot commodity when people are looking for reformed criminals to find vulnerabilities in their security… I just get stuck teaching teenagers kung fu.”

The two were immediately on their way to the kitchen, laughing as usual. The two had grown close since Roy tried to get Croc to kill him on a rooftop what felt like ages ago. Waylon James, the villain and powerhouse that he was, did take Roy into his care and helped get him clean when no one else would. He was even the sponsor of Roy’s recovery in rehab, and later on in his support group. Helping Roy helped himself in the end, instilling a sense of responsibility in Croc that led him to leaving the villain life behind and working as a freelance security consultant. In a world with super villains, someone like Croc becomes very desirable for companies that want to ensure that they are “catastrophe” proof.

For the next two hours, the two caught up on what they were involved with. Roy shared stories of his students and the antics Lian would get involved with. Waylon, on his end, shared about some of the jobs he was hired for. Hell, Croc even managed to find himself a woman who loved him for who he was, but Roy stopped him before he could explain the physics of it. Needless to say, it was a pleasant time.

They had just finished getting the Turkeys out of the oven (one for Croc, one for the Queens/Harpers) when the two heard stirring in the lobby. Within moments, Oliver and Lian were there in the kitchen with Dinah following. Lian was already trying to get her fingers in the food while Roy chastised her, Croc and Oliver in the meantime embracing and joking with one another. Dinah just rolled her eyes before walking over to Roy and giving him a hug. As usual, it took a few minutes for the food to make its way to the table (with a few obvious morsels stolen by Lian and Oliver). During that time, Connor Hawke and his family arrived. Mia, Emiko, and the others were always on duty on New Years Day, so this was as close as the Arrow family could get to being all together to celebrate the New Year.

After an hour and a half of eating, drinking, and laughing, the Arrow family began to disperse into their usual duties. Waylon entertained Lian and Connor’s children in the ballroom whilst Connor’s wife helped keep an eye on them, Dinah and Oliver worked on the dishes (which usually resulted in Oliver splashing Dinah with water playfully over and over until it was no longer funny or cute), and Connor and Roy sat down for a drink to catch up. They were never particularly got along when they were younger, since Connor was the illegitimate child of the Green Arrow and Roy was just some orphan Queen picked up off the street to be his sidekick first. Now that they were both fathers and had reconciled their differences with Ollie, the two liked to catch each other up on what they had been up to.

As they sipped on their whiskey in the study, Roy made his way over to his desk, noticing a few notifications on his computer screen. With a few clicks, Roy pulled up the reports that were being routed through the Star City Hall of Justice. He had forgotten Perseus was going to send the mission brief… and Roy wished he had looked them over. The team was bringing Bloodsport in to the facility… and looking at the live reports feeding in from the Peacekeepers and local authorities, the place was barely armed. Perseus should have recognized the trap that his strike force was being led into. Like his father, the younger Luthor could be seriously blinded by his own ego.

Unfortunately, there was little Roy could do at this point, from his own study. He wasn’t the fastest man alive… he was just a regular guy with rather killer calves for his age. And those weren’t exactly going to get him to the desert in time to help the team if things went wrong. Of course, though, Connor picked up on how distraught his half-brother was. [color=tan]“What’s wrong, Roy? I haven’t seen you this stressed since you went back to teaching kids how to play with knives.”

The scarlet archer took another sip of his whiskey before looking back in the direction of his fellow Leaguer. “Al asked me to go back into the field.”

“That’s great, right?”

“No… I can’t go back out there, Connor. I’ve got to think about Lian, and Queen Industries needs me…”

Connor scoffed,leaning back in his chair as Roy stood hunched over the computer. “Those are just excuses, Roy. Excuses you never had before. Liam and the company weren’t on your mind when you jumped into the war… you disappeared for a year and then came back begging for essentially a desk job. What happened over there?”

Roy’s eyes rose to meet Connor’s, a slow-boiling anger tempered with fear brimming in his blue irises. “It doesn’t matter. I turned Perseus down, and he ended up walking into a trap with Robert at his side. Just hope things don’t go too sideways.”

Gunsmith

Bangkok, Thailand.

---

Screams and smoke. Fire and death. Old companions to Marcus, especially after E-Day. The chaos raged around him as he laid on the roof, searching for a target. He detested the chaos, truth be told. Not from a morals point, he was long past that. He had done all this and worse during E-day and beyond, killing and destroying in the name of the Legion. He detested it because it was almost impossible to predict. No amount of planning or intelligence could prepare you for chaos like this, and in Marcus' line of work being prepared was often the only thing that kept you from being another body in an unmarked grave in the second cold war. In this war, he could end up facing a god like being capable of destroying entire cities with little effort, whose strengths were as numerous as the stars and whose weaknesses were as few as the unaffiliated nations left in the world. Marcus would like to have one of those weaknesses in his back pocket if that time came. Preparation was, and always will be, key.

His sniper rifle cracked, and a trained meta of the junta fell back, dead. Mostly, Marcus was bored here. There was no challenge. No real need for any preparation, regardless of the chaos. The League had no presence here, and Thailand had no true heroes or villains of its own. Just half trained soldiers, unprepared for an assault like this. There was nothing to really worry about or prepare for unexpected or not. He resumed scanning the area for priority targets such as officers or more metas, a spot of calm in a sea of chaos. He still had a job to do, regardless of how he felt about it.

Argonaut spoke over his comm piece, updating them on the status of the invasion and the location of the target. Vortex interjected before Marcus could acknowledge, the man's flippant remarks and voice drawing an annoyed sigh. Vortex was everything Marcus was not, and as such got on his nerves more than he did others. Still, his effectiveness and powers were undeniable and made up for his quirks. If only just.

"This is Gunsmith. My squad and I have received the information, heading towards the Parliament building now." He stood and attached his sniper rifle to his back, dropping from the top of the building to the ground below. He moved through the chaos, ignoring the rebels and the civilians, heading rapidly to the Parliament building. Switching his comms over to that of the squad under his command, organizing them. "Colt, is that entrance into the parliament building secured?" "Yes it is. The squad of Juntas is ready to let us in, provided we hold up our end of the deal."

Before the attack on the city had begun, Gunsmith had entered Bangkok with his squad to prepare as best they could. One of those preparations involved convincing a squad of Junta soldiers, tasked with guarding the Parliament building in case of an event such as this, to let them into the building during the attack. In return, they would be spared from the wrath of the rebels by the Legion.

"Excellent. Smith, Wesson, Ruger, Remington, Browning, meet with Colt and I at the marked spot. Invisibility on, we don't want to attract attention." Marcus brought up his HUD, marking the position of entry into the Parliament on their maps, before heading there himself. His invisibility technology covering him as he moved carefully and quietly through the cordon around the Parliament, making his way towards the side entrance. In moments he and his team (made of other cyborg soldiers like him) were there, facing the surrendering Junta squad as they ended their cloaking. They were hidden by the walls that extended beyond the door, but anyone could walk through or around in moments. They needed this over quickly.

"You did good, and as promised you will be spared whatever cruel fate the rebels have in store for you." His blade deployed from his arm and he moved forward with unnatural speed, sinking it into the throat of the junta in front of him. His squad followed suit almost instantly, and it was all over in a second. No sound, no alarms.

"Alright, orders are to clear the parliament building and get to the General. Get in, do it quietly, and then make our way to the elevator. Cloaks on, be careful. We want them to think that only Vortex has gotten through, and to focus their efforts on him. Go." With their cloaks all activated, Marcus and his squad slipped into the parliament. As expected, there were more guards and turrets. Most of them were distracted or moving towards the violence and carnage caused by Vortex, and none of them were expecting invisible cyborgs to slip through the door.

In a few minutes, the turrets were disabled and the guards dead. Marcus cleaned the blood off of his blade, contacting Argonaut. "This is Marcus. Eastern side of the Parliament building cleared. Making our way to the elevator to rendezvous with Vortex." He pulled his shotgun from his back, preparing for close quarters gun fights. "Move out. Kill any threat. Don't waste your ammo on civilians."

---

Therma

Chihuanhuan Desert, Mexico

---

Kayda was quiet most of the trip and build up to the lab, concentrating on gathering heat inside of her at a steady rate. Simple drug bust or no, this was still the Legion they were dealing with, and she needed to be as strong as she could be and as clear headed as she could be during it. Thus, those around her would begin to feel a steady chill as she drew in more and more heat from the area. She could only chuckle at the scientist that had appeared from a van. Maybelline was cute in her nervousness. Which, Kayda supposed, was natural given that she was surrounded by armed and armored super heroes. She was certain she didn't look all that friendly in her Therma armor. Or her Thermor, as she liked to call it (much to the groans of those around her).

Right, drug ring. Nothing to serious, can't confirm if they've done anything worse yet. We'll go nonlethal and do as Perseus says.

She was in the middle of the group as they entered the laboratory, continuing to draw in heat (now at over 600 degrees Celsius), an uneasy feeling washing over her as they moved in. This was going down too smoothly, and there weren't nearly enough guards for a Legion drug operation. Something wasn't right.

She was proven right when they finally saw exactly what was going on in the labs. The scenes of torture and brutality brought back memories of E-day, and Kayda's breathing grew heavy as she struggled to gain control of both her writhing emotions and roiling stomach. Part of her wanted to burn this place to ash. Another part wanted to close her eyes and curl into a ball, pretending none of it existed. A third just wanted to throw up. She decided to put her trust in the first one, fury burning away the terror and the sickness. Her blades extended from her armor's forearms as Bloodsport made his get away. Fuck nonlethal. She dove behind cover with the rest, looking up at the six turrets as Perseus shouted orders. She could fry them from this distance, sure, but that'd require a lot of heat. Heat she wasn't willing to expend.

"Better idea!" she shouted back, taking a running leap up the wall. Bullets pinged off of her armor as the turrets focused on her, likely with many other enemies, but Kayda didn't care. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and it was time to make these bastards pay. Her blades glowed white as she super heated them, jumping towards the first turret and forcing more heat out of her make shift jet pack. Flying, she sliced through the top of the turret, causing it to fall from the ceiling. Driving one of her blades into the ceiling above her, she threw herself at the next turret, slicing through it with her free hand. She repeated this process for the other four, throwing herself when she could and flying when she couldn't.

With the six turrets destroyed, Therma paused in mid-air. Chuckling at Maybelline's information. A literal Achilles heel in her suit of armor. Interesting, but she didn't have the electricity to deal with them, nor were they close enough to be a threat yet. She looked down, seeing the enemies Venom monsters still advancing despite their losses. "Can't have that, can we?" She ceased her flight and fell to the ground on top of one of the Venom goons, bending over to look him in the eyes. "Hi there! Do you come to this place often?" As his hand reached up to grab her (and probably break her spine afterwards) she clenched her hand around his overly large bicep. Suddenly, every trace of heat left his body and he was flash frozen. Boiling with far more heat than she expected, Therma crowed in delight. She loved this feeling. This sense of invincibility. "WHOOO That's a lot of body heat!" She extended her hands towards the Legion soldiers and Bloodsport firing at them, and let rip with wild abandon. Fire streaked from her hands and roasted a some of them, merely forcing others to stop firing to take cover. Therma laughed madly as she did so, the energy boiling inside of her. She was an angry volcano god, raging at those who dared oppose her, bringing justice to the those who dared-

A large meaty fist grabbed her, lifting her up like a toy doll. The angry volcano god squeaked. She felt her flames sputter out in surprise as she was lifted up. Instinctively her feet kicked out, catching on the Venom thug's chest as she tried to free herself. She had expended a lot of heat, now down to just 200 degrees Celsius, in her 'angry volcano god' fire and didn't have the passive strength to free herself. Her jetpack activated again as she put as much heat as she dared through it, dropping down to around 90 degrees Celsius, burning the Venom user as she tried to free herself. He bellowed in pain, and threw her with all his might.

Therma crashed onto the floor and skidded to a stop next to Perseus, looking up as abashedly as she could through her armor. "Okay. Maybe I got carried away." A speedster suddenly appeared, begrudgingly asking if she could help. "Gee, person who just sprinted through bullets and laser fire with no problems what so ever, I don't think there's anything you could do. After all, what could we use with someone who can run faster than bullets." Sarcasm dripped from every word as she scrambled behind cover, next to the good doctor, concentrating on gathering more heat. "Things are gonna get a little cold around here. Sorry if that mess with your cybernetics, but I need heat to do things other than sit around and mouth off."

The scene had gone from being quiet and, almost iddylic to absolute chaos in the time it took the group to move from the outside, down the elevator, and into the labs. Toxin wasn't surprised that one of the Peacekeepers threw up in his helmet. There was so much happening around them, she almost felt the same way - but now wasn't the time. There were people to move - innocent people, and so she got to work. While her comrades began to bring the fight, she hurried herself to free people from beds, from cages, and from tanks. The others in the room wore lab coats but they were not scientists - they were glorified torturers.

She took a good swing at one of them from behind, in a quick fit of rage - her claws extending from their place above her nails. She scratched through the white lab jacket - leaving behind her own venom. A venom she knew would be far more potent than anything they had manufactured in this lab, which made her realise that if it hadn't have been for Barbara Gordon, maybe she would have been an experiment here. It gave her more willpower to free those that were captive here without choice. She moved so quickly and efficiently, dancing around her team mates - letting them do what they did best while she did what she did best.

She had two peacekeepers watching her back - but they didn't catch the scientist who ran straight to Toxin to engage with her. They weren't fast enough to stop him from slamming a hospital gurney towards her, pinning her with her back to the wall momentarily. She had to think fast to outsmart him - but as it turned out, she didn't have to think fast at all. Just as quickly as she had found herself in the predicament, one of the civilians that she had tended to lunged towards the scientist with a shard of broken glass in his hands, he drove it into his neck. By now, the Peacekeepers had moved the gurney and freed her, but she couldn't help but watch on in shock as the blood spurted from the wound, the civilian's eyes full of rage.

The scene was not letting up, and as she darted back to Perseus' side, she saw the incoming wave of enemies. "What do we do now boss?" she asked, in the moment that they had to think of something before the next round began. "I can create a chemical compound that will shut those suits down but I'm going to need a couple of minutes and solid cover." She looked to him, to Therma, to Green Arrow. "I can do this... if there is no other way."

Tak Province, Thailand

There were no streetlights below, no houses out here. The heavily wooded hills passed silently and invisibly below. This was well and truly the hinterland, the isolated stretch of the border with Maynmar, miles away from the nearest town. They were far removed the wholesale carnage in Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Pak Kret, other urban centers. Looking at the starry sky above and the trees below, one could almost believe that this was a country- a world- at peace.

The Pretty Lady hated that thought.

“We're five minutes out,” one of her black-clad aides informed her, his voice easily audible over the quiet sound of the aircraft. She nodded her head. Unlike her fatigue-wearing assistants, she was clad in the latest casual haute couture. Blouse by Dior, jeans by Givenchy, boots by Gucci- all of it utterly impractical for jungle combat. Angela Mannheim didn't care. The clothes brought her gratification and that was all that truly mattered in the world.

“Give us an overview,” she ordered the man who had spoken. She was perfectly aware of the situation they were headed into, but wanted to gauge the handpicked team she had assembled. Ten men and women from the Asian branch of Intergang, former members of the triads, yakuza, kkangpae, dacoit. Killers and thieves.

And true believers.

“Our intelligence indicates that this is the largest poppy growing and refining operation in Thailand. The flowers are of little interest to us- heroin is long since over- but the facilities can easily be repurposed for growing the herbal components of Miralco or Venom. Doing so with this operation and the other smaller outfits in the area would almost double Intergang's yearly output. The current owners have a force of around one hundred combatants with outdated conventional weaponry and limited training. They either accept a deal or the consequences of refusal.” The aide spoke in a clipped, almost bored voice. Like he was commenting on the weather.

Angela nodded in approval. “Well said. And now friends, let us pray.” She dipped her too-large eyes to the floor, and the others immediately followed suit. Good. She would've killed anyone who hesitated.

“Oh, the Elite, hear our prayer. Grant unto us the strength to instantly gratify our basest of desires, the will to make others suffer that we may prosper in the smallest of ways. Deliver us from the sins of conscience and selflessness, let us not be blinded by temperance or mercy. Instead make us cruel, make us indifferent, make us covetous. For only in these things will we find everlasting reward at your hands. In Cain's name we pray, amen.”

The aircraft was suddenly filled with the ping of small-arms fire bouncing from the armored hull, then rocked by a nearby explosion. The Pretty Lady grinned. “They're trying to fight us after all. That's adorable.” She tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Get us lower. Drop me off at one end of the compound, the others off at the opposite side. We'll meet in the middle.” The pilot obediently dropped to a hover about thirty feet off the ground. The small-arms fire grew more intense- Angela could hear shouts and see men grouping together on the ground. Perfect.

From her purse she pulled the sterling silver box in which she kept her pills, pulled one out with a perfectly manicured finger, popped it into her mouth and swallowed it. She felt that familiar rush- she had missed it so- as the Miralco took effect. She could feel her skin hardening, power flowing through her carefully toned muscles. One hour of power. Time to use it.

She didn't even bother opening the door of the aircraft, instead tearing it aside like tissue paper, an obstacle to be conquered before falling the full distance to the ground and landing on her feet. Unfolding herself to her full seven feet, The Pretty Lady took a moment to smile as she felt the assault rifle rounds flatten against her body, her perfect, perfect body. Her surgically-enlarged eyes took in the armed men and women rushing towards her. She smiled with luminescent white teeth. There was nothing she could not do.

Her long legs carried her forward in a casual stroll, into the group of heavily armed militants. They were nothing to her. A sweep of Angela's fingernails and one woman stared in shock as her intestines spilled to her feet. A man tried to grab her around the waist- his arm was quickly separated from his body. Another turned to flee, Angela grabbed his belt and tossed the man carelessly over her shoulder, his screams fading into the distance.

It was the beginning of a good night.

Chihuanhuan Desert, Mexico

Vig had mostly lagged behind the group, watching their rear. Stealth was never really his strong suit. He had made the concession of removing his spurs because jangling when he walked wasn't likely to be much help, but there wasn't much he could do about his revolvers. So he had followed behind, making sure no one came up behind them as they worked through the facility and keeping a watchful eye on Bloodsport- he trusted that one about as much as a rattlesnake.

When they came to the large room, Vig had leaned casually up against the wall, hat pulled down low. Unlike most of this posse, he had seen this sight many times before. This was just a regular day for him.

And then hell broke loose.

Still leaning against the wall, not bothering to look out from under the brim of his hat, Vigilante launched into action. His rope was already flying through the air, obeying the subtle commands of wrist and finger like a living thing. The loop of the lasso looped around one of the sentry guns, and with a hard yank its line of fire redirected directly towards one of the other guns, shredding it completely. Vigilante fought his instinct to get the civilians out of the cages- ironically for the time being they were much safer in there rather than having them run around in the crossfire.

Vig sighed as bullets and fists flew. “Welcome to the Weird and Wild West, y'all,” he commented to his fellow Leaguers. He leaped onto the railing, holding tightly to his rope with one hand and drawing a revolver with the other, and swung down into the main room. His revolver spat six shots as he swung along the arc of the rope, aiming for the rampaging Venom soldiers. He knew from experience the hulking monstrosities would not feel any pain- nothing less than an outright kill shot to the head or heart would stop them from coming and so he made that his goal.

He dropped to floor at the furthest extent of the rope swing, putting him- not coincidentally- in front of Bloodsport. Vigilante felt some responsibility for the fact that they were now fighting this man. He twirled the empty revolver, holstered it as he looked Bloodsport directly in the eye.

“I hope the Legion has paid you well, Bloodsport. Funerals are mighty expensive these days.”

Manhattan, New York

---

The words are barely out of my mouth before Mar has wrapped her arms around my neck. Growing up there had been a distance between me and my half-sister, walls that we had both put up to keep the other out. I don’t know, maybe all siblings who don’t share the same mother or same father go through the same thing. Right now, with my big sister’s arms around me, warm and safe, pulling me in so tight that it almost feels like she’s never going to let me go, I’m just happy that somehow, we’d managed to get it together and bridge that chasm. I feel something catching at the back of my throat and have to pull away before I start making a scene. Us manly tights types aren’t supposed to cry. Mar give’s me a knowing look, like she knows why I’m retreating from her. There’s a half-grin pulling at her lips. Clearly, she feels I’m trying to hard to be like grandpa Bats too.

I want to say something to her, but I don’t know what. A moment like this, words don’t seem to lack the strength to convey my emotions. I’m still struggling when Wonder Woman’s fist crashes into my shoulder. She probably meant it as a friendly tap, but when you consider the fact that she’s an amazon and I’m just a Joe regular it hurts a lot more than she intended. I shift my gaze to her, meeting her glare, taking in the summer sky-blue eyes, the long falls of cornfield blonde hair, the porcelain skin, the high, perfect cheekbones. Even when she’s pissed off, she’s still beautiful. It’s a trait that runs on her mother’s side of the family.

“You didn’t think to call? Let us know you were still alive? We buried you James!” She asks the questions so Mar’i doesn’t have to. Sure, Lyta wants to know the answers too, but she’s an old hand at the superhero game. She knows that almost as often as not that when we capes die, we don’t stay dead. She wouldn’t look the gift horse in the mouth, not until after I’d got settled back in and was ready to answer those kinda questions. She’s only voicing them now because she knows my sister will want to know, but won’t want to ask me while the miracle of my being here is still fresh. Us bat brats don’t always respond well to emotional confrontations, not nearly as well as we do the physical ones - that would mean dealing with our emotions, after all, and the prevailing family wisdom is to bury those – and the fear for Mar’i will be that if she confronts me too soon I’ll stonewall her, with either jokes or silence, depending on whether I’m feeling more like dad or grandpa.

I go for the third option, and ignore the question.

“I’m sorry Lyta.” That takes her by surprise. She isn’t used to me apologising for anything. For a moment she looks like she’s going to call me out on my bullshit, but then she shakes her head and smiles. She grabs me by my costume front and pulls me in close before kissing me on the lips. Hard. We grew up together, me and Lyta, and while everyone half-expected for the future Wonder Woman to end up with Jonathan Kent, it was me she ended up with. Kind of. I mean, we’ve had the on’est-off’iest of on-off relationships, but as far as a free-spirited descendant of the Olympian Gods and the Justice Leagues answer to 007 (if I do say so myself) can be said to have steady relationships, we’ve had a steady relationship.

She tastes of papaya and strawberries and pulls out of the kiss far too soon for my liking, leaving me craving more. There’s a playful twinkle in her eyes that makes me think she’s all too aware of that.

“It’s good to have you back James.” She says. “Come, we will return to ambassador Demir’s side. The Legion may still be planning something, and you can tell us about your adventures in the comfort of his hotel room. Cass will be just as interested in hearing them as we are.” I blanche at that. I had no idea Cassandra Cain was going to be here. The former Batgirl has always unnerved me. Something about the way she watches you, like she knows what you’re thinking, and finds it incredibly boring. As a spy I’m all about keeping secrets, and just thinking that she might no mine always puts the willies up me. The fact she would absolutely destroy me in a fight, even without superpowers, probably has something to do with it too.

We take the elevator up, Lyta radioing the rest of her team about the new developments. Spitfire, acting as mobile air-support, predictably complains about being left out of the loop while Vulkan squees in happiness at the news I’m alive. It’s a bitter smile my face forms at that. I don’t even have to see my face to know the truth of that. My old Titan’s team, the one I led on L-day, is all here.

What’s left of them, anyway.

We enter the ambassador’s suite. The man himself is sitting at the table next to the window, looking out over the New York city skyline, his gaze empty, while Cass stands in front of the tv, flicking through news channels. Most of it is fixated upon the events in Thailand, but if it was bothering Demir having to listen to the chaos ravaging his home country he wasn’t showing it. Probably a little desensitised to the violence already. It’s amazing what humanity can adapt to, given time.

I stand next to Mar’i, feeling sweat begin to form on my palms. I came here for a reason, I remind myself. I’ve made my choices, and have to live by them. No backing out anymore. The ambassador is talking, but I’m barely listening.

“Wonder Woman, do you think we can –” I’m not sure what it was he was going to ask for, because Cass interrupts him before he finished.

“No. This is not right.” I look up. She’s staring straight at me, her eyes wide and staring, like she almost can’t believe what she’s looking at. That shock, that disbelief, it’s the only chance I’ll get now. I’m moving before she can make sense of what she’s looking at, before she gets a chance to warn Lyta and Mar’i.

“Stop!” Cass commands. I ignore her, hand slipping to my utility belt, pulling forth a bird shaped throwing knife. A wind-ding, dad calls them, though Tim always preferred the term birdarangs. I just think of them as knives, because that’s what they are, really. Give them as many funny names as you want, they’ll always be knives.

And their purpose will always be to cut.

The ambassador has turned to face the commotion, though he doesn’t have Cass’ gifts for reading people. He’s surprised, obviously, not really sure what’s going on. My knife comes up under his jaw, and I force it through the skin and flesh up into his brain. Demir dies quick. He dies surprised. It’s not a noble end, but at least it’s painless.

I stand there, panting, despite the fact I only moved a few paces.

_{“James …”} I hear Mar’I say.

Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico

---

Nova watched the rest of the team at work, mostly resting to let her capacitors recharge. She hadn't used enough of her systems to really start worrying yet, but it was best to stay topped off whenever possible. It was slow going as she had to keep the Peacekeepers shielded, but she could still end up with a net gain in energy at her current rate. She jumped a bit and nearly fired a shot as someone just... appeared in the middle of them, but she managed to hold her fire when the speedster arrived. She'd remember whatever Perseus said, and she'd get mighty pissy if they trusted her completely right off the bat!

Still, the troopers were a problem. They needed either strong electricity or extreme force to deal with them, and as it hadn't happened yet she assumed electricity wasn't in the cards. So, force then... The lantern probably could, but he'd probably be busy on the defense... It was at roughly this point when some knight-looking woman took cover beside her. She looked up, letting out a sigh of relief when she realized she wouldn't be punching her face in. "No problem... Heat, huh?" She asked, wracking her brain to see if she remembered any specific Leaguer with heat powers. She couldn't, but she could tell that the heat was being drained from the area immediately around her.

She gasped at the realization, knowing she could do something to help. Without thinking she roughly grabbed a hold of the woman's arm, holding it tight to her chest, the capacitor bank for her reactor core. "This is gonna hurt, take all you can!" She shouted, not specifying that the one this would hurt would be, well, Nova. There was a whirring as it started up, instruments beeping and little lights flashing red on her body as the core started to glow, slowly rising to the brink of meltdown as she kicked it into overdrive. She began to let out an ear-piercing scream, the voice slightly distorted as her electronics began to fail. Her chest plating began to glow, and it was likely that if Therma wasn't here she'd melt through the walkway... And then, it stopped, Nova collapsed back onto the boxes right before her Fusion Engine went critical, Self-repair Nanite ooze pouring from some of the cracks in her armor almost like blood as the warning beeps continued, the reactor dim for a few moments before flickering back to life, low-power warning lights beeping away. She would be fine, just exhausted and out of power. She panted, not necessarily out of breath so much as an in-built psychological reaction. "Go fucking nuts, don't let me do that again..."

S H I R U T A, K H A N D A Q

---

Mahara lay awake in her bed; sun peeked through satin purple curtains. She rolled over. Her helmet lay beside her bed, the rest of her armor in a armory case on the far end of the room. It was drill time yet again, but only with the newest of the duwain. Basic drills. A run across the desert. Ample water abound, she would not let them pass out. It was, after all, their first morning on the job. After their run, she would have them work formations and tactics: pincer, bullhorn, hammer, anvil. Then they could rest. She had preparing of her own to do.

She rose and collected herself. Basic hygeine taken care of, she donned her armor and blade and moved outside to speak to the small gathering of recruits who stood bracing themselves in the cold winter wind. There were a few hundred of them, and beside the general stood her captain, Faruq. Faruq was a lithe young man, some years her junior; black pupils scanned the faces of these men and women with more scorn than Mahara could ever muster. After some dramatic silence, Mahara spoke to the teeth-chattering soldiers who braved these gelid desert sands.

”Welcome to your first day; you will not enjoy it. You will come out of it better soldiers, soldiers worthy of fighting for your country and your people! ^{If you don’t die, that is!} the captain to my left is your supervising officer. Any complaints, you take them to him. Any disputes… there will be no disputes; we do not tolerate infighting here, understood? Good.” she gave a warm smile to them all, “come back in one piece, soldiers, your country needs you.” she turned, her matte black helmet clutched against her hip.

Back to her quarters, she sat on her bed and discarded the gauntlets of her armor to her side. Both hands ran down her face; she stared up at Kahndaq’s flag which was plastered on the wall next to her bed. She loved her country and her father, and she would go to any length to protect it--it did not mean that she rested well. Each night there was the stress of the future; another task, another assignment. There were the spirits most of all; visions of the tombs she had not visited in years, calling to her. Lucid accompaniments of her body mummified, wrapped in a black sarcophagus. She rose, he paced.

She was too settled. Action always dulled her. A knock on her door; it was one of the many courier girls who ran messages to and fro the King, who was her father, and herself. Her name was Farrah. She was but ten years Mahara’s junior; Mahara listened to the girl’s message,

“Your father wishes to see you, my lady.” Mahara gave the girl a firm nod, playing the social strata as it should be. Some leftover dolma sat wrapped in plastic atop her desk; she gave the girl one of the seran wrapped rolls and with a wave of her hand, she sent the girl away.
”What now?”

@MrDidact

Bangkok, Thailand

---

The soldiers barked orders back and forth in their native tongue, fear creeping into the voices of those trying to face down the rebels. This was a last stand, and every Junta knew it. Amongst the officers was a woman of seemingly mixed heritage, barking out orders like the rest of them. Her green eyes scanned the battlements, meeting the gaze of a few other soldiers operating the machine gun nests. With but a nod, everything fell apart. The machine guns were turned on the Junta soldiers, away from the rebel forces. Officers, Generals even, were mowed down indiscriminately. The chaos had everyone confused. Jade Nguyen began barking orders, labelling one tank or another as traitors. It was easy watching the tanks and APCs turning on each other, the rebels pushing farther ahead as the Junta line was falling.

But Jade had no time to sit and watch the chaos unfold. She had bigger fish to fry. Or, more accurately, more fish to cut to shreds. She began to shed her disguise, removing her military coat and undoing her skirt to reveal her short, green kimono underneath. On her belt were a few canisters, a collection of throwing knives, and her trusty sai. She gave a small smile as she entered in the East side of the building, a few individuals shedding their uniforms and following her in.

They were silent and lethal, and the Junta security forces didn’t see what was coming. Literally. The power was cut sufficiently, leaving the security forces with only flashlights to guide them. That didn’t work out well. What truly lit up the hallways and offices were the bullets ripping from the guns as the Junta shot wildly, the knives and swords cutting into the soldiers. They didn’t stand much of a chance against the League of Shadows.

Cheshire was the swiftest of them. She didn’t exactly blend into the shadows as the other operatives did, given they wore black while Jade wore a brighter green. Jade didn’t need to hide much when she was as swift and merciless with a blade as she was. She cut into them like butter. It was far too simple. And while most would be safe to assume she’d be on her way to the elevator, like the others from the Legion surely would… Jade believed in an order to things. Rather than walk in cloaked, or shooting everything down, a gentle touch could get the job done and make sure everyone got what they wanted.

And so, Jade avoided the cameras as she neared the security office. A suite of offices sharing bullet-proof glass walls and a host of security terminals, where Junta intelligence officers were watching the cameras or monitoring the defenses. A few of the sentry turrets appeared to have been taken down, and Cheshire rolled her eyes as she heard one of the officers loudly barking orders for a few squads defending the East shift to the West, given the clear intrusion. It was pure chaos. With a slight smile, Cheshire slipped on her mask, attaching the proper air filter installed into it, and walked in with her hips swaying slightly. She dropped a single canister on the ground after closing the door into the offices. A noxious green gas began emitting, filling the room. And while normally the gas would be filtered out to some extent, it appeared one of the League’s foot soldiers did manage to get his hands on the ventilation controls. Within seconds, the security officers were unconscious and dying in their sleep, though a few met a quicker end when they drew their firearms in such a confined space.

Jade approached a console in the back office, quickly tapping away. After a few moments, she smiled beneath her mask as she moved to exit the security offices and make her way towards the elevators. Her voice chimed in on the general Legion comms. “Cheshire reporting in. Turrets disabled, cameras have been wiped. Two Junta squads remaining inside of the facility, and the rebels are getting close to the front door. You only have 5 minutes tops until we infiltrate the safe room. Don’t keep a girl waiting.” Her footsoldiers, only four in number, moved in to intercept and regroup with her as they approached the central elevator. There was no way the League of Shadows was going to miss the fun.