Blood had long since been washed off Nello's pale scales, flowing across the sleek shower floor and into the drain as if a swirl of red wine. Hugging his knees beneath the warmth of an ever-streaming current, it would be impossible to note the salty tears coating a boy's cheeks. Trembling, Nello hid his face between his kneecaps, unable to wash the taste of blood from his mouth, a lingering presence of sanguine nightmares which had fueled a certain desire for war, and destruction. What brought the young teenager to his knees was the infuriatingly addictive essence brought along the crimson fluids, as his demonic side took center stage. Blood tasted good, no, it tasted far better than simply 'good'. It was intoxicating. Clenching his teeth, Nello let out a whimper, attempting to focus on the warmth which had coated him. This night had been a success, but a disaster, all the time. Children were sent into freedom, and released from the shackles of a coven surpassing all the ruthlessness of humanity, and yet, there was an emptiness within Nello which could not be filled. 

Tightening the embrace around his knees, Nello's crimson gaze had been shut tight, his eyes unable to meet a world which had been revealed to be so cruel, and unjust. He inhaled a trembling breath, before feeling a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders, the presence of another bringing comfort to his shattered self. He knew who it was, of course. Nocturne, who had never found himself further than a mere few feet from the young teen. "What were the options, Nello?" Came a soft whisper, as the demon's snout gently brushed against the boy's ear. Though silence met the creature, Nocturne was aware that even Nello would know the answer. No other options had been presented. Malfiell would have killed them both, had Nello not taken that ultimate step, and delved into his demonic savagery. "You did the right thing." Nocturne continued, his embrace around the young hero lingering in a tender motion, where they sat. 

Those versed in the art of killing, and those who could close the eyes of others would perhaps look at Nello and consider the boy a fragile mess. They would be right, and one could continue on the path and point out the teenager's tender age. This was not a comic book, nor was it a series displayed upon the surface of a television. Nello was not a character, he was a person, and the weight of ending another life was heavier than most would admit to. There was, after all, a reason as to why soldiers had nightmares. "I tried so hard..," the boy began, "to not kill him."

Placing his hand on Nello's cheek, Nocturne raised the young hero's face towards his own, where their eyes met in a shared exchange. "Your heart is pure, but no one else, least of all a demon, will leave you breathing at the end of a fight." He saw how the teenager inhaled another sharp breath, his teeth clenching as the boy's eyes closed. Nocturne's words rang true, and Nello knew this, but adopting this wisdom onto the field of battle had resulted in this very moment. Leaning forward, Nocturne brushed his lips against Nello's in a tender, compassionate kiss, before pulling him into another loving embrace. "The world isn't black and white."

Speaking through sniffling tears, Nello buried his face in Nocturne's neck, the boy's arms holding the other close in desperation. "I know..," came a quiet, muffled response. It was almost as if Nello was clinging to the demon, believing that if he let go, Nocturne would fade away with the flowing stream of water coating their exposed shapes. He could not let go, he could never let go, because the demonic entity ever so close kept the boy alive in far more ways than the drawing of breath. "I just..," Nello continued, his body tensing at the thought, though managed to calm somewhat as he felt Nocturne's hand gently stroking his back. "Even if we had the chance, should we have let him live, Noct'..?""

"No," the shadowy being offered, without a second to consider. There was no scenario which could possibly have played out, which would have left Nello with the possibility of sparing Malfiell, and also leave that room, knowing that the demon had been defeated, for good. He would have risen once more, angrier and more furious than before. A demon suffering defeat, was far more dangerous than one content in their power. Malfiell would have elevated his torture, his darkness. There would have been no end to the eternal damnation he brought, along with the coven he so dutifully served. "Being merciful to muggers and bandits is one thing, Nello," Nocturne explained, holding the boy tightly without loosening his embrace for but a moment. "But the Blackthorn Coven is different. Your morality doesn't apply to them."

Finally able to breathe without the trembling stream of tears to hinder its progress, Nello managed to move back, somewhat. With his hands in Nocturne's, the boy lowered his eyes to the floor, seeing how a coat of water washed past them in a harmonic flow. "Why?" He tried, melancholy taking shape in his eyes.

As Nocturne raised his clawed hand to Nello's face, lifting the teen's gaze to meet his own, a response was uttered. "Mercy is earned, and it can be erased. The Blackthorn Coven does not deserve mercy. You know this, and I shouldn't have to explain it."

Clicking his small, dragon-like claws against Nocturne's hand, Nello uttered a sigh. He gently removed the creature's digits from resting against the boy's features, and tenderly grasped them between his own. "What scares me the most, Nocturne..," Nello began, his body once more tensing, before blood red eyes met their reflection in Nocturne. ""Was that I liked it..."

The door to David's room opened with a resounding *THUD!* as the man slammed it open blearily. With a groan, David stumbled out of his room and made his way to the staircase to head downstairs and get some breakfast. He was never much of a morning person, despite making a habit of always waking up early, and the first hour or so he was up in the mornings was usually spent half awake in nothing but his boxers and a tank top.

David descended from the staircase, nearly tripping and falling halfway down, and opened up the fridge. Grabbing a slice of pizza and a bottle of Coke, his usual morning meal, he slammed the fridge shut and stood there while eating. Usually having something to eat and drink helped him wake up faster, and this case was no different, the bleary fog in his eyes clearing up a bit and his movements becoming less stiff. Still, he knew from experience that it'd be a bit before he was tip top and ready to take on the day.

David was in the middle of taking a bite when he heard a knock on the door. He looked to see if Leo was around, but the redhead was nowhere in sight. Probably up in his room still just getting up, or maybe out about town doing whatever. Shit, that meant that he had to answer the door. Hopefully, it was just Ted or something. Sighing in resignation, David set his drink down and began to finish up his pizza, taking a bite out of it as he walked over to and opened the door...

And before him wasn't Ted, but instead a woman.

And he was wearing a Karen Hernandez tank top and Mickey Mouse boxers while eating pizza.

Needless to say, this woke the monster hunter up quite a bit, and his eyes widened in shock as he looked the woman over. "Oh! Uh... I wasn't expecting anyone to come by this early!" He paused to give an awkward laugh, before falling back to a surprised and embarrassed expression. "Um, why don't you take a seat on the couch over there while I go get into something more modest and wake up my partner?" He pointed the couch out to the woman, before running upstairs with startling speed.

Groaning in embarrassment once he was up the stairs and out of the woman's sight, David shook his head. 'I wish I could say this was a first for me,' he thought to himself as he made his way to his room, stopping along the way to knock on Leo's door. "Hey Leo, we got a client, get into something decent and head downstairs." With that, he headed into his room and made a beeline straight for the dresser.

Leo had just finished his push up set and was about to move onto situps when he heard a knock on his door. It was Dave, his voice sounding out from the other side.

"Hey Leo, we got a client, get into something decent and head downstairs."

A customer coming to the HQ directly, without Ted escorting them or giving us warning? That's unusual, but it happens rarely. But not even calling to shedule an appointment? They must be desperate. And judging from Dave's normal morning routine, followed by him going back into his room with the client still downstairs, he must've answered the door half-naked. Looks the first impressions have already been made.

Leo got up from the floor, freshened himself up a bit, and grabbed another sleeveless shirt from inside the dresser. Now dressed in his casual attire, he exited his room and headed back downstairs, greeting the woman whom Dave had sat on their dingy couch. Despite her relatively modest appearance, she carried an air of elegance, and Leo noticed a small sliver of a gold earring peek through her hair. She was definitely desperate. Leo matched her nobility with his words.

"I apologize for my partner's lack of common decency. He may not look like it, but he's the best demon hunter in Illinois. It was impolite of him to keep such a lovely lady as yourself waiting."

Now that he tried making a proper charismatic second impression, made his way over to her and extended a hand.

"Leonardo Cash. I'm the other half of the team. If you'll follow me, I'll take you into the actual office."

Kraken stared through the porthole of the airlock with concern, worrying about the position Grim was in. Though there was a Lantern in there, an Morgan's son if he was to be believed, the radiation coming from the strange obsidian man was at dangerous levels. Kraken wanted nothing more than to be present at this meeting taking place beyond the thick metal door, but common sense prevailed. Not only did Kraken not have much in the way of radiation protection, aside from some very basic protections provided by his armor, or possibly the slightly more robust protections of a space suit, but his particular skill set would not help much here in any way that Grim would appreciate. And if the disgraced Atlantean had learned anything from the decade of working with the armored genius, it was best to keep on his good side.For now, he kept his hand over the door controls, ready to intervene if things escalated, but not a moment before...



A blue streak of light crossed the barrier of cold space that made up this system's protective asteroid belt, breaking into the steadily warming light of its young sun. Up ahead was a small microplanet, locked in a stable orbit, the furthest of the celestial bodies in this star's stable zone. Slowing his approach, Blue Lantern Saraka Kute examined the sight before him. His ring enhanced the planets and moons, giving him an accurate map of the system. Third planet from the star. His soon-to-be partner. As the strange, shark/dog-like creature drifted closer to the planet, he decided quickly to use his remaining travel time to learn about the world he would be staying at for the forseeable future. Thankfully, the Blue Ring had access to many of the details stored by the Green Lanterns, and it looked like the previous Lantern for this sector had taken extensive notes about his home planet.

A quick scan of the basic information left the alien being curious to learn more. The Humans were an incredibly adaptable species, adjusting to life practically everywhere on their globe, in every climate. A small subset of them had even evolved to be amphibious, like his own species. Then there were the other Terrans, the ones only recently returned to the planet. Magic-sustained creatures, the basis of many myths and legends from Earth, if the notes were to be trusted. And now, a population of creatures called 'demons', hailing from some extraplanar realm. This planet would be fascinating. As his journey continued and he drifted past further planets, Saraka read about the different cultures of Earth, his head positively spinning with the new information, and completely unsure of what would be useful to him and what wouldn't. The history of this world was bloody and tragic, much like his own, and yet where his world had ended up with two major cultures fighting each other, this one had continued to splinter. There were easily hundreds of nations, cultures, customs, and millions of ways to offend the Terrans. What might be considered polite in one culture could be seen as a declaration of war in another. Saraka hoped that his partner would have more information about this than he currently had, or at least would be able to help figure it all out.

After hours of study, Saraka finally began approaching his destination. Slowing to a relative crawl, he took in the sight of the space station before him. Impressive, for the current level of technology and the upheavals the planet had had recently. His ring glowed brightly, suggesting that his charge was within. Masking the presence of his own ring, Saraka drifted closer to examine the metal behemoth. He didn't want to spook the occupants, but he was curious to see how he might contact them...



From atop the roof of a nearby building, Jason Graves watched the chaos below. He had been in the area when the building went down, but before he could get in the cops had shown up. So now it was up to plan B. Watch from a distance, gather intel, intervene if necessary. Radio chatter was scattered, was there had been talk of a Meta involved. One worker, unharmed. One other, possibly still in the rubble. Jay's heart felt like ice at that last one. He had no love for this particular company, any M-Word in the city had an inkling of where they stood on the whole Meta/Monster/Mage rights front. But he also knew from experience, many of the guys at the street level working for them were in tough spots themselves. Gotham was a hard city to survive in. If she didn't force you to compromise your morals, well... You probably didn't have many to start with.

The scanner built into Overcharge's helmet crackled to life, picking up a transmission from a familiar voice. Commissioner Jaina Jasper, one of the few exceptions to Gotham's morality-bending hellscape. The woman had been one of Jason's few friends growing up, and when he returned from the dead, she was the first person he revealed himself to. She'd helped him a lot since then, getting his life back on track. Also with some side projects, like the police scanner he was listening to her on now. Threat level Green, huh? So Jasper was skeptical of the workers story too. Squatters tended to just move on if they were found, not fight back. He hoped the Meta had made it out, and that crews could find the other worker...

A sudden commotion from below sent Overcharge looking over the edge of the building, down into the alley. He saw a young girl tossing something behind a dumpster, (Smart move) and then heading towards the cops, hands raised... Turning herself in. Interesting tactic. Her next, echoed words sent Overcharge into action however, as well as cementing his opinion of her. She wanted someone to save the worker. She was one of the good guys. Taking a few steps back and getting a running start, Overcharge propelled himself into the air, twisting his body as he fell a dozen stories towards the ground. Instead of landing with a SPLAT as most terrans would, or with a three-point landing like most Heroes, Overcharge landed on his feet between the young Meta girl and the cops, with the unsettling appearance of a cat, unphased by a fall which should have killed it. Holding his gloved hands in the air to show the police he was unarmed, Overcharge nodded his red-masked head towards the group. "Morning officers! Take it easy on the kid here, we all know what those folks idea of 'gentle persuasion' is. Meanwhile, I'm gonna go rescue a public servant!"

Nodding and waving towards the Meta girl, Overcharge sprinted towards the building, leaping over police cordons and keying on his comms unit. "Hey hey Jasper, tell your goon squad to move back if you can, I'm going in for our missing worker. Your suspect turned herself in to your left, she let slip where to look. Seems like a good kid, afraid for her life, you know how it is." Skipping over the dusty rubble, Overcharge pulled his collapsible staff out of his pocket and extended it, using the sturdy pole to vault and leap towards the southeast corner. With his ability to efficiently use all of his energy, Overcharge hadn't even broken a sweat by the time he arrived at the area he'd need to search. He'd have to move quickly before more first responders got here. He knew from experience they tended to not leave till the job was done, and Overcharge was going to make a pretty dangerous mess of things here before they got better. After spending a few moments clearing aside some smaller bits of rubble, Overcharge found his target. A huge slab of concrete, covering a large portion of this section. There was likely space underneath it, and hopefully the construction worker was in there. Trapped, if any gods were paying attention, and not crushed.

Jamming his staff into a crevice and wedging it under the slab, Overcharge channeled his powers and imbued the tool with all the kinetic energy he had absorbed from his fall. A human body could generate a surprising amount of force with an impact like that, and with any luck it would be enough to shift the slab. He paused for just a second before moving forward, considering the ramifications of what he was about to do. At worst, moving this slab would actually kill the worker trapped under the building. At best, he would be freed and unharmed. Either way, certain publications and journalists in the city were going to blast Overcharge for being a 'Reckless Vigilante, Obsessed with Fame Over Justice, Obstructing the Good Officers of Gotham City PD'. He could live with it. Slamming down on the staff, every bit of energy discharged at once, the slab flipping upwards and toppling over the other direction, towards the blocked-off street. There was still a lot of rubble to dig through, but if the worker was down there he now had a shot at surviving...

January 1st, 10:29 AM (Eastern USA)
Justice Station, Space

With the conversation going on between the two metallic men, Preston found himself with little to do in this tiny air lock. The floors and walls had been inspected thoroughly and he wasn't going to disturb their little talk. Instead, Preston rose his ring to his face and spoke quietly into it. Not that he was hiding information from his host and fellow guest, but simply not to get in their way for the time being.

"This is Preston Wesftield, Green Lantern of sector 2814 reporting in. I've made it to my... station, and am engaging with the current protectors of the planet." He spoke, waiting patiently for a response.

"Good job, kid. I'm glad you made it there in one piece." A hearty laugh and a snort came from the other side, much to Preston's annoyance. "I guess I'm our fifty credits, but Tomar-Re is reaping in favoring you."

"Thanks for the confidence, Kilowog." He stated dryly. His instructor still held no sympathy for him, even all the way out here.

"Have you viewed your dad's notes on the planet yet? Humans are a breed all their own, and pretty isolated despite their level of technology." Tomar-Re, an old friend of Morgan's, cut into the call with his own suggestion. At least someone was on his side.

Despite them not being able to see him, Preston shook his head. "No. I've decided to experience Terran Culture without assista-"

And suddenly his ring burst with laughter. Not only from Kilowog, but also Tomar-Re, who chortled in the background. Preston groaned.

"I'll report in again once I've made more progress."

With a heavy breath, Nello raised his fists for another bout. Scenes like these were common and abundant, an attempt at further knowledge, and most certainly an escape from that of which caused distress. Nello's next attack was deflected by a vigilant demon spirit, which was echoed by his second, and third attempt. It was a choreographed exchange, without fault. Kicks and punches were given and granted, each one meeting another, in turn. It was only when Nocturne managed to sweep the teen's legs with a quick swipe that Nello lost his balance.

Ceasing the chance he had been granted, Nocturne tackled Nello to the carpeted, wooden floor, warm breaths flowing down the boy's snout, from the demon on top of him. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" Nocturne raised a brow, his eyes looking into the sanguine rubies beneath him, where he had pinned Nello to the spot.

"It's not just something I can get over," Nello retorted, his knee hitting Nocturne in the side, before the demonic creature was pushed off. Within an instant, the combatants had risen to their taloned feet, once more.

"So, what do you suggest? Angsting like a little bitch for all eternity?" Nocturne taunted, avoiding Nello's punch, before he manouvered behind the boy, and pulled him into a grapple. "'Cause while you're cute like this, it won't do you any good," came a teasing whisper against Nello's ear before the boy managed to break free of his restraints.

With a spin, the young hero delivered a strong kick to Nocturne's side, causing the creature to stumble, before another expertly executed kick sent him to the floor. A keen eye would note, however, that Nocturne never, in fact, touched the surface of any material foundation. Rather, it was as if he was moving like air, across his surroundings. "Fuck off," a slight grin stretched its way across the boy's lips. Not even the crisis he had been cursed with was enough to wash away his joy of battle. Nocturne's very existence was that of chaos, and now, Nello's was, as well.

"There he is," Nocturne chuckled, jolting to his feet like a weightless feather. "We should fight crime like this," the creature smirked, motioning to the shorts Nello wore, with little else covering his body. Sparring in anything else seemed unnecessary, and less than reasonable.

"Don't be so horny," Nello returned, shaking his head before dodging another incoming strike, one which initiated their new exchange of what seemed like countless aggressive motions. The boy was not trying to hide his pain. In fact, it had taken center stage all night, and without Nocturne's presence, he would likely have broken beneath its weight. However, the bliss of battle was reminiscent of a drug, an intoxicating nectar. Odd, indeed, but a feature one would agree belonged within the heart of a demon. Even the pain shared between both Nello and Nocturne with every attack fueled a joy found within conflict which was incomparable.

It was only after two hours of fluid action that Nello eventually fell to the floor, his body sore, and his lungs clinging to breath. It was a blissful sensation, indeed. "So, what now?" Nocturne breathed, sitting with Nello where the boy leaned his back against the wall. Nafir had dedicated what would have been a guestroom to Nello, where the boy could practice. It was a small room, but empty, which allowed for space. "No more hero crap, because you had to do something difficult?"

With eyes falling to his small, draconic feet, Nello gently curled his toes, or rather, his talons, before managing a soft sigh. It was a repeated statement which he had uttered for the other to hear. 'I should just stop'. Nocturne was quick to shut that down, however, making his opinion on the matter known. Like their sparring match, the night had been occupied with a long 'back and forth', concerning transpired events. Doubt and confusion had swept into self into Nello's mind like a crashing wave, and his attempts at dispelling this lingering anxiety was met by little more than a reflection of the misery he was trying to escape. "Part of me knows that you're right, Nocturne," Nello began, "but I can't just.., I mean, I killed someone."

Rolling his eyes, Nocturne let his head rest against Nello's lap in a manner most comfortable. "You killed a demon who was eating kids. Yeah, you're horrible," the spirit joked. "You know what you did was the right thing, you're just acting like a bitch because you had to get your hands dirty. Welcome to the real world, Nello."

Though silence lingered, Nello would eventually speak up, his eyes revealing a mixture of acceptance, and melancholy. "The Blackthorn Coven deserves it, I know..," he sighed, yet again.

"And you liked it," Nocturne grinned, reminding Nello of the fact. "Yesterday you saved more people than you ever have. You're a soldier in a war against the coven. Start acting like one."

With his fingers gently tightening around Nocturne's forearm, Nello tensed. A war against the coven? They were the biggest, meanest, and most dangerous force available. After what Nello had seen, he knew that fighting them was not a comfortable endeavor, but a necessity. Heroes were merely propaganda, weren't they? If he wanted to make a difference, he needed to step up from common thieves, and fight those who truly needed an enemy, an opposing force. "Fine," the boy clenched his teeth, "I'll be a soldier against the Blackthorn Coven. " The frown on Nello's face was not aimed at Nocturne, but rather, it was a reaction to the realization. Life was not a comic book. The coven was not a conventional villain, and if Nello wanted to do what truly mattered, he could not continue to delude himself. Heroes belonged in the sky, and on the news. Nello was no hero, and he never would be, but he could make a difference. He would fight. "We'll keep hunting them, and no matter how shitty it makes me feel..," the teen found himself trembling, his eyes watering at the thought, "we're going to save everyone we can, from the Blackthorn Coven." Children tortured to death and consumed by a demon should have been enough to tip Nello over the edge, but the tear-filled determination now visible on his features expressed a statement, indeed. "By any means necessary..."

After giving their account to the police upon their arrival at Madison Square Garden, they had quickly departed for the restaurant--all that dancing and dodging of superpowered stalkers had worked up a bit of an appetite within Karen.

The drive was in itself rather...interesting. She wasn't used to having others ride with her besides Jones, her parents, and sometimes her manager. These people felt distinctly different than the gushing groupies that often tried to worm their way into her life. It was almost like having friends, in a way, even though they barely knew each other.

Karen had driven her Hybrid Porsche Panamera to the restaurant, with Jones in the passenger seat, and her three heroes all in the back. It had been a short ride, despite the usual New York traffic, during which they had at last properly exchanged names with one another. Chipotle was fairly crowded for this time of night, and so Karen had worn her thick sunglasses and beanie in the hopes of not being recognized by the throng of people surrounding them.

"Get me the Barbacoa, please," said Karen quietly to her bodyguard, hoping to further reduce the possibility of her being recognized by having him order for her while she went to claim a table for their group.



Clio was the next to claim her seat at the table, carrying a tray of three soft tacos. She smiled to Karen, but looked away just as quickly, pretending to focus on her meal. She didn't really eat out with people like this often. Working from home meant that she didn't benefit from making friends at the office, not that she would've had the confidence to do so. Makaya, perhaps, but not her.

"Your Barbacoa looks good, maybe I should have ordered that instead."

Everything was going to be fine. She could do this. She had already talked quite a bit with Karen when they were changing clothes; she knew Starfire. She could deal with Jones' scathing comments. The only one she still wasn't terribly familiar with was 'V', and he seemed pretty chill.

Glancing about the crowded restaurant, Clio sat up a little straighter in her seat and did her best to look confident and outgoing as the others approached.

Starfire copied Clio- Mayaka?-'s order, because she didn't know what to get and had no idea what to get or what anything was or what anything meant. The three "soft tacos" were hot, and indeed soft. This was food. Food, in Tamaran, meant a different thing than it did in English. The alien had never had any nor had she ever had any use for it. Starfire glanced around, and saw the humans putting the food into their mouths. Narrowing her eyes, she poked the taco infront of her, and it folded backwards in response. Picking it up in both hands, much of the ingredients spilled out onto the napkin around it. One hard fought bite later, the entire chunk of soft taco fell down her mouth hole and lodged itself in her throat. One might noticed there was no chewing involved. It tasted like nothing, and Starfire felt it begin to clog up her crucial pipe. Carefully, she took another bite, trying to understand the allure. The same effect. No. She did not like the soft taco. Making a sick face, Starfire set the taco back down on the napkin and laid her hands in her lap. Slinking back against the seat, her head sunk into her shoulders from embarassment. Would this be an offense? Starfire forced a smile and tried sitting up straighter, to look more confident and comfortable like Clio obviously was. Starfire's smile was obviously fake, however, and she quickly gave up the illusion and frowned.

"I'm sorry. I do not like the soft tacos." Her voice was raspy and obstructed. She tried clearing her throat to no avail. "Maybe another food, some other time." She massaged her neck. Some of the people in the kitchens spoke a language she did not understand. Unlike her own world, apparently Earth was a place of many languages. How inconvenient. Though the last time she learned a language, she became friends with Clio, so it did work out in the end. Her eyes flicked from person to person, hoping someone else would start a conversation about something else. She didn't want to keep asking questions. Her sister was right. These soft tacos were terrible, and it was Starfire's own fault she shoved them into her face. She probably made herself look stupid. Just like her sister used to say, Starfire always made herself look stupid. Blinking she pushed the thoughts away and looked over at Clio to see how she was enjoying her tacos.

'Okay, that one hurt a little...' Sasha had to concede internally, even as she grunted and wheezed to shove as much oxygen as she could into her lungs as she possibly could. Partly because of the speeding fist that had forcefully emptied them for her.

...And partly to brace for the other one headed for her face at that very moment, which struck with an echo that reverberated around the factory floor.

To her credit, despite having been tied to this friggin' chair in a dingy old factory straight out of some cliche for what must've been a few hours now and having the absolute shit kicked out of her by this guy, she still remained, well...

"Shit, Julian. If yer cock's as limp as yer wrist, I suddenly understand why Molly left ya... well, that and yer lumpy-ass face."

Sasha. She remained Sasha.

Maybe it was the fact that they had her kid. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that this was a uniformed officer she'd worked with for over a decade kicking her head in. Or maybe she was just really goddamn angry right now... but the fact remained, she wasn't giving anything to anyone present but her purest contempt from start to finish.

Which is precisely why she met the next oncoming extremity with a big damned cheeky grin.

"That is enough, Mister Muller!"

...Not to say she was too broken up about that same fist abruptly coming to a stop about an inch from her face at that shout either, mind you. But the point remained. As did the look on her face as the newcomer, a portly, Italian man in a resplendant tuxedo and dress shoes polished to a mirror-sheen approached at a brisk clip, arms folded behind his back.

"Surely, there is no need for such... barbarities." The sharp-dressed man lectured with a decidedly mediterranean wave of his hand "We are all civilized people here, after all. We can talk this out."

"Oh, look, the Cliche Italian Mobster has arrived to say Cliche Italian Mobster things!" Sasha ouright laughed, grinning from ear to ear out of spite and around a mouthful of blood. "Now all we need is a cat, a bowl of oranges and some automatic gunfire and we have ourselves a fucking blockbuster!"

To her irritation, the object of her mockery just smiled. Almost warmly, even.

"Ah, Miss Jericho, it lightens my heart so to see that Mister Muller's hospitality hasn't at all dimmed that fire i have heard so much about." He stated simply, with a downright jolly little chuckle to boot. "But I would advise you to... exercise some tact. For the time being, at least."

The chair-bound woman just affixed the man with a blank expression. Followed closely by a raise of her brow.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Tact." He answered cheerfully and without skipping a beat as he pulled up a chair and sat down across from her "Discretion, thinking things through before you act or speak. That nebulous thing that has managed to evade you all day today."

Again, Sasha could only meet this strange, cheerful man with another deadpanned expression.

"...Who the absolute fu-"

"Alright, I suppose I shall have to elaborate." The man cut her off quickly with a single enthusiastic clap and sprung to his feet with energy rare in a man his age, pacing a circle around the bound woman and enunciating with his hands. "We approached you for assistance with a... small matter. Nothing beyond your particularly prodigal set of talents, if today is any indication and offered no small amount of compensation for your trouble... and, oh... what you told our representatives again?"

"To take a flying shit."

If anything, that just seemed to make the man happier, putting a little spring in his step as he came up on her right.

"Yes, that! That wonderful, charmingly Bludhaven response to someone offering you money for very little effort! Brilliant!" The man continued with a charmed laugh, before crouching down next to her and suddenly donning a decidedly unpleasant expression as all that honey and joviality in his words abruptly ran dry. "But ill advised."

Even Sasha had to admit, now that she was seeing this man up close, suddenly seeing all of the cold, dead nothing behind his eyes...

It scared her. In an almost primeval way she hadn't felt since the war.

"But your lack of judgement doesn't terminate there, no, we approached yo a second time after that. This time, at work. And what do you do? Why, you grab our men by the collar and throw them out onto the pavement. Very disrespectful of you. Also Ill-advised." The man continued, gently squeezing down on the woman's arm with frigidly cold hands. "So I then took more aggressive measures to try and make you see some modicum of reason. To which you responded by gallivanting around the city like some Hollywood action hero hospitalizing fourteen of my men— half of them into intensive care, no less— until your good friend Mister Muller here was able to lure you into his patrol-car and hit you with a taser."

If Julian was at all ashamed of his role in all this, he didn't show it. Offering Sasha only a smile and a blown kiss as she turned to fix him with a cold glare. Smiling even harder as his unnamed friend gently cupped her cheek to guide her attention back toward him.

"And now, here you are tied to a chair and rapidly running out of paths to a happy ending." The man in the black concluded, easing his grip on her arm and caressing her bruised cheek in some bizarre pantomime of a father reassuring his child "So yes, Miss Jericho, I do advise you show some tact."

With that, the man stood, and circled around again until he was behind his captive, making a deliberate point of tracing a finger up her arm as he went, before resting it upon her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper into her ear...

"After all, is all this really worth it?"

There was a long, dragging couple of minutes following the man's tirade as Sasha sat there in silence, her brain churning in instinctual alarm at something she'd just noticed when the 'civilized gentleman' had gotten that close—

An overwhelming stench of raw meat.

For his part, the figure just pursed his lips a little in thought, stood up and began adjusting his bowtie.

"Well, I suppose it matters not."

...Before violently and looping the thing around her neck and wrenching backward with speed and strength unbecoming a man of his apparent age, easily overpowering the thrashing woman.

"After all the headache you have caused today, they were going to have me kill you anyway. I had merely hoped you would convince me to make it easy for you"

His eyes then flicked back up to his accomplice, shining malevolently as he spoke over the woman's muffled screaming.

"Have Mister Gabriel take young Robert down to that place on Fifth and Keele, see what the Fleshmongers will give you for him."

Upon hearing that, Sasha's eyes nearly bulged out of the sockets as she thrashed even harder, something her tormentor allowed for not more than a few seconds before just releasing his hold and driving a fist into the back of her skull to knock her out.

"And fetch me my toolbox, I have much work to do."

---

WHAP!

"GAH!"

And very suddenly, Mal was hunched over clutching the back of his head.

Again.

Though that didn't at all stop him from casting a sharp glare over his shoulder at the apparent source of his current cranial woes.

"Okay, what the hell was that for?"

His assailant, to her credit, slothfully sprawled across the other end of the couch and shoveling popcorn chicken into her purple-skinned facehole whilst simultaneously slurping some no-name brand cola off the coffee table before them via a series of bendy straws taped together somehow found the dignity to look almost offended by the question... Even in the middle of dutifully getting bits of greasy food all over the bright red trenchcoat she now used as an ad-hoc pillow.

"Ya've got food, ya've got yer Shweedart on TV and ya got tha incomp'rable pledjer of muh comp'ny... yet ya keep shtaring off in'na shpayshe." She half-answered, half-gargled around a mouthful of chicken and soda before swallowing the combined fastfood slurry in one forceful gulp. "What's on your mind, Pup?"

Malcolm visibly flinched slightly at that... And only partially because of the combined assault of the embarrassing nickname he could never seem to outrun and the umpteenth (loud) reminder that night that he once had a crush on a friggin' Disney Princess— This was technically the longest he'd spent around Mogarra in months. And as much as she liked to conceal it beneath her usual antics, he didn't need his computer-like brain to figure out that she was probably getting just a liiiitle bit upset about it.

Never mind what must've been going on in her noggin at the state he always seemed to be in when she did see him these days.

...Frankly, the boy was beginning to suspect the he might just be an asshole.

Yet still, his hand was on his duffel before he thought about putting it there.

"Nothin', just remembered I got somethin' to take care of, is all" Mal lied through his teeth, getting to his feet with a sorry little smile "'Fraid I'mma haf'ta call it a ni-"

"What? Oh, c'mon Mal, we're just gettin' to the good part!" The succubus cut him off quickly as she abruptly jolted to a sit with enough force to spatter crumbs and bits of chicken off her old Led Zeppelin t-shirt and across the couch as she latched onto his arm. "I mean, look! She's shaking her ass and everything!"

"Sorry, Mog, but I—"

The boy's train of thought paused for a moment as he cast a quick glance over at the old box television confirming that, yes, everything the succubus had just said was emphatically true.

''Make that work', indeed...'

Having to physically shake his head to get himself back on track after that, Mal, to his eternal credit managed to collect his thoughts enough to throw the sling of his duffel over his shoulder and pick up where he left off.

"...It really can't wait."

The ancient demon met that with an indignant glare... that slowly, but surely softened into a frown... and then finally something that suspiciously resembled a pout as she relented and sat back, hugging her knees and wrapping her tail around herself.

Though she didn't say a word.

'Yup. Confirmed. I'm an asshole.'

"Look, I'll take you out for-"

"Just fucking go, Malcolm."

The boy's breath caught in his throat at that, but he lowered his head and silently complied.

Mogarra K'Orathys, for her part, just sat there in silence as he went... well, mostly.

"...Damn right you're taking me to dinner."

And that's about when some squirrely kid on the TV rushed the stage screaming like a lunatic and spouting red energy all over the damned place.

---

"That took you an awfully long time, Mister Muller." The senior man growled out with just a tinge of impatience, as he calmly took the shiny, chromed toolbox from the man's hands and placed it down on the table beside him. "Just what, pray tell, kept you?"

Julian only shrugged at that.

"Kid's got a lotta of his mum in 'er, Mister Macellaio. Kicked Paul right in the pants an' ran for it soon as he went to grab 'im. Thought it best ta catch 'im first." He explained, making... a whole lot of sense for a glorified henchman, in retrospect. "It's a big place, and there ain't exactly a shortage a' places to hide. And if he gets out and flags down a cop who ain't playing ball-"

"Yes, yes, I understand. I didn't mean to speak so tersely to you." Macellaio relented with a little wave of his hand and an apologetic smile, even as he cut him off. "I'm just... very eager to get to work. That's all."

The younger man just straightened slightly and nodded at that. Not particularly hung for any further details beyond that; Don't get him wrong, Julian loved the extra income he got through this guy, but he really didn't want to know what was going on in that creepy little head.

Though luckily, any opportunity the man might've taken to elaborate on what he was thinking came to an abrupt halt as what little lighting they had chose that singular moment to go out. Leaving the two to just stare eachother down in the near pitch-black of the old textile factory.

"Julian, could you check the fusebox? I'd quite like to be able to see what I'm doing, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing, Boss." said the cop as he spun on his heels, more than happy for the excuse to be moving away from that guy in a dark hallway.

---

"'Julian?' When the fuck did I get on a first-name basis with the goddamn magic cannibal?" Muller couldn't help but grumble, his nature forcing the words from his lips but his fear ensuring they never carried further than a whisper as he fumbled his way to the utility room, guided solely by his dollar-store flashlight.

Not that he'd need to, he figured, Mister Macellaio was on the other side of the damned complex entertaining his guest, and as for everyone else on their little escapade, well... he was pretty certain it was kind of a shared sentiment.

Hell, they actually had to draw straws about who got to be the unlucky fuck who had to talk to the guy.

...Which had now led to him being on a first-name with a fucking magic cannibal.

'Should'a gone into carpentry like Dad wanted.' He lamented inside, as he rounded the last corner to his destination and pushed the old steel door to the utility room open. 'Well... 'least we're almost done here...'

'Krnsch!'

Julian paused. That sounded like... glass. Flicking his light to the floor confirmed that. Specifically, glass from all the old fuses someone had ripped out and smashed into the floor.

His hand went for his radio. But before it even made it halfway there, a hand was on his wrist, another on the back of his head, a boot slamming into the back of his knee and quickly soon afterward, his face was being driven into the glass-covered floor.

"So... 'Magic Cannibal', huh?"

Came a low, modulated growl from above him as he struggled to get back to his feet, an effort that only saw him rewarded by the loud, sickening 'SNAP!' of his arm and wrist breaking in rapid succession echoing off the concrete walls and the door which neatly shut behind him under it's own weight.

"Do share."

---

---

The old grandfather clock in Tobias' room tolled eleven and the young wizard looked up from his book, wearily rousing himself like with a start and a glance around the room. His study had dimmed in the hours since he had returned to his home, and the fireplace had died down to embers. The cold winter air seeped into the room through the frosted windows and had begun to give a chill to Tobias' breath. He set the ancient tome down on his desk and unfolded his legs, rotating the luxurious armchair to the side and standing up with a tired stretch. His tie hung carelessly on a couch that faced the fire beside one of the many tall bookshelves in the room, and his coat rested on a coat rack by the door along with his hat and cane. His white gloves were neatly folded and sat on an unused corner of the desk. He yawned and clapped his hands, feeling the slightest effort of will leave him as he muttered a very familiar incantation.

"Zazhigat."

The silence in the study that had returned once the chiming of the bells had ceased was broken by a sharp pop as a bright spark flared to life in the embers of the fireplace. What remained of the log leapt once more to cheerful warmth, and Tobias made his way over to the hearth, prodding the wood with a metal rod that hung alongside other tools of similar purpose at the fireside. He reached down and lifted a fresh log and set it on the blaze before picking up an open bottle of bourbon that rested on the mantle and returning to his desk where an empty glass awaited its revival.

"Are you satisfied with your life?"

Tobias filled the glass and took his seat again, examining his notes for a moment before attempting to find his place in the arcane codex he had left open.

"You could be useful out in the real world... Use those tricks for the greater good!"

Tobias shook his head for a moment, frowning as he thought about the words that he had heard earlier that evening.

"...Have you considered that helping to save the world will give you more to gain in the long run?"

Tobias thought of the world, glancing over at a lovingly carved and engraved model of the planet on which he currently made his home. He thought of his true home, and his thoughts lingered on his Father's final words to him.

"You are our last hope..."

His face sagged, defeat etched in his features as surely as the runes that sprang to life beneath his fingers were carved into the wood of the globe that began to glow and rotate on its own.

"What good is hope, when the quest is hopeless?"

His features hardened even as a glint of scarlet appeared in his dark eyes. The faint light cast from them illuminated the pages of the book before him ever so slightly.

"Hope is never truly lost, so long as one still strives to find it."

His father's words gave him some comfort as the glow receded from his eyes. He set his drink down on a granite coaster beside the book and rose to face the globe. The globe showed great green bands of light that embraced the whole world like the ropes around an old buoy. The bands pulsed rhythmically, appearing as a pulse across the whole planet. As each pulse flared along the bands of light, runes that were inscribed along the continents would flash in sequence. The lights began to darken in the east. New York's sigil grew darker and darker until there was an angry red symbol that remained constant even as the rest of the planet pulsed along with the cosmic heartbeat.

Someone was meddling with things best left alone. And Tobias was going to find out who. The globe slowly stopped turning and its lights dimmed to nothing, save the brilliant red sign over The Big Apple, as he rose to his feet and set off towards the door. He paused to take up his hat and coat, lifting his cane in his hand, before shutting the door behind him. The fire in the stone hearth abruptly extinguished even as the Master of the House departed with a silent step into the shadows of the hall.

---

---

The bustling city street never stopped, even at night. Thus, it was under cloak of darkness and blessed noise that Tobias stepped out of the shadows beneath a fire escape behind the New Amsterdam Theater he had been performing at mere hours prior. Slipping out of the shadowed portal, he kept his head low and his hat's brim forward. As he walks, he taps his cane against the cold concrete of the sidewalk and whispers an incantation under his breath.

"Skuchnyy"

The air around him shimmers for a moment and then stabilizes again even as he tilts his head back and allows his hat to resume its usual position on his head. He taps the shoulder of another pedestrian on the street who turns and looks at him for the briefest instant before his eyes glaze over for a moment and slide past Tobias' grinning face, then looking up in search of whatever it was that must have fallen on his shoulder moments before.

"Simple, yet so satisfyingly effective." Tobias thought as he blended into the crowd of people that were busy making their way to various destinations in the Big Apple. He traveled south east, towards Bryant park a mere three blocks away, pausing occasionally to allow a car to pass or to go around a pedestrian. When all was said and done, it had barely taken him ten minutes to reach the steps that led into the park, carefully walking around the tourists and other civilians that wandered around the park for an evening stroll. His veil kept him hidden from most; a simple illusion that made him profoundly uninteresting to look at. Someone particularly dedicated or cautious might see him, but in a world of cell phones and constant connection, very few ever bothered.

Tobias cupped his hands in front of his mouth and breathed into them, a warm fog accompanying his exhalation, as he muttered another incantation.

"Pech"

A spark of light and warmth as the fog sparked and ignited in his hand forming a small blue flame that radiated heat through his entire body, yet gave off nearly no light. He held the warm flame close to his chest and extricated his cane from under his arm with his free hand.

A few more minutes of walking and he found himself standing in front of the statue of William Cullen Bryant in the park. The elderly man sat upon a throne cast entirely of bronze beneath an archway before the New York public library, and Tobias lifted his hand, allowing the flame to grow in heat and light. He glanced around, watching for any prying eyes that might be upon him. He might be as good as invisible to the normal person, but even mere mortals might notice such overt spellcraft.

"Medicine for the Soul." Tobias solemnly intoned, waving his hand and sending the blue tongue of fire float to rest above the head of the statue, where it flared to life and became the more normal orange of fire. The eyes of the statue blazed with the same orange glow for a moment and the flame extinguished itself. The statue, suddenly animate, rose from its throne and pulled the bronze seat back from the marble on which it rested revealing a dark staircase down into the gloom beneath. Tobias took a moment to hoist himself up into the hole and began the long descent into the long-forgotten catacombs beneath the Library. The statue's eyes flashed again, and mere moments later the stairs were hidden beneath the bronze memorial once more.

"Even if someone saw that, who would believe them? Would they even believe their own eyes?"

---

"Welcome back Tobias." Came a voice from around the final corner of the stairs, even before the mage had come into view.

"Well met Tyresius." Tobias answered as he entered the pleasant lantern light that emanated from the desk an old man sat behind. He was dressed in simple robes, like that of a priest or other ancient official, and what little hair he had left was white as the snow outside. He bore spectacles of thin brass wire, though for what purpose Tobias could merely guess at considering the milky white eyes of the wizened old scribe had long since given up their attempts at sight. There was a faint outline of blue-green light in the shape of a triangle in the space between his eyes, just above the bushy eyebrows that defied all attempts to control them, and a calm smile made the lines of the old man's face stand out in stark contrast of the dim lighting.

The room in which he sat seemed to be an antechamber of some sort, its arched ceiling and walls being hewn of rough stone and lined with bookshelves stocked with tomes whose age -and names- could only be guessed at. The door behind him was of a dark wood and inlaid with bands of silver. A script was carved into the rocks above the doorway in a polished bronze: "Enter those with the Wisdom to seek, and the Daring to find."

"I hear you've angered the Winter Queen. You really ought to mind your manners around beings of such ancient power." The clerk said, looking back down to the parchment on which he scribbled something with the black raven's quill in his hand.

"Word travels that quickly here does it?" Tobias scowled, approaching the table and holding out his right arm with his sleeve withdrawn.

"Young mages." Tyresius clucked as he pricked Tobias' wrist with his quill, causing a small bead of scarlet blood to well up onto its nib. "You always underestimate the skills of the Little Folk at spreading rumors and gossip." He smiled as he wrote something on his parchment with Tobias' fresh blood.

"Now, with the bookkeeping out of the way, how can I help you, young master Davenstar?" Tyresius smiled at Tobias from over his spectacles. Tobias could feel the faintest pressure emanating from the sigil on Tyresius' head and lowered his defenses briefly, allowing the old sage to examine him with The Sight. He had nothing to hide. Not tonight anyway.

"I have reason to suspect there is black magick afoot in the city. Something large enough to be drawing power from the leylines. I figured you would be the best person to start my investigation with, Archsage Tyresius." Tobias responded, tipping his hat as he addressed the elderly magus by his title.

"Oh good, I was afraid I might have been going senile in my old age. Not a single mage of note in the city has said a word about that yet." Tyresius cackled for a moment and clicked his bony fingers together, a small map of the city forming in the air above his desk. "There has been an uptick in chaos magic being used. Nothing major, but enough small time talents working together to get the attention of something bigger." He swirled his fingers through the map and hundreds of small red points of light flared to life around the city and beyond.

"I'm afraid I don't have much more to offer you, though I would suspect you could find some more information about the magic being performed if you can find out what is being brought into the city."

"Into the city?" Tobias asked, scratching his head as he watched the map Tyresius had conjured slowly rotate on its axis before him.

"Aye, something is being brought into the city. It is quite eye opening, and seems to be responsible for the sudden appearance of a number of new talents." He responded with a knowing smile.

"You know something, don't you?" Tobias asked, frowning.

"I know a great many things, young master." Tyresius responded, his smile widening.

"You could just tell me what I need to do to find the source of this threat."

"I could indeed, but the best lessons are those learned firsthand."

"By the Nine, but you're worse than old Lord Waibell was back home." Tobias said, setting a single golden coin down on the table in front of the old man as he turned to leave.

"Do be careful, Tobias. The night is cold, and the docks are even more so." The old man said with a twinkle in his dull eyes as Tobias waved over his shoulder and started his ascent back to the surface.

Wonder Woman's call to action echoed across the airwaves, but the response came faster than anyone could have expected. Faster and in the flesh. "If such an evil has been forced upon man then let a mortal accept the challenge". The voice rang firm, unshaken by the situation, there was even a tinge of eagerness to it. Some of the people still present looked around, seeking the source, and many would later swear that they saw nothing until they blinked and suddenly there he was. Standing atop a street light, arms crossed, was a masked figure clad in what some could idenfity as japanese wear, surcoat fluttering softly in the wind, face obscured by a wide brimmed hat.

Taiga Sato was in Metropolis by sheer chance. The young japanese man had been resting from his long travels, taking the chance to see one of the remaining jewels of the United States of America, staying with friends of one Special Agent Jagger who asked no untoward questions about his nightly activities and would deny his very existence. And speaking of nightly activities, they had been quite the dissapointment thus far. He had a tally of petty crime stopped, there was certainly more activity in the streets than in Japan, but it had all been so...pedestrian compared to the oddities back home. Not a decent fighter seen, not even worth using a costume.

But this, this was what had drawn him here. To put his talents to the test and make something of them, to stop threats beyond simple criminals whose worth was defined by the weapon in their hand. Mister Unknown's successor had officially arrived to the United States. Perhaps some in the media recognized him, if they were informed of the costumed happenings in the Land of the Rising Sun, perhaps not, but the cameras still pointed to him. The warrior pointedly ignored them and scanned the container from his vantage point. "I am Mister Budo of Japan, well met Wonder Woman. I take it there's no time for drafting a battle plan or other pleasantries".

It was while on the ride over that Virgil switched up his look a bit. First off, the jacket he flipped inside out and tied it around his waist. Then he pulled his dreads out of the little ponytail he had them tied in and let some of them hang in his face. He left the snapback on though; gotta respect the classics.

The reason why he did this though, was simple. There were thousands of people inside the arena when he did what he did. Thousands with phones. Quite frankly, knowing how people were, no matter what was going on, someone was going to be recording it. The world could have been ending and some dumbass was gonna stunt on the 'gram about it.

Virgil had managed to keep up a solid secret identity all throughout high school. It'd be kind of wild to screw it up as an adult. In all fairness, the situation was dangerous and desperate, so he wasn't regretting his decision to step in. Though, the reckless part might have came in when he relented to Sharon’s pushiness. That was one thing that showed of their mother, through Cherry…

Mom…

Virgil abruptly ceased his steps to keep from walking into a lady and her third-grader kid. He offered a minor apology, but kept on keeping on to the table where everyone was. All he got were three hard-shell tacos from here. It wasn’t really because he liked them all that much, but he was hungry. No spanish food could ever seem to measure up to the Goren family restaurant...He wished he could go visit someday, but that's another story.

The current scoop was this new little group that he was now involved with. So, apparently the one named ‘Mayaka’ was actually ‘Clio’. She--The name was cute...er...maybe that was a little juvenile. It was nice, he liked the name.

While the other two had a little dialogue about food, Virgil’s attention was yet again stolen by Starfire. Her reaction to the food intrigued him. Going off first glance, it appeared as if she had never seen human food before. What happened next, confirmed it. She, one, tore the taco in half with her teeth like a lion eating a wildebeest. And two, she didn’t even try to chew it. It looked like she had grown an adam’s apple on the low and seeing her expression made Virgil cringe a bit.

"I'm sorry. I do not like the soft tacos. Maybe another food, some other time."

“The idea is to chew it, Star.” Virgil suggested with a smile, humored but good natured. He looked at his sweet tea that was on his tray. The brown-skinned boy picked it up to hand it to her, but thought better of it. So, he took the top and straw off of the cup and placed it on her tray.

“Try to drink that. It should help in pushing it down.”

---

---

---

---

Rayner let out a slightly annoyed sigh as he slowly rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that had built up during the train ride over. While he was more than capable of being around large groups of people, even in relatively small and confined spaces, Rayner still disliked having to ride on subway train. The air, which was made uncomfortably humid by the heat given off by the other passengers and tainted with various unidentifiable odors, the rattling of the train itself which caused him to bump into those around him, and just the general din of noise that its metallic interior contained, were all just as equally off putting both to him and his senses as some of the other riders were. Shaking his head, Rayner pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he placed his hand on the cool glass door separating him from the air conditioned interior of the Mexican restaurant, and slowly pushed it open. Stepping inside, he did his best to shut out the varying melodies flowing from the powers of a small group of metahumans sitting at a table nearby and quickly strode over to the main counter to order.

Killing someone tended to work up his appetite.

As he passed another table with a rather varied group of people-one of which was also a meta-however, he noticed an orange skinned girl with emerald green eyes. A very curious sight indeed, though not entirely unexpected or surprising given how much weird shit had happened over the years. Quickly shifting his gaze back onto his main goal, the counter where orders were placed, Rayner continued walking without so much as skipping a beat despite the fact that his mind was still somewhat preoccupied with the orange skinned girl and the melodies being emitted by the powers of various meta's currently dining in the establishment. Not an extremely difficult feat for someone with his kind of focus, but not an effortless one either. As he finally arrived at the counter, Rayner placed an order for a steak bowl with a side of chips and salsa which was quickly received and recorded by a rather chipper young lady with strawberry blond hair before being passed back to the chefs in the kitchen. Taking the receipt he was given with a friendly smile and a slight nod, Rayner stepped away from the counter and took a seat at an empty table nearby where he waited for his order to be completed.

January 2nd 07:16(Krasnoyarsk Time)
Sarantsetseg, Formerly the Republic of Kazakhstan

---

Harsh cutting winds blew across the shattered land, dust devils rising from the cracks in the dry soil and joining with the drifts of sand moving from east to west. The sky was black and those few clouds that could be seen from within the sandstorm glowed with a fierce orange as flashes lit above from the chaotic energies loose within the region. It was a sight that once would have been a sign of the end times for the locals, that their gods had descended from up on high to judge man for their sins. At least it would have been a sign years ago, and may have even been interpreted as such by the locals. Those who survived. The apocalypse that many in the west witnessed as the creation of The Scar across the north American continent had in reality left much more of the world devastated and in many places ruined entire countries. That the US had somehow scraped by was no small miracle, but now with many in these regions effectively cut off from the rest of the world by either the chaotic magicks rewriting their homelands or the demons and monsters pouring forth to claim them for themselves, there was truly little concern for what lay beyond.

It was almost as if the clock had turned back for the people who endured this catastrophe just as they had done every other. Life continued regardless of the skies, of the death of the lands, and of who managed to wrest control. That was evident enough from the multitude of tents set up against the base of a mountain overlooking what had once been a verdant valley. Each of them were of heavy canvas, resistant to the tainted winds and protecting the inhabitants as they sheltered from yet another sandstorm. The sounds of conversation gently drifted from between the bound flaps, Kazakh mixed with Russian, Mongolian and a bit of Turkish from a few particularly beleaguered travelers who had recently joined with the nomad group. Cultures and languages mixed fluidly along with the soft laughs of a group entertained by a particularly witty orator. Perhaps the only thing that made this caravan different from all the others that traveled these wastes was not who it was comprised of, but rather what. Though battered and roughened by the relentless winds, harsh skies and the occasional scrap with corrupted wildlife… There was not a single horn, claw, tail or patch of fur on any of them.

Humans. Many of them had once been bitter enemies at some point in history, particularly regarding the Russians and the native Kazakh, but here together they shared something. Resentment. It was rare due to the more jovial nature of the mood in times like this, but every so often a comment was made and thoughts turned to how this happened, how they got to this point. Monsters. Demons. The Coven. Resentment festered and a narrowed eye turned to the walls of the tent as if to curse the necessity of it and cursing those beyond. There was also the lingering essence of despair clinging to some, as while most had been able to muster up the hatred of those who changed their world, others seemed still unable to cope with it. They had yet to adjust. Yet to understand. Yet to find either the tolerance of this new world and the new creatures within, or the resentment towards them and those who brought this curse upon them. Their eyes were hollow as their better natures tried to push them towards seeing the monsters that descended upon their world from the rifts in reality as fellow inhabitants of Earth. Certainly there had been tales that many of these creatures had lived here once before, until they had been banished or forced to flee.

To some it was a heartbreaking story, and a good number tried to push that upon their more narrow-minded kin. In better off places it was even pushed as "oppression of terrans" the resentment of monsters, as if they deserved to share the same land that man had claimed and sacrificed so much for over the millennia. So soon they had forgotten the reason that these "terrans" were here to begin with. So soon they had forgotten the truth of the Two-Month War. As so-called journalists took up air-time on television to prattle on about their own experiences during that time, these people here were struggling to survive yet still had the strength to come together and understand what truly mattered. Perhaps that was why she was there.

---

A dim light filled the interior of one of the larger tents, the warm tones of the yellow flame within the lamp casting on the weathered faces of mostly Russian men and women huddling together and passing the time as best they could. Some played cards, sharing a drink along with the space as they simply played for fun lacking the material possessions to actually wager. Pale hands held a set of cards before emerald eyes, scrutinizing them carefully as the owner tried to decide if it was worth it to keep going or to simply back out. She had done well enough all things considered, a neat stack of wooden chips by her drink not nearly as large as some, but better than a couple by a bit. A strand of red fell across her face and she took the moment to gently push it back into place, running her hand through the long braid laying over her shoulder to ensure all was as it should be. The atmosphere was friendly enough despite the rather competitive game they played, a couple jokes shared in their native language passed around and earning some laughs and gentle ribbing.

"Well Verra? Got anything decent to play?"

"Please do, Anatoly is really giving it to us this time. Someone needs to end this."

"Ha! Come now, you're just mad that the cards have been favorable to me this time, and not you. Don't listen to Boris, you can fold if you want. No one will hold it against you…"

It was rather nice if she was being honest with herself. Despite having almost nothing and being constantly on the move through the wastes of what had once been a lively enough region, those around her still kept up their spirits and pressed onwards. They had no connections to the greater world, had no idea if there even was a world left beyond the scars in the earth left by passing chaos anomalies. Any minute one of them could rip through their encampment and erase most of them, but still they endured despite it all. She wondered for a moment as to why. For most of them there were at least a dozen reasons to give in, to step out of the dim safety of a canvas shelter and into the searing winds beyond. Anatoly just across from her had once been a nuclear engineer, but when chaos poured forth into real space he had nearly lost his life along with everyone in the facility and most of the town he lived in. Others had the same story, but one by one they had come together and formed a new community.

Perhaps that was the answer she sought, but it would have been all too easy to rely on that. She did have something like that in the Justice League, even if relations were strained of late. Such was how things were with a lack of serious threats and everyone dispersing to do their own thing. Grim was probably the only one she could actually talk to and that was mostly due to being around the same age as her and with most of the same experiences. Most. It was one singular difference that left a bitter taste in her mouth and had been the reason why she eventually left. No, it wasn't bitter. At least not entirely. It was like biting down into an overcooked burger that had sat out until cold. Ash. That was it. The realization turned her expression bitter as she shrugged and laid her cards down. Two-pair, queens and two's. A series of groans followed her hand played, but it was a distant sound to her even as she scooped up the wooden chips that were her winnings.

A hollow victory that came alongside yet more of the same thoughts she had every day on a quest that would never end. The others sensed the change in mood and made a shift to other activities as Verra took to her own corner of the tent once more to be alone with her self. Just a nightly occurrence that came with trying to find an understanding of this new world, but this time she was joined by someone she didn't know, and quite obviously didn't know how this sort of thing worked.

"Guten tag."

German? The oddity of hearing his accent and greeting put her off balance for just that moment long enough for him to take advantage of the confusion and extend his hand in greeting. He was quite out of place all things considered, like her relatively unmarred by travelling the wastes and a nomadic lifestyle. Surely though with how no one seemed to mind his presence he wasn't new to the group, but she had never seen him before despite him seeming quite familiar somehow.

"Ah, forgive me. It's been some time since I've had the pleasure of conversing with a fellow traveler and your comrades here seem not too chatty with one such as myself. Please, have a seat, this is your home and I'm but a guest."

"Well, it's a home of sorts I guess."

"Any home is better than none, is it not? And a home where you are surrounded by your fellow man is certainly better than what many are unfortunate enough to settle for." The man had a strangely charming smile, the whites of his teeth all at once comforting yet exceptionally concerning at the same time. Then his jovial mood took a sudden turn like the shift of weather in the wastes and this look that was sullen, remorseful and beholden to no small amount of wroth seemed all the more natural to the strange traveler. "But of course, we should not forget those who lost their lives along with their homes, or worse yet to have some demon or monster suat in the ruins of what was stolen from them."

And just like that she felt it, all those feelings she had been suppressing over the years itching to rise once more to the fore as it seemed this man knew all the right thing to say, his eyes focused on hers as she sat across from him. For a moment she felt concern that he was able to speak so smoothly and have this kind of affect on someone like her. There was also no small amount of that survival instinct warning her that she was in fact, in serious danger.

"Who are you?" Her question asked, she became aware that there was a sudden lack of other people in the tent, that the setting had shifted drastically and even her perception of time felt off. Part of her thought to run, to invoke the speed force and take action, but as soon as the thought came to mind… Everything was back to normal with the laughter of the others off to one side and the clink of metal cups together. The man seemed curious as he looked into her eyes, boring into her soul as she felt once more like reality was shifting around her. "Wh-what?"

"Ah, I do apologize if I've made you feel uneasy. Still not quite used to this kind of thing, a few too many years on my own and not among equals."

The way that last comment was said set off alarm bells again, as the way his lips curled into a knowing smirk was enough for her to send a surge of energy through her body and stand to her feet. It felt as a normal motion for her, but everyone around her wouldn't have even been able to perceive such a thing, all while they barely even moved from just how fast her body was moving. Yet…

"Come now, a bit rude to treat a guest like this."

Everything came crashing back into normal speed, the box she had been sitting on tumbling back behind her to rest against the table and all eyes on her as she stared down at the german. Both hands were clenched at her sides, teeth grinding against each other even as she realized just how angry she was feeling in that one instant.

"Who are you?!"

"Ah, now that is the question is it not? I confess that I have many names that I have gone by over the years, all holding some significance to one group or another, and so would be quite rude to try and place one above the others as my primary name… Wouldn't you agree? Oh, don't give me that look. Why else would I have come so far into these blasted lands except to converse? We share something you know, something that only those here around us might understand. Some would say to us, that it's okay. That they understand, but we both know they don't. You've met with a terrible fate, and all the same those remaining who are closest say that it will be okay and that you can push on through it."

Something sinister settled around her and those behind her in the tent, instinct driving her to get away, but the curiosity of just what this man was and how he knew these things keeping her rooted for now. She could feel that while he held some power and was indeed incredibly dangerous, there was a sincerity to his words. Despite whatever he was, he didn't want to fight her. She had dealt with enough creatures that wanted her or others dead to be able to feel the bloodlust from those who intended harm.

"Ah, there it is. You understand, and that's all one can really ask for. Do take care and try to find your footing again, you'll be needing surety in the days to come. We will cross paths again, for things are beginning that will once more change this world."

And like that he was gone, she was sitting in the corner of the tent staring into her cup and everything seemed as if nothing had even happened. The screen of her smart-phone on her wrist showed that not even a minute had passed between when she had ended her part in the card game and that exact moment. Even her breathing and heart rate were steady, despite pounding in panic just moments before… Except it really wasn't moments ago, was it? There wasn't even that bitter, coppery tang of chaos magic in the air to let her know she had been cast upon, and that only made her more concerned. Who was that? Why did that man seem so familiar even though she had never seen him before, and how did he know these things? The answers would not come now, nor would they be forthcoming no matter how long she sat there she felt. No, there was now that unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was unfolding in the world and that her time of isolation was at an end.

Yet where to? She still had some connections in a way back in Gotham and New York, so those could be decent enough to begin, and there was also the Justice League itself… Yes, that one might just be the best choice as if anyone could find someone in this world it would be Grim. All she would need to do would be to sketch his face and put it into the facial recognition software on the station, and it would be enough to start. First though, she needed to get back to the states...

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”You a bit boojee for an alien.” Jones jabbed for the first time since they arrived. He had been quiet up until now, content to lose himself in his high pending Karen’s request upon their arrival. Such was normal, as princess didn’t need to hold up the line being dawdled on by the entire Chipotle staff.

He set down Karen’s bowl of Barbacoa and sat himself next to her with his own platter of three burrito bowls and a large drink. A light meal for the lean man.

Lazily he set upon the first, watching the steady ebb and flow of evening traffic filter through the restaurant. Despite the nights events, the restaurant was active, something that felt odd regardless of their ignorance to the nights happenings. Although it would only be a matter of time before the Madison incident was trending and whoever was keen enough to notice Karen would go stupid. Which was in particular why Jones had been in silent protest of this trip, but princess seemed adamant on repaying the kids work and convincing her otherwise would prove difficult. Whatever, he could work with this.

(Interacting with: @Zero Hex)

Rather surprised by this sudden stranger, Diana turned around.
Among the people fleeing the scene this one stayed and showed the backbone of a warrior, even looking the part. His hair had a certain style to it and there was something about his eyes that displayed confidence.
“Well met, Mister Budo. And I am afraid there is very little time,” she answered him.
Then rather gently flew up, joined him on the street light and shook his hand.
“You are the second human to ever sneak up on me, and the first I have asked for help. Metropolis may very well need you. More often than not, the fights that really mean something gets won at street-level. Even when they begin in the sky, they finish on the ground."
As if taking a simple step down a set of stairs, she dropped down on the road, feeling no pain by the impact. She gestured backwards towards the cylinder that contained the ancient evil.
“When the seal starts breaking, we will have little time to prepare. Then a horror like this city has never witnessed will be unleashed and you and me might be all that stand between its mouth and the peopl...“
An explosion of stone interrupted Diana. Next half-second 12 tons of force hit her in the back and pushed her through the street. It felt like a meteor emptied all the air out of her lungs. It was more instinct than wit that had made her grab the space between two teeth while her one leg kicked down on the lower jaw of the beast.
Fighting just to keep the lizard from biting down on her, she started to understand the situation. The thing that had broken the seal and launched at her in a second, was moving and swinging her around as if she was in a rollercoaster. The g-force did its best to throw her off her game, but she was an Amazon and released a hand in order to grab her weapon.
I am too close. Too close to civilians. Going to have to finish it quickly!
Still inside its mouth and getting forced down the road, she launched her sword up into the dragon-like thing’s head. This lessened the force of its bite, and she wrestled her way out of the darkness of the death-hole.
Now on the outside, she saw the blue and purple scales on the beast. Like thick plating they were, yet far from indestructible. It seemed a bit like a wyvern, though wingless. The creature’s only limbs were its long neck, short legs and a single tail with teeth. She buried her fingers into one of its scales and swung her sword. The blade penetrated with ease and the creature roared in pain. However it took quite a lot of swings to get through the almost 115inch neck. Every single taunt she had endured from Ares, every single hurt she had suffered, she took out on the creature. Cutting away at this obstacle with all her might.
Only when the head came off and the giant demon feel backwards, did she recognize it from her bedtime stories.
“… A Hydra.” She dared only whisper it at first.
Cut off one head two more will…
Five heads shot out with enough speed and force to rip through a building. The enormous creature raised itself and looked as if to use its five hellish mouths on her. That’s when the second shock hit Wonder Woman: the Hydra started ripping through its own necks. Tearing and biting through itself. Black blood rain down on the people trying to get to safety. Suddenly five heads had become 17, and all of them attacked each other.
The frightful truth about Uroboros, was made clear to Wonder Woman, while she hovered in the sky.
Each time a head was severed five new instantly appeared. And if that wasn’t enough, the body of the creature grew each time.
By Zeus! What have I done? Diana thought, hardly believing the horror she witnessed.

The Hydra’s tail was made up by multiple snake creatures, about the length of half a train and considerably smaller than the heads. Down on the street, the blind anaconda-like mouths started attacking citizens and doorways. The tails were relentless. Meanwhile the jungle of heads raised themselves above the buildings. As if mocking the great Wonder Woman they all hissed in unison.
Then they turned to the city and started biting everything around...

"This is the weakness of your people, little princess. You do not know when to forfeit. The more you fight, the stronger I become." The words of Ares echoed in her skull.

It was known throughout the Pricetown community as 'Switzerland'. Where one left conflict at the door, and where enemies respected one another on mutual ground. It was a place denizens of the slums respected, not out of authority or submission, but rather, due to empathetic appreciation. Mrs. Parchelli did not warrant authority in any regal manner whatsoever, but it would be a lie to claim that her past was one of legal pursuits. No, the old woman known throughout Pricetown as Mrs, or sometimes Madame, or even Mama Parchelli, understood the streets, because she had once been part of their harsh winds.

A hoodlum, by every sense of the word, Mrs. Parchelli had long since abandoned her criminal past in liue of a new journey. One of peace and serenity. The old woman was a gorgon, something which would have brought fright to the forefront. However, draped in a chipper, yellow dress which hugged the upper part of her serpentine body, such an attire would be quick to dispel any intimidation Mama Parchelli might have possessed. A pair of glasses covered her eyes, shaded and comfortable against the woman's face. Of course, those who knew about the deadly gorgons would also be aware of their gaze. Perhaps another reason why her shop was the nexus of her will. One look from the gorgon was enough to cage anyone in stone. Perhaps fear of Madame Parchelli's wrath added to the peace she demanded within her walls, after all.

Old, worn men sat by the gorgon's window, playing a game of chess, their words offering some level of philosophy to a listener, but mainly consisted of bickering, and talk of younger years. An orc and a dwarf, both of whom wore their beards almost like crowns, a symbol of wisdom and experience.

In a nutshell, one would be right in considering the gorgon's shop quaint. Was it not for rows of merchandise displayed across walls and open spaces, one could be forgiven for mistaking the store a small home. It wasn't an incorrect assumption, however, as Mrs. Parchelli lived, humbly, in the back section.

"Nello!" Came an excited exclamation, a heavy Italian accent prevalent in her voice. "Welcome, sweetheart, how are you?" Parchelli asked, as she so commonly did. Entering her store was something of an experience, indeed. The warm welcome was not expected by those unused to her approach, and Pricetown was not known for being pleasant. "You don't have to keep that on, in here, dear," the gorgon continued, motioning towards Nello's hood, where the boy stood. She was well aware of his nature.

"Force of habit," came a soft response as Nello pulled his hood back, and stepped out of the light. A slight smirk made itself visible on his face, revealing a row of sharp, demonic teeth. It was not long after, that he enjoyed a warm hug from the woman who had slithered closer, and wrapped her arms around him. Returning the favor, a pair of small, scrawny appendages gently offered a reflective form of the motion. "I'm okay, Mrs. Parchelli." It wasn't a lie, but not completely truthful, either. The boy had much on his mind, which was an understandable result of transpired events.

"What can Mama do for you today, dear?" Parchelli asked, running a set of long, slender fingers through the young demon's hair. Her own, a coiling nest of snakes, all staring down at the boy with curiosity in glimmering, reptilian eyes.

"You got some.., " Nello began, looking from his right, to the left, "stash?" It was an incredibly dramatic way of addressing what the boy was seeking, the option which had spearheaded controversy, within Pricetown's borders. One only needed to look towards Nello's first confrontation with the drink, in Mama Parchelli's shop. It was not a stretch to point towards caution immediately adopted by the hero after uttering the question. 'Do you sell Monster?' He would ask.

"Come with me," a slithering whisper traced itself past Nello's ear as the gorgon gently spoke to her customer. Parchelli's rules on the matter were simple. She would sell the drink, but she did not stock it beyond the counter, and she did not want anyone drinking it within her establishment. Unnecessary conflict, she called it. "I recently got a new flavor," Parchelli explained, quiet in her words. Opening a fridge beneath the counter, she showed Nello a metallic container. Java was written on its chilled surface, along with the ever controversial Monster. "I'll let you try this one for free," she smirked, putting the drink in a small, black bag. "The usual?"

"Yeah, Pipeline," Nello offered, tapping his chin. "Actually, I'll buy a Java one, too. Dad loves that coffee brand."

"Of course," Mama Parchelli smiled, her beautiful if uniquely serpentine face appearing almost motherly, in a way. "Our little monster," she grinned, playfully ruffling Nello's hair with a long, spindly hand.

January 1st, 8:33 P.M.
Chipotle Mexican Grill, West 34th Street, New York City

Karen's jaw went slack when Starfire gulped down half a taco's worth of tortilla and beef, not bothering to chew it even once. Like a snake that had swallowed an overlarge rat, the orange skinned girl's neck swelled to the point where she wondered if the other girl could even breath like that. Could that have simply been how her species ate?

No, that seemed unlikely given that she did have teeth that resembled theirs. They had to be there for something, right?

Clio reached out to touch Starfire's arm, frowning slightly. "Are you alright, Star? Try chewing it!"

Virgil soon arrived at the table and, noticing the alien girl's predicament, echoed Clio's advice. Jones then slid in beside Karen and gave his own little quip at Starfire's expense.

"Be nice, Jones," said Karen. "She's probably never tried our food before. I'll bet we wouldn't do much better on her world."

Karen had initially suspected that she was some sort of monster that she'd never seen before now, but their introductions on the way to the restaurant had cleared that misconception up. A decade ago, it might've been a terrible shock to learn that you were casually eating out with an alien, but these days it was...well, not common, but certainly not anything to get worked up over unless you were one of those people.

Though, to be fair, there were plenty of those people, given the glares that Starfire was receiving right now. She had chosen Chipotle for a reason; they served all terrans without prejudice, hence why she had agreed to a promotional deal with them. Many other restaurants would have given them the "we don't serve their kind here" line if they had walked in, and so it just wasn't worth the risk.

"So, what brought you all to New York? I know at least some of you don't live here," asked Karen, her eyes darting between V and Starfire, the two that she definitely knew were out-of-towners like herself.

As her eyes settled on the alien girl, she happened to catch a man passing by them who seemed to be staring at Starfire in a decidedly different manner than every other diner in the restaurant. There was no revulsion or anger in his eyes, merely curiosity. Fair enough, she supposed. Star did rather stand out.

Starfire looked at Virgil and nodded. "Chewing." She managed, taking the drink and tipping it back. Her predicament didn't change much, and might of even worsened. The Tamaran people did not eat, and did not have the systems in place required to eat food as humans did. Starfire's teeth were a relic, similar to the human appendix of a long lost species. Perhaps a carry over from the trifling and tinkering of primordials and titans. Either way, Starfire's appearence was deceptively human and it belied her utterly alien biology. Her appearence decieved even herself. The Tamaran quite literally did not have a digestive system, at least as humans know it. She waved off Clio, silently saying she was fine. Boojee? The language learning trick was quite inconsistent. Slang and corruptions were rarely covered, especially if derived from another language. Either way, Karen's reaction denoted it was an insult.

Karen asked a very bad question Starfire did not like to think about, and, Starfire was extremely phyiscally uncomfortable already. One of the uniformed waiters walked past and Starfire caught him on the arm. "Excuse me- is there ah- rest room?" He seemed taken aback by her visible distress.

"Yeah. Right over there." He pointed to a sign that said restrooms, though the alien could not read it. "Thank you." She said. Looking back at her friends, she stood from the desk. As the following events transpired, her friends would have time to discuss and answers questions with each other. Starfire would just be preoccupied momentarily.

"I will be right-- back. I think I made a terrible mistake." Standing quickly from the table she rather clumsily made her way over to the restroom. Halfway through her rapid transit, she bumped into a man carrying some of his food, sending it to the ground.

"I am very- sorry!" She apologized, trying to wipe some of the food off his coat. "I need to..." She didn't finish. It felt like her neck was going to explode. Well, not really, but it hurt to talk. Starfire had endured many injures on the outside, but never before had she experienced something attacking her from the inside out! This was a disastered. She glanced back over her shoulder at her friends and the stranger and grimaced a smile. It was a genuine smile, because at this point her mild suffering was bordering on comical.

A few steps later and many strange looks, she burst into the men's bathroom.

"Woah," A man said, drying off his hands and staring confused at the orange-skinned, green eyed woman who had made a sudden entrance. "You uh- you okay?" Starfire nodded and went to open one of the stall doors.

"Occupied- Jesus." Someone said. Fortunately there was another, and she locked the door behind it. Sitting down- there was a hole in this seat! Her eyes went wide and she fumbled to her feet. Placing the lid down she sat down and gathered her thoughts. Okay. She just had to rest a moment and all will be well. Closing her eyes, her heart and jewel within her abdomen glowed, and Starfire's head lolled to the side and she went limp. Green light flew to her neck, and the food within turned to ash. A few seconds later she awoke and coughed out the grey dust and the green light faded. Starfire straighted up and wiped her mouth off.

There was a knock on the door. "...Ma'am? You can't be in here."

"Sorry, sorry! My apologies." Coughing she stood and unlocked the door and opened it to see the waiter from earlier, who had given a worried look over to Starfire's friends and followed the woman inside the men's bathroom. "I was just leaving."

The waiter gave a concerned look as Starfire made an embarassed exit. The waiter shook his head. "Monsters..." he murmered, chuckling.

Starfire was already feeling much better. Much more carefully this time, she saw the man she had split food onto and approached him and the person who was cleaning it up. "I am very sorry for the mess," she said, leaning down to help. "I am very sorry for everything. I made a terrible mistake." The busser waved her off for she was doing little but getting in the way. Grimacing apologetically, she stood. Folding her hands behind her back, she rocked back and forth on her heels, looking at the man who's name was Rayner, though Starfire didn't know it.

"I will get you some new food, some day." Starfire meant it. "My name is Starfire; and I am sorry for spilling your meal. Really sorry." Her father was looking down on her in smiling shame. If only she had finished her diplomatic training this never would have happened. Master diplomacy was a long lost art, apparently. Starfire hoped none of the people in the restaraunt sought satisfaction for her disturbance. That was an ordeal Starfire did not need- perhaps they would accept compensation in debts being paid. Her thoughts were getting off track. Blinking a few times she looked over the man's shoulder at her friends and then back at him.