February 14th, 10:45
Downtown, Central City

Just as Arsenal had pressed the button, he'd felt something press aginst his cheek for the briefest of moments, and the camera flashed. He turned to look at Velocity, but she was gone, the charged air being the only sign she was there in the first place. Lightning traveled across the horizon: she's just as fast as they say.

Descending from the air was a small index card, flipping rapidly, trying to keep itself afloat as it hovered in front of his face. Arsenal snatched it from the air. The edges were singed, but he could clearly make out the note:

- Next time call first, we'll make a date of it~ V.

His heart stopped for a moment as he slowly flipped the card around. Sure enough, there was a phone number handwritten on the other side. Leo was more a little excited.

YES

YEEEEEES

YESYESYESYESYESYES

SO MUCH YES

As he went to immediately go put the number into his phone, he'd noticed the picture. It was him, posing normally, and Velocity next to him, giving the camera that wink she was so well known for. Leo's face got almost as red as his mask. She's even faster than they say.

He quickly saved the number to his phone, and gently put the card into one of his vest's pockets. Picking up his bow and putting away his phone, he ran across the rooftops, filled with newfound energy.

---

February 14th, 11:30
Central City

Opening the lock, Leo opened the door to his motel room, carrying in his duffle bag and throwing it to the side. He closed the door, locked it, bolted it, and put the chain in. He made sure the blinds on the window were shut, and that drapes covered that. Never can be too prepared.

After making sure his room was secure, Leo plopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. After a moment, he got out his phone and updated his status on social media.

"You guys would never believe who I ran into after the stream.

No pun intended."

After looking at the picture again for a moment, Leo uploaded it, attaching it to his post, and sent the thing. Not a minute passed, and it hit over 500 likes. I guess getting cozy with the big heroes are what people wanna see.

... Well, he wouldn't mind getting cozy with Velocity, but I mean, who wouldn't?

Thinking of Velocity, Leo sat back up in his bed, stretching and yawning. Better do this now before he gets too tired and forgets. He gets up, grabs his notebook from his belongings, and heads over to the desk, opening up to a fresh page. He writes the topic of consideration at the top of the page:

VELOCITY'S ARROW

He begins thinking up potential methods. Slippery substances, a two-part arrow, quick-drying liquid adhesive... He doesn't enjoy thinking of hurting her, but he needs an arrow for every situation. Before he can even see her again, he needs an arrow for her. He already has that EMP arrow for that Lightning Bug lady, so it's cool for them to hang out again.

Leo stops writing for a second, and grins when thinking about meeting Velocity again. That'll be a good time.

Best

Valentine's Day

Ever

”Welcome back, Operative Grim.”

The heavy thump of boots against the floor of the dock didn’t even make a sound in the vacuum of space, the impact of the space suit’s soles lost in the oppressive silence. With it, the feminine and robotic voice of the Justice Station’s AI was a welcome comfort, broadcast via the comm’s built into the same suit’s helmet.

”Standby for decompression.”

Sound returned slowly, and with it the artificial gravity that brought Grim’s weight bearing down once more. The quiet hum of machinery all around, the pistons pumping oxygen into the sealed room in preparation of the space suit’s removal, and the happy little beep of the oxygen counter letting her know the levels were rising. Finally, a hiss, and then the voice was all throughout the room.

”Decompression complete. Time of space walk: three hours and fifty five minutes. Vitals normal, oxygen levels normal, stress levels lowered…”

The first breath of air not taken from the helmet was crisp, a faint hint of trees - a special request to modify the sterile air the oxygen scrubbers pumped out. It was with practiced ease the sturdy, expensive suit built to fare space was taken off and set back in place. The glass cylinder closed and with a few presses to the keypad beside it began humming as the suit was automatically checked for any faults or repairs that had popped up on her venture.

”-mechanical liver remains optimal, blood-”

”A.I., update list of Justice Station repairs.”

”Updating. February 28th, ice build up on western arm port 3 and 5 removed. Source of heating failure located and...”

Cold business, space.

Pale fingers found a nearby data pad in the belongings Grim had removed on preparing for her space walk. The list was already updating before her eyes, another in a very long list checked off. In truth, much of it was automated or handled by specially built repair bots - even Grim couldn’t keep up with an entire space station’s worth of problems, no matter how indestructible it was built. Especially considering who the prime visitors were.

At least Girard was getting better at figuring out his jumps. It’s been weeks since he’s slammed into the station’s shields, or shot right by it.

Zoey’s typical humming echoed off the empty walls as she moved through the station, the A. I.’s voice following along no matter where she moved. Even with the automation a human eye was still needed to look over everything, and to be honest? Working on the Justice Station was welcome, even though the bots would’ve eventually gotten to the ice build up as well. It was her pride and joy, after all. And a couple hours of breather before…

Ah, yes.

The main computer of the Justice Station lay exactly as Grim had left it, the screen that took up the majority of the spacious room’s far wall displaying a combination of schematics, news articles, and a lone video feed in Russian that was so long it kept playing all throughout her space walk.

“...мы, конечно, благодарны героям…”

A heavy sigh escaped Zoey’s lips as she sat heavily on the single chair in front of the broad screens. This wasn’t the meeting room after all, and she was often the only one using the computer to such extent. Immediately a keypad came to life, slightly translucent as it hovered before her. The Gotham hero dropped the data pad to the side, ignoring the keyboard for now to rub between her eyes.

”Operative Grim, blood pressure rising. Administer sedative?”

”No, A. I.” Why had she even programmed that in?

“...десять лет назад я не был бы на пути к работе-”

”Turn off video.” Silence once more filled the room, but only for a moment before another heavy sigh puffed out from the lone woman. ”A. I., are the crime rate statistics I asked for prepared?”

”Yes, Operative Grim.”

”Report.”

”Global crime increased by three percent since January 2025. Since January 2026, global crime decreased by zero point eight…”

An improvement, at least. Crime had dropped drastically after the Justice Station had been built, but it had been a calm. There would always be those who would do what they wanted, no matter the threat.

Plus no one wanted her to name this big hunk of metal “Deterrent”. A shame, really.

The Justice Station A.I. continued to drone in that mechanically pleasant voice, images occasionally flashing up on screen to corroborate its gathered data. Grim merely nodded along, frown growing and brows furrowing the longer she listened.

”... no updates on galactic threat ‘Interloper’. Global threat ‘Calamity’ remains incarcerated in Rock of Eternity, last update January 25th 2026. Global threat ‘B.O.B.’ remains unseen since retreat into Indian Ocean after engagement in June 2025 by Operatives Velocity and Aquaman…”

Really, if that thing showed up again it’d be Orin in her earpiece far quicker than this to be fair.

”One thousand, two hundred, and five changes of note to region ‘North America’ since last update…”

Another groan.

”Apply filters one to five and report.”

”Updating. Street level reports on metagenes and homo magi of note are as follows: ‘Armada’ avoided arrest in San Francisco, California February 25th, three police officers and one civilian dead after latest engagement.”

That place really needed more heroes. Grim would have to drop by. Again.

”...‘Arsenal’ latest spotting February 14th, Central City, continuing east. ‘Azron’ killed in action February 19th, robbery…”

”Compile information on Azron and send it to me. Continue.”

”... ‘Hark’ incarcerated in Las Vegas, hostages still missing. ‘Hurricane’ successfully emerged in Coast City. ‘Ion’ engaged with military …”

---

It had taken weeks, months for this perfect time to roll around. Sure, there were little things that he could’ve stepped in for, but call him a perfectionist! There was nothing in stopping some ATM bandits, a gas station robbery, a car jacking.

No, this is where the big leagues were.

Police lights illuminating the white building, cars surrounding the bank, crowds of civilians, and numerous news vans.

And with their focus all-encompassing on the First Bank of America, lightning.

”THE STORM HAS ARRIVED!”

The wind and clouds had carried him, and the crash of thunder announced him as the figure slammed down through the ceiling of the bank. The lightning that had surrounded the masked individual in a protective shield dispersed as soon as his feet touched the floor, surging up to emerge from his body unnaturally - and conveniently avoiding anyone who may be, say, laying on the floor at gunpoint.

”Don’t worry, citizens! Justice has arrived!” The unexpected surge of volts through their bodies had the majority of the armed robbers grounded but one - just one! - had managed to hold onto his weapon despite collapsing. It was very obvious when a bullet zoomed by his head, embedding in the wall behind him.

His heart rate doubled, and he immediately slammed a foot into the ground.

The smell of burnt tile and flesh assaulted his nose, a zig-zagging scorch mark splitting open the floor towards the armed robber who now lay still. The masked figure in dark blue breathed heavily, staring wide eyed down at this man - hidden beneath the blue and silver mask covering his face.

When the man on the floor coughed and took in a shuddering breath, the vigilante let out a sigh of relief.

That would’ve been such a downer.

This though, this wasn’t. With the armed robbers down in one fell swoop, the hostages were gathered up and Coast City’s latest hero graciously escorted them to the entrance. Immediately he was lit up in lights, spotlights and cameras pointed to him, cheers and questions. And into it all, he raised his hands, a smile twisting his lips beneath the mask.

”Coast City, fear no longer…

The Hurricane has blown in!”

---

”... And Zegai was recently captured by the police’s anti-meta force in Anchorage, Alaska.”

Anti-Meta force. All too common, recently. The police in America had already begun being militarized in 2020, but with things … settled more or less, it had come to an extreme. Not to the common public, of course! But squads of people meant to take out those who would pose a threat to the general public, particularly in cities without an established hero.

Grim didn’t particularly like it, but she could understand it.

”Shall I continue into organized crime, Operative Grim?”

”In summary mode still, A.I.”

“Of course, Operative Grim. No updates on Syndicate ‘Blue Beetle’ in California. Syndicate ‘Cambono’ crippled following police raid on city’s main docks in Austin, Texas. Syndicate ‘Iron Jaw’ appears to be expanding into Hub City…”

”Great. Arcana is gonna have a fun time weeding out more organized crime if they aren’t careful.

---

”Be careful, you idiot! You’re gonna burn everything!”

”Sorry, Mirage…”

”Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry if anything important is melted.”

The sizzling finally died down, left to a quiet bubbling. With it, a large person-sized hole melted into the very wall of the sleazy strip club, the edges bubbling away a sickly green. Immediately the tall woman beside her companion shoved him away and clambored in, careful not to touch the edges.

”Alright, I’m in. Where is it, Russo?”

The phone in the pink-haired girl’s hand hummed thoughtfully, a deep voice answering.

”Should be in the safe on the wall… have the kid handle it.”

”Frankie!” The ‘kid’ in question jumped, having been hovering outside the hole. At his pink-haired companion’s words he tentatively climbed in, not bothering to try and not touch the edges - a little of the goop stuck to the sleeveless, bright yellow radiation jumper he wore, and smeared across his sickly-green tinted skin. “Go on, open.”

”Okay…” Frankie sucked in a breath, it snorting through his nose… then promptly hocked a wad of spit at the wall. Immediately it began sizzling, as it did so the boy rubbed his hands together before similarly rubbing his slimy palms against the crevices of the safe in the wall. It took only seconds for it to eat away, the wall of the safe landing with a loud clang.

”You fucking moron!” Mirage was there immediately, grabbing everything inside - documents, money, a gun. ”I swear, if ol’ Iron Jaw didn’t like you so much - you’re fucking useless -”

”Get out. Destroy the room.”

”You heard him!” With everything in hand the brightly dressed woman jumped back out the opening, and was gone. Frankie looked slightly panicked, but… he was given an order. Rubbing the corrosive slime coating his body, shaking it off, spitting and sneezing on everything…

Then the door was opening, and he panicked.

With the owner of the strip club screaming from the acidic loogie that landed square on his chest, Frankie booked it out of there to try and find where Mirage had went.

He really hoped this was worth it. What was so important that Russo wanted information on ‘The Question’ so soon after being broken out anyway? And why did some strip club owner have it?

Whatever, it wasn’t his place to question it.

---

To be quite frank, in the face of all this ... Grim could use a drink. If only she hadn’t made that promise; no drinking on the space station unless you’re staying the night. Which, she couldn’t obviously - Malcolm and Karen were coming home tonight. Henry had been working all day to test his recipes for it - they were delicious, as usual. He was going to make her fat eventually.

Still, it was time to go home.

”Anything else to report, A.I.? Anything from Harris and his... 'problem'?”

”Nothing of note in the crime reports or from Operative Vinestalker, Operative Grim. Do you wish to review Gotham reports? 'Red Hood' has been involved in numerous-

”I know about that one. I'll deal with it. Put up the usual alerts-”

”Alert: Designation: Pup has been involved in an altercation.”

Silence.

”What?! He’s been in Gotham for literally-” Zoey surged to her feet, steel-blue eyes flicking to the time in the corner. ”Fuck. I lost track of - next time set a reminder, A.I.. And prepare the Space Grim for immediate departure!”

”Of course, Operative Grim.”

---

It was all so … quiet.

She remembered when she used to like it like that. Liked raging for hours, moving with the flow, jumping and dancing and then going home, to collapse on her bed and enjoy how silent the night was in comparison.

Then it was too quiet.

No voice. No screams. No… Anna.

And now, she never would be Anna again.

---

It was another quiet night.

Just like every other, James supposed. There was never much going on in the Metropolis Art Gallery. Rats mostly, that no one in the upper offices wanted to acknowledge, and every once in awhile a couple kids who hid out in the bathrooom until close so they could make out in the darkness.

“Hey!”

And well, kids would be kids. James tried not to let the smile show in his voice or the twitch of his lips beneath a thick moustache as he approached the figure he had caught - definitely just a teenager. Short, thin. Probably the same as every other kid, just staying passed opening on a dare. Sure, he could bust their ass hard, but... Well, couldn’t really blame them, he was a kid once. Still, he instilled all the authority as he walked toward them.

“You know, all the lights being off and no one around? Typically means it’s passed closing time, Miss. What are you doing here?”

Silence.

“Miss.” She didn’t move. It was … off, really. Too off. James frowned, raising his flashlight. The girl’s skin was deathly pale and she was dressed oddly - a black dress which just seemed a little too rumpled, hair a little too tangled, no shoes and arms wrapped around herself.

“Are you alright?” The concern was thick in his voice as James approached, reaching out for the girl’s shoulder.

His flashlight dropped.

His scream echoed.

James would be found the next morning, dead on the floor with no apparent injury - until the coroner finds his heart missing, with no wound to speak of.

And Anna no where to be found.

Sliding the letter under the door to Marilyn's bedroom, Stacy sighed, readjusting the straps of her backpack. She knew she had to leave while Marilyn was sleeping; if she tried to say goodbye, it would only end with her staying. But she knew she couldn't, she had to get to Gotham City. Maybe there, she could find some answers about all these things she's been remembering...

Shaking her head, Stacy focused on her objective. She headed over to the window, opening it up, and climbing over it and onto the fire escape. Closing the window, Stacy climbed down the ladder and dropped onto the ground into the back alley. She looked around for a moment, before heading out onto the sidewalk. She didn't know how she'd get to Gotham, but for now, she would walk.

With determination in her step, Stacy began her journey out of the city.


Stacy rubbed her hands together, shivering slightly. The cold night air was unrelenting, gusts of wind blowing so strong she wasn't sure if she'd be blown away or frozen solid, or rather she wasn't sure which of the two would come first. She needed to get off the road, find shelter or better yet hitch a ride to Gotham. But then, who would stop for her? She doubted everyone was as kind as Marilyn... No, no that's crazy talk. There were good people out there, someone would st-

*HONK!* "Yo kid, are you, like, crazy man? It's like, below freezing out here!"

Speak of the devil.

The voice came from a beat up white panel van, the person behind the wheel being a man who looked barely out of high school. Music was blaring from inside the van, and smoke rose out of the windows. On the side of the van facing Stacy were messily written words in bright red paint: 'The Musical Chairs'. Weird. The man in the driver's seat snapped his fingers. "Hey, Earth to weird little girl, you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Um... What's up?"

"Are you like, lost or something man? It's pretty dangerous to be walking out here in the middle of the night. All sorts of weirdos could be coming and going." He paused. "... Woah, maybe I'm one of those weirdos. I like... Never even thought about that, man."

This guy seemed funny. And, yeah, like a weirdo. Stacy just cut to the chase. "Hey, are you heading to Gotham? I need a ride there."

The man blinked. "Oh, yeah, for sure man. Let me just..." He pressed a button inside the van, and Stacy heard the back doors unlock. "It's open for ya, dude. Just don't break the guitars or anything." With that, Stacy walked around to the back doors of the van, opening them up and hopping in.

Inside were two guitars and a cooler. In the passenger's seat was another young man, also looking just barely out of high school, who was holding a lighter to what looked like a cigarette. The smoke inside the car was thick, and Stacy coughed as she took in a lungful of it. After a moment, however, she found herself breathing it in easily, and feeling pretty... Calm.

"So, like, what's up with you man?" the guy in the passenger's seat asked. He passed the cigarette to the driver, before reaching his hand into a bag of potato chips and tossing a few into his mouth.

"I'm just like, uh... Trying to go to Gotham and stuff."

"Oh that's cool man. We're, um, like... We're heading there too. We're like, a two man band, man. Gonna play in bars trying to make it big."

As Stacy took more and more breaths, she started to giggle uncontrollably, just smiling. "Woah that's... That's really cool. You guys should like, play a song for me once we get there."

The driver finally passed the passenger back the cigarette thing, before speaking to Stacy. "Oh crap, we like, forgot to introduce ourselves. My name's Will, and this is my buddy Andy. What's your name, lil dude?"

"I'm uh... I'm Stacy."

Andy chuckled, nudging Will with his elbow. "Yo man, I wonder if her mom's got it goin' on!"

Will gave a snort of laughter. Stacy looked confused for a moment before giggling along, and soon the entire van was shaking with their combined laughter.

"Aw, man... What were we laughing about again?"

"I dunno."

"No clue."

And so, the van continued its journey into the night.

University of Poseidonis, Lecture hall 210
11:02 AM
March 2nd, 2026
Well, he needed to catch up a little. While it wasn't a lie that Virgil was enjoying putting his schoolwork first, when he truly prioritized his work over everything else, he had truly realized how much he needed to catch up. Of course it was hard, school wasn't school if it wasn't a challenge.

It was just a matter of Virgil doing his best to completely relearn science and physics according to the Atlantean way. They were so advanced and their way of approaching science wasn't like how he learned it back in Dakota. Mathematics, science, electrical engineering, physics, Virgil had approached the school intent on learning the Atlantean way, not truly knowing just how advanced it all was compared to normal, above shore-level studies.

His ear was tuned to the professor, his hand transcribing what he was hearing as it happened. All of his time on the police scanners seemed to have helped his note-taking. Once the lecture was over, he'd go over everything he copied and make a new set of notes based on that in a more efficient manner.

Virgil wished he could actually get his hands on some atlantean tech and test out his notes, but studying everything and treating it like theory was working out just fine for him. Maybe if he did well enough this semester, good ol' Aquaman would take notice of his studious nature and pick him for those fancy lunches. It'd be quite the treat to see actually meet one of the Justice Leaguers.

Sasha Jericho was not happy... Then again that was probably to be expected of any Bludhaven Cop stuck on the Avalon Expressway performing a task doubtlessly considered profane, if not outright heretical in her hometown-

Driving to Gotham.

Or at least, trying to through the usual unrelenting sea of dumbasses and lunatics that usually found themselves parked, screaming and generally losing their minds behind the wheel on the only direct route to her destination that didn't involve a lengthy trip through the mainland across Bristol County on roads that were pretty consistent in their shittiness. Even before a bunch of Greek Gods and magical monsters had tried to kill them all.

A low, seething growl escaped the woman as she gripped the steering wheel of her old beater with all the barely restrained contempt for the rest of the people trapped on that aging amalgam of crumbling concrete and rusting steel hanging precariously over the Freaking Atlantic Ocean with her.

'Not happy' might've been a bit of an understatement.

She was absolutely livid.

Though to be fair, it was only partially the fault of the raging sea of bumper-to-bumper traffic and roadrage that surrounded her.

No, it was the why.

Why was she sitting here on this bridge, garbed up in her stuffy dress uniform, in the shitbox car she hated, on the bridge she loathed, driving to a place she despised? Because there was a charity event held every year in Gotham (because of course it would be), and after five years of dodging her bosses attempts to get her there, she had finally run out of excuses.

And why specifically did she need to be there? Because it was a charity event for veterans of the One Week War, because the Bludhaven Police Department was flat broke and really needed some goddamn money if it wanted to keep paying out the pensions and disability claims that little craptastrophy had left the force and because, as she was... gently told, her face evoked sympathy.

...Which was a real gentle way of saying some crazed bird-lady had scooped her eye (and some of her brain) out of it's socket and she somehow didn't fucking die.

Real gentle.

A low sigh escaped her as her head lightly thumped into the steering wheel, which was going unused in all of this gridlock anyway.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...!

"...God fucking dammit."

If there wasn't at least some free drinks at this little shindig, she was going to fucking snap.

---

It took two hours.

Many detours.

And a whole hell of a lot screaming at her GPS, but Sasha had finally made it.

...Now if she could just work up the nerve to step out of her car, march her six-foot-two self through the rain, inside and upstairs, she could actually get this over with.

As it stood however, she was apparently content to sit there in absolute silence, save for the sound of the strained breathing through her clenched teeth and the slight, rubbery squeaking as the rubber of the steering-wheel voiced it's protest against the white-knuckled grip of her hands.

Going to the Station, doing her job, being out in the public eye was one thing... but going to a party full of rich dickheads in Gotham for the sole purpose of being gawked at and pitied was... Well, that was another thing entirely.

She bit down on her lip. Hard.

The Law-woman wasn't sure whether or not she was grateful that this big, fancy hotel apparently didn't have a valet or someone to take her car.

Partly because it gave her en excuse to sit here, wait and/or waste time looking for a parking spot.

Partly because she was pretty sure she was about to have a fucking anxiety attack, and she'd rather not have to deal with that right now. Here. In front of a hotel absolutely bustling with the local media in a city she was raised to abhor.

A cold sweat overtook her, as her forehead once again found itself pressed against the steering wheel.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...'

-Tap! Tap! Tap!-

"FUCK!"

Instantly, her heart launched itself halfway up her throat and damn near took the rest of her vertically with it, her seatbelt clearly being the only thing that kept her from ramming her own skull into the roof of her car as she turned her one good eye, wide and wild with panic to the source of this interloping sound, and found...

Malcolm Fucking Kasimir. Standing at her passenger window.

A moment passed in complete silence, the scarred boy standing there, unflinching and unmoving. Her frozen in place, with what she imagined was an absolutely hilarious expression as she sat there and tried to remember how to breathe.

...Eventually, she found the will to push the button on her arm-rest that lowered the barrier between them. But not quite enough to actually say anything to the world's toughest teenager that stared right back at her with a still unmoving, completely calm expression.

"...You alright, Officer?"

"Yes."

She answered reflexively. Curtly even. Not to offend the lad, of course- he'd always seemed a good sort with all that charity and humanitarian work he and his mom had been doing these past five years in Gotham, Blud and everywhere in between up to and including the bottom of the goddamn Ocean. But, well...

If she didn't want to be seen by anybody in her current state, the kid was exactly the wrong kind of person to be around right now.

To her credit, the boy seemed to accept that response; cocking a brow, pursing his lips and nodding along.

"Bullshit."

The boy's tone carried little room for argument; and despite their difference in station, adult and youth, Officer and civilian... she found herself at a loss for words.

'...Shit.'

She'd heard the kid had a way of reading people.

The famous and famously scarred teenager seemed ready to continue his interrogation, when he abruptly paused mid-thought, head suddenly perking up and tilting to the side slightly as if he was listening for something.

That was a relief.

The fact that the 'something' the boy had apparently been listening for was some snappily-dressed figure with a ludicrous blonde pompadour that came barreling out of the hotel and across the parking lot towards them screaming and holding a kitchen-knife was slightly... less so.

Time seemed to slow as adrenaline and years of training kicked in, outright overriding her previous anxiety. One hand went right to her gun as she barked at her hither-to interrogator to get the fuck out of the way... which the teen simply ignored, calmly turning on the spot and casually lifting his hands out of his pockets. Snarling, Sasha clicked off her seatbelt and groped around for the door handle with her free hand, hissing and swearing at how difficult this simple action had become since she'd lost her depth perception and the peripheral vision to one side of her head, finally giving up and breaking her eye away from what was going on to find the damned thing.

No sooner had she finally extricated herself from her automobile, gun drawn and ready to go in a matter of seconds that felt almost painfully like hours did she find... Malcolm. Standing over his would-be assailant apparently none the worse for wear as he calmly adjusted his tie as if nothing had happened at all.

Which she found just a little odd, considering his would-be assailant was now laying on the ground, groaning and crying a little as he covered his clearly broken nose with his free hand.

His other? Pinned to his ass. With his own knife.

A moment of silence followed that particular little visual bombshell. Until she finally found herself again.

"So, uhh... you alright?"

"Yup. You?"

"Fuckin' Peachy."

Another beat of silence over the whimpering of the man on the ground followed that. The whirlwind of lunacy this night had become in a heartbeat apparently taking a bit to fully process in what was left Sasha's brain, ruling out any possibility of a sensible series of words for it.

The boy, on the other hand, seemed to have a much easier time of it.

"We should probably leave"

"...What?"

That brought her screeching back to reality as she suddenly stood upright and finally holstered her weapon as she walked over.

"Kid. I just witnessed an attempted murder. Now, my jurisdiction or not, I'm still a Cop and-"

"So are they." The boy stated calmly but with a little more force now, thumbing up towards the window of the second floor... where she found, among the crowd of people who stood glued to it, an assortment of GCPD suits staring right back down at them, faces twisted in a collection of expressions that seemed to read... abject disappointment.

"Okay, what the hell?"

A sentiment that only grew as her eyes fell to the ground to look upon their would-be assassin.

Though perhaps for a different reason.

"Okay, what the hell?"

“Are you sure you don’t want me to send Vincent to find him?”

”It’s fine, Malcolm can handle himself. Vincent is better put to task here - has he begun prepping the extra security?”

“Of course, Miss Kasimir.”

”Excellent. I’m going to go start up the Reporter Buster.”

“Please don’t, Miss Kasimir, that could be considered threatening.”

”What is the point of buying an old WW2 tank if not to threaten reporters?!”

“... Please, Miss Kasimir.”

The desperation clung to Nicole’s words as she eyed her employer, though Zoey for her part had her gaze plastered to her phone - the one that wasn’t embellished with a symbol of Grim. The young woman beside her had the data pad poised, no doubt ready to send missives as needed - or to bid the Kasimir Head of Security to come and talk their mutual boss down from doing something stupid.

As though it would help when it came to her sons.

… Son.

”Have you already contacted our media contact?” Nicole quickly buried her nose into her datapad, nodding quickly.

“Yes, and I assume Miss Jasper has sent you word?”

”Of course. Everything is taken care of on that end.”

“Great.” A few moments passed, silence between the two women. Nicole occasionally glanced up over her datapad, obviously wanting to say something. Finally Zoey sighed, lifting her gaze to ask Nicole what was bothering her - but before she could say anything, Nicole blurted it all out in a rush. “You’re taking this very well, considering, Miss Kasimir.”

Zoey blinked her steel-blue eyes, and after a moment dropped her gaze back to her phone.

”I’ll do better once Malcolm is home safe and sound.”

“Of course, Miss Kasimir.”

---

”Ah, Master Malcolm, dignified as ever I see...”

To Malcolm’s credit, he at least attempted to give his personal butler perfectly unflappable statement something resembling a witty retort… but, well, there was an awful lot of dog between the two of them at the moment. His ‘pooch’, Gwen-- a mutt of what appeared to be a coywolf and some kinda massive black dog-- had known he was coming home before Sasha’s little Corolla had made it around the turn off towards the castle (as she always seemed to) and parked her keister down in front of the door (as she always did) signalling the other two Kasimir hounds, Buttons-- fuzzy master of begging for table scraps and going too fucking fast-- and Ker-- the biggest belly-rub slut to have ever strut around on four stubby legs-- to form up beside her (as they always had) to sit and await their mark.

They had the boy on the ground and covered in fur and dog-slobber before his hand had even left the doorknob. So instead, all the Englishman got was a strained muffle that somehow managed to sound bitingly sarcastic all the same.

Business as usual in the castle, all things considered.

”Evenin’ Alec.” Mal finally managed to get out only after removing the overly-affectionate corgi from his face and putting Buttons in a gentle headlock to keep the pooch from continuing to accidentally head-butt him over and over again. ”You would not believe the night I’m having.”

”Does it have anything to do with all the death threats you and your mother have been receiving via telephone for the past two hours?” The greying east-ender inquired even as he reached forward to help the boy lever himself out from underneath the massive coywolfdog that clearly had no interest in letting the lad go without a furious struggle-snuggle. ”...And why I’ve spent most of my night off on the roof in the pouring rain with a loaded Barret?”

The Kasimir ward had the decency to pause at that, even as he finally managed to get himself free for a few seconds, only for Gwen to jump up, lock her forelegs around over his shoulders and begin drowning him in ‘mlems’.

”Weeell, I did nearly get lynched by an angry mob less than twenty minutes in because I dared to mention the weather to some rich lady instead of immediately kissing her ass and then had to take down Discount Enrique Iglesias on my way out the door soo…” Mal explained as the big, cuddly monstrosity in his arms finally settled for nuzzling into his shoulder instead of assailing his face with affection. ”...Maybe?”

The two just stared at eachother as the sheer lunacy of that statement hung in the air for a full minute of silence that went undisturbed by even the dogs.

”Master Malcolm, with all due respect... what the hell?”

---

Though Malcolm tried his level-best to at least try to be somewhat quiet and inconspicuous with his entrance into the Grotto, the trio of panting, jubilant dogs that had been deprived of his company for over a month and refused to let him out of their sight handily made that a futile endeavour.

Why was he trying so hard not to draw attention to himself? Well, part of it was just force of habit- Living as he did and doing what he did made him subconsciously walk with an almost silent gait at all times anyhow… but having had a clear view of his Mum’s heartrate all the way down here made him just… slightly more conscious about it than usual.

The fact that he’d been watching her fuel up and prep a fucking refurbished and clearly modernized M18 Hellcat the entire time didn’t really help.

Zoey Kasimir tended to get a little… extreme when her kids were involved.

...Well, her kid.

This was going to be a fun talk.

Clearing his throat to make his presence known (with just a bit of unease that Buttons immediately picked up on and began reassuring him with a few licks to the hand), the boy said only two words.

”Evenin’, Ma.”

As soon as the words left Malcolm’s mouth, his mother did the inevitable and stilled. It was only for a second, but that was all it took. Zoey carefully extracted herself from the the final check ups on the Hellcat, her once pristine white shirt having the cuffs rolled up and smeared with grease. When she turned, her steel-blue gaze falling on Malcolm, something visibly loosened in her posture.

”Malcolm,” For a moment the relief was naked in her voice, and she abruptly strode forward, the grease-smeared hands falling to his shoulders as she checked him over. ”I shouldn’t even ask knowing you, but you are alright?”

For his part, Mal… well, even though he knew a verbal ass-kicking was inbound, couldn’t help the characteristic little grin that crept across his face as his mother began fussing over him in the usual fashion, as his hands instinctively found his way to hers, giving them a little squeeze.

”I’m fine Ma.” The boy stated simply, giving a little chuckle as he gently removed her hands from his shoulders. ”Gonna take a bit more than a pop-star out of his mind on cocaine and magic to put me down.”

Of course, in all the warm fuzziness of that deeply primordial, instinctual response to his foster-mom’s worries… it took a half-second for his mind to suddenly catch up to him and begin screaming directly into his psyche, though he showed no outward signs of any of the blind panic suddenly firing through his head.

His right hand. His right hand which had been in bandages since before he’d even gotten on the boat home… was now holding his mom’s.

This was a bit of a bad time to have that conversation.

”So, uhh… when did we get a Tank Destroyer?” Mal asked, cool as a cucumber as his hands promptly released hers, or at least went to.

”Five years ago, when those leeches were harassing us.” Zoey didn’t have to say which incident specifically. They both knew. However rather than linger on it the billionaire had brought her son’s arm forward, insistent though not forceful as she examined the bandages. She muttered softly, taking in the material, the sit of them against his skin, even gently touching it in her investigation.

”So,” Zoey straightened, looking down at her youngest son and raising the ever perfected Kasimir brow that her boys had inherited, the one she was always so secretly pleased to see reflected back at her on Malcolm’s face. ”These are a few hours old, if I’m correct? Perhaps from before that little party?” The brow crept ever higher.

”Malcolm Talhaiarn-Kasimir, do I need to assign a bodyguard to you?”

A low sigh escaped the boy.

Omission was one thing, but he would never lie to his mother. Nevermind to her face like this.

”It’s… not from a fight if that’s what you’re wondering…” Mal responded truthfully, though still dancing around the subject ”A friend of mine from Orin’s turf took me out for ‘Survival Day’ on the eleventh. It’s like their thanksgiving- Only with more partying and a lot more alcohol. Makes it hard for even a guy with a brain like mine to remember exact details.”

He paused and bit his lip, trying to find a proper of putting this. Zoey’s eyebrow couldn’t raise any higher.

”And during that I sorta… agreed to participate in an old Atlantean ritual...”

At that, he cleared his throat a little, being just a little uncomfortable.

This was probably going to be unpleasant.

A crimson eyebrow twitched.

”Malcolm,” Zoey began, slower and more delicate than was probably necessary. Her eyes flicked, searching her son’s face before she cleared her throat. ”... Did you get someone pregnant?”

”Wait, what? No, no, no… God no!”

”Orin always has so many people hanging off him, I assumed that it was just part of Atlantean Culture! And you know, if you did you could tell me-”

”I mean, the complete absence of personal space is bu- guh- fffff-!” Mal growled, sputtered and groaned his way through trying correct his Ma, growing increasingly red in the face. A rare treat, for anyone that actually knew him. ”It’s just… gaaaah!”

The boy took a second to breathe out one long exhale to catch his thoughts. Even while quietly admiring his mother’s astonishing ability to be the only person on the face of the goddamn planet he’d met so far to be able to put him in this kind of state.

”...I didn’t get married. And I certainly didn’t get anyone pregnant... It’s just a little... well, it’s complicated. But it’s not anything like that.”

Another sigh escaped Zoey, more than a little relief tinged there. She didn’t think it had to be said that she would adore any grandchild brought to her… but she’d at least like to meet the mother first.

Giving one more gentle pat to Malcolm’s hand, Zoey withdrew.

”Sit with me please, Malcolm.” The redhead pulled over one of the mechanics benches strewn around the room -where else would she put a tank than with the rest of the cars after all? She sat, crossing her legs and humming thoughtfully as her gaze drifted upward, collecting her thoughts.

”Malcom,” She finally began, the care taken to picking her words obvious, ”I know I haven’t exactly been a perfect mother. That I can be overbearing, and I’m sure you’ve found nearly all of the trackers I’ve slipped on you, let alone those I just asked you to carry for my peace of mind.” Zoey trailed off for a moment, clearing her throat.

”But I don’t do this because I don’t trust you, or that I think you’re incompetent. You’re growing into a fine young man that doesn’t need your mother hovering over your shoulder. That doesn’t mean I won’t ever stop worrying over you - whether I know what you’re doing or not. The instant I met you I knew you’d always be in danger’s way. You have the same thirst for justice that I do.”

Zoey paused, raising a hand up to rub at her brow and swipe the back of her hand against her forehead - leaving yet another long smear of grease across her pale skin.

”What I’m trying to say, Mal, is that you don’t have to tell me what’s going on in your life if you don’t want to. I’ll worry over you just the same. I just want you to know if you ever need another person, to back you up or just be there for you, your mother will always be here for you.”

Despite the usual self-control he took so much pride in, Malcolm couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that followed his mother’s words.

He suddenly felt… kind of like an asshole. And for the first time in a long time, at a loss about what to do.

At first, he just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fist out of habit as he bit down a little on his lip… then sat down right beside his mother to do exactly the same thing in a new position… with the addition of his other hand now beginning to lightly rap it’s fingers on the surface of their little bench.

Then with a little exhale, he did something that was fairly new- Gently looping his arm around Zoey’s shoulder and pulling her into a sort of half-hug with their shoulders touching and her head resting slightly against his (due to her still having a few inches of height on him) as he softly stroked the top of her head.

Just as she had done for him when he was a boy.

Then, finally there was truth.

”A year and a half ago, when I went under the sea with Vanguard after Orin’s kingdom basically tore itself a new asshole. I followed my mandate; doled out supplies, cared for the sick and wounded, pulled people out of the rubble… all that fun stuff that found it’s way into the news cycle.” Mal began, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts on the matter with a little click of his tongue before continuing ”...But the longer I stayed down there, the harder I worked the more I… saw... the more I got involved.”

The boy’s hand fell from his mother’s hair to gently drop down on her shoulder, as his computer-like brain went into overdrive trying to sift through his eidetic memory and put the sensations, the hows and the whys within into a comprehensible sentence.

”Started simple enough at first- Letting Orin know whenever I saw something bad about to happen. That evolved into occasionally defusing bombs left behind by Meraists that clearly didn’t get the memo about the surrender and then, well…” The boy started again, face screwed up in an almost comical expression as he wracked his brain for a explanation that would at least sound somewhat sane… before finally slacking as he just got to the bloody point. ”Stuff happened, one thing led to another and at some point I was quietly inducted into the Argonauts-- A branch of the Altantean Special Forces-- under the name ‘Mako’”

At that the boy released his mother’s shoulder and sat up just a little straighter, hands folded in his lap and head facing straight ahead.

”Essentially, I became a weird mixture of knight, cop and commando… and honestly, I was pretty fucking good at it.” Mal finished up his long winding explanation, slowly unwrapping the bandages around his hand. ”So much so that when I went back down there to actually go to school and wound up back in the thick of it, one of my old teammates asked me to stay down there- To settle down and make a career out of it. I honestly thought about it, but knew where my place was, so...”

Finally, the boy turned his head to his mother again and offered her his now-exposed hand… with the still-healing brand of a skull clenching a dagger in it’s teeth, surrounded by a band of Atlantean writing topped by the royal trident burned into his palm.

”She decided that if I wasn’t going to stay in Atlantis, a bit of Atlantis would come back with me… and, well, those people love their symbolism.”

Throughout Malcolm’s entire explanation Zoey remained quiet, letting him get everything off his chest. When he finally revealed the still healing mark on his hand however she let out a sharp inhale, her hands raising to cup her son’s, long fingers gently touching the mark seared into his skin as though testing how bad it was. A few moments of silence passed as the older of the two soaked up the information just given to her, digesting and rolling it around in her mind. Finally she raised the hand that had been tracing the mark, pressing her thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of her nose.

”Well. That’s certainly… a lot.” Zoey muttered, taking in a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, much like Malcolm had before her. Another moment passed. ”I can’t say I’m particularly happy about it,” The billionaire finally confessed, only to straighten out and look at her son, despite how he continued to stare straight ahead.

”But I am happy that you trusted me enough to tell me, Malcolm. Bombs, spies, brands … I was expecting you to get a tattoo to show your wild side in college. Not … participate in a warrior’s engagement ceremony with someone I’ve never met. Is she nice?”

Mal gave a little snort at that.

”Bit taller than you, drinks twice as much, has literal shark teeth but a beautiful smile, three consecutive Pankration championship belts hanging on her wall, an amazing singing voice, and…”

Mal leaned toward his mother slightly, fixing her with a comically serious expression that slowly melted into a cheeky little grin.

”...If I married a woman like that, ya really think I’d be doing anything but dancing around the place like a happy idiot?”

Zoey snorted lightly in return, smaller and more feminine - as much as the action could be. Well-bred manners, and all that.

”I suppose you have me there.” She noted, before sighing. The laughter that might’ve been building melted off of her, and the redhead sighed as she ran her hand across her face. ”Malcom,” Zoey began again, pausing to gather her words. It was a lot to process.

”... Can you at least take a tracker out when you do this? The one that tracks your vitals?”

Malcolm sighed a little at that, but acquiesced.

”Sure Mom, but, well… I don’t think I’m going back down there again.” The younger Kasimir explained, scratching the back of his head a little in thought. ”I really had to put a lot of thought into turning that offer down. If I go back to Atlantis and get back to it-- because you damn well know I would-- I don’t think I’d be able to say ‘No’ again.”

A little shake of the boy’s head followed that, followed by a little chuckle as he began to wrap his hand back up again.

”And my place is here. Always will be.”

”... I’m glad, Malcolm. Even if you go off and become the next Grim, you’ll always be my little boy. Half-drowned and all.”

---

Beep. Beep. Beep…

”ORIN. What the fuck have you been letting my son get up to?!”

Littered newspaper flew into the air as Alias' car pulled over to the curb, the wind blowing her coat back as she slid out of the driver's seat and pulled her pistol out quickly. She closed the door, levelling her gun at the windows of the Columbo Building as she wandered her way around to the trunk and pulled it open.

"We go in slow and cautious. Well, to be more accurate, I go in normally, you go in slow and cautious, try to get to a vantage point and wait for things to go bad, because I know they will."

She gestured to the shotgun in the back and turned to the Building, observing cautiously as she waited.

Oscar looked at the shotgun, mulling it over for a moment, before grabbing it. He'd be no good with it, but then again once thigns went south he could just as easily toss it to Shams from his vantage point. Tucking the scattergun under his arm, he pulled his grappling hook out from within his trenchcoat and turned to Alias. "See you on the other side." With those words, he aimed his grappling hook at an open second story window, zipping up to it and climbing inside.

Putting away his grappling gun, Oscar pressed one of the buttons on his belt buckle, releasing his concoction. He took in a few deep breathes of the gas, coughing lightly before closing his eyes. Opening his eyes, the Question began to Hear, keeping his ears peeled for any sounds. There was breathing in the entrance hall, where Alias would be coming in from. He walked through the doorway and onto a balcony overlooking the entrance hall. He kept down low, watching and waiting.

Alias walked into the building, gun in hand. It was almost unconcerned, her stride, but she had her eyes scanning the entrance hall the entire time, hidden behind her mask. She didn't know what the hell would go down, but hopefully Oscar was capable of bailing her out if there was any trouble.

She gripped tightly to her pistol, pointing it down every stray door or hallway as she passed. Her footsteps echoing through the empty hall caused her some anxiety, but not as much as the bloody handprints that stained the elevator doors directly ahead of her. She stopped for a second to steel herself. It got easier every time, but only by increments, she still had nerves, fear, all of what you'd expect when facing down armed criminals alone.

Or not alone, as it was this time.

Before she could exhale a creaking door sent her into a spin that ended with a bullet flying into the wood, digging a hole and releasing a puff of air. A limp arm fell first, followed by a pantyhose-covered head.

As soon as skull met floor, the building came alive with noise.

Men burst out of almost every door, some pointing guns, some wielding bats or knives, and one releasing light from his fingertips.

"Goddammit!" he roared, sparks dancing from his fingers as his voice hitched. "He set me up! The motherfucker! Give the bitch every fucking bullet you have and get the hell out before the cops show!"

This was Fisher Brown's partner she presumed. Well, he clearly had friends, friends that were surrounding her, bags on back and with dollar bills in the air behind them. This was a robbery, and clearly a less than successful one judging by the low rigidity of the bags.

This wasn't great. She was surrounded already. Immediately she looked around to consider her options. She could run, but Oscar probably couldn't aim quickly enough to save her if they opened fire. That chandelier was promising, and spotting a hidden Oscar right across from it was equally promising.

She dashed into action, diving to the floor and shooting into the chandelier, shattering a part of it to alert Oscar to its presence. Bullets filled the air where she once was, and her still unhealed bullet wounds screamed in pain as she hit the ground. She should have let Oscar do this.

Gunfire and shouting exploded in the entrance hall below him. Question peeked over the railing, down at the dozen or so men firing at Alias. He noticed the chandlier that she had shot at, and noticed that there were three guys right below it. He lept onto the chandelier, the decoration beginning to swing slightly as he landed. He pulled out his grappling hook and held it in his dominant hand, before aiming at the hook holding the chandelier with the shotgun.

"... This is either going to end greatly or badly." Deciding not to hold off anymore, Question fired at the hook, breaking it apart. Acting quickly, he fired at the railing of the balcony, the hook wrapping around it. He swung down as the chandelier crashed down onto the poor bastards beneath it. Swinging right into one of the men and knocking him out with a kick to the head, Question retracted the hook and scrambled into cover... Right next to Alias.

"Hmph. Wasn't very subtle in my approach, was I?" he cracked.

Oscar's solution to the problem was both loud and effective. In a moment he had managed to defeat four of the maybe ten crooks with both the chandelier drop and the swinging kick.

He was always the better fighter out of the two of them, but this was just ridiculous, she'd have considered it impossible back when she was just a cop. Oscar was just full of surprises.

"You also gave up the high ground," she replied in an exasperated tone. She was impressed, sure, but it wasn't exactly a tactically sound move.
"Well, I guess you are better hand-to-hand."

She just hoped that was enough, she wasn't used to working in a team, but she could work around him.

She popped around the corner that they were using for cover, quickly shooting both of the men who still had guns, one in the head, and one in the shoulder, dropping them both but only killing one. She saw a flash, and immediately spun back into cover as a wave of heat and light washed over her. She covered her eyes and held her breath to stop her chest from hurting.

"And there's the magic... okay Oscar, your turn, I'll cover."

She spun back around and shot wildly as another blast of flame came towards them, she reloaded and stuck her hand out to keep firing.

"Keep him busy, I'm going to flank him," Question said, before taking off his belt and pressing one of the buttons on the buckle, releasing the last shot of vapor in the canister. He threw it out into the open, the smoke beginning to fill the room. The others couldn't see through the thick fog. But he could See just fine.

He began to circle around the room, finishing off the one that Shams had shot in the shoulder with a kick to the face while he laid writhing on the ground. Slowly, Question crept up to the mage, before grabbing onto him and applying a chokehold... Only to receive an electric shock as the mage grabbed Question's arms. The faceless man fell backwards from the jolt, shaking it off as he called upon his chi to strengthen his body.

Charging forward, the Question threw a wild haymaker; just as expected, the mage ducked under it and shot forward his hands to shock the Question once more. This time, Q was ready, throwing a palm right into the man's face just as he ducked. The man reared backwards, clutching at his broken nose, and the Question took the opportunity to deliver a dropkick to his chest, breaking the man's ribs and making him pass out from the pain.

As the smoke began to clear, Question took this opportunity to knock out one last man, before making his way back to Alias just as it faded away. "Two left. You got this."

"Of course," she responded simply.

She cleared the corner swiftly, firing a shot into the leg of one of the men as he reached for one of the dropped guns. She aimed up at the last man, who backed against the wall and held his hands up in an attempt to stop a bullet she guessed.

She pulled the trigger, and was surprised to find it empty. In all the excitement she'd forgotten to reload, which wasn't great.

She flipped her gun in her hand just as the man rushed forward with an uppercut, hitting her on the chin and leaving her staring at the lights. She looked down just to spot the end of a body blow, hitting her right on her bullet wound and sending her onto her hands and knees.

The man stomped on her head, leaving her scrambling in an attempt to defend it. She managed to keep herself from getting too hurt, and struck the man in the shin with the empty gun, dropping him to a knee. She took the opportunity to grab the man by the throat and push him back against the wall. Blood ran down her chin as she tightened the muscles in both her jaw and hand. The man pounded on her forearm, only to meet a pistol-whip to the head. She hit him with the pistol until he collapsed to a seat, and a few more times to be sure.

Damn her injuries.

"Right, we're done here Oscar. Now we just wait for Brown to-"

She was interrupted by a blast of lightning to the side of her body, sending her sprawling to the ground. The man who had been shot in the shoulder before stood, and his face shifted to the pained expression of an injured Fisher Brown.

"Got you."

He turned his head up towards the cover where Oscar was seated, staring over at him as he shot lightning into the head of his partner, causing smoke to fly from his now deceased body.

"Didn't expect her to bring a friend, I thought miss Alias and you had parted ways, Question," he said, stepping towards his position. "Well, I suppose I have to finish this no matter the case. Come on out," he said. Sparks danced from his hands, and he unleashed a blast of concussive force and electricity into the wall, smashing it.

Question's chi enhanced body managed to take the brunt of the concussive blast, though it still shook him up a bit. He kept low, slipping away from the wall he and Shams had been using as cover and around the reception desk. He tried to See, but unlike his (now dead) partner, somehow Brown was invisible to his eyes. Instead he listened closely, trying to Hear Brown... Who was keeping his eyes peeled and looking around the room for the faceless vigilante.

He'd have to do this the old fashioned way.

Question began to slowly walk around the room, using the bits of cover and shadow to keep himself concealed from Brown. He still had the shotgun, but the weapon wasn't good at range, not like it mattered considering his reputation as a lousy shot. Still, if he could sneak up on Brown, he could finish the bastard off quickly... Of course, that was far easier said than done.

Brown continued to taunt him, trying to suss him out, and the gangster's voice was enough for Question to keep track of him. Question finally made his way behind Brown, and continued to sneak forward, slowly but surely. He raised the shotgun, tensing his finger on the trigger as he aimed it at the unaware Fisher Brown...

"There you are," came a voice behind him.

Question felt a sharp shock, sending him flying a few feet forward and through the Fisher Brown he had snuck up on, who vanished in thin air. No. There was no way. How could he have fallen for a magic doppelganger? Stupid, stupid, stu- "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" His mental beatdown against himself was interrupted as the mage shot out lightning at him again, singing his clothing and burning up his chest.

The mage continued to shock him as he spoke. "Gotta say, took me a while to find you. You're one sneaky son of a bitch. But now I've got you. Don't worry. This isn't going to hurt a bit." As the Question writhed about on the floor in pain, he could only think one thing to himself: Brown was right. It didn't hurt a bit. It hurt a lot. As he began to fall into unconsciousness, he felt the shotgun slip out of his grasp and slide a few feet away...

...Right in front of a seemingly unconscious Alias. Her eyes were blurred horribly, but she managed to spot the black shape of the shotgun right in front of her, and the silhouette of Fisher Brown standing overtop of Oscar's form.

He wasn't even looking at her.

He raised his hand for one final blast of magic, those same dancing sparks on his fingers. As his body tensed for one last spell, Alias fired, blowing the man's arm off of his elbow.

Fisher Brown collapsed, letting out horrifyingly loud screams as he did. Alias managed to hoist herself to her feet and limp over to his prone form. She levelled the gun towards him.

Then he disappeared into a circular hole. A popping sound behind her alerted him to his teleportation, and she turned, by instinct throwing up a hand, catching the wrist which lead into the lightning-coated glove of an animalisticly mad Fisher Brown.

"You bitch!" he roared, pushing hard against Alias' defense. She held up the shotgun, trying to press it against Fisher's chin, only for him to catch it between his shoulder and jaw.

In that moment her guard fell, and Fisher's hand met her shoulder. Thousands of volts of electricity entered her body, and she felt her body fail her...

...as the electricity travelled up the metal barrel of the shotgun, entering Fisher Brown's neck.

He screamed as they stood there, a closed circuit of magical electricity.

Alias managed to retain enough ot her faculties to shift the gun, barrel meeting Brown's forehead. She pulled the trigger, and Fisher Brown's head exploded in a shower of gore. The electricity stopped, and both fell to the ground in a cloud of smoke.

Alias felt her body shutting down, but managed to spot Oscar, unconscious right behind her. She managed to smile a weak, twitching smile.

"We always were a great team," she said, then gave in to unconsciousness.

”Feckin’ eejit,” swore Siobhan, glaring down at the cracked plate in her hand. ”I’m goin’ to run out of plates if these arseholes keep at it.”

Turning towards the short, dark skinned girl beside her, Siobhan shoved the cracked plate towards her mouth with a heavy sigh. ”Go on then, eat up.”

At least she wouldn’t have to sweep everything up with Kailani here.

As if to accentuate this fact there was another crack as the plate snapped, Kailani having not even hesitated before biting down at the plate thrust towards her. She tilted her head back to catch the extra shard in her mouth rather than the floor, and only after swallowing the first bite turned to her companion with a grin.

”I could eat one of his arms to teach him a lesson if you want. I’m pretty sure his species regrows limbs!” Kailani laughed, tilting her head back to take another crunching bite, and then another - and seemingly within seconds the plate was completely gone with the petite girl left licking her lips. Her dark eyes darted around as though looking for seconds, but soon she settled back to what she was doing originally - reading a large book open at the end of the bar. At least, pretending to read since she seemed more interested in fiddling with a lava lamp she found.

Honestly, that girl found the weirdest things seemingly from nowhere.

”Blokes come here to eat, not be eaten, Kailani,” Siobhan reminded her, glancing through the window in the back at the crowd of mythological monsters and walking nightmares that made up the vast majority of her patrons. ”Even if they’ve all likely eaten someone in the past.”

”Yeah, which makes it unfair that I can’t eat them even a little!”

Honestly, she hadn’t been intending to open a pub that was frequented primarily by freaks. She had simply thought that choosing Gotham Harbor would let her pull in the sailor crowd. Instead she had minotaurs, mages, harpies, and things she didn’t have a clue about.

At least Kailani wouldn’t feel all alone.

Stepping around the kitchen with a hot plate of fish and chips in hand, she set it in front of the burly minotaur in the red checkered shirt and blue jeans. He apparently worked as a lumberjack outside the city. ”There ya go, Rex.”

”Hi Rex!” Was the chipper addon from the kitchen, shouted as loud as possible from the small girl to be heard over the general hubbub of so many creatures in one room.

Rex raised a furry hand to wave at Kailani, nodding to the small and ever-cheerful girl before shoving the fish filet into his mouth whole as the stool beneath him groaned in protest at his every movement.

This was perfectly normal for them.

As David pulled up to Siobhan's pub, he looked over the building. There was a neon sign on it, a red clover leaf next to the name of the pub: Red Clover. 'Hey Dave, she's got a thing for red! Maybe you'll get somewhere this time.' He heard Hood say as he got off his bike. Dave pulled off his helmet, setting it down on the motorcycle and heading into the bar.

The first thing that hit him was the smell, something musty, something he hadn't smelled in a good long while, not since the One Week War: monsters. The place was packed full of them, only a handful of fellow humans around. Fair enough, ever since then the less bloodthirsty monsters did their best to assimilate into society, but he hadn't seen one since that night in Gotham five years back, and it was bringing back memories he really didn't need right now.

Shaking his head, he took a look around, spotting Siobhan walking back to the bar after handing a minotaur a plate of fish and chips. His mouth watered as he looked at the meal. It'd been so long since he had fish and chips... Hell, since he got back to Gotham, it had been a while since he had anything other than ramen cups. He wasn't sure how much it would cost, but he hoped that he'd be able to cover the cost and have a drink as well.

Done putting it off, David approached the bar and Siobhan. "Well well well, we meet again. Hopefully you won't throw me through a wall this time," he said with a shit eating grin as he took an empty seat.

Siobhan raised her head in acknowledgement as he sat down, appraising him. ”You’ll be wanting to be more specific; I throw a lot of fellas through walls in this pub. It’s part of the Clover’s charm.”

”Wait, I’m not the only guy you’ve thrown through a wall? I’m hurt, I thought what we had was special.”

Sizing him up for a moment longer, observed his rather unique-looking aura. That was when the memory of their encounter clicked in her head—faces were easily forgettable, but auras were unmistakably unique...and this man had a very special glow about him indeed.

Also, the weird flirting.

”Right, you’ll be that Red Helmet fella! I remember now. Glad ya decided to give us a visit here,” she said, offering him a smile at last. ”What can I get for ya?”

He was really wondering if she'd recognize him; after all, he had worn his helmet the whole time and the bruise he said she'd recognize him by during their last meeting had since healed... And been replaced by a few more, but that was beside the point. Still, she did, so that was a win. He was rather memorable, after all.

"It's uh... It's Red Hood but... Oh, whatever." He didn't feel like continuing to correct her, instead pulling out his wallet and saying, "I'll have a beer, and a plate of fish and chips. I really need to eat something other than cheap ramen."

”Ramen?” A pair of dark fingers appeared in the window usually used for kitchen orders to be pushed out, Kailani hoisting herself up to half hang out of it towards the bar. ”What’s that? Also, hi Red Helmet! I’ve heard about you! You’re not actually wearing a Red Helmet!”

Dave looked up in surprise at the cheerful face poking out of the window, laughing at what she said. "Uh, no, I'm not. Left it at home. Next time I come around I can bring it if you want to see."

”Well, yeah! You’re the Red Helmet!”

Siobhan smiled at Kailani over her shoulder, scribbling Red Hood’s order down onto a small note before vanishing back into the kitchen. She already had several orders on the cooker, and a batch of chips had just been taken from the frier. He wouldn’t have to wait long for his food.

It was fortunate that she knew how to cook fairly quickly, as he patrons were truly a rowdy bunch who hated to be kept waiting.

Minutes passed before Siobhan emerged from behind the kitchen with several plates on a single tray. Distributing them to her customers—of which Red Hood was the only human—she saved the gun toting vigilante for last.

”There we are—now try not to make a mess of me pub like ya did that poor restaurant back there.

David took the plate with a smile, beginning to dig in. "Holy shit, this is the best food I've ever tasted." Well, that was an exaggeration, but it was definitely the best food he had tasted in the past four years. "Seriously, compliments to the chef."

As ate his food, he looked Siobhan up and down. The woman was definitely interesting, to say the least. Ran a pub, affiliated herself with gangsters, strong enough to break through metal and agile enough to run along objects flying through the air. Certainly a renaissance woman.

"So... What's the deal with you? You a meta, or something?" he asked. "You definitely kicked my ass to kingdom come last time we met, and I haven't met anyone who's been able to do that in a while."

Siobhan shook her head, pulling up a stool on her side of the bar so that she could sit down in front of him. She’d taken care of everyone that was currently in the pub, so it would feel good to get off her feet for a few minutes. ”I’m not, nor am I a mage.”

Taking a glass from beneath the bar, she set it in between them. ”Want to see a trick?”

Without waiting for his answer, Siobhan lowered her finger to her side of the glass. Placing the tip of her index finger against its surface, it offered no resistance—nor movement—as her digit slid clean through one end and out the other. When she withdrew, there was a round hole straight through the glass.

”I’m just a normal human,” she said, smirking as she settled back on the stool.

David gave an impressed whistle, looking the glass over. Well, that was... Definitely different. "Normal human, eh? If you're a normal human, then I'm Lady Arcana," he joked, tossing another bit of fish and chips into his mouth. As he finished, he recalled something she had said in the teahouse, and continued to speak: "So, where'd you learn a trick like that? Shambaloo, or whatever you called that place where I can learn some 'real martial arts'?"

”Shambala,” she corrected him, chuckling. ”And that’s right. What ya just saw was somethin’ anyone can learn to do, if they have the right mind for it.”

She looked him over one more time, her assessment not taking a great deal of time. ”Sorry to say ya probably don’t quite have it, boyo. But don’t worry—ya still have yer meta-whatevers to fall back on, don’t ya?”

In truth, it was simply impossible for the man before her to learn chi in his current state, with his mind fractured as it was. Mastering the life energies of one’s body required you to possess harmony of both body and mind.

David shook his head. "Nah nah, I'm not a meta. I'm a different kind of enhanced." He didn't think she had heard of the League of Assassins, let alone the Lazarus Pits, so he left it at that. "Besides, don't think I even need my own abilities. Crooks might be hiring more powerful folks these days, but a bullet doesn't care about any powers you might have." He paused. "Well, unless you can shrug off bullets. Then it cares."

Kailani had disappeared from the window about half way through their conversation. Now she was peering over Siobhan’s shoulder, lava lamp abandoned beside a harpy nearby.

”I can shrug off bullets!” The dark skinned girl chirped, pleased to share this information before poking Siobhan’s back. ”You going to eat that?”

David jumped slightly when the girl spoke up, having forgotten she was there. He quirked a brow at her comment about being able to shrug off bullets, wondering if she was some sort of kung-fu master like Siobhan or a metahuman. "So, uh... Who are you?" he asked her.

The girl glanced up to Dave, offering him a toothy grin that showed unnaturally white teeth. ”Hello! I’m Kailani, resident dish … washer?” She paused, puzzling over the word before shrugging. ”Close enough!” And with that she grabbed the glass, promptly biting into the ruined material and swallowing.

”You should try the shot glasses, they’re the tastiest.”

David blinked in surprise, looking at the glass which had a clean bite into it, and back at the girl who just ate it like it was nothing. "I... Think I'll pass on that, thanks."

”No one ever tries the shot glasses.”

”It’s true, Kailani’s undefeated with a record of zero and zero—nobody’ll accept her challenge,” said Siobhan having now started gathering discarded glasses and plates to be cleaned in the kitchen. ”She’s not a metahuman either, by the way.”

"So, what, she a kung-fu fighting martial arts master like you, or something else?" he asked, before pausing. "Oh, I know, she's an alien," David chuckled, shaking his head.

Siobhan looked surprised for a brief moment, before setting down her tray full of empty glasses and plates and reaching into her pocket to fish out several dollars, offering them to Kailani. ”He actually guessed it! I can’t believe not one fella guessed alien this past month!”

David's grin fell, giving way to a dumb look of shock. "... Wait, I was right? I was just cracking a bad joke!"

”Jokes count!” The small girl shot back, only to grab the money offered to her. ”Ye~s, that’s just enough!” Kailani crowed, happily counting out the fistful of dollars.

She promptly began eating them one by one.

David blinked again. "... Well... I guess an alien wouldn't know what to do with money except eat it."

Several hours later…

David took a hearty chug from his latest glass of beer, taking in a deep breath as he took the empty glass away from his mouth and slammed it down onto the bar. After their conversation had trailed off he had started drinking his beer, and after that he ordered another one, and another one, and another one... And now it was midnight, and David was pretty thoroughly slammed. "Ey, need a-*hic*-clean up."

”Ya do, that’s for sure,” said Siobhan, glancing about the pub. At this point, everyone had gone home besides Dave. All that was left before she closed up for the night was cleaning up everyone’s mess. Or rather, having Kailani eat her way through the leftovers and broken dishes.

”Don’t forget to clean up the corner tables,” shouted Siobhan, watching as the small girl devoured the scraps of their patrons. Her bright, green eyes then slowly slid towards Dave. ”We’ll be closin’ here soon. Might want to get yourself home.”

David hiccuped again, glancing at Siobhan with baggy eyes. "Hey, home is... Home is where the heart is, man. And right now my heart is here, I fuckin' love this place!" He stood up and stuck out his arms to gesture towards the entire room, only to collapse back into the seat with a groan, a hand flying up to massage his temples. "... On second thought, home... Home sounds good."

He stood up again, this time making it a bit further before finally collapsing. He stuck his hand up and gripped a nearby chair, pulling himself up slightly. "... On second second thought, do you have like... *hic* A place where I can sleep? I'll be ou-outta your hair in the morning."

Siobhan released a heavy sigh, shaking her head. Stepping out from behind the bar, she made her way across the mostly-vacant bar to a door on the far wall. When she opened it, a room filled with cleaning supplies was revealed. Turning back to Dave, she thumbed over her shoulder. ”Yer sleepin’ in the janitor’s closet then. We don’t have any extra beds.”

They weren’t a motel, after all.

David managed to pull himself up off the ground, stumbling into the janitor's closet and collapsing into a bucket of cleaning supplies. "Aw man... Thanks, so much..." After a moment of silence, he laughed. "Hey, you know what'd be, like, really cool? We could form a-*hic*-form a vigilante team! Like, fight bad dudes and stuff for money or somethin'... That'd be... That'd be cool." Before he could hear whatever reply Siobhan would give, Dave passed out, and Hood was already terrified at the hangover they'd face in the morning.

Glancing to Kailani, Siobhan slowly rubbed her arms in other to stave off the ever mounting chill in the air. ”Hope he doesn’t freeze to death—it’s February, after all.”

”What? Oh, right, humans like being warm. Don’t worry, I got this!” The short girl scampered off with the last of the plates, returning quickly after depositing them in the kitchen. However rather than retrieve something like a blanket, she just jogged to the janitor’s closet. By the time she reached it, a large, clawed hand reached out and grabbed Dave to drag out - and Kailani promptly curled around him, large and imposing.

”Goodnight, Siobhan! Goodnight Red Helmet!” Came the happy goodbye… or at least, what it would’ve been if it didn’t come out sounding like a combination of growls and chitters.

Her lips slowly turning upwards into an affectionate smile, Siobhan waved. ”G’night, Kailani.”

In the morning, David woke up to a pounding headache, but he felt... Surprisingly nice and warm aside from that. He felt something wrapped around him, and, bleary-eyed, turned to the thing he felt pressing up against his back... And came face to face with some large monster, which also seemed to be sleeping. David's eyes widened slowly, before finally, he realized what he was looking at.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

”...What the hell?” mumbled a very groggy Karen as she stared out the window of her guest room within the castle. ”Why did Zoey bring out the tank again? It’s not even July.”

After completing her morning rituals, she changed into a green tank top and blue jeans before heading down for breakfast. On her way down, she decided to check her phone for the news as she had gotten into the habit of doing in her years of heroing—at least before her isolation. That was when she noticed something odd.

She had over a hundred facebook alerts. What the hell?

Looking on her page, she was immediately horrified by the slew of vile, racist, sexist, and generally homicidal and rapey messages that had been left for her while she was sleeping. She could feel her eyes tearing up at the sheer volume of malicious intent streaming her way, until she noticed a common pattern between many of them—they kept mentioning Mal.

”...What the…” she muttered, unable to stop herself from swiping over to Mal’s facebook page.

If hers was bad, then his was at least ten times worse. She had met hardened prisoners with politer vocabularies than these people. Colorful threats abounded such as, “I’ll pull your fucking tongue out through your desicated asshole you stupid scar-faced little shit!”.

She then checked up on Zoey’s facebook. No comments, but she suspected her PR people had cleaned it up, as it was oddly barren.

What the hell was going on?

When she reached the kitchen, she asked Henry, “where’s Mal? I really need to talk to him right now.”

“Young Master Malcolm is in the living room watching television, I believe,” said Henry.

“Thanks—I think I’ll be skipping breakfast, I kinda lost my appetite on the way down,” explained Karen, turning to head towards the living room. Hearing how somebody wanted to use her little brother’s intestinal tract to lynch him didn’t really put her in the mood for sausage links.

Entering the living room, she saw Mal lounging on the couch in front of the TV with an insufferably calm look on his face, the dogs slumped across him. It seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world at the moment.

”Mal?”

”Morning, Sunshine.”

The boy in question responded in his usual way, though he didn’t turn to face her or wave- not due to anything she’d done of course, but rather because doing the former would’ve put his face in dangerously close proximity to the rear-end of the corgi that lay stretched over his shoulders while the latter would be next to impossible to pull off without waking Buttons, who’d opted to bury himself into his shoulder for a nap or disturbing Gwen, who was using his lap and hand as a pillow while very clearly only pretending to be asleep (made evident by the freakish gymnastic spasms her tail went into every time he so much as twitched).

Evidently, the Kasimir pups were still hellbent on making up for time lost cuddling.

”From your tone, I take it you’ve had a gander at Facebook recently?”

Karen frowned at his nonchalant tone, her eyes narrowing on the back of his head. ”You could say that, yeah—I had more than a hundred alerts worth of death threats, rape threats, and threats to do things I don’t even think you can do to a human body! And yours was even worse, somehow! What the hell’s going on?”

A little frown made it’s way across Mal’s face at that, as he extricated his arm from the border collie to his left’s grasp to pull Ker off his shoulders so he could actually turn and face the wizard, despite the immediate protests of the two canines (and the suspiciously smug sounding ‘Hmph!’ from the only one left undisturbed).

From the bags under his eyes, it was pretty clear he hadn’t gone to bed yet.

”Yeah… sorry about that. They really ran wild through my friends list for a while there… and there’s only so many people on there, so I guess they could take their time with it.” Malcolm stated with a light shake of his head followed by a sudden dodge right as a stubborn corgi leapt up to try and reclaim it’s throne. ”I can explain, but ya might wanna take a seat; It’s all kinda… really dumb.”

Karen glanced at the sofa, wondering if there actually was anywhere for her to sit. The dogs pretty well had everything occupied. Making her way over, she gently moved Buttons out of her way and took Buttloaf into her arms to stop him from squirming so much. His small, stubby tail waged excitedly.

”Fine, let’s hear it—why was everyone losing their shit last night?”

Mal frowned a little deeper at Karen’s tone, those freaky eyes of his looking her over as he was apt to do.

Accelerated heart-rate.

Slight straining of the adrenal glands.

A light depletion of the tear-ducts, she had either been about to cry, or actually had been crying earlier.

All of which painted a picture that made him feel like three kinds of an asshat in that exact moment. Something that clearly showed on his face as he turned his head to stare at the floor, even as he complied in the simplest way he could think of.

”GRIMCOM, bring up bodycam footage, Naught-Two-Two-Eight-Two-Six. Mark at Two-One-One-Five hours. Authentication; Sierra-Echo-Mike-Papa-Echo-Romeo-Foxtrot-India.” The boy all but mumbled at the television, which instantly cut away from the usual broadcast of ’Giant Robot Kung-fu: 2046’ to a still-image of the hors d'oeuvres table at the Imperial Gotham. ”Begin playback.”

Again, the boy went right back to being quiet. The only hint of whatever was going on inside that computer-like brain of his being how the massive mutt on his lap quietly began to snuggle closer.

But he did finally speak. Almost a whisper, though his face remained as stoic as ever when these things happened.

”...I really am sorry about all this, though.”

Karen quietly watched the ensuing chaos on the screen in utter silence. What started out as a simple charity event—boring, but harmless—soon devolved into a clusterfuck of jealousy-fueled rage, threats, and general fanaticism, all because Mal had spoken to some woman whom they were all apparently enraptured with.

Even Lady Arcana had never ensnared people so thoroughly as this woman. While, from what she could see, this “Aelia de Herlua” was indeed quite beautiful; the way they were acting was more akin to a slavish sort of worship than simple attraction.

Wincing slightly at the image of the blonde woman as she stepped out of view of the hors d’oeuvres table, Karen glanced over to her little brother. ”What’s she doing to them? Was it some form of magic charm?”

”As far as I could tell, yeah.” Mal responded matter-of-factly, settling back into his usual calm when at work. ”No pheromones, no chemicals, nothing really going on inside of her to indicate a metagene but…”

Mal stopped for minute, furrowing his brow a little as he scanned the image his eidetic memory brought up in his mind’s eye.

”...What was going on inside her was… wrong. Some… pulsing shit at her core-- kinda looked like you when you’re wearing a cloak and lightning bolts-- but it got more… disorderly as it spread out across her body.” The boy added, moving to stroke his chin with one hand, but switch to the other as Gwen locked her arms around the first. ”Even moreso when I started seeing it floating around in the heads of the rest of the party-goers.”

Another pause. The boy clicked his tongue in thought.

”...I got the impression she wasn’t aware of it, either.”

Karen paused, something in particular Mal said having caught in her ear like an annoying itch. She had still heard everything he had said, but that one particular thing had lingered with her. ”Mal, are you trying to tell me that you can see magic? Like, actually see it?”

How the hell had she not noticed that before now? They had worked together more than a few times these past five years, it seemed ridiculous that she wouldn’t have caught wind of that.

”I… guess?” Mal responded, cocking that famous Kasimir brow the whole while. ”It’s a little odd, but ever since I picked up that scrying stone to call you a while back, I’ve started seeing things in the background I’ve never really noticed before-- kinda like looking at an old photograph and suddenly catching something you missed; you know in your head it must’ve always been there, but it still changes how ya view it.”

As for an explanation as to how and why, the boy could only shrug.

”Don’t ask me how; I’m just as confused as you are.”

Karen flinched slightly when he mentioned the scrying stone, her mind racing back to his call on that day roughly two months prior. Glancing off into the distance, out the window at the far end of the living room, her shoulders slumped. ”I see… so it was back then that you started noticing?”

”Mal, I never really got around to saying it, but...I’m really sorry for how rude I was to you back there. I was just… really out of my head at the time. It really did feel like I was a different person entirely from, well, Karen,” she explained, chewing on the side of her lip as she often did when she felt awkward. It felt a bit strange drudging something like that up after so many weeks, but she’d only just recently realized how mean she had acted.

For a moment, Mal’s eyes simply shifted towards the infamous Kare-bear. Looking on stone-faced as she bore her little heart about it. Something clearly twitching at the back of his throat to get out, but quickly squashed back down just as swiftly as it had nearly arose as his eyes turned back to the television in silence.

”I’d be… I am a colossal hypocrite for pulling you away from your work.” The boy finally managed to get out, eyes still set away from the girl and his tone even. ”But I’m glad you actually heard me out all the same.”

His jaw tightened a little.

”Whatever... that was, wasn’t you- And I sure as shit didn’t want it to be.” He continued as his bag-ridden eyes finally turned back towards her, tone unusually soft for the hard glare he was giving her ”I’ve told you before; ‘Who we become when we forget who we are isn’t worth the sacrifice’. That’s not a lesson I’d ever want you-- or anyone-- to learn the hard way.”

A few seconds of silence followed that as the boy stared her down... until his free hand slowly rose into the air and flicked Karen right on the nose. Heralding the triumphant return of Mal’s characteristic cheeky grin.

”Mal I—buh!” Karen stopped, reaching up to rub her nose.

”So don’t worry about it, dumbass. I’ll live.”

Shaking her head, she settled back on the couch. Buttons was now slumped across her lap, so it was really all that she could do. Well, no, there was one other thing. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she opened chrome. ”...Let’s see if we can’t find out a little more about that woman.”

Searching for the name…

”Err, Mal? How the hell do you spell her name?”

”Fuck if I know, but with how she is with people, Google’ll probably give it to you just by typing in ‘A’”

Pursing her lips again, she typed the name out to the best of her abilities. It was, of course, quite wrong—and yet google still recognized it enough to autocorrect her. “Aelia de Herlua.”

”Told ya.”

Karen looked increasingly baffled as she read. ”So...she’s the daughter of this megacorp CEO. So what? Why is she so popular? Does she act as their public face here, or something?”

That’s when she noticed something in her original search—a video had been released about the assault at the charity event. It was, apparently, some kind of Public Service Announcement by that woman. ”Mal, look at this!”

Clicking on the link, the video began to play, with the woman’s face immediately at the front and center.

”Greetings, mo—err, citizens of Gotham City. I am Aelia de Herlua of Herlua Industries, and on behalf of my family and our company, I am here to condemn the senseless violence that took place yesterday at an event that was meant to commemorate those who bravely gave their lives during the One Week War.”

Hearing her speak, and seeing her clearly on screen, Karen had to admit she was certainly beautiful—but not to the point where she felt compelled to drool on her feet like many of the guests at the charity event nearly did.

”Firstly, we wish to issue a formal apology to Malcolm Talliron-Kasimir for the unfortunate events that transpired that evening. We in no way endorse the actions of Brian Lafayette, and our company will no longer conduct business with him or his estate,” she continued.

That was when Karen noticed it—the camera had started moving. Off her face, slowly, subtly. As she continued on about how opposed to violence she was, the camera found itself focused squarely on her chest. Aelia, seemingly oblivious to this at first, finally reached out to redirect the camera back to her face about a minute later.

Her lips now held a slightly terse frown as she spoke. ”The Kasimir family has often used their considerable wealth to pursue the betterment of mankind, and do not deserve the scorn that has been levied against them in these past twenty-four hours.

The camera then flashed to an image of her shapely ass without warning. ”Let us put aside our hateful words and come together to—oh, really now?”

The picture shook violently, the sounds of rustling being heard, and then the video ended abruptly.

A long silence followed that. Absent of even the sound of any of the gaggle of mammals on the couch breathing... as on by one, all the assembled canids on the sofa turned their eyes upward, toward Mal. Waiting. Somehow knowing what was coming.

”...What the fuck was that?”

"A mage. The exact wrong kind to get mixed up with, too."

Came a response that no one was actually expecting, echoing from all corners from the room... as the dormant embers in the fireplace on the far wall slowly began to glow, kindling forth a gentle flame that, by means beyond mortal comprehension, spoke with a voice that was powerful, but just as soothing as the soft crackling of the fire.

"Got a minute, son? We need to talk."

”Ted?” gasped Karen, bolting to her feet. With her eyes now firmly trained on the glimmering fireplace, she trepidatiously began stepping around the couch. She would recognize that voice anywhere—and it was one she was actually quite relieved to hear right now.

If there was anyone that would be able to help with her current predicament, it would be the Firebringer.

But wait… he’d said “son”...

Was he here to talk to Mal?

”...Uncle Ted?” Was all that left the boys throat as he cast a sidelong glance and a Kasimir brow at the fireplace, seemingly not at all flustered by the fact that it was fucking talking. ”You making housecalls now?”

An indignant snort from the possessed fireplace answered the boy’s question.

”Well, funny story; I was just sitting about on the couch, eating my cheerios-- the frosted kind-- and watching the idiot box when I just so happened see that some kid I used to tutor somehow managed to catch the ire of the scion of an order of mages that’ve been trying to take over the damned planet for thousands of years.” The Firebringer snarked right back. ”Seemed worth checking out, at the very least.”

At that, Mal froze mid-scratch of his dog’s ear, and slowly rose to his feet. Something that Buttons protested with a whimper but Gwen seemingly had the presence of mind to allow.

”...What?”

”It’s a long story... now get over here, dammit- I’d rather not have to shout.”

But it was Karen who was the first to approach the fireplace, feeling that—before anything—the Firebringer needed to be made aware of the “situation” she had found herself trapped in these past two weeks. ”Ted, there’s something else—I’m not the wizard anymore. That is to say, I can’t say the word to transform as of maybe two weeks ago.”

She then shot an apologetic glance towards Mal. It wasn’t that she didn’t think that his problems weren’t important, she just felt like whatever they were, they would be able to deal with them a lot better if she was back to her old self in full.

Especially since this apparently involved magic.

A pregnant silence filled the room at that, until finally…

”...You fucking what?”

Karen nodded solemnly. ”You heard me—I can’t transform. Not like last time, where nothing happened when I said the word—I just can’t say it now.”

Feeling like it would be best to simply show him, Karen instinctively took a step back and drew in a large gulp of air. ”SHHHHHHH—”

Despite a very clear effort—a vein had started rising on her temple—on her part to speak the word, it refused to be heard. She had tried several times after that, to a similar lack of success. Finally, she held her hands up in a shrug.

”I try every day, but it’s always the same,” she explained, thankful she hadn’t accidentally farted this time.

Another silence followed that as the magically-animated flames drank in that particular little nugget of information… until finally a long, low sigh escaped the old Titan over his fiery magic telephone.

”Malcolm, is she fucking with me right now?”

The boy in question, who’d gotten up by that point and had made his way over as well, two dogs in tow, was quick to respond.

”Not unless she can fake a sudden onset of lockjaw.” The boy replied, looking the currently-not-wizard over. ”...Or the irritable bowel that came around last time she tried.”

A low hiss came from the Titan in the flames at that as he apparently took a deep breath, followed by another pause as the deity very clearly bit his tongue to stop some torrential storm of profanity from spilling out.

”So let me get this straight; you’ve been like this for two whole weeks.” The old god spoke, almost seething now. ”...And you’ve waited ‘til now to tell me this… why?”

Karen scratched the back of her head sheepishly at this, looking away from the—literally—angry fire roaring in front of her. ”Because I was still kind of out of my head after, well, being on the Rock for so long. I don’t know...I just wasn’t thinking or feeling like myself for the longest time, and...I only just kind of realized that recently...”

It was strange, reflecting back on those months spent alone on the Rock, in truth. It was like being a fly on the wall, looking down at herself, almost. The first few months she spent there were easier to remember, but—ironically—the more recent memories proved to be much more difficult to recall.

It was like she had been progressively getting smaller over the course of that period. Like she was shrinking away to nothing. It sent a shiver down her spine.

”I’m not sure what it was—but I think it’s because I stayed the Wizard for too long. Somehow, I—Karen—started disappearing, and now that I’m me again, it’s like Arcana is now gone…”

For a moment, the ancient being in the fireplace said nothing.

The steadily climbing ambient temperature in the room, however, spoke volumes as a very different voice echoed out from within the gently cracking flames.

”...And if I need a decrepit, obsolete old thing like yourself again… I will be sure to find someone less pathetic.”

Mal’s head slowly turned to his Karen at that, brow raising, but he himself saying nothing as something that sounded an awful lot like her continued.

”Now get off my Rock, Old Man. And don’t you ever come back.”

Karen nodded quickly, though she had, for a brief moment, looked quite surprised at her own words—she had forgotten them entirely. She definitely remembered saying them now, however. ”Yes! That’s what I mean! I said such awful things—I don’t understand why. I was really mean to Mal, too, when he called.”

Drawing a heavy breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying harder to remember everything that had happened in those eight months. The closer to January she got, the more blurry things became.

”I’m sorry, Ted—I’m really, really sorry! I’ve just been...like, literally out of my head for the better part of a year,” she said, her posture having notably deflated. She looked tired, Karen knew.

The Titan said nothing, though the ambient temperature in the room began to drop back to something a lot less sauna-like… and the fire started to die out.

The Firebringer, it seemed had had enough of this conversation, and had finally hung up.

...Or so it looked, until at last, when all that was left of the crackling flames were fading embers, a low sigh echoed from somewhere within.

”Well… doesn’t matter, I suppose.”

The old man relented, as a gout of flame suddenly sprang forth from the fireplace and deposited him there, physically, on the hardwood floor before the two teenagers. Plainly garbed as ever but still taking a moment to shoot the young Kare-Bear a look that showed he still wasn’t exactly pleased with her at the moment.

”We have work to do.”

---

Karen wasn’t exactly certain when the last time Ted and Zoey had actually met.

Certainly, they had encountered one another since the Titan’s invasion five years ago, but it had still been a while. Knowing Zoey, she probably wasn’t too happy that he was able to simply enter her castle at will, even if he was their ally.

Still, at the moment, they had bigger things to worry about.

”...and that’s basically everything, Zo,” said Karen, finishing her explanation of what had happened upstairs. ”Ted said he’s going to help us figure out what to do about my powers.”

For her part, Zoey was pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, the other squeezing a bright green stress ball - it beat reaching for a bottle. She stayed like that a few moments even after the explanation was finished, and finally lowered her hand to stare at the three of them with that impassive visage.

Her eyebrow twitched.

”You’ve lost your powers. Again.” The billionaire stated flatly. The stress ball made a squeak as it was clenched particularly hard. ”And you saw fit to tell me this only now?”

”...Preaching to the choir on that one….” Ted quietly grumbled under his breath.

”Youth.”

The old Titan could only offer a shrug and a nod in agreement.

Karen made an indistinguishable grunt of protest at their assessment, before continuing on. ”I was in Atlantis! I was still trying to wrap my head around what was happening. But anyway, our priority should be trying to figure out why this is happening, and how we can fix it!”

Honestly, she was getting just a little sick of people being angry at her for one thing or another. It felt like she had spent the whole of this past month catching flak over something or other.

”Right.” Mal piqued up, sounding just a wee bit impatient to just get this whole thing over with so that he could get around to grilling Ted about that ‘World-Conquering Mage Cult’ he’d mentioned earlier ”Well, if we’re gonna fix this, we might as well be sure of what we know first.”

Crossing his arms and tapping a solitary finger on his elbow in thought, the boy leaned up against a nearby workbench, scanning over that master of making his life complicated, The Kare-Bear with his glowing orange eyes.

Furrowing his brows he continued.

”That big tangled mess of… whatever that is going from your chest into the damned sky. Is that normal?”

”...Wait, you can see that?”

”One thing at a time, Big Guy.”

Without a word Zoey stood, tossing the stress ball over her shoulder with careless abandon as to where it ended up bouncing to. At the expanded workstation she grabbed one of the numerous sets of goggles hanging from the wall, this one tinged a light purple, and pulled them on even as she turned her gaze to Karen.

A thoughtful hum bubbled up in her throat.

”There’s always been a tether from Karen to the Rock of Eternity, which is what you’re seeing. After creating these I had the theory that it had been snapped when she lost her powers in the One Week War, but that doesn’t seem to be the problem here.” Wtihout looking away, Zoey jammed a finger at Malcolm. ”Also, we’re going to have a talk about this new built-in magic vision of yours later.”

”Yeah, might need to be there for that one.” Ted added, still eyeballing the kid he used to teach math, physics and language to with a peculiar expression.

Malcolm, for his part, just inhaled sharply to keep the internal screaming within him right where it belonged.

”Anyway. If the connection’s still there, and the problems-- all that locking up, sneezing and nearly crapping her pants-- only start when she consciously tries to say the word, could we just… bypass all that mechanically?” The boy finally offered, rapping his fingers on the workbench’s steel top in thought. ”Stick some diodes on her neck and directly stimulate the vocal chords with a low voltage, maybe?”

”Could work.” Ted added, head swaying side to side slightly as he finally got to mulling over the problem at hand. ”Something that emulates the exact frequency of her voice saying the word might also do it, if we can mount it near her connection to The Rock.”

Karen glanced between the three of them, her lips pursed as she struggled to think of some way to contribute to a conversation that was primarily focused on her and the recovery of her lost powers. She felt rather pathetic at this moment for not really having anything meaningful to add.

”Err, Zoey...do you think that you could maybe build something like what they’re suggesting?”

”Probably.” Zoey offered carelessly, any dart of her eyes hidden behind the tinted lenses, though she appeared to still be peering at Karen’s neck. ”I’d prefer not to put electricity near your very mortal neck, but I suppose desperate times - we could even clip together you saying different parts of the word? Hm, in combination with the proper frequency and perhaps a magic surge…” The Gotham Hero trailed off, turning back to her work station. The goggles were pushed up even as she already began to retrieve different parts, wires - a sketchbook full of ideas. Her voice turned to mumbles as she worked.

”Welp. Guess that’s my queue…” Mal stated to no one in particular, though he did offer a cheeky little grin and reassuring wiggle of his brows Karen’s way before, almost like a machine switching on, he went about the grotto grabbing up all the tools not in Zoey’s immediate reach she’d need and sitting down beside her to silently get to work.

Ted, for his part, kept his eyes lingering on the boy for a few moments longer before just softly shaking his head.

When all this was said and done, he really needed a word with that kid.

---

”...So, is this going to hurt?” Karen couldn’t stop herself from asking, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She didn’t even like going to the doctors for a shot, in truth, much less having untested technology used on her.

Mind you, she hadn’t been to the doctor since she was a kid.

”You’ll be fine.” Mal replied calmly, not even looking up from his laptop as he ran through his final checks. ”We’ll try the frequency synthesizer first, and even if we do have to move on to electrical stimulation, it should just feel like a little muscle spasm.”

That was probably meant to be reassuring.

The fact that the boy was now in his Nth Metal and Promethium-alloyed Watchdog armour was slightly… less so.

”But don’t worry- we’re well protected.”

...And now he was clearly just screwing with her. As he was wont to do.

Karen glanced at him for a long moment before allowing her shoulders to fall. She needed to relax for this. Being tense would only make things harder, she knew. ”Alright...let’s just get all of this over with.”

”You’ll be fine, Karen.” The Firebringer reassured, leaning forward slightly on his stool, posted slightly off to her side as he was the one person in the room least likely to be vaporized by any arcane explosion that might occur. ”Anything goes wrong, I can have you out of all that gear and to safety before you even know it has.

”It most likely won’t go wrong,” Was the absent addon from Grim, voice deep and masculine thanks to the modifier in the Iron Fang helmet. ”There are uncertain variables, but at least it doesn’t seem to be Gods this time - I doubt they’d be able to resist trying to lord the mystery over our heads again. God-Complexes, and all. Now hold still.”

The device was strapped to Karen’s chest - almost like a chest protector wrapped around her, deceptively light with bits of purple-tinted magitech slotted into the sides. From the top was a padded quarter-cuff that fit snugly against her throat.

”There we go. No fanfare - are you ready?”

With one final gulp, Karen gripped the arms of her chair tightly and nodded. Although she was still quite anxious about the whole thing, she felt oddly snug and secure within this contraption they had built—perhaps because it was almost like armor, in a way.

Looking between her friends and family one last time, she opened her mouth and began to speak the word.

”SHA—”

Her voice immediately started to seize up, but then the device kicked into action, stimulating her vocal chords. Almost against her will, the word was pushed to its conclusion.

--ZAM!”

Like so many times before, a radiant bolt raw, primordial magic descended upon the form of Karen Hernandez, illuminating the entirety of the Grim Grotto, the literally thunderous echo of the arcane power reverberating painfully off the cavern walls.

But something was off.

While there had always been a small amount of smoke in the wake of her transformation, it had this time billowed out in lung-choking amounts, consuming Karen entirely and threatening to do the same to any standing too close to her.

Yet despite the blinding fog, there was something inside of it…something that was glowing.

”What…? Where…” the voice of Lady Arcana called out from the smoke, the sound of her boots against the floor of the grotto echoing with each step as she staggered forward through the haze.

Reaching a hand out through the smoke, they would immediately be able to notice the shining, purple veins webbing their way across it. As Arcana emerged fully into view, they would see that these magical fissures had worked their way across her entire form.

”I...I don’t feel right…” said Arcana, a hand grasping her head as she staggered unevenly towards a nearby table full of experimental equipment, leaning against it for support. ”None of this is right...I can’t feel it anymore, but that shouldn’t be possible?”

Despite his previous, customary snark, Mal had been the first to his feet when things had started to go just a little weird. The coldly logical fact that he’d seen Karen’s transformation enough times over the past half-decade from his own unique perspective to be able to so quickly pick that out being far less the reason than he’d admit for doing so.

Nor would he admit to the spike in his heart rate when he realized he couldn’t see Karen through the ultradense background magic that now formed an impenetrable fog where she once stood.

All that haste came to an abrupt halt however, as Arcana began to step forward. And for a brief moment, he almost relaxed.

...And then the figure actually cleared the fog and a smile that had almost managed to form beneath his helmet was abruptly terminated in the womb as the living amalgam of many deities staggered outward, dreary, seemingly delirious and… ill.

And the boy from Blud had a damned good idea why as his eyes lingered over her chest-cavity for a moment.

Still, asking questions was part of triage-- his time as a medic had drilled that much into his head-- so he did have to ask.

”Karen…?” The boy asked, creeping forward, slightly weary ”How do you feel?”

”Mal?” called a familiar voice within the smoke, in between coughs. ”Zoey? Ted? Can you guys get this thing off me? I can barely breathe in here!”

With uncharacteristic slowness, Mal’s glowing eyes, visible beneath his visor, tracked to where that had come from… then back to Arcana… then back to that voice again.

”Okay… what the hell?”

March 2nd, Unknown Time
Unknown location, Hub City

The room is dark. No light to be found, except some seeping under the door. It's cold, and not just any type of cold. The type of slightly-below-room-temperature cold that, given enough time, freezes you to the bone. Typical for the midwest this time of year, but there HAS to be an AC blowing somewhere...

Footsteps can be heard approaching the door, and after a few clacks of locks opening, the door opens, the light illuminating the room slightly. A lone figure sits in a chair in the middle of the room, and two more figures enter. One of them flicks the light switch with a click, fully lighting up the room.

Leo Cash, unmasked and shirtless, sits in the aforementioned chair, hands and feet bound to it, looking quite beaten and battered. His mask, as well as his other possessions, lie upon a table against the far wall. His bowstring is broken, and his camera is smashed.

One of the two men who just entered, thin and lanky, closes the door, locking it behind him. He speaks up:

"Well. Here we are again. Let's see how this plays out."

Him and his much more brute-like companion (here on referred to as "Lanky" and "Burly", respectively) approach Leo. Lanky rubs his arms.

"Whew, is it chilly in here... How are you feeling, guy?"

Arsenal looked up at the man, tired.

"Peachy."

"Cool, cool. You gonna talk now?"

"... Nah, I'm good."

"Ah. I see. Maybe you just need to soften up a bit. Take your time."

He signals to Burly and walks over to the table, inspecting the gear for clues. Burly walks over and cracks his knuckles, giving a large punch to Leo's face. Then another to his gut. Then another. Then another. After a good amount of punches, Burly takes a moment to rest his fists, talking to his punching bag.

"Come on. We know you're that internet guy, we're not stupid. But how'd you track us, huh? Who sent you?"

Leo lurches over in his seat, coughing.

"... It... It was..."

Burly grabs him by the hair, and Lanky looks over expectantly as they hear this. Burly holds Leo's head up.

"Yeah?! Who was it?!"

"... Your mother. We're real worried about ya. Please come back home."

Lanky gives a sigh and a facepalm, and Burly lets Leo's head drop. He rolls a shoulder.

"... Well. Back to it."

Another punch hits Leo's face.

Record Scratch
Freeze Frame

Yup, that's me. You're probably wondering: "Arsenal! How'd you get into this situation?!" Well, let me tell you. It all started about a week ago...

---

February 22nd, 8:00 PM
Downtown, Hub City

I'd been handling some street crime the first day I got here, but I'd stumbled upon various bits of information pointing to some larger organized crime. Shipping manifests, notes, multiple scared goons begging for me not to hurt them- all adding up. Led me to this place Downtown, Hub City Realty.
Seemed legit at first, but with the amount of traffic that place gets? I had to investigate.

Arsenal leaps over the side of the building, landing on the rooftop of the adjacent one with a roll, seamlessly transitioning into a sneak as he moved to the ledge. The Realty office was just across the street. Removing his camera from his chest, he looked at the electronic screen and zoomed it in at the building.

"Alright, boys and girls, let's see what we got here..."

The place was strangely lively, with delivery men coming through the service entrance on one side, a man guarding the side door on the other, and a group of fine-dressed men entering right through the front door. Looking through the windows, there were still a few employees working, but the rest of the people inside looked a lot more dangerous than normal security guards...

He'd spotted a small balcony which appeared to be an outdoor smoking area on the second floor. That's his way in. Putting the camera back on his chest, he readied a rope arrow, aimed for the balcony, and let the arrow fly. It stuck itself in the wall just above the door. After tieing the rope around a nearby AC unit, he tightened it and double checked it.

"All right, let's do this."

After getting a running start, he jumped onto the makeshift zipline, using his bow as a handle. He near-silently zipped across the empty streets, right above the guards, and onto the balcony, landing with barely a sound. Trying the door, he found it unlocked. Probably didn't expect an intruder entering through here. He stepped inside to the dark break room, quietly.

I'd done my fair share of recon, and I was pretty confident that I'd be able to slip in, find out what was going on, and get out without being spotted. But, at the time, I assumed that this place was, at worst, a front for some shady dealings done by some shady guys that'd probably die all the same with a few well-placed arrows.

In hindsight, this could not have been a bigger underestimate.

Arsenal, finding nothing of note in the break room, stealthily made his way into the similarly unlit hallway. Had to find the main office, oh where could it be...

"And the packages?"

"Two retrieved so far."

"Disappointing. Yet not entirely unexpected considering some of the ... talent."

That sounds nefarious. Our hooded hero followed the voices to the door of what must be the main office, the door slightly ajar, allowing him to peek in and listen to the ensuing conversation...

”Fear not, citizens…

A TORNADO FORMS OVERHEAD!”

Silence.

…

”That’s fucking stupid.” Blue ink slashed across the page as Coast City’s latest hero scribbled in his notebook. All around him lay pages, notes and drafts. On the walls were more paper, different though - clippings from newspapers, a few scribbled notes (one of which contained a set of shapely lips in pink lipstick). In the center of the wall, framed as the piece de resistance, was a full center spread of the story that had ran a week ago in every Coast City newspaper.

Aspiring New Hero “Hurricane” has touched down!

It was very artistic. He had posed for a picture on his debut stopping a robbery in Hub City’s larger banks. After almost throwing the man who nearly shot him at the top of the steps outside the entrance to the bank he had stepped on the man, hands on his hips, with the fading sun staining the sky and reflecting off his silver mask with his long dark blue coat billowing around his legs.

It wasn’t just artistic, it was heroic.

Since then, Hurricane had been in the papers every day. Once for assisting in dousing a burning building with his ability to conjure weather and lightning, another for spectacularly ending a highway police chase in his signature crashing touchdown of thunder, and once having ‘relented’ and given a brief interview at the tail end of containing a bomb threat.

(It turned out the bomb was a prank call, but no one needed to know that.)

The interview was just yesterday, after the papers had been filled with speculation every day that he didn’t arrive to do something heroic. That’s how you kept your name in the papers - tease them along, give them hints, and leave them wanting. Wanting his name to appear at every breakfast table and every news outlet just as much as he did.

Because soon, Jeremy Miles would be more than just some kid with aspiring dreams and a dead end job. He’d have his name on the lips of every person not just in Coast City, but all of the USA - and someday, even beyond that. Hurricane was going to be bigger than anyone, even Lady Arcana, ever was!

crackle

”... call for possible breaking and entering in a downtown warehouse …”

Which is why he had to be on alert. The police scanner merrily churned out crime after crime, but Hurricane couldn’t show up to any old crime like some lapdog. Hurricane needed to show up flashy, in charge, a most importantly-

”... backup needed in shootout at a convenience store robbery…”

Highly visible.

Jeremy rose up, rolling his dark shoulders before moving to grab the gear of his precious outfit. It was time to shed this mortal name, and become a God once more.

---

”Fear not, our boys in blue…

A STORM APPROACHES!”

It wasn’t hard to recognize the woman behind the desk of her office, considering her face and name were not only on the building outside, but a good portion of the “FOR SALE” signs decorating numerous buildings and homes around Hub City. Diana Desmond, top realtor for the ever popular and reputable Hub City Realty. She was getting on in her years, but it seemed plastic surgery and auburn hair dye kept a good lid on that little secret.

Despite the moving men and couriers that seemed to frequent the building, the man that currently occupied the chair opposite her was no mere manual labourer. He certainly had the build though, tall and tan with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his expensive button up shirt. He took a drag of his cigarette, smoke languidly swirling in the air on his exhale. Diana pushed an ash tray closer.

”You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” The man rumbled, voice deep and with a hint of scratch in the back of his throat. ”You know how kids are.”

Diana threw her head back and laughed.

”Oh, do I ever. Her mother was the same way; rebellious and thinking she knew everything the world had to offer. Still,” This time the blonde woman sniffed, harshly putting out the butt of her own smoke before going right on to light another. She leaned in as the man offered her a light before leaning back into her chair. ”At least she found something productive to do with her time. Even if the results are-”

”Disappointing.”

”Precisely.” Diana’s fingers dipped behind the desk, and a moment later produced a manilla folder she delicately placed down. ”In any case, here are the new reports for new potential package deals. I know you have another you’re planning on picking up in two days, but I’ve included what we managed to gather about that particular property you’ve been looking into. I’m sure you won’t need my services for closing that particular deal, now will you, Russo?”

Now, at the time, I had no idea what all this talk really meant, but I could tell from the tone and phrasing that it was code. And when bad guys speak in code you know that there’s something illegal goin’ on.

Russo chuckled, pulling the folder close and flipping through it. His broad frame hid the contents, though his shoulders visibly tensed as he seemed to reach a particular entry. ”...No.” He lifted his head, and before him Diana’s eyes narrowed at whatever she must’ve seen on his face. ”I’ll be able to answer these Questions on my own.”

Very illegal.

”Of course.” He rose then, and Diana didn’t even bother to mimic the action. However as he turned to leave she called out after him, ”Oh, and Russo?

He stopped.

”Do keep Gabrielle out of too much danger, won’t you?”

A low chuckle.

”As long as she doesn’t seek it out herself, Diana.”

Lightning Bug
Underground Lab, [VR]Cade, Coast City
February 28th, 6:00 PM

Jessie set down her container of lo mien and scrambled for her notebook, scribbling down more ideas for future projects as reruns of The Office blared in the background. She had to hand it to Arsenal and the MARAUDER, that project had gotten her back into the groove of things. In addition to a bunch of new custom sims upstairs, she had tentatively reopened her commissioning process for metahuman tech and had been putting together some small 'quality of life' improvements for the local metahuman populace. Anything to endear her to her peers after all!

A small whirring buzz alerted Jessie to the presence of one of her drones entering the room. "Yes, I'm still eating and watching that!" She called over her shoulder. "I will also not hesitate to decommission you if you take away my food!"

"Sorry Miss Beedle, this is actually business..." The familiar robotic voice of Amy called out. "It seems someone with a burner email account has gained access to your private email, and is reaching out to you with a job."

Jessie paused for a moment, weighing the possibilities. It could be a hacker, someone looking for blackmail. Could be a sting. Could be a jealous rival. Or... It could be interesting...

"Computer! Pause playback, bring up new emails!"

After a moment of parsing through the archaic language present in the body of the email itself, as well as running the attached images through every filter and reverse search possible, Jessie was... Interested

To: Goldfinger007@clone.clone

From: GirlGeniusJ355@ihavemyownemailservice.pizza

Subject: RE: Business Proposition

Body: First of all, no way am I copying that burner email every time, have a new address on the house. Don't worry, it's completely secure from prying eyes, I made sure to check all the loopholes. And yes, that includes the one you found that let you in on my email in the first place. Good job with that beeteedubs, you managed to impress me. Of course, the job and payment impressed me more, which is why we're now speaking.

I'll let you know up front, I've never attempted cloning tech before, but I have some resources at my disposal which make me confident I can pull it off. And realistically, if I can't do it, nobody can. I'll need some time to build and test everything, though I know you want this done quick. How quick are we talking? As long as I can test just enough to prove the concept, I can bend my ethics enough to move to human trials. Also, you say you're looking for an 'adult aged' clone, but that's a big window of time, do you have ideal age range?

Excited to work with you! --Jessie

@Bluetommy

February 22nd, 8:05pm
Hub City Realty, Hub City

"Oh shit, he's coming this way!"

Arsenal quickly turned to leave back the way he came, but he heard someone coming from that direction as well. Looking in the opposite, it was a dead end with a single window. Seems like his only option.

This was a recon mission, so I didn't bring enough arrows or ammo for all the guards and criminals that were around. And I didn't really wanna risk a civilian worker getting hit in the crossfire if I decided to wreck the place, so I just decided to leave and come back with a plan.

Leo quickly went for the window and shimmied it open. It needed to be oiled or something, because it kept getting stuck. He heard the door open behind him and froze for a second, before the footsteps started walking away. Arsenal started to climb through the window, just over the shipping area, and he'd almost gotten through when he heard the guard down the hallway say:

"Hello, Mr.- HEY! YOU! STOP!"

Looks like he rounded the corner a bit earlier than expected. As Arsenal jumped from the second-story window, he heard gunshots follow him as broken glass spewed forth. As he both tucked and rolled out of the fall, he knew that every guard was most likely alerted to his presence. He looked toward the guards posted at the shipping area as they ran to stop him, some firing on him, and he bolted down the alleyway.

A couple of thugs came from the other end, both with pistols, one advancing. Arsenal, avoiding the pistol fire, ran up the side of a dumpster, then onto the wall, kicking off it and landing on the closer guy as their gun clicked empty, taking him out. He grabbed the gun, throwing it at the farther guy, hitting him in the face and taking him down as well. Arsenal ran for the corner as his brain picked up more thoughts.

SURPRISE ATTACK

Looking behind him as he ran away, he didn't see anyone directly chasing him, so he looked back ahead as he turned the corner-

THUD

The ol' "hit em from around the corner as the run by" trick.
Works every time.

---

March 2nd, Unknown Time
Unknown Location, Hub City

We all caught up now? Cool. Now let's see what happens next.

Leo's sitting in the chair, another punch just landing on his face. Burly shakes his hands for a moment as he lets his knuckles recover from such rigorous treatment. He looks over at Lanky.

"You got anything on your end?"

Lanky sighs in frustration.

"Like I've been saying for the last two weeks, how am I supposed to get information about him from a broken bow, a smashed camera, and some fancy-schmancy arrows?! I mean, he didn't have a wallet or a notebook or anything that would help?!"

He holds up Leo's phone, showing Burly.

"All we got is his phone, and the only thing we're getting from this is fucking SELFIES! I mean, goddamn, how self-centered do you have to be to have this many?!"

Lanky scrolls quickly past all the selfies in Leo's gallery, showing Burly the amount. Arsenal gives a cough, and pipes up.

"You call it 'Being Self-Centered', me, I call it 'Scrapbooking'."

Burly quickly gives him a punch, nearly tipping the chair. Leo lets out a grunt of pain.

"...Ow... You Dick..."

Lanky sets the phone down and points to him.

"And him! Two weeks of nothing but snark outta him! Are you pulling your punches or something?!"

Burly looks clearly offended. He steps up to Lanky.

"You want me to give you a taste test?!"

Lanky is still pissed, and not giving any ground.

"What, you gonna hit me? That all you good at? Must not be good enough, if Robin Hood over there can still hold a debate!"

"And what the hell are YOU doing about it? From the looks of it, you just stand over there with your thumb up your ass while I do all the heavy lifting!"

"I dunno, I don't got shit to work with, so I guess I'm just here for emotional support in case you hurt your fists and start crying."

"Ladies, Ladies, you're both beautiful."

Burly does a 180 and punches Leo in the face, and blood from his nostril begins pouring over the dried blood. This was gonna be a long night.