Saraka watched the Kryptonian and the Green Lantern, his responsibility, with great interest. He'd received the alert about the great ship on its collision course about the same time as the rest of them, and had followed the pair back up into space. Of course, neither of them knew about his presence due to Saraka shielding himself and becoming invisible thanks to his Blue Ring. Since Grim had left the pair on the space station the previous day, Saraka had decided his best course of action was to observe until his assistance was needed. He wanted to learn more about Earth culture, and see how Preston responded to various situations. He hadn't had to wait long. The battle with the multi-headed creature had given him plenty of mull over, and he was seeing even more now with this ship. Preston was talented, to be sure. A strong will, impressive even by other Green Lanterns standards. But he was still new, still wet behind the ears. He was, perhaps, overconfident. In his haste, Preston seemed to have set the ship on a course that was perhaps not the wisest, and now the small group would have to deal with that. Fortunately, more experienced heads were prevailing. The Kryptonian, by the name of The Champion, was formulating his own plan, coordinating with Preston and the occupant of the ship. Preston, for his part, reached on on standard frequencies, finally resting Saraka's help.

With a toothy grin, Saraka dropped his cloaking shield, appearing quite close to the flying pair and the trailing ship. "No worries, Green Lantern, you did not abandon me at all!" He said cheerily, turning to examine the ship behind them. "I've been observing to determine the best way that we can assist each other. In this particular situation, the solution is simple. I merely need to activate your Power Ring, and both our Rings will unlock their potential. This... May be intense." Saraka paused before continuing, this would be the first time he actually would be involved in a supercharged situation like this. Saint Walker had spoken about it at length, it was one of the greatest abilities of the Blue Lantern Corps, but Saraka himself was, perhaps, nearly as wet behind the ears as Preston when it came to Lantern duties. However, they hid a mission to fulfill, and the pair would need to establish their rapport soon, before worse things came...

"In fearful day, in raging night,

With strong hearts full, our souls ignite,

When all seems lost in the War of Light,

Look to the stars, for Hope burns bright!"

Reciting the Blue Lantern Oath, Saraka channeled his power through the Ring he wore, extending the emotional connection to Preston's own Power Ring. Instantly, it was as if the sky lit up with stars. Saraka had been experiencing the slow unlocking of his own Ring due merely to the presence of Preston's, but now, with the pair of Rings fully connected, there was so much more in the shark-like alien's toolbox. Knowledge of how to create and manipulate constructs filled his mind, and he immediately began to do so, shoring up potential weak points in the green hardlight structure Preston had created, with his own Blue Ring Energy. The construct itself became more robust as well, completely covering the damaged ship in a new, protective shell. Saraka grinned at the newly reinforced ship before turning back to the pair of heroes beside him.

"Oh yes, and Mr. Champion. I don;t believe we've met yet. I am Saraka Kute, Blue Lantern assigned to Preston. It is an honor to meet you."



Custos wandered the halls of the old WWII era bunker slowly, unable to sleep for the life of him. The bunker was a haven of sorts, built under the lighthouse that Duncan and his family maintained. After the Fall of Atlantis, with so many refugees needing homes and Custos being a member of the League, Duncan's family had been kind enough to offer part of the bunker to him. They were good people. They'd have to be for Mako to have married one of them, she always had good taste. And Custos had seen that too, the genuine love for each other that they all had, which now extended to him, years later. These days, this place was as close to a home as he had. Of course, with Duncan gone, it was unsettlingly quite. Which was what led to the wandering.

After having come down from the Station the previous day, Custos had attempted to help with the Hydra situation. He was a member of the damn Justice League after all. But his skills... Didn't really suit the fight. He'd helped evacuate people from the path of the creature, but he couldn't do anything to hurt it, slow it down, or even distract it. Champ, Wonder Woman, Morgan's kid, even Grim had all helped to take it down, and then... There was Kraken. On cleanup duty, as usual. Sighing to himself, Custos shook his head. He didn't resent his teammates, far from it. The group of them had saved the world on more than one occasion. It was just... Well, take Grim for instance. When he first met Zoey Kasimir, she was a reclusive shut-in who put on some body armor and beat up deranged criminals. Now, she had built the biggest planetary defense force the world had ever seen, and suits of armor that could kill a god. Duncan had been a teenager, scared to lift a finger until it was his family on the line. Now he was Earths Greatest Hero. In those days, Kraken had been an elite special agent, specializing in infiltration and underhanded techniques. Now... He was the same. Just a decade older. He couldn't keep up.

And that all was why, when Duncan had shot off into space to investigate whatever was headed for Earth, Custos had called his old teammate, Mako. He'd explained his plan. Revealed the secret he'd been keeping for half a decade. She'd barely believed him at first, but once he convinced her he was serious... She was on board. And that was good enough for Custos. Finally stopping his walk outside a locked door, Custos stared at it, fighting down the urge to debate himself again on if he should do it. Something needed to change. Pulling a key off his belt, Custos unlocked the lead-lined door, flicking on an old light switch inside. Rows of shelves stacked with boxes full of official-looking paperwork were illuminated. The lead was really a flimsy precaution, he'd explained it to Duncan as a way to give Atlantean diplomats plausible deniability once they eventually took control again that nobody, not even The Champion, had seen state secrets. State secrets Custos had stolen from the capitol city of Posiedonis during the siege. Things he'd been ordered to take, things, he thought were too valuable to leave behind, things that Mera would have used against all of them if she'd had her hands on them.

And wrapped in a thick cloth, hidden behind the furthest shelf, was one other stolen object. Pulling it from its hiding place, Custos gently set it down on a convenient desk and unwrapped it slowly. The golden glint of metal seemed to light up the room as the Trident of Altantis was revealed. A literal gift from the gods, this Trident had long been in the possession of the royal family of Atlantis. Legends said with it, one could control the seas, command its creatures, manipulate the storms themselves, and more. The legends were true. Custos had seen King Orin wield the Trident against his enemies before. During the siege, when it became clear the city would fall, Orin's last command to Custos before disappearing was to retrieve the Trident, and bring it to safety. It had been hidden here in the bunker ever since. And now, it would see light of day once more.

Reach out, Custos slowly gripped the Trident, holding it aloft. He'd been the most magically talented of the Argonauts, though he never kept up with his arcane training. He knew enough though, and knew how to channel some power. Concentrating on the artifact in his hands, Custos willed his magic to bond with the ancient power. for a moment, the Trident seemed to resist him, reflecting his amateurish attempts to connect with the Trident, bu then... He made contact. Lightning sparked from the tip of the trident, blowing out the bulb and plunging the room into darkness. Custos could feel the energy stored in the artifact fill his body, overloading his senses. He felt the metal in his hands warp and twist of their own accord, though he could not see the result. He felt his own body begin to twist and change, the magic coursing through him causing something to unlock within himself... And then Custos fell to the floor unconscious, the clattering of metal echoing through the bunker...

It was the same old song and dance Jimmy Lau had been at for just shy of two years now; making his twice-weekly trek back to that same old alley, the frame of his dad's old alice pack clicking with every step along the way. Yeah, that'd be about right— Two years since that (very literal) ogre, Bloodtooth, and his goons showed up at his dad's restaurant one night right at the start of February looking to gently coax them all into giving their fair share for 'The Development of the Neighbourhood.' Two years since his old man, having not been prone to taking a lick o' shit from anybody in true ranger fashion, giant or not, responded by promptly knocking down and making a cool half-dozen of 'em regret a whole lotta shit via the end of his bowie knife when they didn't respond well to the words 'Fuck off'. Before the big green asshole managed to grab a hold of him and rip his fucking arm out of it's socket, before slapping his big sister around a bit and carting the girl off over his shoulder as a trophy. Two years since he was running for his life, scared absolutely shitless with the big bastard's goons hot on his heels.

...And two years since they chased him down this particular alley and ran into a fiery eyed nightmare. One who was very unhappy to see them.

Now, he didn't see much. Not in the dark, and certainly not while hiding behind a dumpster, hands over his ears to drown out the gunfire and all the panicked screaming and trying his level best not to piss himself on the off-chance that whatever the hell was in that alley with them would smell it. But what he did see, once all the screaming and sheer noise abruptly came to a stop, was the masked figure that approached him soon afterward, crouched down beside him even as he flinched away, put a hand on his shoulder and asked, in some deeply mechanical facsimile of a man's voice—

"Are you alright?"

It was at that moment that Jimmy realized he had just met The Hound. Not some horrifying monster or vengeful demon sent to punish the wicked those kooky little urban myths made him out to be; but some guy in a mask who'd just saved his life.

To be fair, though, he wasn't exactly sure what expect when it came to the Bludhaven Bogeyman.

...Well, someone a little taller, maybe.

They talked for a bit... or, it'd be more accurate to say the masked vigilante patiently asked him questions while he bawled his fucking eyes out, before he was led to the front door of a coven of White Witches (the concept of which was met by yet more terrified bawling which was only finally halted by a firm smack up the back of the head and a curt "They're good people. Stop that.") and the man simply vanished when he wasn't looking.

Two hours later, he was clinging to his sister like she was the most precious thing on the face of the whole fucking world while those white witches he so feared were in the next room putting his dad's arm back where it was supposed to be.

And though the local outlets never spoke an ounce of it, word-of-mouth over the next few days said that Bloodtooth had been found embedded a foot into the street, ass-first, having apparently been defenestrated from fourteen stories up. Very much alive, but doomed to never walk again without the aid of the kind of healing magics the super-max prison he was headed to was definitely not going to be giving him.

And so it was, that Jimmy Lau had been doing this same old song and dance for just shy of two years now; making his twice-weekly trek back to that same old alley, the frame of his dad's old alice pack clicking with every step along the way to change the batteries in the little wall-sticking lamp they'd got at a hardware store fastened above the mural of a dog's head his sister had painted on the wall in honour of the man they'd met that night. Taking it in shifts with his dad and the girlfriend he'd met at that coven back then to pick up any stray bits of trash around the place and to make sure that it, and the smattering of thank yous, well-wishes and even a few runes for luck scratched and painted around it from those who'd learned of this place and had such nights like theirs would never be obscured in the dark.

'Least we can do, pal.'

He thought with a tiny smirk as he pulled off his pack to get to work.

Because while the rest of the world could laugh it's ass off at the very concept of such a thing existing in this city, in this tiny corner of it, at least...

...There was hope.

---

"Oh, shit, that's right! Yer still new here, ain't cha?" Sasha managed, finally reigning in her raucous laughter enough to regain her composure "Ya haven't heard that one yet!"

"By all means, enlighten me." The Sardinian deadpanned in response. Somewhere between 'Curious' and 'Just about done with this shit'.

...The little half-snort he got in response severely slid that scale towards the latter. The continued shrieking through the radio wasn't helping things either.

"Oh, just... some kinda infernal creature spawned from the depths of hell itself to punish the wicked. If local legend is to be believed." Answered Jericho, with just a bit of a shit-eating grin and a little shrug, too. "Y'know, ravenous, utterly ruthless, inescapable. That kinda thing. Nothing yer powdered and pampered Tim Burton fever-fuckfest-spawned ass can't handle, I'm sure."

Sasha had never actually bought into any of that crap, truth be told. And in her mind, this was, best case, either that power-armoured jackass from the other side of the Avalon coming down off their high pedestal to bother to give a shit about the city that was about a fifteen-minute's drive over a bridge from their own, or worst case, some actual maneating species of monster and/or demon that would soon kill them all anyhow.

The latter, most likely. This was Bludhaven after all.

No, the only thing she could really be sure of in this particular moment was the fact that she was tied to a chair by some creepy old man who was in the habit of waving a magic friggin' cleaver in her face. And honestly, with her son in captivity and thing's looking increasingly like she was about to become the next meal of this outsourced Hannibal Lecter, she was more than happy to have something stupid going on in the background she could use to put the fucker's attention off of her and hopefully buy her some time and figure a way out of this. Preferably before the afore-mentioned 'something stupid' made it's way to her and put her in it's stomach.

Fuck this factory, fuck these guys and fuck this guy in particular. Her boy needed her.

For his part, that guy in particular just scoffed.

"A demon who punishes the wicked? I knew people from this city had a problem with education, but I did not think you were that ignorant."

If Jericho took offense to that, she made a point of not showing it; She had shit to do after all, like finally taking a few experimental tugs at the rope binding her wrists to the back of this chair now that there wasn't anyone else around who might see her do so.

'Silk. 'Course this fucker'd go for the weird bondage shit.'

"Well, if ya don't believe me, you could always ask your friends about the police reports they had to file about an ogre taking a fourteen story swan-dive a while back." Jericho responded evenly now and leaning forward slightly, eliciting a long and loud 'Creeeeak!' from her seat. "Oh wait, you can't. Because he's on every single channel ruining their collective shit."

Despite the abruptness of her tone, Sasha was grinning on the inside— The loud protests of her involuntary throne, both in her ears, barely heard over the pure pandemonium coming in over Amadeo's walkie-talkie and felt through her arse via the wood beneath it as she subtly shifted from side to side told her many things she wanted to hear about it... Namely that it was an old, termite-ridden piece of shit they probably pulled out of an old storeroom somewhere in here where it'd most likely been sitting since the seventies.

Even if she couldn't break the rope, she could sure as shit break this chair if she got a minute of not being menaced by a big magic cleaver.

She wasn't exactly a dainty flower of a woman, by any means.

"And you've got, what, twenty-something channels on that fucking thing? Little uncanny, innit?"

Now, her only real problem was getting this whackjob to turn his eyes from her and give her an opening. And that there would be the tricky part, as, with few exceptions, he'd been pretty dead set on staring at her with that big creepy smile of his the whole goddamn time they were here— Something she could still see quite clearly, even with the power out, those stormclouds outside blocking out the moonlight and the only real source of light in here being the red glow of the big fuck-off knife he fully intended to carve her up with.

Well, not right now, though. Now he just looked pissed.

"I'm getting awfully tired of your incessant rambling, Miss Jericho." The Sardinian said lowly and outright murderously as he did the exact opposite of what the bound cop needed him to do and stepped forward, raising that knife of his again. "I only barely tolerated your piddling attempts at wit earlier, and now I simply don't have the time. So if you do not mind, I think it is about time for us to part ways."

'Well, shit...'

Okay, now she really needed to think fast. And God help her, in that moment she was trying, but coming up rather alarmingly blank— More insults clearly weren't gonna do the job, and trying to talk down with a cleaver-armed psychopath sounded like it'd go about as well as fucking in the name of virginity. And if this guy was even half as quick on his feet as he was apparently strong, if she even tried what she wanted to do, she'd get a mouthful of cleaver before she even hit the damn ground.

The detective didn't want to admit it, but shit was starting to look a little grim... and, now that she thought about it, quiet.

...The hell happened to all that screaming, anyway?

Her answer came in the form of a knife suddenly plunking itself directly into the back of Amadeo's shoulder. Eliciting a chorus of screaming and, for the first time that night, swearing as he whirled around on his heels looking for whoever threw that. And perhaps more importantly, not at her.

'That'll do.'

Without further prompting or thought, she summoned up all the strength she had left in her beaten body to heave her and that shitty old chair she was in into the air to land on her side. Grinning ear-to-ear and cheering in her own head as the damn thing came apart. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the Sardinian who quickly turned on her again, blade raised and bloody murder in his eyes... just as the familiar 'clack!' and reeling of what she registered as one of those early grapple launchers some of the rangers were running around with during the war rang in her ears.

And something vaguely human-shaped, with glowing orange eyes slammed into the crazed old man's back, knocking him over her and out of her view.

Not that she was complaining about that, not in the least. Even as she growled and hissed out every profane thing that she could squeeze out of her teeth while trying to work her bound wrists under her feet in an impressive act of gymnastics that probably would've been a lot easier without a bunch of cracked ribs and a shattered orbital bone. She wasn't sure what it said about her that she actually had an easier time focusing over all that scuffle and insanity going on just out of view, but she didn't really have the time to dwell on that right now.

The cleaver that whizzed by her head when she finally managed to get her hands to her front and sat upright, however. That gave her a moment of pause. Even moreso when it stopped in the middle of the air just passed her and went whipping back the way it came... Something that, despite everything she'd been through that night, still put a dumbfounded look on her face as her one good eye followed it all the way back to the fight she could only barely make out in the dark; looking more like one red streak trying really, really hard to catch a pair of floating orange orbs in this light. So much so that it was perfectly willing carve straight through anything that got in his way, old machinery, concrete pillars, a wall or two when it was doing it's boomerang impression again. The works.

It was at that moment that Sasha realized she just might've been in way over her head with this shit.

So caught up in all the pure pandemonium was she, in fact, that she actually had to remind herself that she should be running away now.

"Okay Sasha..." She growled, willing with all her might to peel her gaze from the demented lightshow before her and actually get to the all important business of getting the fuck out of dodge. "Time to go... time to go..."

She heaved her battered body off the ground and, to her credit, made it about two steps... before falling back down on her face with a muffled chorus of swearing. With all the adrenaline that'd been coursing through her that night, it was only when her chin smacked off the concrete floor that she fully registered just how badly these people had fucked her up.

She didn't have much time to ponder that, however, as a blood-curdling scream suddenly echoed off the walls of the factory floor... followed by something that sounded like an odd combination of meaty and metallic landing at a roll and coming to a stop by her head... followed by a loud 'CLANG!' and then, nothing.

"Hooooly fuck did that suck." A low, modulated voice came from behind her, followed by what she recognized as the clicking of handcuffs and the cadence of boots on approach. "How the fuck does a guy that old move like that?."

And like some terrible cliche, the clouds outside finally parted just enough for the light of the full moon to shine in through the big windows of the old textile mill allowing her to finally see what the hell was going on.

...Starting with the severed finger, bearing a rune-encrusted iron ring laying on the ground right in front of her goddamn face.

"...The fuck?" Came her immediate, gut reaction as she instinctively lurched herself away from the disembodied digit.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Came that voice again, sounding almost casual, despite it's mechanical growl. "Scartech— Let him boomerang his big fuck off cleaver back every time he threw it, so I had to get rid of it."

Rolling over onto her back, Sasha cast her one good eye back in the direction that had come from, finding a black-clad, mask-wearing figure in a flakvest approaching her with a knife in one hand, and what looked like a lead pipe he was lazily dropping on the floor with the other.

Her gaze fell upon the symbol painted onto his chest, broken only by singular horizontal cut clearly left by his previous opponent. And then rose to his eyes.

It took a solid half-minute for her brain to break out of it's incredulous haze to connect the dots.

"Holy shit, you're real...?"

To her surprise, that actually got a little snort out of her apparent saviour as he knelt down to start cutting the bonds at her wrists with his knife.

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Which was just as well, because the woman was clearly too stunned in that moment to even try to supress the exact next thing that came to her mind.

"...I thought you'd be taller."

"That one too."

’Well, Fifth and Keele, just like Jericho said.’ Mal thought, a bit of a humm reverberating from his throat as he cast a glance down towards the street below, the glow of his eyes turning slightly lop-sided beneath his goggles as he raised his brow. ’Aaaand if I were a bettin’ man…’

His eyes scanned a bit to the right from his perch on the water tower atop an old apartment complex before coming to rest on one building in the non-human bazaar below in particular.

One generating a whole fucking lot of heat and whose interior was painted with so many goddamn magical runes to hide it from any curious mages that it may as well have been a big neon sign attached to a speaker screaming ‘BAD GUYS HERE’, being the one structure for miles around that was actually completely opaque to his eyes.

’Yeah, that’d probably be a good place to start.’

Exhaling slightly and stretching, only to wince a little at the cut that magic canniba (something he was still coming to terms with now apparently being added to his list of ‘Shit I’ve fought’) had put right through his vest an hour prior, the young half-hero, half-myth took stock of his situation.

That Sardinian lunatic had actually managed to give him a work out… but now he was about to break into the fucking fleshmarket— Not ‘a’, THE— where, if his eyes weren’t decieving him (and they rarely did), they’d be totally useless for his usual ambush tactics. So he had no way of knowing how many were in there, what exactly he’d be up against, where he was going or generally anything at all to even begin scraping together a plan.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, the teenager allowed himself a double facepalm.

Because somewhere in the midst of all that mess, there was a kid. And Mal had told Sasha he was gonna get him back. If not for his own, apparently increasingly suicidal sense of right and wrong, then for the fact that the borderline-amazon flatly refused to tell him a word about why the Aquila family and snatched the boy and tied her ass down to a chair in the first place until he did, even as she was apparently rounding up every clean cop she could find and even a few White Mages to get their asses down here for the party.

A low sigh rumbled in the Hound’s throat as he pulled his mask halfway up to get some unrestricted air for the first time in a few hours.

”...Fuck my life.”

This was going to be a shitshow.

---

To Mal’s surprise, breaking into the damned place wasn’t actually that hard.

...Okay, well, the joy of John McClane-ing his way through vents had run out it’s novelty long before he’d ever actually seen a Die Hard movie, when he was a twelve-year-old huddled up, half-asleep next to Mog on the shelter’s couch one Christmas… and maneuvering around all those magic wards stuck in awkward places around the inside of the ducts he very clearly recognized as the kind you could go out these days and buy in bulk from the hardware store on a big adhesive reel if your home was infested with rats of unusual size made it a bit of a slow, tedious slog… and it was hot as balls in that vent because it was fucking winter and the heat was on full blast, but still...

Surprisingly easy.

Dropping out of that sauna-like vent into what seemed to be some kind of storeroom, judging by all the boxes, the flak-clad boy silently hugged himself against the wall alongside the sole opening into the room, pulling out his k-bar as he did so he could get a look at what was around the corner via it’s reflection.

What he found was a big damned hobgoblin— at least six goddamn feet tall— clothed in a leather apron, some ratty sweatpants and not much else as he sang along with (and absolutely butchered) the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody coming over the radio with his fellows, who were in other parts of the room he couldn’t quite make out from where he was hiding, as he hacked away at what looked like what was once some poor guy’s upper thigh with a big damned-

’Oh, goddammit.’

Mal grimaced.

Another magic fucking cleaver.

Evidently, he’d landed in the storeroom for the kitchen. And was very suddenly very grateful his eyes weren’t active when did so, even as he let out a soft, controlled exhale to steady himself.

’Well... a whole lotta things just started making sense.’

He didn’t have much time to ponder that one, however, as one of the swinging doors at the absolute corner of his line of sight were suddenly slammed open by another, slightly larger hob dragging the limp form of a girl who couldn’t’ve been much older than ten clad in some kind of mage robes behind him by her long, pale hair.

Very suddenly, Mal didn’t need to concentrate on his breathing.

“Oi! Rocktongue! Found ‘is one tryin’ to ‘scape again. Be a sport an’ do sommin’ ‘bout it would ya?”

The boy’s grip on his knife went from front to reverse as he now actually poked his head around the corner, scanning the room for anything to even the odds in the increasingly likely event he’d have to charge in there like an absolute idiot and most likely get himself killed saving that fucking kid.

In his search for opportunities to inflict a bit of pain on the flesh traders, something distinctly organic caught his eyes high in the rafters. Focusing, he could see clearly that it was a raven...or at least, it was shaped like one.

His eyes crackled to life again at the sight of it, almost involuntarily.

’What in the goddamn…’

There was something very odd about—

“Wait... you smell ‘at?”

Aaaaand, back to reality he went, gaze snapping back down to the two hobgoblins again who were now… sniffing at the air in an almost cartoonish fashion. And slowly turning their heads in his direction.

Ducking his head behind cover again before he could be outright spotted, Mal took a minute to pause… and then pulled up his collar a bit and took a whiff.

Sweat and fried chicken.

’...Oh.’

Glancing around the corner again with the reflection of his knife all but confirmed what he’d already realized, as he now very clearly saw his two would-be adversaries now staring straight at him and looking more than a little bit pissed off, the larger one even just casually tossing the little girl off to the side like old trash just to give the hero the courtesy of his full attention, infact. It didn’t exactly help his odds any that the pair were promptly joined by yet more hobgoblins who seemed to have much the same unspoken mindset as the first two as they all glared violent death in his general direction. Seven in total, from what he could see.

...The fact that the radio station was apparently on a Queen kick of sorts and started playing yet another song he was familiar with was a pretty nice bit of punctuation for the situation he found himself in now though, he’d admit.

Letting out a long sigh, fingers dancing along the hilt of his knife in one hand as the other pulled on that nightstick he’d lifted off of Muller earlier, he resigned himself to what was to come.

”Cowabunga it is.”

And thusly, did the shit hit the fan.

Opting to push forward instead of lingering in one spot to be easy prey for the gaggle of hobgoblins who already knew he was there anyway, the Hound all but launched himself from his now-defunct hiding spot towards his foes, via toward the top of the counter in the centre of the room, bootfucking a heavy steel pot towards the face of one unlucky hob in particular as he charged ahead without stopping. Leaping off the other side and planting his knee directly into the face of another on the way down and whirling around to crack another upside the jaw with his nightstick as he landed.

For their part, the gaggle of somewhat surprised snaggle-toothed gobbers, were not idle. Quickly grabbing up whatever pots, pans and yes, magic cleavers were in arm’s reach to take a swing at their unexpectedly aggressive intruder. One knife-wielding hob in particular managed to get a lucky swing in and carve straight through Mal’s freshly-acquired nightstick with his glowing man-chopper, letting out a shrill cry of victory at his success.

...For all of about three seconds before the now irate teenager whirled on him in the midst of dodging a swing for his neck from another foe, and made a point to all but flatten the creature’s hook nose with the handle. Knocking the creature back a good six feet, head over ass and into the side of a sink against the wall. Sending it’s weapon soaring vertically into the air, until it came back down with a neat little ‘Thunk!’ into a cutting board near where that first hob was still nursing it’s head after making it to first base with a cast-iron pot.

Who, of course, shook itself to clear it’s head and went for it.

And, of course, had his hand abruptly pinned to the counter by Mal’s knife. Being accorded a good half-second to scream for help before the boy’s hand came back down in an axe-fist to slam it’s face into the hard surface as well. The one hob that did try to respond, lunging forward in a spear-tackle at the last possible moment?

He got a frying pan to the face.

As did the one who came after him… well, not before breaking his hand on it and taking a steeltoe’d boot to the balls first.

One of them, the big guy who was dragging around a child earlier, and incidentally, the last one standing, did manage to find an opening, however. Slashing at the boy’s back and clean through his flak vest with his cleaver before tackling and pinning him to the ground with enough force to knock a few things, including the radio off the counter as he spun around.

And perhaps more importantly pressing down on the Hound’s armoured chest with his cleaver with all of his strength and weight. Something that Mal, still just a sixteen-year-old, mind you, was having just a bit of trouble fighting back against; tired as he was from the night’s exertions, wounded now on his back and his front, and still sore from what he got up to the night before, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to stop the damned thing from slowly sliding through the layers of his flak vest and starting into his flesh but let out a pained hiss.

But salvation has a funny way of showing up at the weirdest times.

“And that was Queen’s ’Don’t Stop Me Now!’”

Mal’s eyes snapped to his right, locking in onto the radio he hadn’t noticed land by his head in all the commotion.

“Coming up next, ’Work that Fur’, by Karen Hernandez! Only on 102.1 the Wacky Mix, Playing whatever the hell we wa-!”

And that was about when the lad picked up the damned thing and broke it over his attacker’s head, knocking the creature clean off of him and giving him a moment to just lay there and finally breathe.

Which he spent proclaiming one thing to the world with all the vindication he could possibly muster between coughing sucking in all the air he could into his lungs—

”I… am not dying… to that... fucking song.”

That bit of vanity aside, Mal did manage to get himself to his feet again after a solid minute or two of just trying to remember how to breathe, the pain of three separate chaotic wounds to the torso making the endeavour a whole lot less easy than it sounded. Wincing as he went.

He had priorities, after all, and now that there wasn’t a bunch of ’Non-Human Terrans’ (as was apparently the proper term) trying to carve up and most likely devour him, he also had a job to do.

Namely, checking to see if that kid from earlier was alright.

He didn’t have to go far, it seemed, as she apparently hadn’t moved an inch from where that hobgoblin he’d beat over the head with a radio had tossed her. To his relief however, one quick glance and a flicker of light from his eyes told him that she was alive, though bruised, battered and sporting an ankle that was broken in at least three places.

Also that she was awake and just pretending to be dead because she was scared absolutely shitless.

That... made Mal pause mid-step. Head cocking to the side slightly as if not entirely sure how to proceed, fist clenching and unclenching in the only indication of some kind of personal turmoil.

Whatever was going on in his head, it elicited… something rare from the young man.

He pulled his mask up clear of his mouth.

He slowly knelt down, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

And, in an act that’d absolutely floor anyone who actually knew him… he spoke softly.

”Hey… are you okay?”

To his relief, a single eye, bright pink in colour, cracked open slightly to stare right back up at him from underneath the mess of pale hair covering her face.

“Hilthyri… Ysannaech gaemal thacht, qrovan tacq…”

And there Mal went pausing again. This time for a whole lot of different reasons.

”...Come again?”

He didn’t have much time to ponder that one further, however, as he suddenly became aware of a periodic shaking coming from the floor, with a rhythm that could only be the cadence of footsteps. And they were only getting stronger.

The hairs on his neck stood up as one.

Something big was on it’s way.

Slowly, wearily, his head and eyes trailed to the doorway behind him, and he got to his feet. Unholstering his gun for the first time that night and disengaging the safety, letting a long, slow breath to collect his bearings and get his shit squared away for whatever the hell that was.

Which was ironic, because that was the next thing he noticed about it. Just how loud it’s breathing was, which started off yet more alarm bells in the back of the boy’s head as his brain began subconsciously running what he was hearing through his memory and comparing it to anything he’d experienced before. Coming up with one particularly succinct, yet also incredibly worrying observation.

’Bigger than an ogre.’

Which also meant longer gait… probably strong enough to plow clean through walls, and, more importantly, something he was not going to outrun in a confined space, in his current state, while also protecting a kid.

It was getting close now, he racked the slide of his pistol and took aim.

And not soon after that, he finally saw the damned thing- Casually strolling around the corner, eyes bloodshot and wrenched open by some strange apparatus latched onto the back of it’s head, festooned with a myriad of narrow drills pointed directly down toward it’s own skull at the end of transparent tubes leading toward some big metallic contraption strapped to it’s back. At least eleven feet tall. Probably around eight hundred or so pounds of pure muscle. Holding a club covered in chaotic runes and spikes that was longer than Mal would be standing on his own shoulders.

A red goddamn Oni.

Specifically, as the drills suddenly came to life, boring into it’s skull and delivering a constant stream of scarlet fluid via the tubes from it’s back directly into it’s brain, prompting the colossal creature to let out primal howl of pure fury as magical fire roared into existence from the pores of it’s skin, somehow not burning it… one that was on a metric fuckton of red dust. And had the magical talent to survive it.

Faced with this, Mal could only summon up one response;

”Nuts.”

The Red Oni stormed towards Mal, each step of its ponderous feet sending subtle vibrations through the floor that foreshadowed the strength that it would soon bring to bare against its diminutive opponent. Drawing back its massive club as if it were a mere baseball bat, he prepared paint the walls with the blood of the Hound.

“CAW!”

The Oni stopped in its tracks, its bones rattling within its towering and muscled form. It was not alone, for the windows now clattered violently in their frames, the floor trembling with a rhythm far more steady than the footsteps of the creature had produced. Reverberating off the walls and filling the slaughterhouse, it was a power that demanded attention.

”...What.”

And it had sprang from the beak of the raven perched above them both, its black eyes now trained upon the Oni.

Turning its gaze on the tiny pest that had dared to give it such a start, the Oni screamed, swinging its club at the bird instead of the dog-themed superhero.

The raven did not retreat, instead raising its feathered wing to intercept the club in a bizarre block that stopped the overpowering attack dead in its tracks--until the rafter it was sitting upon began to buckle beneath the Oni’s strength.

”What.”

Before the rafter could fully collapse, the raven pushed back against the club and took to the air, landing somewhere behind the oni. The great beast turned, apparently having seen where it landed, yet its bulk blocked this information from the Hound, who could not see through the seemingly endless rivers of Chaotic magic that coursed through its veins.

The oni then paused, as if it had seen something even it had not expected. This did not last long, however, for it then charged at what was presumably the raven with its club held overhead in both of its powerful hands.

It would never make the swing.

Glistening like a crystalline cavern, the great red oni had, in the breadth of a second, been completely encased in ice.

”What.”

That was… just about the only real response the boy could offer to what he’s just witnessed, really, as his arm and the weapon clenched in it fell limply to his side. As he just stared at the miniature iceberg before him, so dense in magic it took a hammer to damn near everything he knew about arcanum and left him just standing there, jaw hanging comically slack.

He was… dumbfounded. Something he hadn’t felt in a long while now.

The kid behind him? Less so, apparently. Something he discovered when he felt a slight tugging and his ankle and cast his eyes back to find her huddled behind him, trembling and, more importantly, trying to use him as a shield.

Though to be fair, if he’d seen all of that at her age, he might be a little spooked, too.

Well, maybe. Them’s were dark days.

Still, reengaging the safety on his weapon and holstering it with one quick motion he glanced back toward this brand new piece of winter art before him, trying to think about what exactly he was going to do about the magic murder bird that had just saved his ass. Or whether it had even meant to do so in the first place.

At the very least he found some small, fleeting comfort in the fact that one way or another, if that thing had wanted him dead, he’d’ve been so already.

Still, for lack of literally any better course of action, he went to the very first thing that came to mind—

”Err… thanks?”

As if in response, a shadow appeared atop the oni--not a bird, but a cloaked woman. Her features obscured by both clothing and distance, she planted a foot on the broad shoulders of the creature and stared down at the room. ”You’re--”

Her voice rose into a startled yelp as she lost her footing, sliding down the back of the great beast she had just frozen in place, only to manage to land firmly on her feet between its legs. Standing as if nothing had happened, she returned to staring down at the room. ”--welcome, mortal!”

If Mal was dumbfounded before, now he was just… confused.

The fact that just as when he first laid eyes on the raven earlier, there was an odd crackling in his eyes that forced him to put actual effort into winding them back down again wasn’t helping. Nor was what they were actually showing him; Features, not as obscured to him by the hood as they would be to anyone else, that appeared almost… mathematically calculated and designed to look appealing. Not to mention the swirling vortices of both arcanum and chaos, that flowed through her body to the tune of her pulse, propelled by no less than three goddamn hearts.

And he couldn’t be certain, but he started to suspect that it had something to do with how the kid behind was now clinging to him even tighter while mumbling hurried words in native tongue.

So focused on all this was he, that he almost missed what she had actually said.

...Almost.

”Wait… ’mortal’?”

Benefits of having a brain like his, you could fit a whole hell of a lot of thought in the time it takes to say one word. And hot damn did the implications of that particular statement bring him hauling back to reality, and allowed him to finally reign in his vision.

”Not to pry, or potentially piss off the woman who just saved my bacon and single-handedly… did all of that.” He said, indicating toward the big block of frozen, drug-fueled Japanese fury behind her. ”But, err… what exactly do ya mean by that?”

“You’re not a mage, are you?” she asked, yet didn’t let him answer for himself. “No, of course you’re not! Oh, but that girl behind you…”

Aelia leaned to her side, smiling warmly to the child. ”Hello, little one! Do not be afraid, I have come to rescue you from these foul creatures.”

The woman’s words, if the child even understood, just made her grip onto her human shield even tighter now.

For his part, said human shield just levelled a blank stare at the woman before him that could be felt even through his mask and goggles.

”When I came outta that vent, you were already here.” He pointed out, tone becoming increasingly dry as he cocked his head to the side a little and folded his arms. ”What exactly were ya waiting on, Mage?”

And on came the glowing eyes again. The light behind his goggles shifting from her, back to the fancy ice-sculpture she’d made in the middle of the kitchen and back to her again, clearly raising a brow at her with how lopsided they became.

He knew for a fact just by looking at her that this woman was no simple mage, but he kept himself from outright saying it.

He wanted to see where this was going.

”Why, I was waiting on you, mortal!” she said, extending a gloved hand towards him in a dramatic gesture. She then spun towards both him and the girl like a stage performer, though never actually came within arms reach. “You see, I have been observing your activities in the fine example of urban decay you call a home for some time!”

Dancing and pirouetting about the room as she spoke, the woman continued. ”I wished to see you engage in fisticuffs for one last time before I made you aware of my presence! But this dreadful creature behind me seemed to pose a grossly unfair challenge and so I, to borrow a mortal phrase, had to put him on ice!”

”Riiiiiight…” Was just about the only sane response the young man could give the, admittedly, very eloquent, very lively woman as she literally danced about the room and outright admitted she’d been stalking him. ”That’s not… just a little unsettling.”

Somewhat at a loss, he cast a glance back down at the child clinging to his waist, who seemed to meet him with a look of her own that was just as incredulous.

“T’vanaeth para draan.” She explained with a whisper. He had no idea what that meant, but he agreed, giving her a little pat on the shoulder.

”...Dare I ask why?”

Before Aelia responded to him, her eyes once again returned to the child. She seemed surprised by the words she had whispered, having apparently heard them perfectly well despite the distance between them. ”O’nath, fala amanura tho Yisi! Kaleena mona kvara pesh.”

She turned her gaze on Malcolm, offering him a reserved yet cheerful smile. “Because you, mortal, fascinate me!”

Extending a hand towards him suddenly, as if to cut him off, she placed a trio of fingers against her face, turning her eyes to the floor. ”Now, now, I know! That’s a great deal to accept! That I, Aelia Marcella Lumena have had her eye captured by your heroic quest to vanquish the unjust! But it is true. Breath, it shall be alright, my good...”

She tipped forward on her heel, as if she were performing ballet. This continues until she is inches from his face. ”...Malcolm.”

Malcolm, for his part, just froze. Face going visibly pale from what could be seen of it from his still slightly pulled-up mask. Something the woman obviously saw, considering they were currently in eskimo-kissing distance.

’...Shit.’

”I’m, uhh… sure I’ll find a way to manage. But-” The lad finally managed to get out, pulling his mask back down. Pausing for a moment as he felt a slight tugging at his sleeve, looking back down at the child still clinging to his waist, slightly less so for protection now and more to keep herself upright on her one good leg.

“Mael’Kohm. Tava raachad vos gaeth.” She said flatly, pointing to the iron collar around her neck.

The fact that she’d apparently picked up on his name from that little exchange despite not speaking a word of English was not lost on him, though he chose to stow that. For the moment at least, instead focusing on what exactly she was pointing at… and feeling another pang of irritation.

Namely at the fact that, for the umpteenth time today, he was clearly looking at—

’More scartech. great.’

And he had a pretty good idea what that was for, though not the foggiest idea how to deal with it while it was attached to a little girl’s throat, opting instead to lift the girl up onto the counter so she could have a seat at least… before he turned to his ludicrously powerful, admittedly ludicrously beautiful, stupidly powerful, magical stalker who was sometimes a bird and for whom his life was apparently pure entertainment.

”Not to... disappoint you, Aelia, but magitech’s a bit beyond my expertise.” He said, slightly uneven and still not entirely sure how to take this… very unique individual. ”...Can I get a hand here?”

A crimson bolt of energy struck the girl in the throat, and the collar shattered into pieces with a crack that was reminiscent of a cannon backfiring.

”...Please tell me you have something a little more gentle for her ankle.”

January 2, 12:04 PM
North-East of Atlanta, Georgia - Near US Highway 85

---

There was a distinct sense of the air shifting, of some kind of energy at work that she was both familiar with and yet not. At least… Not for some time it felt. Back in more or less civilization there were many possibilities about who or what could be coming towards her, though considering that as it approached and her senses sharpened it was obvious it was coming from above, those possibilities decreased by some bit. A part of her wondered for a moment if it was the same man from before, and reflexively she went on edge just that little bit as she thought to shift herself into speed-time to take a look. It would have taken her scant seconds to do so, and would have given her all the time she needed for any normal encounter. Something told her though that neither this one or the man from across the ocean were anything close to normal. So instead she decided to roll the dice and see what happened. Where she sat she looked everything like just another traveler taking a rest, and she could quite easily slip into the crowd if things came to that, just to come back with a supersonic kick.

Then she heard the familiar voice and it gave her just a bit of pause because it was the last thing she was expecting.

"Vee. It's been a while."

Champion. It had been quite a while indeed, their last encounter a little chilly as she had come off a particularly dim mood and the loss of Central City was a bit fresher than it was now. That was even before her new suit and she wondered if he had seen it yet, though imagined that he didn't come all the way here to find her just to talk costumes. Almost she had called back with a "Duncan", but caught herself as another person revealed themself to her, this one a younger girl who at first felt distinctly… Off. She had to focus to figure out just what it was, and even then the reason eluded her for now, but it soon became secondary as her eyes settled across familiar features. It was impossible. The girl looked so much like her lost sister, though a bit older and her eyes carrying a haunted look that was quite unlike the more lively girl she had known. She had only a moment to think, for practically as soon as their eyes met the younger of the two was already launching herself for her with abandon.

For a moment she debated on what to do, energy coursing through her body as the speed force enveloped her and she watched in slow motion as her sister sailed through the air towards her. Except… That was impossible. She had looked for her after the devastation. Sifted through the ashes of thousands for any kind of sign of her family. All she found was despair and yet more signs of loss, the echoing laughter of a dark god on the winds as she realized what had happened. No, this was not Lexi, it couldn't be. As the girl came ever so closer, she made contact, hand pressing against her back and instead of simply dodging the flying tackle, she redirected her into the bench seat as she flashed off to the side and took a moment to look at them both. It all happened with the flash of electricity, it still crackling around her hands and feet as she remained equal distance from Champion and Nano.

"Alright Major Maple, what is this?"

One moment, Nano was flying through the air towards her sister with the full intent of tackling the other girl in a hug. Then probably chewing her out for disappearing. Then more hugs. However, she somehow just wound up sitting on the bench where she was had not even been close to just before that. Her poor young mind couldn't even begin to process how she had suddenly been moved from jumping at her sister to sitting on the bench. Had she moved that quickly? No, Verra couldn't have done that! Only Velocity could move that quickly and Nano knew for a fact that Verra couldn't be Velocity. Verra had always been much better than the hero. Had Verra somehow learned some sort of magic like what was so common in the scar? But why did Verra teleport her over to the bench instead of letting herself get hugged? Nano felt the anxiety and unease that she had felt on their flight into this stop coursing through her veins once more. Had her little voice in the back of her head been correct this whole time? Maybe Verra suddenly did had what she had become. Or maybe she didn't even recognize her little sister anymore after she had been so radically changed with the nanobots making her limbs. Her eye went wide as she felt the unease causing little butterflies in her gut. So overactive and uneasy had her mind become that she had little feelings like sparks running along her body. Yet when she spoke up again towards her sister, it wasn't a pained sound or a plea wondering why Verra didn't want to be around her anymore. No, instead it was a rather innocent-sounding question so that Verra wouldn't worry about her, her sister didn't deserve to have the burden of a broken girl upon her.

"Verra when did you learn teleportation magic!?" Nano demanded suddenly, forcing her voice to sound as if everything were fine. As if she were just a normal girl chatting with her sister. In a way, she did kind of understand Verra not wanting her around as she was a bit of a freak with how much metal made up her body. Still, it hurt. It stung that the girl she had loved and idolized for most of her life had so easily turned away from her again after being separated for so long. The little voice inside of the young hero started gnawing away again, reassuring her that she was right all along. That she was a freak, the scar had changed her into a monster as well. Verra would never love her again, how could anybody be expected to love a freak like her? These dark thoughts and more started to eat away at her once more, sending Nano further into that dark place within her mind. The signs of her internal struggle becoming visible on the surface as her expression fell from pure joy to defeat. The look in her eyes grew distant. Her very stature as she sat on that bench seemed to deflate. Instead, she turned her attention down towards her hands as they sat in her lap and that tingling, sparky feeling continued to run through her body. Only this time it seemed to be growing more intense as she wondered if this was what anxiety felt like to others. Was it normal for her to be borderline in pain because of her mind screwing her over like this? She didn't know, life outside of the scar was already proving to be so much more difficult and scarier than living within that hellscape. As she thought these the painful feeling ran down to her hands, and the girl's eye went wide as she could see that nanites in her arm vibrating rapidly while lightning arced along the metal.

Nano stood in a panic, looking towards her sister and Champion she held up her arms to show the strange phenomenon. "M-mr. Champion? Verra? I need help!" She said, the panic rising in her tone as her whole body at once seemed to start aggressively vibrating in the same manner as her arms were. The lightning, which seemed to be centralized around where Verra had touched her, erupted out across the vibrating nanites as Nano screaming out in fear and pain. Then as she took a step forward to try to get help from the others, the world changed radically for her. The nanites stopped hurting as she suddenly surged forward, covering an impossible distance in a few mere seconds. The odd thing about it all being that it seemed to happen in slow motion to the young girl, yet at the same time, she was somehow clearly aware that what was happening was impossible to stop. In a panic she continued to run, turning slightly as she tried to maneuver back towards Champion and Verra. Unfortunately, she soon saw the wall of the small building at the rest stop growing closer and knew she couldn't avoid it. Her screams of panic and fear elevated in volume and pitch, then just like that the world went black as she slammed into the building with a hefty clunk. The girl crumpled to the ground, unconscious as lightning still sparked along her for a few more moments. The whole ordeal lasting no more than a couple of seconds before she was unconscious.

---

---

---

---

Rayner made a small tsking sound as he perused the rows upon rows of canned foods, snacks, and sweets. Doing his best not to give in to the urge to go on a massive spending spree and only buy what he came for, as everything in the place was a dollar. Sighing, he reached out and took a can of baked beans from the shelf, dropping it into the basket hanging on his arm, before moving towards one of the horizontal pathways separating the rows of aisles from each other. Just as he exited the aisle he was on, however, a clean-shaven, dark-skinned man wearing a waist-length cream-colored coat, a white undershirt beneath that, brown pants, and a pair of tan loafers walked up to him, beckoning him to stop with a quick wave of his hand.

Heeding his request, Rayner stopped and turned to face the man fully, his basket swinging awkwardly as he did so. Furrowing his brow slightly, Rayner watched as the man reached into his coat and pulled out a leather holder that he proceeded to flip open, revealing a gold-tinted badge inside, engraved with the letters NYPD and the word detective in large white block print. Upon seeing that, Rayner made the equivalent of a mental nod, glad to see that his assumptions had been proven correct.

"Is there something I can help you with officer?" He asked, keeping his voice steady to avoid giving the detective any more reason than he may already have for being suspicious of him.

The man nodded as he closed the leather badge holder and slid it back into his coat pocket. "Yes as a matter of fact. There is." He said, extending his right hand towards Rayner for a shake. "But first, introductions are in order. My name is Victor Morton. I'm a detective working with the New York Police Department to help solve that little... " incident" down in Prospect Park."

Rayner nodded, taking the man's hand and giving it a small, yet firm, shake before releasing it.

"I've put together a list of people who we know have interacted with miss Roberts over the days leading up to her death, and you're one of em. Now don't worry, it's nothing too serious, just something that lets me question and eliminate the most likely suspects now rather than later when the chances of the perpetrator slipping by us increase. You know how it is." Detective Morton explained, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets with a slight shrug.

Rayner nodded again. He knew exactly how it was from various forms of media, as inaccurate as those could be at times, as well as different articles on the internet. It was only logical to question those who had interacted with Ara the most over the days leading up to her murder after all, and he did have many phone/text messages with her during that time. So naturally, all they had to do was check her phone records to see he had chatted with her last. Though their conversations never mentioned the park or anything remotely related to it, so he was safe as far as that was concerned.

"Yeah, I do." He said, letting the basket handle slide down his arm and into his palm to alleviate how much it cut into his arm. "I guess you want to ask me some questions about our conversations right?"

"Indeed I do." Victor replied, flashing Rayner a friendly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "First things first, however, where were you on the night of January the eighth?"

"I was at home in my apartment for most of the evening, but I did go out to grab a cup of coffee at a nearby Starbucks and used the free WiFi there for a bit before going back to my building." He replied, keeping his gaze locked with the detectives.

Victor nodded, taking note of his response before moving onto his next inquiry. "I see. So you were nowhere near the park when the incident was thought to have occurred?"

Rayner nodded.

"Hmm. Alright. Now, about your conversations with each other..." He said, casting a sideways glance at Rayner. "You seemed to be quite... close. At least when it came to personal details anyway."

"Well of course. We met at a local library and, both of us being metahumans and all, we gradually got to know each other quite well during that time." Rayner responded, shrugging slightly. "It was simply a case of common ground. That's all."

"Wait... you're both metahumans?" He asked, tilting his head to the left slightly.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well you see, miss Roberts body was found with third-degree burns. We haven't released any info to the public yet, but we believe it to be the work of a metahuman with electricity-based powers given the fact that there was no way miss Roberts could have been struck by lightning on that night." Victor explained, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Tell me, what kind of power do you have?"

Rayner froze up for a bit. He hadn't meant to let that fact slip out, but there hadn't been any real way around it. Any other explanation would have been too weak. Too easily picked apart. Not all was lost though. He could still find a way to make this work to his advantage. All he had to do was think and...

Aha!

"I can heal myself." He answered, clearing his throat slightly as he managed to regain his former stride.

"So you have a healing factor then?" Victor asked, leaning back a bit, as though he wasn't entirely convinced of Rayner's statement.

"Yeah. Want a demonstration?"

Victor opened his mouth to speak, as though he were about to say yes, but closed it a few seconds later as he gave the store around them a glance.

"Nah, that's alright. Don't want to disturb the peace after all. And I think that a grown man cutting off and then regrowing a limb would cause some panic." He said, taking his hands out of his pockets and raising them in front of his face with a small shrug as he took a step back.

Rayner shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Eh, anyway-" Victor said, casting a glance at his watch before returning his attention to Rayner. "-thank you for your time, sir. I'll let you know if we find anything else out. I'm sure you want whoever did this caught as much as we do."

And with that, Victor turned around and walked away, leaving Rayner standing by himself, basket in hand, at the center of the aisle.

Rayner's eyes narrowed into slits as he watched Victor leave before tightening his grip on the basket and continuing his search through the store for the items he needed. That had been close, especially when he almost froze, but he'd made it through in the end. As long as he could keep this up, they wouldn't find out that it was him. Though... there was one thing about the whole encounter that was still bothering him, but he couldn't quite place it until he consciously forced himself to remember every detail of the conversation. That's when he recalled hearing a consistent background melody coming from the man. One which he hadn't notice when talking with him. Only now did he remember it. His curiosity piqued, Rayner recalled the theme and delved into its varying complexities before coming to a startling realization.

His new detective friend was a metahuman like himself.

And he had the power to visualize any information he collected. A very useful power indeed, as well as one that explained why he didn't write down anything he'd learned during their conversation.

He simply hadn't needed to.

Smiling to himself, Rayner took a mental note of Victor's power as he walked up to the register and paid for his items. Grabbing the plastic bag the cashier had placed them in, he strode out the door and into the sunlit world beyond, thinking about how to get his hands on that ability.

”Vistara mo tana lo?” asked Aelia, her hands hovering over the girl’s injured ankle. An orchid filament wrapped itself around the injured limb, conjured seemingly from thin air by the mage. Though it hissed like a raw steak that had been thrown onto a skillet, it didn’t seem to cause the girl any notable pain.

After roughly a minute, Aelia stood and dusted her gloved hands of the dirt that was never on them. “Volkra ton!”

Still eyeing the hooded figure with no small amount of suspicion, the tiny albino child nonetheless gave a few experimental swings of her leg. Eliciting just the most miniscule sigh of relief from the flak-clad (and still a little bloodied) figure behind the two girls— Frankly, between turning the oni into a modern art piece and that big damn red lightning bolt earlier, some part of his psyche was half expecting the poor kid to explode... or melt... or turn into a buncha friggin’ spiders or something at Aelia’s touch.

His eyes shifted slightly over to the hooded woman in question. Still not entirely sure what to make of her, but just a teensy bit more at ease now that he’d seen her do something that wasn’t absolutely wrecking a drug-fueled, magical berserker or dancing about a room filled with body parts.

A teensy bit.

That train of thought came to an abrupt halt, however, as the young one, apparently satisfied that her ankle was not completely fubar’d, gave the previous magic murder bird a curt little nod of thanks before kicking off the counter-top… where she stayed, hovering a solid two feet off the ground.

’...Okay, what?’

“It’s called magic, mortal,” said Aelia, smirking.

Before Mal could let fly with the particularly sarcastic selection of words he had for Miss Lumena in that moment in time, the half-pint albino had locked eyes with him and was now floating less than half a foot from his face. Staring into his own with grim determination.

The lad, for his part, just stared back.

”...And this is?” The increasingly tired-sounding hero asked, around the same time the girl’s expression went from ‘determined’ to ‘downright constipated’.

Apparently dissatisfied with the effort from… whatever the hell it was she was doing. The girl placed a hand on his forehead. And then both on the sides of his head, looking increasingly frustrated as she went.

“Ta… vad… siorchaedh!?”

”Uhh… sure?”

Aelia tilted her head as she observed this exchange, stepping between the pair. Quirking a brow at Malcolm, she then turned to the girl and smiled, lowering her head slightly as if to offer it up to the child. ”Kava mo vad na? Makala ‘English’ so vana nas.”

At… whatever Aelia had just said, the child relented in her efforts to do whatever it was she was trying to perform on the boy’s skull and, after a moment of sighing, gave the hooded figure a little rap on the noggin’ with her knuckle, clearly still a little frustrated about the whole affair, if her face was any indication.

“Pray tell, is there something wrong with your brain, Peasant?”

A beat of silence passed after that. Save for yet another sigh from Malcolm.

’Oh, great… Stereo.’

“You needn’t touch him to reach that conclusion, ohoho!” chortled Aelia, covering her mouth. “But levity aside, we really ought to free the other prisoners here. I’m sure they’ve had their fill of the scent of their peers’ freshly carved backsides.”

For the first time in the fifteen minutes he’d known her, Malcolm and Aelia were actually on the same page, as he nodded and retrieved his knife from the hand of that hobgoblin he’d made acquainted with the table earlier.

”Agreed.”

---

’Well, that was a new sensation…’ Mal thought, just staring down at the street below, where the odd blend of Bludhaven’s finest, parts of the fire department and even a few lay-sisters of a local, but familiar coven of white mages were tending to the at least four-dozen terrans— human, non-human and mage alike— he and that crazy woman who was occasionally a bird had rescued about twenty minutes prior. Even though she’d vanished into thin air immediately afterward.

He was… somewhat unused to that kind of attention. There was a hell of a lot more eyes and cameras pointing at him the moment he’d walked out that door, Sasha’s boy in his arms and everyone else in tow, than there had ever been in the past seven years… There was also that split second where he honestly thought he was going to be abruptly evaporated by all those guns and magic pointed his way the minute he walked out the door, but that was beside the point.

It was… odd. So odd in fact that the minute he had put Bobby down, he had fired off his grapple line and got scarce as quickly as he could, simply out of impulse. But now, sitting there on that same water tower as earlier and staring down at Sasha sobbing uncontrollably and clutching her boy and all the other good things below, it felt kind of… right.

...Whatever fuzzy feelings were going on in his head at that moment, he shunted them off to the side as some more pressing concerns came to him at that moment-

Namely, that after all that workout he’d had tonight, he was covered in sweat. And it was frickin’ freezing out here. And he was just realizing this now.

”Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight.” The boy said to himself, rubbing his arms for warmth and turning from the scene.

There was a warm subway station somewhere with his name on it.

---

Tired, half-frozen and still all bruised and bloodied, Mal was only halfway paying attention as he meandered into his subterranean home- a subway station long since abandoned after an ammunition ship caught fire and detonated in the harbour during the Great War, levelling Blud and about a third of Gotham as it went up.

A relic from a much happier time in the city’s history, with walls decorated with marble and old fashioned stained-glass that still shone on some days with what little light filtered down here through both the ruins of Old Blud and the city above, he’d made it work— The city never really got around to cutting off the water supply, being a quagmire of red tape and corruption even before the Aquilas took over, after many nights spent in the library and spying on the city’s utilities department, he’d managed to figure out how splice back into the power-grid. Getting his hands on free cable and internet was pretty easy after that. Building his own shower and some of his own furniture? Less so.

Still, it was home.

His nice, quiet little refuge from the outside wor-

“Welcome home, Malcolm!” said Aelia, standing before the closest equivalent of a dining room table he had, a large spread of food strewn across it. Where she had obtained this food was a mystery only she held the answer to. “I have prepared for you a minor banquet to congratulate you on your conquest of the vile man-eaters that dared to prey upon their betters!”

Mal just stared at the blonde before him. Then at the big mahogany boardroom table before her. Then at her again.

”...Come again?” Was all he could manage, head tilting to the side slightly. ”I… what?”

He removed his mask. A look halfway between incredulous, confused and somewhat disturbed adorning his features.

”How did you…? Why are you…?”

A bit more sputtering followed before the boy finally managed to catch himself.

”You know where I live?”

Aelia nodded. “Difficult as it may be for you to accept, I am indeed not a ravishing figment of your forlorn mind!” She gestured to the food spread across his table, smiling. “My cooking abilities are unfortunately one of the few areas of expertise I’ve yet to master, but I suspect you’ll nevertheless find it an enjoyable meal when compared to the meager sustenance you’ve been forced to endure up till now.”

Pulling out a chair for him at the “head” of the turntable, she circled around it to take her own seat, unfolding a napkin beside the silverware that she had also obtained through unknown means. ”It shall also offer us a splendid opportunity to finally converse in a quiet and calming environment!”

The boy just stared at the woman for a long moment afterward, still not entirely sure how he felt about her, nevermind how he felt about her in his home.

The loud rumbling of his stomach, however left even less room for argument than the ludicrously powerful interloper in his dining-room ever could— He’d only managed to get a leg and a few bits of popcorn chicken at the shelter earlier before Mog consumed the whole lot of it, after all.

So, removing his flak vest, gloves and rolling up his sleeves, he complied… albeit cautiously and still keeping his eyes on the woman the whole time.

...Something that became increasingly difficult the closer he got to this ‘minor banquet’.

’’Yet to master’, my ass.’ Mal couldn’t help but think, trying his level best not to gawk at the veritable pile of culinary perfection before him… or salivate at the scent of it.

A herculean feat in itself, even without a brain and sensory system as high-tooled as his.

Licking his lips slightly, but managing to keep himself under control, the boy’s eyes crept back up towards his impromptu guest’s again, effecting a half sheepish, half still very confused expression.

”Thanks…” Was about all he could manage at first, fidgeting in his seat slightly at the new, rather alien sensations of both having someone over and having a decent meal on his table. Nevermind this woman who brought both. ”So, uhh… what did’ja wanna talk about?”

Among all the things he’d been through that night, this was perhaps the one thing he was unabashedly un-equipped for.

Big flaming oni included.

Folding her hands neatly on the edge of the table, Aelia watched him eat with some apparent interest as she spoke. “Your captivating abilities, for one. From my observations of you over the past month, I’ve been forced to conclude that you are neither a mage, nor does the blood of this world’s titans flow through your veins.”

“Yet it is undeniable that what I sense within you bears a strong resemblance to the Arcanum that I wield,” she continued, never breaking her precise and upright posture. “It is, however, the differences between them that intrigue me. There is...a rawness about your power.”

Mal choked a little on his… lobster thermidor? Is that what was in his mouth right now? How the hell did this happen?

That was a question for another time, it seemed. As he took a swig of his drink, ice-wine to his further surprise, in an attempt both clear his throat and his head to respond to that particular bombshell.

”Pardon?” The boy finally wheezed out, wearing a face of pretty well-earned surprise now. ”So… you’re saying you think I’m some kind of mage, but not quite?”

That was a bit much to take in, after all. Especially after seven years.

Aelia smiled, pleased to hear that he had been able to follow everything she had said up till this point. “Precisely so! I’ve never witnessed any power quite like your own in my nearly two centuries of life. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you were utilizing harmonics.”

Aaaaand, she lost him again. Leaving Mal to just stare at this woman who was both completely dominating this conversation and nonchalantly upending everything he thought he knew about himself over the span of a few minutes. He did pack away that bit about her age in the back of his brain, however, as it was one of the few things the blonde had actually told him about herself- Though he found it a lot less surprising than perhaps most would, this girl was still a toddler compared to Mog, after all.

Still, he had a lot of questions.

”That… isn’t exactly a term I’m familiar with. And I’ve spent a fair amount of time around magical beings on both sides of the hypothetical magic fence.” He finally stated, after a moment of mulling over the words in his head. ”And, before that, you know so much about me, but…”

He put down his knife and fork. Propping up his chin on his hands as his eyes lit up again.

”Who are you, exactly?”

“I am Aelia Marcella Lumena, as I said before,” she continued to watch him, her smile never dropping. “The daughter of Lilith, Queen of the Succubi, and an unknown titan of fire. The adopted daughter of Avaerus and Faulia Lumena. I am a representative of the Consortium, the foremost military power in the universe, and the original and rightful rulers of Gaia.”

Gauging his reaction for only a brief moment, she pressed on. “I came to Bludhaven to investigate a string of murders committed against the mage population that had, for some unfathomable reason, taken up residence here.”

Daughter of the Queen of the Succubi and... a titan?

As in, those things from Greek myth? That Wonder Woman occasionally went on about when she was on the news? A freaking god?

He was having dinner with a goddess?

That was… another thing he was going to tuck away in the back of his mind, as his face fell slightly and the glow in his eyes receded. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be in his right mind to actually believe that statement (though honestly, who would?), but it did sort of explain just what he saw when he looked at her with his full range of vision, so he kept mum about his skepticism.

Partly because it’d be impolite to call the self-professed goddess a liar after she’d gone through the trouble of (probably) saving his life and then making him dinner.

Partly because, goddess or not, he was absolutely certain she could kick his ass.

Still, getting back to the topic at hand, and stiffening just a little at the particular subject matter involved.

”Firefly.” The boy finally said, sitting up a little straighter and, if at all possible, suddenly paying even more attention. ”You’re looking for Firefly.”

“Firefly, hm? Is that what he’s calling himself now? I suppose even demons can be influenced by the bizarre ‘costumed heroics’ trend that has consumed the mortal population,” said Aelia, seeming almost bemused that he had adopted such a name for himself.

”No, that’s just what we call him… it.” Mal corrected, with a sharp wave of his hand. ”Mostly on account of all the fire… and the flies he feeds the charred meat to.”

Pausing for a moment, the boy leaned back in his chair, knuckles rapping on the table a bit as he thought.

This was… a bit of a touchy subject for him, after all.

”Nobody’s even sure what it is… hell, nobody’s even seen the damned thing and been around to talk about it afterward, as far as I can tell.”

He took another swig of ice-wine and finished his thought. Much quieter now.

”Well, almost nobody…”

Aelia, sitting exactly as she had ever since she first took her seat, dipped her head. “I have met him. He is a Baron-class demon of fire. I encountered him some years ago on another world, but he managed to elude me through some rather dastardly and underhanded tactics.”

Malcolm’s eyes flipped back toward the woman, flickering back to orange again out of what was clearly habit when he didn’t have to actively suppress his abilities.

He was familiar with that terminology, having spent the past seven years in the frequent company of a (often naggy, occasionally cuddly, constantly mother-henning) demon. Long enough to pick up on a few things, at least.

”Any idea what a Baron-class demon is doing in the pocket of the mob?” The boy asked. ”Seems a bit beneath his paygrade, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it is. His motive is perhaps the most baffling aspect of this mystery, given that this world has become quite a perilous hunting ground over the past decade,” said Aelia, at last pouring herself a glass of icewine. Rolling it about her glass thoughtfully for a moment, she drew a modest sip from the edge. “The only suitable explanation I have been able to offer is that he is perhaps working for another demon--one far superior to him in power.”

The boy just silently made a face at that statement, and indeed the entirety of this conversation.

”Well, then. This has been… enlightening.” He finally said. ”Any other bombshells you’d like to drop on me tonight?”

Aelia took another sip from her icewine, her smile broadening ever so slightly as she extended a hand towards him dramatically.. “Oh Malcolm, the only reason you’re feeling so perplexed and disturbed in this moment is because it is but our very first conversation! I assure you, the best has yet to come!”

If there wasn’t a big plate of fancy seafood in between his head and the table, Malcolm would’ve put his head into it. As it stood, he made do with just screaming internally with all the force his mind could muster.

”Oh God no.”

Aelia’s smile broadened still. ”Oh God yes.”

”Okay, Mal. You’ve had a long night.” The boy spoke finally, after a long hour or so of staring at the wall of his ad-hoc shower with a big dumb look on his face. Made all the more silly by all the water pouring directly upon it. ”Let’s recap before ya lose yer head.”

Shutting the damn thing off with a bit more force than necessary and stepping out, still talking to himself as he grabbed up his towel.

Funny habits you pick up being alone so often and all that.

”Woke up in a bus station, in a blizzard, ate fried chicken, stare at some big ol’ bronze booty and then fought a fucking lunatic cannibal with a big magic knife.” He continued, drying himself off and wrapping the towel about his waist as he meandered over to the mirror. ”Saved a cop, went to the land of soylent green enthusiasts, fought a bunch more asshole maneaters with big magic knives, got called ‘mortal’ and ‘peasant’ a lot and then had dinner with a fucking deity.”

He took a minute to catch his breath, before staring into his reflection and taking on the roughest voice he could muster.

”And let’s not forget; You’re a wizard ‘Arry!”

He wanted to laugh, he really did.

The best he could do, though, was softly planting his head against the mirror and letting out a sigh.

”Could’a had a nice night of just watching the idiot box with Mog on a nice warm couch, but noooo…” He growled. ”you had to go and get yer ass involved with cannibals and onis and demons and fucking stalker gods, you dumb asshole.”

His shoulders slumped a little where he stood. Where he remained in silence for more than a few minutes.

”...Fuck me, I need a holiday.”

”Oh my,” said Aelia, covering her mouth behind him. ”How bold! How scandalous! And after but one meal! Tsk, tsk, Mr. Talhaiarn!”

”...Seriously, Aelia, do you just not have the concept of knocking where you’re from?” Mal just deadpanned in reply, not even bothering to look up at this point.

Aelia laughed softly into her hand. “Of course not, mortal! We use arcane seals to protect our sanctuaries from unwanted intruders! Your primitive locking mechanisms are far too easily subverted through common spellcraft!”

Spinning about his bathroom in the direction of his shower, she briefly peaked inside of it. ”Yet there is undeniably something almost cosy about your dreary living arrangements! It has a definite personal touch to it that many aspects of my home severely lack!”

Making sure his towel was quite secure, the lad (somewhat awkwardly) turned towards his impromptu guest… though he avoided her eyes and started inching back toward his clothes.

This was still the first time he had ever had a guest over, after all.

And here he was without his fuckin’ pants.

”Well, that’s... probably because I had to actually repair and rebuild a lot of this stuff from scratch.” He admitted, even while trying as hard as he could to both protect his decency and subtly inch his way back toward his underoos. ”The plumbing was actually pretty easy, most of what I needed for it was already there, after all...”

Another controlled breath, another inch towards salvation. But still, he kept on talking.

”So, uhh… can I help you?”

Aelia glanced back at him, having just finished sniffing of his shampoo. Something that was totally not weird. At all. No sir. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m quite alright, but thank you for asking!”

”Ah. Well then. Alright.” The usually-controlled teen managed, trying to be polite as he possibly could given the circumstances as he took another, oh-so-careful step towards his clothes and the freedom from this hell they promised. ”Can I ask why you’re here, then?”

’Specifically while I’m in the damned bathroom?’ He added internally.

Aelia had turned on his shower by this point, and was spraying herself in the face with the head. ”Ohohoh! I had forgotten you mortals still used water to bathe! Ahhh!” she sprayed her tongue, before turning to answer him.

With a wave of her hand, the water that had dampened her hair and face were instantly dried. “It’s quite simple, really! We are both investigating the same demon, yes? And so it is far more efficient to pool our resources, so that we do not stumble over one another’s feet, as it were. Thus, I shall be making this my temporary headquarters for the duration of the investigation!”

The Hound, with all his skill, mastery over his own body and all that other crap that went with his (apparently magical) brain… damn near tripped over his own feet at the woman’s words.

’Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding.’

”Wait, seriously?” He asked raising a brow slightly at the woman… even as he put his back to her and bent down to finally get ahold of his clothes. ”You can clearly show up anytime ya want, why bother moving in?”

Stepping past Malcolm on her way out of the bathroom, she snatched the clothing from his hands only to throw them back in his face. Despite this, she smiled. “Even for one such as I, it’s inconvenient to constantly travel from one end of the universe to the other, so I require a place to live while I am on this planet. I do have other assignments, in other cities, but I’m rather fond of this derelict of a metropolis. It’s so very different than anything I am used to!”

It was about that time that Malcolm realized he would never have the upper hand in anything ever again.

Still…

”Could ya at least learn to knock?” He called after her as she went, even as he hastily dressed himself in her absence.

Aelia stops, once again looks back, and slowly raises her hand to knock on the side of the bathroom. “There you are, my friend.”

---

It had been... a long week, Malcolm had to admit.

Between uncovering the big damned disurbing meat market of magical murder, being accosted by his own personal stalker-deity with no apparent concept of personal space, who graciously informed him she was now his roommate and perhaps more importantly, the whole damned world learning that he existed... things had gotten just a tiiiiny bit out of hand real quick.

Namely in that now that his existence was common knowledge, the Aquilas didn't have to even try being discrete about dealing with him anymore.

Mal had been a very busy boy since.

The day after that whole fleshmarket fiasco, the Aquilas responded by having the police precincts in their employ go after the Sisterhood of the First Flame, out of uniform but not out of arms, for the coven's part in helping Sasha and her less-than-bought friends that night. Which said friends weren't exactly fond of, which led to a rare standoff between the two halves of the Bludhaven police... with a bit of mages, non-humans and even a few guests from the fire department thrown in for good measure.

That was twelve hours of siege he wasn't going to be getting back anytime soon. But eventually Bludhaven’s dirtiest packed it up and called it a day… or rather, were made to when the white witches of the Sisterhood had finally had enough, opened a portal behind their attackers’ parked cars and sent him, Sasha and a few others out there to raise as much hell as humanly possible.

A fun time was had by all… save for the Hound himself, who was still getting used to this whole ‘actual bonafide superhero’ shenanigans and having that many eyes on him at once.

This set the tone for the rest of the week; bank robberies, arson, the whole nine yards as the Aquila tried hand over fist to grab his attention and then attempt to kill him. Fun times all around… unless you were Mal, then you just hadn’t had a good night’s rest all damned week.

Tonight though, was different.

All day. All damned day he’d been skulking about the city keeping an eye out for something, anything bout to go tits-up six ways from sunday… and found nothing.

That was… a nice change.

So there the boy stood in the middle of the New Shanghai bazaar in his plain street clothes just… enjoying himself for once. With a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of all the nightly pandaemonium of a place far from the dictates of Washington; where Terrans— man, magi, non-human and demon alike— went about their lives in something out of an old Karen Hernandez cartoon.

...Just, y’know. With a bit more grime smudged on than Disney was ever willing to animate.

To his right, a pair of succubi in bright red cocktail dresses enchanted to keep them from freezing their literal tails off and big damned winter boots waved down everyone and anyone their eyes met in the crowds to come on inside where it was nice and warm— To look at their handmade fashion wear, before you start assuming.

To his left, an orc and what looked suspiciously like one of Sasha’s men, both drunk as all hell, tried their level best to heave a damned minotaur who had clearly had much more than they had, home on their shoulders. The snowy ground not exactly doing them any favours there.

His head perked up suddenly as he heard rapid, albeit light footfalls approaching him from behind and on instinct, he dropped his drink and quickly dodged left, getting ready for a fight… only to just stand there like some dumb asshole with his hands up when it turned out to just be some kids, one human and the other purple-skinned and hooved, playing tag.

Pausing there for a moment, hands slowly falling to his sides, Mal’s eyes turned towards his now spilled cocoa. Deciding one thing in that moment.

”I need a day off.”

---

Going through the same old routine as he always did, deftly spinning the trio of combination locks he’d rigged up on what amounted to his front door with one hand and slapping them to a stop when they found their mark, the boy wrenched the heavy steel door with just the faintest of grunts and stepped through, letting the weight of the thing slam itself shut behind him with a loud ‘BANG!’ followed by a series of mechanical clicks as the locks reengaged.

Making his way down the old stone steps to the station proper, his duffel on his shoulder and a plastic bag with the image of a particularly cheeky looking cartoon ogre on it on his hand, the boy rounded a few corners, walked along the old train platform and finally made a right through the first doorway he came across into the old rec room- Modified over the course of four years or so to be his kitchen/dining room/mancave-within-a-mancave. With a remodeled sink, countertop, rebuilt vintage oven and fridge against one wall, an old tube television against another in front of a couch he’d swiped, brought down and reassembled in pieces from an abandoned Ikea and the big damned mahogany boardroom table sitting dead centre.

It wasn’t the Ritz-Carlton by any means, but the boy still found some pride in making it work all the same.

Still, swallowing that little sliver of pride and remembering just what he’d gone out of his way to buy and why, he got to the hard part.

”Hey Aelia… ya home?”

The television was on, playing an old black and white sitcom--I Love Lucy. Lounging across from it, spread across the couch like a languid cat, was Aelia Marcella Lumena. Smoke billowed from the end of a long, golden pipe (resembling a kiseru) engraved with dimly glowing runic symbols. Grasped lightly between her fingers, she idly puffed on it while watching Lucy attempt to con her way into her husband’s show for the umpteenth time.

When Mal spoke, her dark blue eyes slowly tore themselves from the screen to focus on him. Slowly sitting upright, she cleared her throat. “Yes…‘Honey, I’m home!’”

She seemed quite pleased with herself for saying this.

“I have been learning a great deal about your modern culture through this television entertainment device here. Tell me, can one still obtain large groups of mortals to laugh at their attempts at humor on command? I feel as if that would grant you some much needed validation within your life!” said Aelia, smirking playfully to him.

”To be fair, who needs a live studio audience when I have the great Aelia Lumena, goddess of couch-potatoes and voyeurism, lounging on my couch, high as balls, to watch me fail my way to glory?” Replied Mal, without missing a beat and waving his hand about the air as if he were pontificating to the world… and smiling. Maybe. Just a little.

Goddamn, he was starting to get used to this.

Dropping his duffel and making his way towards the kitchen, he continued over his shoulder. As he set the plastic bag down on the counter and bent down to go fishing through his cabinets.

”Did’ja eat yet?”

Aelia observed him making his way into the kitchen area, a blonde brow rising. “No. I do not require food under ordinary circumstances. I normally only eat for the enjoyment of doing so, or for social occasions. Why? Do you wish for me to cook something for supper?”

Preparing meals for them had been a regular activity of hers since she had first arrived here. She did this without much forethought, most days.

At the woman who had to constantly remind himself was (allegedy) some kind of deity’s words, Mal briefly paused- He didn’t know that.

...Awkward.

Still, not willing to give Aelia the joy of flustering him for the nth time that week, he nonetheless found what he was looking for— a deep fryer— and pulled it out onto the counter.

”Actually,” Mal kept on talking, seemingly unabated. ”After waking up and going to bed with luxurious food in my gut every single night this week, I thought I’d... try and return the favour for once.”

Actually looking back at the woman now, with a grin that looked a little more sheepish than he’d like, he added-

”...If you’re fine with mortal cooking that is.”

Aelia tilted her head briefly to one side, surprised by his offer to cook. This lasted for only a moment before a smile slowly returned to her face. “I am happy you have been enjoying the meals I have prepared.”

Spinning away from the couch to present a dramatically outstretched hand in his direction, she lightly dipped her head. “Very well! I look forward to trying your mortal cuisine, Malcolm! I am always eager to experience every sensation today’s Gaia has to offer!”

That was just about all the prompting Mal needed as, with a widening grin and eyes crackling up with their usual fire, he rolled up his sleeves and set about his task- It’d been a while since he’d bothered to actually try when cooking, usually opting to just make up whatever he could to sustain himself, but tonight was a bit of a special occasion.

And though he hadn’t bought anything near the caliber of Aelia’s usual fare, she was about to receive a stern lesson on the lad’s principal, uniting talent—

Doing a whole lot with very little.

---

”Alright, here we are!” Mal said, trying not to look just a little bit pleased with himself as he set down the fruits of his labours in front of the woman with way too damn many titles on a vintage plate. Deftly tossing and catching a lemon with his free hand as he did so. ”A local favourite; beer-battered fish and chips with Cajun spice.”

And, not to let Aelia have the absolute monopoly on theatrics, he moved on from tossing the lemon to juggling it along with a pair of knives for a few short seconds before snatching the airborne blades out of the air and cutting two neat slices out of the still-airborne citrus, gently placing one in the corner of her plate as he slid a small bowl of tartar sauce toward her as well, on the way back to the fridge to grab some drinks.

”Don’t worry, it tastes a lot better than you’d think looking at it, knowing what you’re used to.” He explained, sitting down. ”We’re poor, but we know how to make a meal.”

Aelia had watched Malcolm closely when he began preparing the meal, always eager to learn a new recipe. Most of her knowledge was of gourmet dishes from her home in the Consortium, from many of the alien worlds she had visited, or what she had learned during her initial time on Earth--which she had been practicing in the past week.

Compared to the genuine chefs of the Consortium, who had been refining their craft for five hundred years or more, her cooking ability really wasn’t anything impressive. She still had a lot to learn before she could hope to reach their level, and she had to focus the majority of her studies on a more distinctly magical line of academia.

“Brilliant!” she said, clapping hands as he juggled the knives and lemon before skillfully slicing it apart in the air. “I greatly look forward to trying your peasant-mortal cuisine!”

Unfolding a serviette beside her plate, she took up her fork and stared down at her plate. Deciding to try one of the sliced potatoes first, she jabbed one with her fork and bit the end off of it. Humming with a subtle delight, she quickly finished the singular chip.

That little hum didn’t go unnoticed by Mal, who was trying his level best not to look too pleased with himself (and failing spectacularly) as he reappeared with a pair of cream sodas in the old-fashioned glass bottle in one hand and a bottle-opener he’d made out of a fifty cal bullet in the other.

”Well, I’m happy to know my peasantly skill with potatoes, at least, pleases the great and terrible Aelia Marcella Lumena.” The boy commented, his words dripped in that confusingly unique blend of sarcasm and warmth he shared in those rare times he was actually relaxed, as he popped open both bottles and set one down by his apparently-divine roommate, before heading back to his own seat. ”Hopefully you’re as fond of the haddock. Benefits of not having the federal government around to give mages a hard time— there’s always fresh fish and it’s half the price of anywhere else.”

He was… talking a lot more than usual right now, Mal realized. Well, more than he did with anyone who wasn’t Mog or Eddie he’d admit, but again, this was kind of a special occasion; it wasn’t every day, or in fact, often at all that he ever got to cook for anyone. Save, maybe Mog once or twice. But, well… last time he did that, he watched her outright inhale the whole thing in a half-minute flat and made the fatal mistake of asking her where she put it all. To his dismay, she looked him dead in the eye and responded-

”I’m glad you asked.”

She then used her succubus physiology to inflate her butt to cartoonish size and spent the rest of the day randomly teleporting behind him whenever he was in public, on the street or even riding the bus to scream ”I PUT IT IN MY ASS, MALCOLM! I PUT IT IN MY ASS!”, while jumping up and down and pointing at said part of her anatomy with a crazed expression.

Lesson learned, never call a two-thousand and something year-old demon out on their eating habits. They generally give little in the way of fucks.

Mal shook his head.

’Ohhhh, so that’s where I’ve been hiding all the suppressed childhood trauma. Neat.’

But that was neither here nor there. Point was, the boy was happy to cook a damned meal for someone else a change… even if it was for the cosmic demon-deity that invited herself to live in his house, smoke magic space-weed and watch I love Lucy all day.

He snorted a little. Finally starting in on his meal.

...For all his internal griping, this set-up was bugging him less and less as this ride of a week rolled on. Maybe the cheery, all-powerful Demon-Goddess of Magical Whoopass was rubbing off on him a little.

Aelia had continued to partake in her meal as Malcolm was consumed by his own internal reverie. Slicing into the fish, her eyes flashed briefly with delight when she bit into it. When coupled with the tartar sauce, this effect was magnified. Though she didn’t say a great deal while she ate, once her plate had been cleaned and her mouth properly dabbed with her serviette, she offered him a warm smile.

“A splendid meal, Malcolm, thank you! Your ability to produce a delicacy from so very little is most impressive!” she said, raising a finger into the air to command her plate and fork to go and wash themselves in the sink. “Mortal peasant ingenuity is rather fascinating in and of itself, truthfully, and it would take a great deal of it to survive in such a dreadful place as Bludhaven, to be certain. But then, you do at least have the aid of the mages living here.”

Mal raised a brow at that as he took a swig of his drink and swallowed down a mouthful of fish.

”You’re welcome. And to be fair, we’ve also got a fair amount of demons and all kinds of non-humans helping out as well... though I guess that ain’t quite right either.” Malcolm replied, eyes weaving off to the side a little in thought and a finger idly tapping on the glass bottle in his hand. ”I guess it’s less that they’re here helping us and more that they are us.”

His lips pursed at his own words.

Computer-like brain and that’s the best he could come up with to explain his town?

”This dreadful place, as you call it, has a funny way of making people it’s own. The mages, demons and non-human whathaveyous? They’re not just here ‘aiding’ us, they’re a part of us. And hell, this is probably the only place outside of a wildland where they’re allowed to be.” He finally said, after a bit more thought. ”And for all the crime, horror and general bad business that this city is, that’s just kinda how it’s always been— the last refuge for the lost and the damned, if ya wanna be poetic about it— even before the war.”

Taking another gulp of soda, the boy rested his chin on his palm and offered the blonde a small, but genuine smile.

”...But that’s hardly decent dinner-talk, I’m just glad you enjoyed the meal.”

Aelia hid well the inherent displeasure she felt when he lumped himself and the humans of this city with the lesser creatures that lived beside them. While species native to this world could remain when Consortium arrived to cleanse this world of Chaos, they had to understand that their role in life was to serve the interests of the human race.

“I did enjoy it! Thank you kindly for going to the effort, Malcolm. I look forward to helping you improve the situation within this city, and eventually Gaia as a whole!” said Aelia, extending her hand dramatically towards him again. “Now, would you care to join me in watching the ‘Leave it to Beaver’ marathon that is soon to begin? I wish to see the penultimate results of June Cleaver’s subtle manipulations of her husband.”

No one would force themselves to endure high heels and makeup on a permanent basis unless it were part of some elaborate scheme to seize control of the household.

Mal cocked an eyebrow her way for that one.

’Two thousand channels at her fingertips, and she settles on the Golden Oldies network…’

But still, with a light shrug, he stood and made for the couch.

”Ah, what the hell. Why not?”

When one thinks about being a superhero, they really tend to focus on the glorious highlights of the job. Swooping in to save the day at the last moment from some impossible villain, dashing into burning buildings to save innocent lives, and wearing around a cool costume to get all sorts of glory. Yet what nobody seems to consider for reasons that are unknown are the boring parts that come with the job as well. Gathering intelligence, those long interviews with police after you stop a crime, and the most dreadful of all things superhero: Laundry Day. While most others would simply stare at a young hero and call them insane for thinking that their laundry day is one of the worst parts of their job, a certain young woman was acutely aware of the painful truth. With most clothes, one can simply toss them into the washer and be done with it after a little bit. Yet such was not true with the outfits that most superheroes would wear. No, instead one has to ensure the costume is set through a delicate wash and ensure that they are able to get the particularly difficult stains out of the costume. After all, nobody wants to run around with the blood of some villain you just sucker-punched into a wall on your cape. On top of all that, you have to be even more careful when washing your costume to ensure that others don't see it. Otherwise, you just might be doomed to having your secret identity found out. Then you're stuck being the hero persona that you live like for every second of your life, which oddly enough is not as fun as it sounds. Sometimes it's really nice just to be a normal person out on the streets as opposed to the hero icon everybody looks up to.

These thoughts were fresh in the internal monologue of one Kara Palmer, a professional cosplayer and model living a secret life as New York City's very own superhero: Sol. In a laundromat over in Chinatown, the girl was dressed in a rather casual outfit as she leaned back on a washer, holding tightly onto her costume as she scrubbed to try to get the worst of the blood off her white cape. While most superheroes wouldn't likely take the chance of having their costume in public, Kara did have a luxury most of them couldn't afford. That being that as a cosplay model, she had a perfect cover-up for having the costume on hand. She was simply washing it before she had another photoshoot, she would explain to others who asked her about it and if they still seemed to be at doubt she simply showed them her Instagram page. That usually quieted down most people who were seemingly going along the lines of thinking that perhaps they had discovered Sol's secret identity. Thankfully, she really didn't have to explain that to most of the people in this laundromat. It was mostly an empty place, with only three or four others using the place to clean their clothes. Though the girl didn't really need to be here to do her laundry, unlike most of the patrons here, as she had her own working washer and dryer in her apartment. No, she was instead using the day of laundry to double as intelligence gathering. As she had heard rumors that the Triad used this particular establishment to launder their money (clever, laundromat to launder money!), and decided to kill two birds with one stone. While all the action took place in the back of the building, Kara was fortunate enough to have super hearing and x-ray vision at her disposal. So as she was scrubbing away the blood from the idiot store robber who tried to take a swing at her earlier, the girl was also listening intently to the Triad in the back of the building.

Oh, the secrets she was learning about safehouses and members of the Triad. It almost brought a little smile to the pink-haired girl's lips as she thought about how they had no clue they were telling everything to a superhero. Yet she suppressed the urge as she made mental notes of everything they talked about in the back. With the information that she was hearing, the girl was confident that she would be able to push the Triad out of her city. At least, she would be bringing peace to the streets with them out of the way. As she was thinking about this, Kara was suddenly aware of somebody addressing her. Looking over to her left, an old chinese woman with a cane had made her way over and was pointing towards Kara's costume. Asking out the bloodstain that she was trying to scrub out, to which the woman got an awkward laugh by way of response from Kara. "Oh, no ma'am. My cat had nixed me while I was working on the cape and she wanted to play, so I'm just trying to get the blood out. I think I almost got it though, apologies if seeing it bothered you at all." She said with a friendly little smile as the woman didn't look overly convinced by the girl's explanation of things. However, the woman seemed to shrug it off as if it wasn't all that much of an issue. Instead of heading back to the counter she had been sitting behind before, the woman stayed by Kara's side and struck up a pleasant little conversation. Which, admittedly, Kara wasn't overly happy about as it took her attention away from listening to the Triad, but still it was important to not seem rude. So she chatted with this sweet old woman, everything ranging from the store to her grandson who was about her age. Then about how Kara would surely like him, afterall he was such a sweet boy. Although the girl brushed off that part of the conversation since she figured she could end their conversation once the laundry was done, which it almost was, and finish hearing what the Triad had to say before she went home to plan how to take them all out.

Despite over a decade now of dealing with every little insane thing the universe at large could ever hope to throw at him, and thinking himself quite hardened and/or numbed to the general madness of his life, Duncan had to admit-

Between the collection of polygons from his childhood made real at his rear, the sudden (and enthusiastic) appearance of Moe’s kid and now suddenly the arrival of a talking alien puppy who was also a shark and a Blue Lantern but also had a name that was a homonym for ‘Cute’... this was turning out to be a weird fucking day.

Still, he kept a lid on his own little internal Zoeyisms for the moment as he returned Saraka’s greeting.

”Nice ta meet’cha, Saraka.” The Kryptonian, said, extending his hand for a shake. ”Good to see Moe’s kid is in good hands.”

...And it was about that moment that Champ realized that he, on instinct, had just tried to shake hands with a quadruped— Something that probably didn’t even have that very concept due to not having actual hands.

Though his smile didn’t crack, there miiiiight have been a tiny bit of internal screaming at that.

Formal introductions were always Custos and Verra’s thing for a reason, he remembered.

Saraka, for his part, didn’t even notice the faux pas. In fact, his natural emotional connection to the Ring kicked in as The Champion offered his hand, forming a bright blue grinning shark face above Saraka’s head. Extending a fraction of his power, the Cho’Athan formed a hand-like construct and met Champion’s shake with one of his own.

”Indeed!” The alien said cheerily as the trio and their tethered ship plummeted towards the Earth. ”And it is an honor to practise shaking ‘hands’ with one of your planet’s mightiest heroes! I hope I’m doing it right!”

’Oh, God, if I bring this little guy home, Mako will literally snuggle him to death.’ The Kryptonian didn’t dare say out loud.

While Champ and Saraka traded words and a handshake, Preston was far too busy trying to comprehend the widened scope of his abilities and power. With the blue light connecting to his own green, Preston felt like he was using five lantern rings at once.

While the smallest bit of worry had resided in Preston as he made his construct around the ship, long gone were all of those worries. His constructs had been fortified, and his will was given a little extra something to it.

“INCREDIBLE!” A wide grin and a great laugh came from Preston. They had this. They could bring this ship down safely. “Let’s get this down there!”

At Preston’s enthusiasm, Duncan was quick to speak up as he finished up his hand-hardlight-shake with the Shark Pupper. Having gotten a bit of a read on his friend’s son in the past half-hour or so.

”Hey, uhh… one thing real quick there, Kiddo.” Champ made a point of interjecting before the young Lantern could get ahead of himself again this time, indicating back towards their now extremely shielded quarry. ”Would ya mind opening your barrier up a bit so I can brace against the hull? Might not be a great idea to stress-test the limits of your new abilities by having me play the part of the airbrake against them.”

Not to say he wasn’t impressed with the new Lantern, mind you. But the Canuck was acutely aware of himself... And always made a point of planning ahead just in case.

“Right, right…” Preston had to keep himself level. While the newfound power and link to Saraka was certainly something else, he had to remind himself of his years of training on Vespasi.

A Champion sized hole appeared on the front of the construct, a little larger or smaller than the real thing since Preston was eyeballing it, but he could just change it if need be. “If that’s everything, I don’t think we should keep everyone in suspense. As your legendary historical figure said just before doing something incredibly stupid yet daring, Yippe kai yay mother fuckers.”

At that, Duncan just sighed. Somebody had been using his DVD’s as educational aids for aliens again...

”Goddammit, Grim.”

---

”Alright, guys, just a few ground rules before we hit Dvergrheim—” Champ said over the open channel, perched cross-legged atop the bridge and letting the Lanterns do their thing now that the danger of burning up in orbit had passed. ”One, do not, under any circumstances, crouch, kneel or otherwise make an issue of their height… unless they crack a joke about it themselves, and even then yer playing with fire.”

Shifting slightly where he sat and tapping a few buttons on his gauntlet, he continued.

”Two, they will show up armed— magitech axes, big damned arc-drivers, all that fun stuff— don’t worry about that either. They bring that stuff with them everywhere.” The Canuck stood up now, still staring down at his wrist-mounted computer. ”Three; if they hand you a drink, ya knock it back it and you don’t ask questions. They’ve had wars over shit like that before.”

Finally lifting his eyes up from whatever the hell he was doing, Duncan finished.

”Any questions?”

Saraka listened intently to the ground rules laid out by Champion, by the sound of it he would rather like these Dwarves. There was one concern though.

”Yes, I have a question. I am naturally quadrupedal. Does that count as making fun of their height? Will they think I am crawling? Because I lack the ability to stand on two legs.”

”You’ll be fine. They can tell the difference.” Champ replied with a little snort. Though he tacitly left out the part about Dwarves having dogs, too.

”Yes. Should I match their disposition? Or should I stay quiet and let you handle this?” Though he was focusing much more on the task at hand, he had enough help with the ship to siphon a little focus to Champ for any last minute questions before they landed this ship down on the ground.

He knew nothing about these people that they were going to be meeting, so it seemed to be the best play for someone a little more acquainted with them and their social rules to handle most of the interactions. Preston would just sit tight and make sure that everyone went as smooth as possible.

”Eeeeh, ya don’t wanna seem like a wallflower to these folks. That’ll just encourage them into goading you into some crazy shit.” Duncan explained even further, turning his head towards the younger Lantern ”Ya don’t wanna try too hard to fit in either, though; That’ll either encourage them or piss ‘em off. Either one can land ya dead, hungover as all hell with your head in a toilet or, on occasion, engaged.”

Duncan paused at that, suddenly looking very worried.

”Also, rule four— Their women don’t have beards. Don’t ever make that joke.”

Admittedly, the context was almost certainly lost on this gaggle of aliens, but it needed to be said either way; The Dwarven terror campaign against Peter Jackson was not something he was gonna be forgetting any time soon.

That was a lot of explosions.

Duncan’s concerns mostly passed over Serene’s head. It wasn’t out of any sort of discare or anything, merely that the idea that dwarves in this world weren’t “normal” size or that there were things to really worry about, seemed more or less foreign to her. She’d mostly rested during the approach, only stirring in her command seat as Duncan spoke up. Her attention was most focused on when he spoke of their weapons. She’d pulled her hood up earlier, if it hadn’t already been up, to help with resting, so it hid the faint, almost predatory like smile that crossed her face. It wasn’t borne from maliciousness or evil intent, quite the opposite. It’s just…

...To Serene, she loved technology. Sure it made sense on the grounds she was a technomancer, not that anyone knew that...yet, but it went far further and deeper. Dragons are natural hoarders in most universes, and she wasn’t any different. But instead of hoarding gold, she collected what she deemed valuable. Gold was nice, but best used to make up other things, such as to help conduct electrical energy and the like. No, she gathered art, music, video games, but in general, the works of civilizations were her playground. So the smile? It came from her sheer desire to absorb information, to study, perhaps even touch these creations of the dwarves. But she caught herself, she couldn’t give into temptation. Not when she still didn’t know the status of her own treasury, of her own collection of relics and memories. Her eyes grew wet for a moment when a slideshow of memories shot through her mind, only to be shoved away. Finally, finally, she spoke up, her voice relaxed, calm, refined, but again without the haughtiness that one might expect, had they known her bloodline.

“Any races they’re known for having beef with, or being distrustful of? Besides anyone who insults them, of course?” It was her only question for the moment, she had others, but it was best to know if she’d have to “hide” herself further. A pair of points at her shoulder blades itched, she knew how badly that pair wanted to stretch and flex, but not yet. Not until she was certain of things.

The so-called Lion of Nova Scotia’s eyes pitched downward for a second, his Kryptonian hearing picking up on something… odd, in his mystery recuee’s voice. He’d refrained from using his x-ray vision to get a look at her earlier, half out of respect for her privacy and half, admittedly, to avoid the not-so-gentle razzing his mum’s AI would’ve given him about the act. But still, having only been separated by a few feet of hull during this whole descent, he had been listening in on what was going on in there the whole time, if only out of his mere proximity than any actual intent.

Truth be told, he still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this ‘Rockwoman’... But he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

‘Sides, there was more than one reason they were going to Iceland of all places; Namely that if it turned out they’d accidentally brought some sort of Super Space Hitler planetside, it would be very easy to nip that one in the bud right then and there with all that Dwarven guns and gusto about the place.

Champ was the world’s token good guy. But if the past decade or so had taught him anything, it was to always have a back-up plan.

”The Fae out of Ireland tried their hand at invasion once or twice. They got the traditional Dvergr welcome, and haven’t made a go at it since.” Duncan explained with a little bit of a shrug. ”Though, outside of that, the odd skirmish with the Atlanteans and a few colourful words about the ‘Bird Men of Thanagar’, I’m not privy about any other standing grudges they’re holding onto.”

With a slight bob of his head, he added-

”Aaaand if there is, we’ll all find out very quickly as we run like hell.”

The War Birds of Thanagar. That was something that Preston understood. Another spartan race of rigid, militant souls with a penchant for space exploration and a bit of conquering. Not only had Preston had the pleasure of meeting one or two, but he also had many stories from his father about them.

“Well, the major plus that we have is that the three of us can fly. If things do go bad, then we should be able to escape with relative ease.” He certainly hoped that it wouldn’t be the case, but as they neared the ground little by little, he couldn’t help but think about the people that he would encounter down planetside.”I estimate that at our current rate, it shouldn’t be much longer until we touch town. Once we start lowing a little more, we’re really going to need the Champion to act as our break.”

Good, this worked in her favor. Not in any sort of negative way, merely that Serene could at least assess this wouldn’t turn into an alternative prologue to the Hobbit. Or that there was a version of Smaug she needed to beat into submission. Assuming she could manage without the bulk of her treasury...if her worst fears were right. Oh well, she let out a soft sigh, mentally checking her energy levels. She’d be fine for the moment, but hopefully the locals had good food, or took magic pizza as currency, assuming the box hadn’t been lost all that time ago…

Already she was performing calculations in her head. Time needed to repair the ship, to replace certain lost components, certain fightercraft she’d lost, or could use on the planet, as well as possible tactics if a fight began. She didn’t want a battle, not at all. Furthermore, she was also considering a permanent base of operations, perhaps something like her old fortress...perhaps. In the end, she placed the thoughts to her side again, and refocused on the matter at hand.

“I understand, the more information I have, the better it’ll help me to figure out my place in this world, if that makes sense.” Perhaps there would be confusion at her choice of words, but Serene had her reasons, primarily towards just ensuring her own survival, and doing the right things. She simply gazed forward now, both of her mismatched eyes seeming to glow, but it was probably just a trick of the light. All she had to do was wait, and hope for the best.

Clio stretched out from where she had been curled up on the bathroom floor. Shortly after Karen and Starfire had put her to sleep, she had crawled to the bathroom to retch a bit more and periodically rinse with mouthwash. It wasn't the most graceful scenario, but she was the first to admit she wasn't graceful.

The cold tile felt amazing against her cheek, and she lingered in the spot until it turned warm. Slowly but surely, she sat up from her awkward position and stretched. Her entire body cracked, and the aching in her head momentarily lessened, before coming back in full force. Standing, she turned on the shower. Considering it, she turned it off and walked into the kitchenette.

Nothing looked good, she decided after ten minutes of staring. Eventually, she made her way to her phone and sent a text to Karen. There was so much she could say. Thank you, being one of the better options. She settled on:

Good morning. I didn't die.

Well, that’s a relief to hear.

Have you eaten?

Clio's nose scrunched up, her face souring. Food just didn't sound good. She knew she'd have to eat eventually...but, later.

Yes. Ordered room service earlier.

Was that too much? Did it make the lie obvious? Would Karen track her room service? No...she was too nice.

Have you heard from Star?

Not yet. I haven’t tried, though. I only woke up a little bit ago.

You should come over in a bit, though. I wanted to talk to you about something.

Clio didn't respond, but she did hop in the shower and quickly changed into her bodyguard attire. After brushing her teeth twice, she practically ran to Karen's room.

Knocking on the door, she stood outside patiently.

Karen opened the door almost immediately, smiling warmly to Clio. “Come in, I made some tea. It’ll help with any headache game you might have going on.”

Closing the door behind her friend, Karen gestured to the table that was filled with a silver tea set before claiming a seat on one side. Pouring a cup for both herself and Clio, she offered it to the other girl.

“Give it a try, it’ll help.”

Clio followed, relieved that she was being offered something for the pain that seemed to scratch away at her sanity.

Sitting on the other side of the table, Clio smiled over at Karen. She lifted the teacup to her lips and took a hearty sip.

The tea, despite Karen’s joy at serving it, was not in fact laced with anything that Clio could perceive. It had a pleasant aroma and a soothingly warm taste that helped to open her sinuses.

Drinking of her own cup, Karen lowered it down onto the silver plate. “These belonged to my mother--my adopted mother,” she quickly clarified. “I’ve wanted to use them for quite a while, but I rarely get the chance.”

Clio's family had many heirlooms, some stranger than others. Like the teeth of the first undead slave of each family member, all stored in one trinket box. Or the family spellbook, something passed on to each Head of House. Clio's daggers were heirlooms. It was always interesting to see what other people held dear.

"I'm glad I got to use them with you." She smiled, her head feeling less swollen the more tea she drank. "Your mother must've been reluctant to pass these on. They're so nice."

Karen giggled, nodding. “She gave them to me after my first album went gold. She said that she had never been prouder of her.”

Observing Clio in silence as they continued to enjoy the tea, she was happy to see her friend drinking it so heavily. It was her own recipe, though it was admittedly rather simple. She simply enchanted the tea leaves to relieve migraines. For most people, it would end there.

In Clio’s case, it would serve another purpose. She might not notice it immediately, but it would help acclimate her body to Arcanum, and hopefully weaken Makaya as well.

Clio cupped her chin in a hand, propping up an elbow on the table and continuing to sip. This tea was truly amazing, she felt revitalized. "I wish I could make my mom proud like that." She could, but it meant risking her sanity.

“Well, my adopted mom loves me for who I am,” said Karen, sighing. “It has to start with that. Our biological moms are both users, who wanted us to become what they wanted us to be. People like that...they’ll never be proud of any decision we make that isn’t theirs.”

Of course, her own mom was dead, as far as she knew. But even still, the point held true. Her mother had wanted to raise her into a good little cultist that would sacrifice people to their precious Three-Horned God.

“But I think you’re awesome, Clio,” said Karen, grinning. “You. You’re kind, caring, and loyal. You’re a great friend.”

Clio cringed deeply at Karen so blatantly offending her mother. Karen was...passionate, and didn't have a good grip on her mouth. Clio couldn't be too mad at her about it, though. Her mother was misunderstood.

"Thank you," She said calmly in response to the compliment. A small smile played on her lips, but nothing more. "You've been very kind to me...thanks for that, too. Especially after last night. I-we...she, was out of line."

“Yeah, she sure as hell was,” said Karen. “But that shouldn’t be a problem from here on out. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”

Clio had drank quite a lot of tea by this point, so it should be alright to tell her. It shouldn’t take a whole pot or anything to work. Of course, she had never tried to poison a Chaos entity before, but she had placed her strongest enchantment on it.

“I couldn’t tell you up front because Makaya would have never let you drink it, but I enchanted the tea leaves with a spell to relieve migraines,” explained Karen. “It should majorly weaken her hold on you, so nothing like last night ever happens again. Though, you’ll have to drink some every day to keep it up--at least for a little while.”

Clio began to chuckle, but it swiftly died the further Karen went into her explanation. She stared at the singer, her friend, blankly for a few moments. "You're not serious, are you?" She asked at last.

Karen stared back at her for a moment in confusion, wondering why she looked so stunned. “Well, yeah. She violated your body last night, Clio. That’s pure evil! I mean...I found you in the bathroom crying your eyes out, what am I supposed to do?”

Clio looked incredibly flabbergasted. Her jaw was slack, her eyes were glossy with confusion. She was processing, evidently. When she finally did react, it was clear she was upset.

Her hands curled into fists, and she stared at them, tears welling in her eyes. Her lips were pressed in a firm line, she didn't know what to say. Reaching within herself, she searched for Makaya, frantically. The entity was evidently pissed, but where she had been so strong and full of vitality moments ago, she was now withered and silent.

It felt lonely.

Makaya pulled against her new chains. Clio felt that unyielding fury rise within, but it was dulled and the shadows did not rise at her command. She glanced up, tears flowing down her face freely. "Karen…why didn't you...y-you-" She rose from her seat, beginning to pace. Raising her hand, she stared at a wall and attempted to raise its shadow. The magic responded weakly, and at a snail's pace it shifted. She released it, disgusted.

"This...no! Karen, you can't make these c-choices for m-me!" Her teeth chattered, and like a weight had suddenly been placed on her, she slumped to the floor.

Karen’s heart sank at the sight of Clio falling to the ground, and she quickly rushed to her side. Why was she so upset? After everything that had happened the previous night? She just didn’t understand--

--No.

She had seen this before, somewhere. A long time ago.

Karen felt her stomach twist into a knot as the sight of her ten year old self being dragged away from her father’s home by social workers flashed through her mind like the reel of an old movie. She was bruised and battered, yet full of life as she bit and clawed at them, sparks of magic crackling from her fingers.

Her mother had enthralled her father for the first eight years of her life. Then, after she was killed in the Two Month War, the charm was broken. For the next two years, she lived alone with her father.

He remembered everything. Everything her mother did to him over the past decade. He tried to drink in order to forget.

But he couldn’t.

So he took it out on Karen, the physical memory of what she did to him. For two years, until he could stand the sight of her no longer. He then called social services himself, so he could be rid of her.

Despite all the pain he caused her, though, Karen had still begged to stay. Because he was her daddy. Because she loved him still.

“Clio...do you…” she swallowed heavily. “...do you think...you need Makaya?”

Clio's body trembled. She kept reaching for Makaya, and each time it scared her even more. Karen was killing her. She was in pain, and it showed through her immense anger.

At Karen's question, Clio froze, before continuing to shake. Did she need Makaya? No, that was the wrong question to ask. What Karen should've asked, was, did she love Makaya. "N-No, Karen!" She cried, not elaborating. She knew she must've looked childish, and horrible. She was a grown woman, and she had collapsed on the floor. She didn't care.

“But you do think that, don’t you?” said Karen, thinking back to how she felt that day again. “Because you feel that, in some perverse way, she cares about you...and so you care about her too.”

Karen sighed, kneading her temple with a finger. “I’m sorry, Clio, for using your trust like that. But I want to help you, because I do care for you, unlike Makaya. People that care for you don’t do what she did last night. I don’t even think she's capable of love.”

At least with her father, she could understand why he behaved like that, in hindsight. While she didn’t understand it then, she at least knew now what her mother had put him through. But this demon inside of Clio only seemed to be driven by a desire to grow--in one way or another--until she was able to take control completely.

Even she had trouble considering Makaya a person.

Clio's body spasmed, and her eyes lit up with hatred. The shadows crept forward, but they moved slowly and were paper thin. She wanted to let Makaya continue, just to know that she was okay, but the being within her seemed tired. Makaya relinquished her hold, remaining in wait.

"Karen," Clio sniffed, shaking her head. Makaya did care. Their relationship was symbiotic, they needed one another. She had been there for so, so long. Longer than Karen, and Starfire. Makaya was capable of love, because she had to be. "Karen, please, just stop." She looked away, unable to face the lies coming from her friend.

“CLIO!” said Karen, louder and more forcefully than Clio had ever heard the song artist speak before. “Makaya took control of your body and stole your first time. Forever. Because she wanted to, even though you didn’t. Makaya didn’t care one bit about how you felt. Stop hiding away from the truth!”

“Makaya made you drag us all into danger. Made you nearly kill people. Every time she takes control, you become sick and lose more of yourself...it’s like a drug.”

Or alcohol, her father’s choice of escape.

“If you think they care for you, then please tell me, what do they do that’s so caring? What love have they shown you, really?”

Clio closed her eyes against the force of Karen's words. She shook her head, not wanting to argue. Karen wouldn't understand, because they weren't in the same situation. She dragged herself to her feet, not looking at Karen as she did so.

"I'm...I'll, be back." She said, a promise to herself more so than Karen.

Karen deflated, exhaling sharply through her nose. She wanted to say more, but...she really didn’t have anything else to say. “...Fine, Clio. I tried my best, but in the end, it is a decision you have to make yourself.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the effects of the tea will wear off in a few days. If that somehow makes you feel better,” she said, turning her back on Clio.

Clio glanced back, her face dropping as she was met with Karen's back. "Alright." She muttered, low enough that Karen may not have heard her. With that, she walked out the door, trying to decide between going to her room, or Starfire's.

In the end, she decided to go to Star's. Knocking on the door to her friend's room, she straightened herself out and forced a smile.

A few moments later the door opened and Starfire returned the smile. ”Good morning, Clio.” Star said, stepping out and hugging her friend. Star disengaged just before the amount of time she had learned Clio preferred over the few times they had done this greeting now.

"Morning, Star." Clio murmured after they unlatched from the hug. It was welcome, after all the emotional turmoil. "Ya know, Star...I was thinking...well, why don't I come in and explain this to you?" She wasn't even sure what she was thinking. She had an idea, but nothing was set in stone. She was being impulsive, but she had to act soon.

”Okay,” Star replied, letting Clio into her apartment. The apartment was almost exactly like it had just been moved into. No food needed to be eaten so there were no washed or needed to be washed plates, Star kept her extremely limited wardrobe tucked into a closet in her otherwise untouched bedroom. The TV was on and the news was reporting a story about heroic firefighters.

Star gestured to the seating arrangement. ”Did you want any snacks? I bought some.” She offered.

"Snacks? You don't eat...did you try again?" Clio was genuinely concerned, which was good, because it took her mind off the pain in her heart. She took a seat on a couch, waiting for Star to join her.

Starfire gave a short bark of a laugh. ”No, Clio. I bought them incase someone came over! I think I bought cookies.” She said, trying to recall her 3 AM visit to a nearby gas station. ”Did you want them?” She asked again now that Clio’s concerns were alleviated.

"I'm alright," She said quickly. Now wasn't the time for snacks, and the thought of food made her stomach roll. "Star, I actually came to see if you…" She took a deep breath. "Wanted to, uh, go on a vacation?" Yes, she had made up her mind. Finally.

Starfire had taken a seat while Clio spoke. She raised her eyebrows upon hearing the suggestion. ”A vacation?” It was a safe assumption that Clio wanted to go on a vacation with Starfire. She wasn’t coming in her to ask if Starfire wanted to go on a vacation by herself. It was ‘implied.’

”Just you and I?” She pondered. ”Where would we go?” Star asked.

Clio cocked her head, seemingly making up her mind in the moment. "New Orleans...my home. It'll just be us, I think it'll be...fun."

Star looked honored. ”You would invite me to your home, Clio? Of course I will go! We will have as much fun as we can. When do you want to leave?” This was an important invitation. To invite someone into your home was a show of great trust and friendship by its very nature. It would be rude to decline and Star wanted to come anyway. New Orleans.

Wow, that was easier than she had thought it would be. Good. Great, actually. She didn't need to argue with her only friend. "Whenever you can get your things together. I'll...book the plane tickets as soon as possible." She sighed. This was really happening. She was abandoning Karen. Speaking of which…

"If you need to, you can go say goodbye to Karen." She wasn't going to prevent her from doing so, even though she probably should. It would just raise questions.

”I can gather my things very quickly.” Star said eagerly. ”I will go say goodbye to Karen, she needs to know where some of her bodyguards are going. How long will we be gone for?” She didn’t want to abandon Karen with no warning at all. It seemed like taking vacations was a common, casual thing given how spontaneously Clio offered the soon-as-possible vacation.

"I'm not sure, pack for...a week, I think." Clio replied, clearing her throat and standing. "I'll be in my room." With that, she took her leave, thinking over her decision. The worst Karen could do would be to take her friend from her and leave her on her own, but that was...basically what she was doing. Shaking her head, she sighed and entered her room to begin packing.

Starfire smiled and quickly slipped on her long purple boots. Within five minutes she was at Karen’s door and knocking upon it with her knuckles.

Karen had just finished cleaning her tea set when she heard a knock at the door. Her heart leaped in her chest and she quickly rushed across the room to open it, hoping to see Clio on the other side. She felt terrible about turning her back on her in the end...she had just been so frustrated in that moment.

It was, however, Starfire.

Exhaling, Karen nevertheless smiled. “Heya Star, what’s up?”

”Hello, Karen. I want to go on vacation with Clio! We will be back in a week. Will you feel safe without us?” She asked. She did want to go on this vacation, but if Karen was going to feel unsafe, or even worse, she is actually attacked by those who wish her harm, Star would have to stay. But hopefully that didn’t happen.

Karen blinked.

It took her several moments to process what Star had just said, as she had dropped that bombshell on her so...so casually!

”...Vacation? With Clio?” she asked.

Was Clio trying to run away? Did she hate her that much for trying to suppress Makaya? Where was she going to go? Back to New York? No, that probably would be much of a vacation. Maybe she was going to return to her family? God, she hoped not.

”Star...could you come inside for a minute?”

The alien looked a little concerned. ”Okay, Karen.” Her employer and friend had a strange look on her face. Star went inside nonetheless and turned around to face Karen. She knitted her fingers together behind her back and began rocking back and forth on her heels.

Karen closed the door behind her, her mind wrestling to find the right words. From everything that she had seen, Clio had been keeping a lot of information from Starfire, for whatever reason. Up till now, she had respected that, even if she hadn’t truly understood why she didn’t want her other friend to know. Star was, after all, probably the least judgemental person she had ever met.

“Star, has Clio told you anything about...Makaya?”

Star knitted her eyebrows together. ”No.” She thought back. Makaya, Makaya…

”Wait, yes. When we first met, she asked me to call her that after our fight. Then she asked me to call her Clio and then I used that name from then on.” Starfire understood this desire to use different names completely. After all, Starfire hadn’t told anyone her birth name. Names carried great weight, and people might want to be liberated from some names or attached to other names.

Karen sighed again.

Well, she had figured as much.

How was she going to even start explaining all this to her? It would sound insane to just about anyone that didn’t understand magic. Still, she had to try. She couldn’t let Star just go off with Clio without telling her. She cared deeply for both of her friends, after all.

“Have you ever noticed that Clio sometimes starts acting…different?” asked Karen. “Like, when she suddenly dragged us from the bar back in Boston to fight those guys? Didn’t she seem far more aggressive and violent than Clio normally is?”

Star looked confused. ”I did not notice that, Karen. How come someone act differently from who they are?” Karen wasn’t making sense. It was not like Starfire herself never had issues formulating her thoughts into words. Star was also wondering what this had to do with her vacation.

Right, she shouldn’t be surprised that Starfire didn’t get it. She would have to explain everything about Chaos Magic to her for it to make sense. But still, she had to try.

“Alright, Star, let me try again. You are you, and I am me. But Clio’s body is actually shared by two minds,” explained Karen, beginning to pace as she wracked her brain for the right words to explain everything. “One is our friend, Clio Delphine. The other is Makaya.”

Folding her arms, she leaned against the back wall, her eyes never leaving Starfire’s. She must have looked so serious in this moment. “Makaya is what is called a ‘demon’. She thrives on violence, pain, domination, and apparently sex. She was born inside of Clio due to her using Chaos Magic, and she wants to take Clio’s body from her. Last night, she forced Clio to have sex with someone against her will.”

Starfire narrowed her eyes and looked at the floor. ”Uhm...” There was a long pause.

Karen didn’t hold the silence against Starfire. How did one respond to that bombshell? Still, she pressed on. “The reason we had to leave so suddenly last night is because I found Clio crying alone in the bathroom after it happened. I...didn’t think that Makaya would be able to take control at the club. I thought she needed violence to do so, but I was wrong.”

Karen looked away, feeling her eyes grow moist. It was still difficult not to blame herself for what happened that night. If they had just stayed in the hotel, Makaya wouldn’t have had a chance to hurt Clio. “So this morning, I tried to help Clio.”

The alien was at a loss for words. Demons? Chaos Magic? Sharing minds? This all sounded so bizarre. Clio seemed just fine to Star. ”...Did Clio tell you a secret? All of these things?”

Karen slowly nodded, wiping her eyes with a wrist. ”Remember the morning after we fought those guys? When Clio told you to get some rest in my bedroom? That’s when she told me all about her family in New Orleans. How they taught her to use Chaos Magic, and how...how Makaya started growing inside of her because of it. Eventually, after years of using Chaos, she grew strong enough to start taking control.”

“I tried to warn her then that Makaya sounded dangerous, but she didn’t seem to believe me. She even called her mother on the phone, put it on speaker and everything so I could hear,” said Karen, pursing her lips at the memory of the woman’s voice. “Her mother...was very abrasive. She basically demanded Clio keep using her magic and give in to Makaya.”

Star took a moment to process the information. ”Well, Karen, I think it is not very nice to tell someone another person’s secret.” She said first of all.

”I will have to watch out for this Makaya.” It was all she really could say. Clio hadn’t brought Makaya up to Star, so Star assumed she had good reason too. Unless Makaya was keeping her from telling Star, but not Karen, but that didn’t make any sense. Clio had always been Clio, so the alien was having a hard time putting this into any context.

”Clio will tell me more when she wants too. It’s her secret. If I told Clio a secret I wouldn’t want her saying it to you.” She said resolutely.

Karen’s jaw fell open.

Was...was she for real? She had just told her that Clio had been violated and was potentially going to return to her Chaos-using family who wanted to make said violator stronger, and she...she was mad that she told her secret?

“Star...I told you because I’m afraid that Clio might DIE!” she spelled it out in the simplest of terms she could think of. “If she returns to her family, they might empower Makaya and allow her to completely erase Clio! I think stopping that is more important than keeping a secret!”

Starfire looked frustrated. ”Well, what are you going to do now? She wants to go to the new Orleans. She trusted me enough to ask me to go with her to see her home and her family. I also know that the only person who truly knows what Clio is going through is Clio.” She stood to her feet. Starfire didn’t want her friend Clio to suffer. But Star thought that perhaps, Karen telling her this information could hurt Clio even more. Things can get complicated quickly when meddling in other people’s personal affairs.

”Did you want to talk to her about it? What do you want me to do with these secrets?” She asked, crossing her arms.

Karen wasn’t sure if her explanation had gotten through to Starfire or not. She still didn’t seem to quite understand Clio’s situation, though she was right on several accounts. What did she want? Was she going to ask Star to help her tie Clio down and force-feed her tea? What could she really do to help her friend?

“I don’t know, Star...I’m just afraid if Clio goes to New Orleans, I’ll never see her again. At least, not as Clio. I just know her family is going to do something horrible there,” she said, unable to hold back her tears.

Shaking her head to try and maintain her composure, she continued.

“I don’t know if you even believe me, but j-just know I would never do anything to hurt you or Clio,” said Karen, choking over her words. “You’re the first friends I’ve had since I was little.”

Starfire relaxed and contemplated everything she was just told. Karen was just doing what she thought was right. This was all very worrying. Some kind of inner demon, vying for control of Clio’s mind was a terrible thought. It was also something Clio sought to keep secret from Starfire. ”You are telling me the enemy is someone who is apart of Clio. Does that not make the enemy Clio herself? She knows everything that you do, and more, and yet she seeks the new Orleans anyway.

Star nodded to herself, seemingly coming to a conclusion. ”...and she asked me to come with her. I think I should. Just like Clio wants. ”

Karen dried her eyes, sighing. She wandered over to the couch and collapsed in it, her face resting in her hands. “Well...it’s not like I can stop you. But sometimes, Star, being a friend means being willing to make people do things they don’t want to do. Especially if the things they want will hurt them. I tried to weaken Makaya with the tea after what it did last night. After it hurt Clio...but Clio...well, she’s going to New Orleans now because of that.”

“If you really want to let her go, then...I don’t know. Just watch over her, please,” said Karen, not bothering to look up.

Starfire nodded thoughtfully. ”You tried to make Clio better without asking, and now you fear you’ve made things worse. With the tea, and now telling me her secrets. I will watch over her.” Star was nervous about the entire vacation after this conversation. She hadn’t even heard Clio’s side yet.

”I will ask Clio about Makaya and see what she has to say.” Starfire turned and began heading for the door.

“Thank you, Star.” said Karen, slowly looking up at her alien friend’s retreating form. ”And Star? I care a lot about Clio, but, just so you know...she has tried to lie to me before. Good luck…”

Star looked back over her shoulder and did a single wave before leaving and closing the door behind her. This was a bad situation. If Clio didn’t want to do anything about this inner demon, there was nothing short of full on assault that Star and Karen could do. That would undoubtedly make things worse. What if they hurt Clio? It was complicated. Extremely complicated. Vacations, from Starfire’s understanding of the word, were supposed to relieve stress. This was already becoming quite stressful.

Starfire made a quick stop in her apartment and packed a few extra set of clothes in a suitcase and then made her way nervously to Clio’s room. She knocked on the door and waited. Setting the suitcase down by her feet and folded her hands behind her back and began rocking back and forth on her heels.

Clio neatly folded the clothes she was setting in her suitcase, prepared to go on her own if it came to that. She'd have to fly to the city near New Orlean's, then make the drive the rest of the way. It would be lonely, but seeing her family at the end of it would...hopefully, be worth it.

At the knock, Clio perked up. She nearly ran to the door, slowly down and calming herself as she got closer. Opening it up, she glanced first at the floor beside Starfire. Seeing a suitcase made her heart leap. "You're coming?" She asked, voice full of emotion. Reaching out, she grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her close. "I-I have so much to tell you on the way. About my family...and everything else." She was almost certain Karen had said her piece. It was time to give her side.

Star gave a nervous nod and squeezed Clio. Backing up and holding Cli by the shoulders, she then began to blurt out a long string of words. ”Yes, I would like to come. Clio, I must tell you, Karen already told me all about Makaya. She did not want you to go to the new Orleans. She fears they- your family- will kill you. That this Makaya will kill you. I told her she should not have told me your secrets, but she was very worried about you. Now I am worried, too. I will come with you to the new Orleans if that is what you think is best. I do not want you to die, Clio.” She said, clearly earnest and worried.

Clio nodded. This only made Makaya more pissed at Karen, but the demon was too weak to do anything. "I think I've got this handled, Star. There's a lot you don't know...thank you for your concern, but I need my family right now. And that includes you."

Exhaling, Star gave a weak but genuine smile.”Okay. I’m here for you.” There was a lot she did not know. Hearing this vital information from the source meant it had a lot more weight than whatever Karen might think or fear for Star. She had to be loyal to her friends, making them do something they didn’t want to do, like Karen said, didn’t make sense to the Tamaran. She would wait patiently if Clio needed to gather her thoughts.

"Alright, let's get to the airport and hope we don't miss our flight." Clio forced a grin. Picking up her suitcase, she walked with Starfire out of the hotel and hailed a cab to the airport.

3:30 PM, January 18th

Star sat quietly in the passenger seat, contemplating the morning’s events and staring out the window. It was a shame to leave Karen on such bad terms. They could make it up later when Clio and Star got back. Louisiana, the “state” around the city of New Orleans (not the new orleans, but it is a newer version of Orleans which is a city in a place called France) was a little hotter than the other places she had visited so far. New York was very cold and Detroit was too, this place seemed a little warmer, though the clouds were thick above this place. Star was beginning to realize that the heat levels of Tamaran would probably be unbearable for a human. Louisiana was also wetter, too.

Clio glanced over at Starfire as she drove, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. She cleared her throat, announcing her intention to speak. "So, do you have any specific...questions? About the situation?"

Star looked over at Clio and thought for a moment. ”Do you really think you might be in danger? Of dying?” She asked. Clio had seemed anxious, but Karen seemed to believe Clio’s very life might be at stake.

Clio frowned. Karen really had said that, hadn't she? "No, I don't believe I'm in danger of dying. I haven't died yet, have I?"
Star seemed relieved. ”That is good. What about Makaya? Do you truly share two minds? I do not know what that means. Have I met Makaya before? How will I know? Do you know? Aren’t you...just you?” She asked, her questions losing momentum until she came to an almost philosophical final inquiry.

Clio struggled to recall every part of the question. "I guess so, yeah. My mind is mine, and she has her own. It means that this body has two owners." Did that make sense? Probably not. "You've met before, that first day...and then the night on the street. You'll know because she's different than me. And yes, I do know, because I can feel the difference." She kept focused on the road, but she wanted to look and see how Star was taking things.

Starfire furrowed her brow and twisted her mouth to the side. Two owners, same body. The first day on the rooftops? Was that Makaya speaking to her?

”When we first met, I did not know how to speak English. During the fight at that van, I split up from the two of you. I do not think I have met Makaya yet at all. To me, you are just normal Clio. All of the time, you are just Clio.” This whole thing was bugging Starfire, it was a concept she couldn’t understand. She sat back in her chair with an audible phoomph and cupped her chin with her fingers as she thought about this.

Clio considered this. She wanted to believe that she was always her, but it was difficult. How could she explain that overwhelming rage? The aching for magic. Was that just her? "You can't meet her right now, but...soon. She's hurt." 8

Starfire looked hard over at Clio, scanning her up and down. ”She is hurt?” Star asked. Clio looked uninjured. Perhaps it was her mind that was injured. Karen did mention tea. Maybe this will all make more sense when I get to meet her. Even though I have already met you. I will meet you again. I will meet you as many times as it takes.”

Hesitating, Star spoke again. ”Did you and Karen get into an argument?”

As soon as Karen was mentioned by Starfire, fury burned within Clio. It was so sudden and fiery that she nearly doubled over. A groan escaped her. Good to know Makaya was feeling a bit better. "Yes, I got upset with her because she poisoned Makaya. She didn't say anything to me, she just...did it."

Starfire was saddened that Clio was audibly frustrated by the mere mention of their...her?...friend. Poisoning was a serious thing to do to somebody.

”She did not tell you she was telling me your secrets, either? She poisoned you?” She asked, her voice raising a concerned octave.

"She didn't tell me she was going to tell you, no." Clio wasn't sure if she wanted to explain why Karen had given her the enchanted tea. In the end, she decided not to. "Why don't we talk about something else? Do you want to know about my family? Or about New Orleans?"

”Okay, we will talk about something else. What is your family like? Do you like them and do they like you?” She said, leaning forward onto the dash. She rested her right cheek in her palm and looked over at Clio.

Clio perked up. She didn't enjoy talking about her family to other mages, but this was a different occasion. "They're...different." She recalled her argument with her mother. "Sometimes they can be a bit much, but I do love them, and they love me too." She tried to think of significant members of the household.

"I have about twenty cousins," She wasn't sure how many were still on the estate. "But I like some more than others. Cousin Theo is my favorite. He's Matriarch Zaalia's son."

”Twenty cousins? Wow. I do not have any cousins. Do you have any brothers or, or any siblings? Is Matriarch Zaalia nice? Like a Queen?” She said, stumbling over her words a little bit during her first question but moving quickly past it.

Frowning, Clio shook her head. Her mother hadn't been able to have anymore children. Their branch ended with Clio, until she got married and had a child of her own. It was a responsibility she didn't want, but something she'd have to face sooner or later. She was in her mid-twenties, after all.

"No, no siblings. What about you, Star? Do you have any siblings?"

Star withdrew, receding into her seat physically and emotionally. ”Yes.” She said. It sounded like she was about to say something else, but the words didn’t come out.

As soon as Clio glanced over, she found herself feeling bad. She pursed her lips, and let out a long breath through her nose. Staying silent, she waited for the next road sign. "Thirty more minutes and I can show you all my old haunts."

Starfire looked over at Clio and smiled, seemingly happy to move on. ”That is good. I am looking forward to meeting your family. Why is Cousin Theo your favorite?” She asked, sitting up straighter in her seat.

"He's just always been kind to me...he understood my situation, he's in it too." Clio recalled their last conversation. She had met his demon, because she had pissed him off when she said she was leaving the family. Apparently, trust and loyalty was important to his other half.

”Do many of your family have their own Makayas? Do you actually have forty cousins?” Star continued asking questions.

Clio chuckled. "No," She began, her brow furrowing. "Some people try their whole life, but they don't manage it. I'm not sure why it happens to some, and not others."

”Don’t manage it? Is getting a Makaya a good thing for your family? Is Makaya nice? Karen told me...never mind. Does Makaya like me?” Star could hardly wait. What an interesting family Clio had. And Clio invited her along to see them!

Clio fought the bile that rose in her throat at the name Karen. She was upset with the artist, not mad at her in the way Makaya was. Shaking it off forcibly, she nodded. "My mom seems to think so." As for her being nice… "Makaya has her moments...she's impulsive and unafraid. I think she likes you. You'll find out later."

Star seemed satisfied, leaning back in her seat. ”Okay. Thank you for taking me with you on your vacation, Clio.”


4:00 PM, January 18th
New Orleans
New Orleans wasn't what it once was, but it was as Clio remembered it. The weather was a bit of a shift. It was far hotter than Detroit, at around seventy degrees rather than forty. The air was thicker, humid, leaving those who were sweating in this type of heat sticky. Clio didn't seem to mind at all.

The people were what had truly changed. Perhaps Clio had been looking at them through rose-colored glasses in the past. Now, she could tell what the war had done to them. The slight tension carried in the shoulders of even those who smiled, the constant, dripping fear locked behind their eyes. The men and women in military uniforms, patrolling the streets or walking to and fro without assignment. They were a constant presence, now. Disrupting what had once been a city of culture and importance.

Clio pulled up along the side street, right beside Cua Hãng Cafe. It was a beat down little place, painted in peeling robin egg blue and stained white. Perched beside one of the flower pots just to the right of the cafe’s name was a large, black raven. It quietly watched the car as it pulled in, before starting to preen its feathers. It seemed to only further emphasise worn nature of the place. A true hole in the wall, but a significant part of Clio's past.

She recalled running down the sidewalks with her cousins, after pooling together just enough allowance money to get everyone a beignet and a smoothie. Getting chastised playfully by the owner for loitering after they had finished their drinks. She wondered if Carlos was still around...

Parking the car, she took the keys out of the ignition. A deep breath followed, and she turned to look at Starfire. "I'm a bit hungry, but I can just get something to go...after this, I'll show you around." She knew her mother would complain about how skinny she was...but it wasn't like she could put on thirty pounds in a day. The least she could do was eat something before she went to see her family.

With that, she exited the car and slipped the keys into her pocket. Rounding the vehicle, she stepped into the cafe and headed toward the back where you could order your food. Upon seeing the old man running the place, she grinned.

Carlos was a withered man, nearing his seventies. He had worked all his life to get his cafe, and it showed in his calloused palms and leathery skin. What was left of his grey hair was combed neatly to one side, and his pure white beard looked quite well groomed. Recognition flickered in his eyes, then he pointed at Clio knowingly.

"Well, if it ain't Ms. Delphine." He crooned, his voice raspy and kind.

"One of many," Clio said, laughing. She reached over the counter to give Carlos a hug. He was like a grandpa to her, seeing as her own grandfather didn't look a day past forty.

Carlos returned the hug, before pulling away to get a good look. "Almost didn't recognize ya, with how tiny you got!"

Starfire, upon realizing Clio and Carlos’ had a history, gave a small smile and let the pair talk. She wrapped her hands together behind her back and began rocking back and forth on her heels. Her eyes wandered back to the raven that had watched them come in. The creature had big dark, eyes, and Star could tell it was smart. She turned a little bit and took a few steps toward it and pressed her hands against the window and stared at it, just sitting there, perched and comfortable.

The raven was looking into the cafe, at Clio and Carlos’ reunion. Slowly, its head turned in the direction of Starfire, staring back at the orange woman that was looking at it. It didn’t caw, simply observing her for several moments before returning its focus to Clio.

In the meantime, Clio had picked out a beignet from behind the glass display case. Carlos bagged it, and gave her another hug after she paid.

"It was lovely seeing ya, Ms. Delphine. Make sure you stop by before you leave." He gave her a small wave, and she turned to see Starfire staring out the window.

"Star, you alright? We can head out, now." Clio approached her friend, looking out to see what she was staring at.

Clio’s friend turned over her shoulder at the sound of her name. ”Yes, I am fine. I was just looking at that bird.” She said, turning back around to look at the raven. Only, it was gone.

”Oh. It must have flew away.” She said contentedly.

”Well, what is next?” Star curiously asked her friend.

Clio considered this. She didn't want to meet up with her family just yet. Her mother was probably still pretty pissed. So… "Why don't I take you to some of my old haunts? The high school isn't too far from here...then there's the theater. Or the Breakdown."

”I choose the high school.” Star said with a cheeky smile. It didn’t really matter to Star where she went. She just picked the first thing that Clio said. Plus, she said it wasn’t too far, so why not?

"Alright." Going back to her high school wasn't quite as traumatic for her as it could be for others. While she wasn't incredibly popular, the school consisted mostly of her family and the rest of the children were easy enough to make friends with. Some of them probably even had children attending the school currently.

Hopping back into the car, Clio drove Starfire the short distance to the high school. She would've walked, but she didn't want to abandon the rental.

Stepping out, she surveyed the building. It was in good condition, looking like the average highschool with two stories and a nice, albeit yellowed football field surrounded by a blue track. In front of the school was a tall flagpole, upon which a black raven was perched. It watched the car as it pulled in.

"This is where we used to do sports." Not her, specifically. She did her gymnastic meets indoors, where the indoor track team was likely meeting up as they spoke.

Opening the front doors, which were still unlocked since most teachers stayed a bit late, she stepped into the school. The hallways were covered in posters and banners, the bulletin boards were stuffed with papers. The lockers were all blue, and the steps leading up to the second floor were as well. She felt like she was back in high school, and the thought almost terrified her. She recalled the year after she had successfully cursed and restored Maeve. She had recovered just in time to join her as a Freshman, and everyone had been so sympathetic about her sudden contraction of a deadly virus. Everyone except Clio.

She had been angry, angry that she had gotten in trouble for stopping a bully. Angry that she hadn't been able to go through with it. That had been the first budding of Makaya. Clio pursed her lips, almost embarrassed. Almost.

"Anything you want to see, specifically?" Clio asked.

Star shook her head. This place was dark and empty, with only a few strategically placed lights keeping the place comfortably lit up. Though that was probably because the students were not here. ”No. Is there anything you want to show me, specifically?”

Clio nearly said 'not really', but that would've made her a bad tour guide. "Why don't we go to the gym? I'll show you my old gymnastics routine." She chuckled, then gestured for Starfire to follow her.

Before they entered, she heard the sounds of rowdy children going about their business. She would have smacked herself. Sports were a year round thing at her high school, and it was currently winter track season. All indoor events.

She whipped around, attempting to scurry away before they got caught looking like creepers. A tendril of shadow locked around her ankle, keeping her in the awkward half-turn position. Makaya flared instantly, but her magic was still weak. Clio began to panic. Someone in her family was there, she had just gotten caught.

The doors to the gym pushed open, and a pair of sweaty teenagers in workout clothes strode out. The girl was about five inches shorter than Clio, wearing a lace front wig with edges that had previously been laid, but were now frizzed up. She was in a pair of black leggings, and a neon orange, cropped sweater.

The boy was a similar height to his aunt, with his curly hair tied up on top of his head in a bun, his gym shorts and sweatshirt slightly damp from his activities.

They stared at her as if they were offering up a challenge, and she stared back just as fiercely.

"Aunt Clio, stay a little while. Your friend, too," The girl said, her words so obviously enchanted that Clio was able to brush off the coercion with ease.

Star gave a little wave to the pair and then looked over at her friend Clio. ”Are these some of your many cousins, Clio?” She asked.

The girl deflated a little at her lacking magical prowess. She had been working on her coercion all week.

Clio glanced at Starfire, glad to know the coercion hadn't affected her. As far as she could tell, at least. Looking back to the pair of kids, she pointed down at her ankle, which was still entrapped. "It would be nice of you to let me out, don't you think?"

"Let yourself out," Scoffed the boy, crossing his arms against his chest. The shadow tightened.

Clio cocked her head, her anger rising. "I don't even know who you are! Family or not, I'm not playing your little games. Now let me go!"

The two teenagers seemed offended. "You'd know who we were if you hadn't left!" Hissed the girl.

Clio softened just barely at this. "Alright, fine. Just let me go and I'll see you at the estate, okay?"

They glanced at each other. "Whatever, you're just lucky we have another half hour of practice." The boy said, releasing the shadow. He muttered something under his breath to the girl, who stared at Clio before nodding. They turned, and rushed back into the gym.

Clio groaned. "I'm sorry about that, Star. Let's go."

Starfire seemed anxious as the family fighting apparently escalated. Fortunately, it vanished as soon as it began.

”Do you and your family fight often?” The alien asked, following Clio out of the school.

Clio shook her head, incredibly flustered. She pushed open the doors to the school, and sat down on the steps with a huff. "No, before I left, it was...different." She gripped her head, feeling powerless while Makaya was down for the count.

"We all have our place in the family, you're either above whoever you're talking to, or below them." There were no equals, not even amongst the children. If you fell in the same level of power as someone else, you fought to the bitter end to prove you were above, or you submitted and took your place below. "They were just trying to prove that they're on top, and I can't do anything about it. Not until Makaya recovers."

Star looked off into the distance, slowly nodding her head as if she heard it all before. Coming back to reality she rested her hand reassuringly on Clio’s shoulder. ”Did you want to wait until Makaya recovers before meeting the rest of your family? Do you think more of your family will be at the theater or Breakdown?”

"The longer I wait, the more pissed they'll be. I just have to count on Makaya to work through this." She reached her hand up, resting it on Starfire's. It was nice to know she was there. Slowly she stood, shaking her limbs out. "The Breakdown is probably crawling with family members. And unless you want to catch a movie, I'm not sure about the theater." Though, catching a movie and hiding didn't sound that bad.

Starfire remained seated and pondered what Clio said. ”I have never seen a movie before. Are those fun? We will see your family when you want too, Clio.” It’s not like Starfire was in any particular rush. She was only there for Clio, and of course to see more of the world and the people in it, and making friends was a part of that goal. There were certainly many facets to this planet, much more, Star thought, than her own world. Maybe it was just because she lived there her whole life, but her home seemed far simpler than this place.

Clio perked up a little, eventually rising to her full height. "Alright, movie it is, then. Hopefully they're playing something good."

She walked down the rest of the steps and back toward the car, driving them over to the old theater. It was still in relatively good condition, but it was clear it hadn't been touched up in a while. There was a large sign outside, displaying the various movies being shown. Sure enough, on top of it sat a black raven. Not enough people went to see movies anymore.

Clio purchased their tickets to Shaun of The Dead, one of the three movies playing, and took them inside. She sat in the upper middle section, the rest of the theater empty. Smiling, she leaned back against her seat and the movie began. Star joined her and was excited. This projector technology was marvellous. It certainly was a step up from the plays and shows of Tamaran, but the personal element was somewhat missing.

About two hours later, Starfire watched the credits roll and wiped her eye. She looked over at Clio. ”They were still friends. Even though one of them is a zombie. Would you still be friends with me if I were a zombie, Clio?” She asked, clearly inspired by what took place on screen.

Clio had to prevent herself from chuckling, not wanting Starfire to feel bad about expressing her emotions. When she asked if they'd still be friends if she were a zombie, Clio felt the need to explain. "My family keeps zombie friends...so if you died, yes, I'd still be friends with you." That was as good as it was going to get without her being extremely sentimental.

Standing, she waited for Starfire so she could squeeze out of the aisle. "So, did you enjoy your first movie?"

She began to stand and move down the aisle. ”Yes, I did. Though, I could not always understand what was being said, and I do believe I understood every single joke. That is okay, though. I will just have to watch more movies. I am glad you would still be friends with me if I were a zombie.” As she walked outside, she paused a moment.

”Were the events in the movie inspired by reality? Did the zombies really attack Great Britain?” She asked. The world of the movies seemed different from the Earth she lived in now. The zombies seemed to surprise everyone, but Starfire had seen a creature or two in the Scar that looked much like the zombies portrayed in the film.

Clio cringed. "Europe's actually in a much better place than us, Star." It was hard to admit that, despite her not being too patriotic. The alien took note of this.

As they strolled down the sidewalk, Clio's focus was on Starfire. As she turned her head, she bumped into an ice-cold body. Shuddering, she backed away and gave the woman a once over. Her eyes widened in recognition at the beautiful woman carrying a bundle of groceries.

The woman said nothing, not even grunting in surprise. She was fair skinned, with raven black hair and pale pink lips. After recovering from her shock, she sidestepped Clio and carried on. Clio turned, following after her. She put a hand on the woman's shoulder, trying to halt her.

"Maeve?" She asked, shocked by the cool feeling of the woman's skin. She was almost certain about her predicament, but where was the wound? Didn't matter...she'd respond if Clio's assumption was accurate.

"Pran yon poz," She commanded, and instantly the woman stopped and turned around. Her eyes looked glassy, and Clio faltered. "Maeve…" She mumbled, disbelief evident.

Who had killed her?

Star looked at this Maeve and her eyes widened. ”Clio...is she a zombie?” Her stance widened and she drew her right fist to the side, getting into a fighting position. Any second she was preparing for the woman to lash out in a deadly bite, to convert her or her friend into a shambling, brainless creature. (Though not all zombies are bad, like Ed!) That and the fact that this woman may just be acting like this were the reasons why Star didn’t do a preemptive strike, and instead waiting for Clio, apparently far more knowledgeable on such things, to act.

"Yes…" Was all Clio could say. Why her family had a slave wandering around town, she wasn't sure. It wasn't her business, though. Not until she went back to them. "Ale," She told Maeve, and the slave turned around, walking twice as fast in the direction she had been heading before.

"I think it's time…" Clio muttered lowly, before saying it again with a bit more oomph.

Starfire watched in wonder as Clio commanded the zombie to walk away. ”Time for what, Clio?” She asked quietly.

Clio glanced at Star, a crooked smile on her face that didn't quite meet her eyes. "Time to introduce you to my better half."

January 5th, 1:15 PM
Interstate 95, Southern end of Maine, Enroute South

Tires spun effortlessly against pavement, gripping the ground with ease. The landscape passed at a rate just barely under the speed limit for the road, as a motorcycle roared down Interstate 95. While on the surface it might have made one think of a bizarre love child of a chopper and a tour cycle, ultimately, it was alien technology that ran under the hood so to speak. And maybe a bit of magic. At the end of the day, it was Serene's personal cycle, a multi-purpose transport that could, with the right coaxing, shift its form to better suit whatever she wanted. And in this case, she wanted speed, but still feel comfortable. She had debated pulling out a different wheeled transport of hers, but after Champ's reaction to her mothership, and the gunship inside...she was pretty sure that pulling "ol'faithful" out of the mothballs and making it work would have given him a stroke. So it was the cycle. Gunship had been considered, sure, but it just didn't feel the same to fly over the road, as to ride along it. Besides, she liked the wind in her face, and the sensation of knowing that no one would hopefully shoot at her(as would be a concern if airborne in her gunship).

Part of her hated having to drive under the speed limit, rather than shift into high gear and use the cycle's maximum output, but the last thing she wanted was the government freaking out over a cycle breaking the sound barrier and possibly causing irrevocable harm to the ground and surrounding environments. Yeah, she was not about to get arrested for environmental damage. So taking it careful it was. And even then, she was more careful than usual, as before starting out, certain bits of tech from her collection had either been dusted off, or outright rebuilt, to hide her true appearance. Some folks didn't like women with big horns or wings. So a helmet that was bigger on the inside than it had any right to be it was, complete with enough room to hide her horns, and her wings...were wrapped tightly around her body as best able under her driving clothes. Which ironically, aside from the helmet, consisted of an overcoat cut just right to avoid getting in the way as she drove(magic or smart tech, perhaps?), that almost seemed more like a trenchcoat, and simple jeans and a short sleeve shirt. Though it meant she'd had to adjust how much of her body her biosuit covered. In this case, exposing her arms up to nearly her shoulders. Though if one looked too close(and she wasn't wearing the borderline a trench coat), they'd see the scales that sometimes were apparent when surface skin was rubbed off to expose the dragon skin underneath. There was only so much she could do after all, without risking setting off something. And of course, her long hair was kept in its standard braid. And a pair of shades over her eyes avoided that little pair of orbs from being commented on.

So all in all? Your standard "cool kid" attire, if the trenchcoat was a bit much. Roaring down the road towards the state borders, in a motorcycle that definitely didn't look normal. But why? Why bother leaving what was her "turf" in Iceland? Well, for starters, wanderlust. Or a thrill seeking heart. Soldier Serene had been meant to be aside, she loved exploring, gathering information on her surroundings, to better help her in future actions. And as much as she hated to admit it, staying inside her slowly developing tower was only fun to a point with most of the facilities for it not yet ready. And she doubted Champ wanted to spend anymore time there than necessary if he wanted to see her. Probably had to do with the few robots she had building the facility that did look like they had jumped straight out of a video game. So in short, cabin fever mixed with her need to learn had driven her to fly across the ocean to Maine inside her cloaked gunship, before landing in a confirmed secure location, before switching to her motorcycle. The gunship had updated orders to come find her if something went wrong on either end, and thus its autopilot would guide it to Serene if needed. Hopefully no one went poking around in the woods and found the alien craft sitting there. She could only imagine the news.

Shaking her head briefly, Serene checked a device affixed to the handlebars, her own version of a GPS, using old information to plot her course. New York City was still a longways away. Worst case, she'd have to spend the night somewhere. Best case, she drove through the night. She didn't know what state the melting pot of a city was in, but if she was to start anywhere to search for information on various topics of interest only to her, it was the best place. Bound to be some aliens who knew what she was after. Sure, she could have asked those nice Lantern folks, but she didn't want to bother them so soon after helping her land. Maybe if she saw them again? But one digresses.

Driving like this, without a "care" in the world almost reminded her of another time, another place. But as the thoughts came, she pushed them aside. She would let them consume her later, the memories. Till then, she had to focus. While also monitoring the "scanner" attached below the "GPS" of her machine. Just incase something interesting came from any local police. Who knows, a detour could be fun, or even give her information about her own goals. Plus, never hurts to do good, right? For now though, she just focused on driving, enjoying the wind whip past, her shades hiding a twinkle in her eyes, that was, however, reflected in the smile that was more a smirk. It felt good. So good in fact.

New York, here comes the Rockwoman.

January 2, 12:05 PM
North-East of Atlanta, Georgia - Near US Highway 85

---

To say Duncan was a bit surprised about Verra's guarded reaction would be a bit of a lie; their last meeting hadn't exactly been... a fun occasion, and he'd had the distinct feeling that this whole thing wasn't going to go down with a chorus of sunshine, rainbows and happy funtime music. Still, it did make the man's shoulder's slump a little, as his own somewhat less finessed grasp of speeds approaching ludicrous allowed him the rare privilege of watching the woman plop her little sister's ass down onto the bench seat of a picnic table.

It did bite him a little that the woman's first instinct was that he was jumping her, truth be told.

In retrospect, he probably should've caught Lexi before she had launched herself at the famed Skirted Speedster. That would've been the smart thing to do, and that one was on him. But despite having not seen her in years, Duncan's gut told him she'd never actually hurt the poor girl and the thought that she could have just as easily put the small cyborg through the bench as on it only really occurred to him after the fact.

...And then the young'n in question began to tear up. Quite understandably so.

A little sigh escaped the man as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

This was turning into a very long day.

"That, Vee, is your sister." He finally said, looking the speedster dead in the eye. "She arrived at the crossing at Land's End this morning leading a group of refugees. And the only thing she wanted was to see you again, so I brought her to you."

His arms crossed. A very distinctly Duncan brow was raised.

"Seriously, when have I ever tried to pull a fast one on you?"

Whatever else the Champion could've said to his former teammate died in his throat as Nano abruptly stood up, electricity arcing through her body and asking for help... moments before launching herself at several times the speed of sound into the brick wall of the rest stop. For the briefest of seconds, Duncan just stood there. Almost dumbfounded. Eyes flickering red and homing in on the impact site of the teenager-turned-battering-ram to make sure she was alright.

"...Oh, fuck my mouth."

And in a heartbeat, the only trace the man had ever even been standing there was the divot his foot left in the ground as he all seemingly popped into existence crouching over the unconscious girl with a single step, gently lifting her up slightly to rest against what was left of the wall instead of laying face down in a pile of rubble and brushing some of the dust off with just a hint of a worried expression.

"I swear to God, Kid, you are just one heart-attack after another, aren't ya?"

“Your military is very strange to me, mortal,” said Aelia, watching Sergeant Carter scream at the smiling Gomer Pyle. “Why does the sergeant not simply incinerate the worthless private for his dangerous levels of inefficiency and incompetence?”

From his half-laying, half-sitting sprawl on the other side of the couch, Mal raised a brow at the blonde crazy person who lived in his house.

”One, murdering your subordinate for being an idiot went outta style some point after the Middle Ages,” He explained. Dryly. ”Two, we mortals ain’t that great at farting hellfire on command.”

The boy cast his eyes back to the idiot box, sipping from his cola.

”And three, watching Pyle burn to death’d be less fun than watching him screw up all the time, no?”

Aelia stared at the television screen for a long moment, as if seriously considering his question. “Perhaps so. But then, the Consortium doesn’t employ living soldiers. Not as infantry of the line, at least. A revenant that behaved in such a way would be viewed as defective.”

Drawing a long puff from her pipe, she casually blew the smoke off to the side.

It took a solid three seconds or so for what Aelia just said to fully click into boy’s brain. But as it did, he found himself casting another sidelong glance the titan’s way.

”...Revenant?” He asked simply, after a half-minute more. ”You people raise the dead to fight for you?”

Aelia dipped her head in affirmation. “Of course. Why throw lives away in combat when you can utilize the soulless forms of those who have already passed? I find it rather horrifying that in the past century or so, you mortals have sent millions of still living humans to their deaths in your wars.”

”I mean, fair.” Mal conceded with a little shake of his head as his eyes turned back towards the continued misadventures of Private Pyle. ”...But ya gotta bear in mind that drones and stuff like that only really came around about ten… twenty years ago. Hell, we didn’t even have toothpaste yet when we were fighting the world wars.”

Another sip of his drink followed that.

”...But that doesn’t make using war-zombies or casual incineration any less creepy, Aels.”

Aelia quirked a brow when her referred to her by that nickname, though she didn’t bother to look at him. “What’s ‘creepy’ is the way your militaries must destroy the individuality of their soldiers before they can be properly utilized. Such brutal treatment can cause lasting psychological damage--though perhaps mortal psychology lacks such an advanced understanding of the ramifications their actions may have!”

Mal’s eyes turned to her again at that. Flickering orange again as he put down his drink, though he said nothing.

She finally turns slightly, smiling at him. “But don’t feel disheartened, Malcolm. Your society has at least come a long way from accusing everyone of desiring intercourse with their mothers.”

Malcolm stared at Aelia a long while after that.

”Individuals have a habit of only thinking for themselves. Military training breaks down and rebuilds your individuality to break that mindset. To make you put the mission, the lives of your comrades and all that you swear to protect before yourself.” He finally said, turning his eyes back to the show. ”It has to be harsh. Sending someone to war otherwise would be cruel in itself.”

A pause followed that, as the boy clicked his tongue in thought.

”Or… shit, I dunno. That’s how my dad explained it to me, anyhow.”

Aelia blew another puff of smoke into the air, which quickly reshaped itself into an exclamation point as she turned to fully face him. “Your father was a soldier? I suppose that would explain your distaste for a head of well-groomed hair. Tell me, what sort of man was he, then? Did you live in Bludhaven even when you were under his care?”

A low hum rumbled in Mal’s throat as he bobbed his head slightly from side to side thinking if he should answer or not… before finally bracing his noggin on his palm and adopting a thoughtful look.

”Well… for starters, he wasn’t my actual dad, just the guy who found me in a dumpster as a newborn.” The boy explained, still keeping his eyes on the TV. ”We lived in a little shantytown in an alley— me, him, a few other families. It was… nicer than you’d think.”
For the first time in… well, longer than Aelia had known him. The boy’s eyes glassed over with a bit of nostalgia and a tiny little smile crept onto his face.

He hadn’t spoken aloud about his old man in years. No less to another person.

”He was… kind of a paradox. Gentle and tougher than iron all at the same time. Smarter than you’d guess, but humble enough to hide it.” Mal explained, with a little snort. ”Taught me to read— in three languages, no less, taught me to fight, how to play music and... well, how to be a decent person.”

The young hero’s brow furrowed for a moment. And he bit his lip a little.

”He was… well, my Dad. That’s about all I can really say about him.”

A low, sharp exhale escaped him at that.

”And I miss him.”

Aelia had listened quietly while he reminisced about his father, having never really heard him speak of his past before. While she didn’t know if she could agree with the notion that living within a “shantytown” could be a pleasant experience, the important takeaway was that he seemed to almost be happy during his recollections.

Smiling softly in the end, she placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you for telling me about him, Malcolm. His memory is clearly dear to you, so I am honored that you would share it with me.”

It was, after all, universal among all cultures that sharing important memories with another person was a sign of trust.

”Yeah, well, he was a good man.” Mal said, smiling, though a little bit sadly. ”Letting him be forgotten would be a damned shame.”

Quite literally wiping that look off his face and replacing it with a more characteristic cheeky grin, the lad turned his eyes back towards his impromptu roommate’s own.

”So what are your folks like? Do they dance and sing and get confused by mortal things, too?”

Aelia shook her head slowly, easing back into the couch. Where to even start with her family? It was quite a mouthful. “No, though my father does love to engage in swordplay with his shadow when he becomes excited. My mother...is nothing like either of us. Though, neither are my real parents--something I suppose we have in common.”

“The Lumena family was once the ruling House of what you would know as the Kingdom of Lemuria, some fourteen thousand years ago,” she explained, taking another puff from her pipe and blowing it into the air, where it formed into their family’s crest--a crescent moon over a four-pointed star.

She laid her head back on the couch, watching the crest slowly disperse back into smoke before speaking again. “Like every other civilization from humanity’s Golden Age, it was destroyed at the hands of Prometheus, the Firebringer and scourge of man. Following this, our family pooled their resources with the other survivors to create the first Megatropolis, and fled this world.”

“We have helped to govern the Consortium since that day,” she finished, appraising his reaction.

For a moment, Mal just kind of… stared at her in silence. That was a bit of a mouthful after all.

That was… a bit to take in.

”Sooo… you’re not just a literal deity… you’re a Space Princess to boot?” Was about all he can say, raising a brow. ”That’s… a whole lotta hats to wear at once.”

Cocking his head to the side slightly, he sat up.

”...And what was that about a ’Scourge of Man’?”

Aelia chuckled at his question, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, he’s thankfully gone from the realm of the living now, you needn’t concern yourself with him. Suffice it to say, during his reign of terror, he claimed far more human lives than even the Demon King currently ravaging this world--and he was supposedly a being of Order.”

”Well, that’s… good, I guess.” Mal responded with a slightly skeptical look. ”...But is that the same Prometheus who stole the fire of knowledge from the gods and passed it onto mankind? That guy is the ’Scourge of Man’?”

Aelia nods simply. “The very same. He is called the Great Betrayer for that reason by our people. Upon escaping his confinement at the hands of Zeus, he was set upon the other great kingdoms through the machinations of King Triton, ruler of Atlantis.”

”Huh…” Mal toned flatly, before pursing his lip and nodding his head along in agreement. ”Well, okay, that one checks out. Us mortals don’t exactly have a good history with Atlantean Kings, either.”

Scratching his head a little at the sudden wild turns and… interesting takes on history this conversation had thrown at him, the boy cast his eye off to the side in thought.

”...You are very good at making me question reality, you know that?”

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Aelia threw her head back and reached a hand to the sky above them. “Oh Malcolm, I am good at everything I set out to accomplish, including making your adorable little head spin!”

”...And perving on me in the shower.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head slowly and placing her hand over her heart dramatically. “I’m exceptional at perving on you in the shower! Ooohohoho!”

A week ago, Mal would’ve been just a little disturbed by that. Now, though? He just kinda snorted and laid back down again to cast his eyes back toward the TV, grinning a little the whole while.

”Well, by all means, Aelia. Whatever floats your boat.” He joked, giving the deity a friendly little half-hearted kick. ”But if ya wanted to see my mortal ass in the nude, you could’ve just asked.”

Upon being kicked by Malcolm, Aelia was suddenly lifted from the couch and sent flying through the air, crashing through the nearby wall to leave a perfectly Aelia-shaped hole. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the chatter from the television and the slowly clearly debris.

“...My, what a terrible brute you are, to strike a young maiden,” she joked from her hole. “Why, I don’t think I shall ever recover from this.”

Mal just stared after her and the perfectly carved silhouette of the woman in his wall for a moment… before that same cheeky grin made it’s way back onto his face. Looking quite like the cat that swallowed the canary.

”A fate worse than death, surely.” Mal said with a chuckle, turning his eyes back to the television. ”Imagine! Being trapped down here in this dreary place with as cruel a savage as I! The horror of it all!”

He might’ve been laying it on a little thick, but after that reaction? He couldn’t help himself.

After this week, he’d earned this, goddammit.

“Well,” said Aelia, slowly climbing from her hole--which was easier said than done since it was shaped exactly like her in that moment of entry--before commanding it to rebuild itself with a snap of her fingers, “I must confess, you wear honesty well, Malcolm. Unfortunately, I may be spending more time away from this place in the coming weeks. You see, I’ve recently been assigned a new task within the city of ‘New Orleans’.”

Reclaiming her seat on the couch beside him, she neatly folded her hands in her lap. Somehow, not a speck of dirt or dust was on her. “Dreadful business, really. I’m not looking forward to it. Still, I shall continue to visit when I’m able until it is over.”

At her tone, Mal sat up. Looking just a bit more serious, though still smiling slightly all the same.

”New Orleans, huh? I can only imagine what you’ll be stepping into down there.” He said eventually, that grin of his taking a slight dip downward. ”Should I ask, or would ya rather not talk about it?”

Aelia stared down at the floor for a long moment, looking strangely sombre for someone so unrelentingly cheerful and in-control of themselves. “It’s an undercover assignment. Observation only at the moment. Should it become more than that, however...well, I’m hoping to find a way to avoid that.”

For a moment, Mal was silent. Reading the young(ish) deity’s features and body language, as one of his abilities was apt to do. Eyes clearly flickering to their characteristic glowing orange in the dim light of the rec room. Before his face broke into a little half-smile again.

”Well if you need help, or just someone to talk to, you know where and how to find me. So don’t be a stranger.”

He said raising his hand for a moment, and then paused. Face now adopting a forcefully deadpanned expression.

”...If I put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, you’re not gonna go through another wall are you?”

Aelia stared back at him for a moment, before slowly smiling. “No, Malcolm, I promise.”

”Good.” Mal stated flatly with a little nod and the triumphant return of that little smirk of his… before putting his hand on perhaps the opposite shoulder than she was expecting and pulled her in a little closer. ”Means I haven’t gotten completely rusty in the whole ‘deception’ department.”

Though his tone took on a more sombre note as he gave her shoulder a little squeeze and pulled his arm back into his own lap. Adopting a more thoughtful expression.

”I’m… Look, I’m not going to pretend to pontificate at someone with nearly two centuries of living over me, but… well, sometimes all you can do is prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and hold onto that hope with everything you’ve got.” He finally said, speaking somewhat more slowly than usual as he clearly tried to articulate what was in his head. ”Because hope is the only absolute that you can control. And without it, you’ve already lost.”

There was a beat of silence after that, as the boy just sat there, scratching the back of his head.

”...Or something like that, I’m just a kid with a flakvest and a chip on his shoulder who lives in a subway station— inspirational speeches ain’t exactly my bag.”

Truthfully, Aelia had been planning to launch herself through the floor when he touched her. But after he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and actually tried to comfort her...well, it felt as if it would have been wrong to ruin the moment. He had been surprisingly kind and sincere in the things he had said.

It was almost like she had somehow made a friend.

That was a strange idea for her, who had always been either loathed, or at least respectfully feared by her own people. Still, Malcolm was a strange mortal--or whatever he might be. Hopefully, they would have time to watch television together again before she had to leave permanently.

“Regardless of how lowly your status may be, I do appreciate your kindness, Malcolm...thank you,” she said, smiling warmly to him. “I will keep your advice in mind, and perhaps return with a souvenir from New Orleans for you.”

Assuming, of course, she ever wanted to remember it.

January 15th, 1:00 PM
Harlem, Mr. Pierce’s Townhouse
Theme

---

Time waits for no man.

An ironically timeless quote that could apply to any person on the planet. Virgil was no different. Time marched forward, and life moved on. Virgil toured Sharon all through New York; bought a few souvenirs. She made sure he saved her precious picture of him with the celeb on everything she could. Then, he dropped her off at the airport, just yesterday.

It was kinda nuts how, when you don’t see them in a long time, you could forget just how much someone could get on your nerves. It’s like when you’re separate, bad memories fade into the good ones instead. Just how much you miss them outweighs whatever beef may have been had in the past. Sharon was a prime example, fortunate and unfortunate.

Yet, that line of thinking made him think of something else that happened in the weeks passed. That feeling of familiarity, of missing something. Though, in this instance, it was like the pain hit dead even with the nostalgia. It kept him up at night, at war with himself. Which sucked, because if you fought yourself, who would win?

As smart as Virgil was, with this whole education-- looking at a degree in the not-so-distant future, he couldn’t figure it out. Of course, he couldn’t go to his dad who always seemed to have the answers to these types of things.

So, he went to the second smartest person he knew. He used to visit him all the time when he first got to the city that never slept. But, the high voltage hero distanced himself after a while without realizing. Despite whatever minor doubt he may have felt, here he was, standing in front of Mr. Pierce’s door.

Virgil glanced down at his red chuck taylor’s and took a breath. Four raps against the wooden prism and he waited. There was some silence that followed.

Did...did he even live here anymore? He was probably looking dumb, knocking on the door to this old house in between two storybook height apartment buildings. He raised his hand to knock again, but lowered it, turning back to walk down the ramp.

Before he could take a step though, he heard the doorknob unlock, and then turn. His eyes followed the door as it opened, with no one behind it. It just led to the somewhat dark inside, facing a hall and stairway. Virgil’s thoughts were first confused, but he consciously switched his senses off of autopilot. He immediately noticed a burst of energy that would be found more expectedly in Midtown. There was a jolt of hope.

“Well, I be damned…it’s been a while since the kid made an appearance ‘round these parts.” The voice echoed from upstairs, followed by rolling noise.

There was a certain railing on each side of the steps, as one would imagine would be for old people who need special chairs to get up and down. Though, rolling down the stairway on those rails, was a wheelchair instead. Though, as if gravity bent to its will, it rolled slowly, controlled and deliberate.

Sitting in it, was none other than Mr. Jefferson Pierce himself. Of course, only few knew him as anything other than the former two-time Olympic gold medalist: Pierce Lightning. Though his afro had reduced to short grey hairs, they still stood firm on his head. Though his legs were numb, he appeared no less comfortable in his skin. No weaker in his stature.

Virgil couldn’t help but stare for a second at his childhood hero with some amazement. He caught himself though, as the man was reaching the bottom of the stairs.

“Uh...Hey, Mr. Pierce.” Virgil managed to get out.

“Now, what’d I tell you boy? ‘Mr. Pierce’ is my father. All that formality, does it look like I’m workin’?”

“What would you rather me call you? ‘Mistah J’?” Virgil quipped, and they both laughed. Mr. Pierce magnetically unlatched his chair from the railing.

“Nah. It’s good to see you, Virgil. Come on in, don’t act like a stranger now. Catch me up with how things’ve been.” He reaffirmed, rolling through an archway to the left that led to the family room.

Virgil smiled, now able to breathe much easier. He made his way in, wirelessly shutting the door behind him.

At least this hadn’t changed...

The Delphine estate was vast, stretching out across New Orleans like a festering wound against an otherwise pure patch of skin. A cobbled path winded through from the main gateway, leading past the rows of cypress trees and barren magnolias to the star of the estate, the mansion.

Painted in beautiful shades of white, and roofed in navy shingles, the mansion had not a single chip in sight. Pruned bushes surrounded the perimeter, and a perfectly manicured lawn stretched out front. Children played, and mothers kept a watchful eye on them, as well as the gate, from where they were seated on the porch. It was at least three stories, with a proud tower rising above the rest. Clio knew that was where the Head of House lived, but it likely looked like just another fixture on an extravagant manor to others. Yellow light shone through the windows, warm and inviting.

Around the mansion were houses, contained within the wrought iron fence of the estate. They were far more simple than the mansion itself, but were all painted in dark colors that matched the aesthetic of the main building. Smaller paths led to each house, with every path leading back to the main one. It was symbolic, in Clio's mind, at least. All paths lead back home.

To get through the fifteen foot tall, wrought iron gates was simple. You only had to be accompanied by someone with Delphine blood. Cars were allowed through, but had to be parked right away. The gate opened automatically for Clio, and the car crawled through them slowly as a black raven watched them from its perch on top of the gate. She turned on a dime, parking against the side of the gate.

"So...what do you think?" She asked, not sure if she wanted to impress Star or not.

Her bright green eyes took in as many details as possible flicking back and forth from place to place. This was where Clio grew up. ”It is like a palace. Beautiful, and old, and imposing.” This building looked like it could be older than Starfire herself. It was wonderful that they could maintain such grand buildings over many generations. She stopped looking at the mansion and turned to her friend expectantly.

Clio was scratching at her skin, picking away at the nerves bundled up beneath the outermost layer of her flesh. She didn't know why she was so afraid. Perhaps it was because she felt so powerless. She was going to be beaten in any challenge thrown her way, unless Makaya's strength returned. She felt like a child again, vying for attention and power.

"Ready to meet the family?" She asked, her forced grin souring. Starfire nodded eagerly but compressed her lips as her friend’s expression turned grim. Clio walked forward, feet pulsating as they hit the cobble path. She could do this, she knew she could. How bad could her family be?

As soon as they got past the final row of trees, the first challenger approached. A child, no older than six, lashed out at her knees. He attempted to summon up shadows, but all that came to him were little droplets of darkness. Clio stared down at the boy, blinking.

Whose kid was this?

Clio reached out, gently shoving the child by the shoulder. He fell onto his butt, and proceeded to pout. The child's mother, presumably, approached. Clio recognized her immediately. Cousin Zyra, daughter of Aunt Sophia. She was a year older than Clio. How could she already have a grown child running around?

"Cousin Clio," Zyra said warmly. She wrapped her arms around Clio, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. There was no aggression, thank goodness. Clio had already displayed her dominance over Zyra years ago. She was just glad she didn't want a round two.

"Zyra, it's a pleasure. This is my friend, Starfire. Starfire, Zyra." She gestured between the two, before Starfire or Zyra could ask.

Starfire had her own arms behind her back, holding her left wrist with her right hand. She smiled and waved at this cousin, Zyra. ”Hello, Zyra. It is good to meet you.” There was an optimistic anxiousness in Starfire’s voice. She was not comfortable but she wanted to keep going.

Zyra gave the alien a good, long look, before finally smiling at her. She was wary of the newcomers, but perhaps this was who Clio wanted as her second? It wasn't a matter she could pry into, not now, at least. "The rest of the family's been awaiting you, Cousin. Nou rate ou."

Taking Clio's hand, Zyra lead the girl up past the playing children and the mothers who gave Starfire uneasy glances. Opening the door, a familiar flush of scents hit Clio's nose. Earthy herbs, spices, fresh baked bread and desserts. Clio's face relaxed almost immediately, the scents of her childhood wrapping around her.

Family members of all different ages and sizes surrounded them. They had seemingly been alerted to her presence, and Clio knew who had informed them. The two teenagers from earlier that afternoon were leaning against one of the upstairs banisters, watching with smirks on their faces. Clio shot them a glare, despite her pettiness being ridiculous seeing as she was far older.

Clio glanced around the room, and swallowed. She wasn't sure what to say, or do. Matriarch Zaalia wasn't around, so she couldn't get on her knee and swear fealty again. To her left, she heard someone stomping rapidly down the staircase. Shadows wrapped around her body, pulling her forcibly toward another person. She forced herself not to cry out or struggle, even as she was tucked into the arms of her Cousin Theo.

"Cousin!" He roared with laughter, and the rest of the Delphine clan followed as he began to give her braids a noogie. At this, she did put up some resistance, crying out and throwing her hands up over her head to keep them from getting disrupted.

At last, Theo released her from his hold, only to spin her around, hold her by the shoulders, and give her a hard stare. Clio kept her eyes ahead of her, staring him down and hopefully making him just as uncomfortable. It had been a while since they had seen each other, but everything came rushing back.

From the open window to the right of the door, the large black raven that had trailed them since they entered the city entered. Flying directly for Theo, it beat its wings lightly before settling onto his shoulder. It, too, now stared at Clio alongside him.

Clio squinted at the large avian creature, then back up at Theo. "Have you been watching us?" She asked, recalling Starfire mentioning a bird earlier. It could've very well been a different bird, but coincidences were unlikely here.

Theo scoffed. "What type of Cousin do you think I am, estipid?" He asked, poking at her. "I don't control Effy's actions."

"Alright," Clio said, obviously not accepting this answer, but leaving it in the past. She batted away at Theo's arms, applying more force than necessary. Theo may have been her favorite, but this casual power move had been ridiculous. She had set herself below him long ago, due to him being the Matriarch's son.

Turning, she looked for Starfire. The girl had been approached by several family members, and was currently being observed from an arm's distance away. Someone had offered her a slice of sweet potato pie, which Clio huffed at. She loved the stuff, and they were giving it to someone who couldn't even eat!

Starfire shook her head politely at the offer. ”I am sorry, I do not eat food.” Infact, ever since her encounter at that restaurant 18 days ago, the stuff looked disgusting to the alien. But she did not want to say that, because that would be rude. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it. Everyone else was also looking at Clio and her and Starfire felt like she was sticking out even more than she usually did.

"You don't eat? How do you not eat and you still look thicker than Clio?" Asked one of the males who were observing her. ”Thicker…?” The woman who had offered up the pie looked a bit upset, but slowly moved back toward the kitchen.

Clio stepped toward them, putting a hand on Starfire's shoulder. "Please, don't mess with Star. If she needs something, I ask that you give it to her. My place is hers." The alien looked appreciatively over at Clio.

One of the women opened her mouth to say something, but Clio assumed her words and cut her off. "If anyone wants to challenge me again, feel free." She raised her voice, even though she felt like crawling within herself, assuming the fetal position and hiding.

The raven’s head darted about the room, seeming almost curious as to which of them would offer a challenge to Clio first. At no point did she ever caw, or make any sort of noise that would disturb the palpable tension in the room.

The gathered family then began to step aside, like trees forced apart by the movement of some large animal. The source of this disturbance was soon revealed to be none other than Caleb, standing at an impressive six feet and six inches tall. His black shirt grasped tightly at his defined, muscular frame, his face angular and handsome, in a “classic hero” sort of way.

“I’ll challenge you,” he said, grinning with a mouth of gleaming white teeth. It looked as if he was posing for a sports magazine cover. “Though, it might be the last one you’re able to accept for a while.”

Clio let out a string of mental curses. She glanced at Starfire, though, and knew she had to take the challenge. Not doing so would be a sure sign of weakness, and it would put Starfire in a precarious position of weakness. The alien looked worried, not knowing how destructive this challenge would be. She took a few nervous steps backwards.

Clio straightened, adjusting her hair like it wasn't a big deal. Mentally, she was panicking. While Makaya seemed up for the challenge --currently doing a series of mental push-ups and flexing her strength-- Clio was anything but sure. She begged Makaya to work whatever was ailing her out.

Shut the fuck up, I got this. Her better half said, and Clio nodded at Caleb. She tried to recall his face, recall him. It hit her, and she stumbled, face dropping.

"Cal?" She asked, the nickname for her younger cousin. He had been such a cute baby, lacking this animosity. She supposed everyone had to grow up. "I accept, Caleb." She said proudly, summoning up her daggers. It was like summoning through quicksand, but she ignored that. Makaya would get through it.

With those words, the home shifted. Suddenly, the entire area was covered in a thick blanket of shadow, produced by the surrounding family members. It was a protective measure, for when challenges were performed in the home rather than the Breakdown. Many children fled, alongside their mothers. Some stayed, settling against the new wall of shadow to watch the fight.

Those three words were all Caleb needed to hear from Clio. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to reminisce about the old days. Sucking in air, he flexed his considerable musculature, and the surrounding shadows immediately wrapped themselves around him like armor, leaving only his eyes visible through a narrow slit.

Lowering his head, he stepped forward with such a force that the floorboards beneath his feet audibly cracked. The distance between them was closed in an instant, the vastly larger Delphine rocketing towards Clio shoulder first like a battering ram. His face was tucked down, likely to protect the only vulnerable part of his body.

While Clio was struggling magically, that tea had made her feel better physically than she had in awhile. Coupling that with her actually eating something for the first time in a day or three, she was practically in her prime. Knowing that Caleb's momentum prevented him from drastically changing course, she jumped to the side, shifting into a roll midair and launching back up to her feet. She launched her first dagger at the back of his neck, sure her accuracy would be off with the sheer amount of force she exerted in order to get through his shadow.

Don't evade! Get back in there, we don't jump around! Makaya roared, willing Clio to step in. Clio's feet remained firmly planted, though her body was screaming at her. "We evade, when you're struggling!" She hissed under her breath.

Caleb grunted when the knife struck the back of his armor. He had apparently felt it, but it had nevertheless failed to do any meaningful damage. Rounding on her, he roared out a laugh. “Think your fast, do you? You haven’t seen speed yet, cousin!”

“ARE. YOU. READY?!” he shouted, flexing proudly for the “audience”. Clio stared at him, shocked. He then crouched, launching himself into the air with a powerful leap. Spinning rapidly, spikes rapidly grew along his shadow armor before firing in all directions like deadly quills, each one capable of killing if it struck a vital area.

The audience suddenly summoned up shields of shadow around themselves. Up until this point, they had only been watching. Some seemed bored, in fact. Others mumbled to the person next to them, giving their two cents on the fight. It was obvious that this was normal.

In the split second Clio had to glance around while the spikes were being launched her way, she noticed that no one had gone to protect Starfire. Why would they, when she was only worth as much as Clio? Forcing herself to ignore Makaya's request to protect their body, rather than hers, she summoned up a shadow barrier that coated Star. It moved slowly, encasing her in a thin layer of darkness. The quills would still penetrate, but they wouldn't do nearly as much damage. It was all Clio could do, she felt her head ripping to shreds at the exertion.

Clio awaited her anticlimactic death, staring at the shocked Starfire, but it never came. She looked in front of her, and a thick wall of shadow had been placed before her body, absorbing each quill. She didn't reveal her shock, but she felt it in every nerve of her body. Someone had interfered.

That was the one rule. No one could tamper with the fight, or support their favored family members. Whoever had broken that rule would've been in big trouble if Clio had decided to snitch. Luckily for them, she was more grateful than furious.

Focus, Clio! Makaya snapped, struggling to take control. She was completely and utterly pissed. Not only because Caleb had performed an attack that damaged her charge, but because Clio was a blundering idiot. As the shadow barrier fell, Clio launched another dagger at Caleb, summoning her previous one and rushing forward while his armor was still down.

She could do it. They could do it. As she neared, she suddenly went low, kicking out at Caleb's legs in an attempt to sweep them.

The sweep connected with a distinct, bone withering crack, like a wooden bat slamming into a brick wall. Caleb’s massive leg remained unmoved. Furthermore, the dagger she had thrown had also met its mark, striking him directly in the chest...where all but the very tip protruded, the end having been literally seized by his flexing pectoral muscles.

Immediately reaching down to seize Clio’s extended calf, he gripped it tightly and began to swing her wildly overhead like a cowboy with a lasso. Laughing, he plucked the dagger held between his pecs free with his other hand. “Your toys won’t be enough to fell me, cousin!”

He then reared back and hurled it far into the darkness surrounding them. With that taken care of, he slammed Clio down onto the ground, before lifting her high again to repeat the attack for several more rounds.

Finally releasing her, he leaped into the air once more, recalling his shadowy armor as he fell in an attempted bodyslam.

Clio knew she was light, but he tossed her around like a feather. She kept her arms around her head each time he slammed her into the ground, protecting her cranium. Her body was on its own. Luckily, the shadow beneath her was cushiony, but it still hurt like hell every time she was brutally thrown against it. Her calf screamed, his grip so tight she was concerned her knee would dislocate.

Her vision was blurred, and as he went through the air to catch her in a crushing bodyslam, she lazily rolled. Her right arm didn't follow, and was caught beneath him. She screamed as it snapped, but pulled it out from beneath him anyways. It was already broken, why care about it now? She forced herself not to look at the bone protruding through the skin, scrambling to her feet. Starfire gasped and grimaced at the horrible wound. ”Get up, Clio!”

Her world was spinning, the pain was agonizing, and she was ready to give in. Before she could force herself to her knee, the chilling grip of someone pushing their will over her consciousness overtook her.

"You're fucking dead, Slave!" Makaya roared. The proclamation was serious. Calling a family member a slave before they were dead was ridiculously sinister. But so was breaking a family member's arm with a bodyslam. At least, in her mind.

Caleb glared down at her, but nevertheless backed away several paces. He knew that drastic change in tone--it was Makaya. Still, he wasn’t scared of her demon! His MUSCLES were demons, and he had dozens of them ready to pulverize her! He flexed imposingly, even though his armor largely hid this fact.

Caleb's mother, who had been standing alone in one corner of the room, scowled at the sudden resurgence of Makaya. Leave it to Clio to use her demon against a regular member of the family. That being said, if her child didn't take this seriously, he'd end up a true slave.

"Sispann pitye alantou, ti bebe mwen an!" She shouted, trying to penetrate the thick skull Caleb had when he was fighting. She knew it was wrong to interfere, but she'd take the punishment over the death of her son.

Caleb’s shoulders slumped at his mother’s admonishment, and he ceased to flex. Casting a sheepish glance in her direction, he mumbled, “Regrèt, manman.”

With that, his shadow armor partly faded. His head, neck, and crotch remained protected, as were most of his joints, but the provenly endurant muscles of his pecs, abs, and limbs were now unguarded.

He raised his hands, also armored, in a ready fighting stance, awaiting Makaya’s move.

"Really? You're gonna listen to your Manman? Where's your pride, Slave?" Makaya asked, taunting him, she began to prowl around him, keeping her left side toward him. Her right arm hung limp, a constant source of pain.

“Some of us still respect our family, traitor,” said Caleb, making sure to always face her as she circled him.

"Your respect is forced, remember when you wanted to run off and be a professional fighter, like your father?" Makaya asked, pausing and staring at her manicured fingers. She stroked her chin in wonder. "Wasn't your manman the same woman who made you stay, and grovel beneath the rest of the family? That was the year I left, yeah?"

“Of course you would say that,” he growled. “You’re a vile snake of a woman, just like the rest of your branch. That’s why…”

While Caleb's eyes were focused on her, the shadows behind him began to shift. It was a slow process, but with his attention on her, she managed to make three, thick tendrils. They were sharper than daggers at the ends. In a swift motion, they dived toward his back.

Caleb rolled to the side just as the tendrils were nearly upon him, the trio plunging into the floor. “...I KNEW YOU WOULD ATTACK ME FROM BEHIND, COWARD!”

Launching himself forward again, Makaya would note that her shadowy tendrils had been ensnared by Caleb’s own--the shadows he hadn’t used for his armor. They weren’t attempting to disperse them, but rather to force them to retain their forms and remain stationary.

Meanwhile, Caleb was upon her. This time, he did not unleash any of his fancy wrestling moves, having assumed a disciplined boxing stance. Like industrial pistols, his armored, spiked knuckles shot out at her with inhuman speed and power, a rapid succession of straights aimed at smashing her face to a pulp.

With the same level of speed, Makaya bobbed and dodged the assault. From the sides, two tendrils of shadows launched out like battering rams, slamming into Caleb repeatedly. She kept a firm hold on them, so he couldn't take control.

Caleb grunted, falling back under the assault as he was smashed into repeatedly by the rams. It hurt...but he wasn’t afraid of pain. Raising his arms as the pistons were coming in for another attack, he crouched and angled his body to the side to allow them to slip past before seizing them beneath his arms. Using his momentum, he swung his massive feet forward from this position to deliver a double kick to Makaya’s chest.

Makaya grunted as she was launched by the kick, her body flailing as she attempted to catch herself. She couldn't really use her right arm in the catch, but she did so anyways. The bone stuck out further, but she didn't seem to care. That was Clio's pain to deal with, for being weak.

Launching forward after shaking off the attack and sucking in a breath, she summoned up her daggers and feigned a throw. It soared past his head, close to his ear, but she threw up another ram of shadow to pummel into the other side of his skull, hoping he'd move to the side to dodge the dagger and slam himself into it.

The results of this attack played out exactly as Makaya had hoped, with the ram impacting Caleb’s head with enough force to send the giant of a man toppling over onto the ground with a mighty grunt of pain. His eyes crossed from behind his helmet, which began to fade along with his armor, due to his lack of focus.

Makaya took this as her time to strike. She let out a battle cry that ended in a twisted laugh, pouncing through the air to land on Caleb. She encased her left fist in thick black shadow, and began pummeling his face.

"Koulèv la touye ti bebe mwen an!" Caleb's mother screamed, rushing forward. A barrier of shadow pushed her against the wall, and she was forced to watch through a small slit in the void.

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Caleb’s eyes snapped back into focus, even as he was pummelled. He could feel the firing burning through his face. It hurt. It hurt incredibly bad...it would be quite reasonable to give up.

Reasonable, yes…but not honorable.

He hated the sound of concern being levied in his direction. He was a proud champion. He couldn’t go down like this. Never like this, on his back.

No. The three count wasn’t up. The bell...HADN’T SOUNDED YET!

“GRYAAAH!” Caleb suddenly roared, rising to his feet with such a speed that Makaya would not have time to dismount him. His arms snapped forward to encase her in a bearhug, beginning to squeeze as his eyes went bloodshot. Shadows wrapped around them both in that moment, strengthening his grip further.

“MUSCLE...FOREVER!!”

Makaya roared out in pain as her right arm was crushed by his musculature. Her body writhed, panic threatening to consume her. Panic that wasn't hers.

No! She forced their body to calm, easing her will over Caleb's shadows. When that didn't work, she forced it. She was more powerful, she was older. She was superior. Her head split, her scalp threatening to explode with the burning pain of control. She screamed, ripping the shadows away and loosening his hold. She forced them back onto him, squeezing between the sliver of a gap that separated them and exploding outward. She was ripped from his grasp, and thrown onto the ground. Her body was an aching mess, she struggled to lift herself up.

Her fight was almost over. She could feel It.

He could hear it. Their cheers.

The children in the audience, carrying signs that read “Hardcore Caleb” on them. Even though his mother had pleaded with him to stay, and even though he had relented...he still hadn’t truly let go of his dream. The sight of himself standing in that ring, his arms held high.

If he lost, he would never reach it. His only chance was to ascend. To rise until he was great enough that none could tell him how to live his life.

He would hear their cheers. He would bring them their smiles.

Roaring with such a force that the shadows around them trembled, he pit his will, his determination against Makaya’s and wrested his shadows free. Encasing his hand in a massive fist of darkness, he launched himself at her with all the force of a speeding locomotive.

This was it. His everything. His heart, his passion, his determination.

“STOP IT IF YOU CAN!!” he shouted. “THE FIST OF A CHAMPION!”

Caleb would never give. It wasn't his nature. Nor was it Makaya's. Clio, however, didn't feel the same way. Gone was her past, the days when she relished in these fights. The only thing that kept her going was Starfire, her respect for her friend. Her desire to keep her afloat in a family of intrigue. Glancing over at Starfire, she felt tears bubbling up in the corner of her eyes. She had failed her.

Makaya was eager to finish this, but their body was broken. In the moment before the charging fist connected with their body, Clio used her demon's weakened state to take over. She sat up, taking a knee. A tendril of darkness locked around Caleb's waist, trapping him before he could finish his attack.

The darkness around them faded, and the family entered the arena. Matriarch Zaalia entered with them, clapping her hands together once.

"Someone, take Clio to the infirmary. Caleb, congratulations." She said, her voice extremely commanding.

Someone swept Clio up into their arms, and she collapsed against their chest. Tears dripped from her eyes, but she said nothing as she was whisked away.

But though the darkness had faded, Caleb continued to struggle against the shadow tendril, intend on delivery his last, desperate punch. Frighteningly, the shadow started to buckle, until a loud clang rang out through the room.

Instantly, sense returned to his eyes, and they fell upon a boy standing in front of their mother. His little brother, Jacob. He had just smacked a ladle against a pot. The bell had sounded.

Allowing the shadow to fade from his hand, he began panting. Now that the fight was over, all of his injuries were quickly reasserting themselves, and he was forced to find a table to keep himself upright.

Starfire was in the corner of the room with her arm behind her back and her defences up. Seeing Clio clearly injured and the man named Caleb no longer engaged in combat, she quicly tried to follow her friend into the infirmary.

No one prevented Starfire from joining Clio. They were all busy congratulating Caleb and doing what they could to patch up the victor. The man who had taken Clio turned to Starfire, flashing her an apologetic smile. It was Theo.

"Mind telling me what's wrong with her?" He asked, a subtle annoyance in his tone. "Before she left, she would've been able to take out Caleb as he is now."

Clio mumbled something, but her tongue was thick in her throat and it came out unintelligible. She was laid down on a bed in the infirmary, which was filled with cabinets that contained bandages and medicines. On top of each cabinet were two small cauldrons. After Clio was laid out, Theo turned to one and filled it with a green liquid.

He began throwing items in the cauldron, mumbling under his breath in Creole. It bubbled and thickened, smelling of herbs.

Starfire was about to shook her head, but then thought for a moment. ”I believe she was poisoned recently.” She remembered, giving a knowing shake of her finger. Or rather, Makaya was. Makaya who was mean, though Star still had not seen her yet. Clio mentioned needing Makaya to win that fight.

”Also, her arm is broken. Can you fix that?” She asked, looking concernedly over his shoulder and at her hospitalized friend.

"Poisoned? With what?" He asked, eying Clio. Poison may have explained her extreme loss of weight, too. She had been so...full of life, before she left. Still struggling with depression, and her inner demon, but hopeful and strong. This wasn't the same Clio. Something had ruined her.

When Starfire asked about her arm, Theo nodded. "I plan on doing just that…" He said, taking a spoon and stirring the mixture. It was like a thick paste now. Forest green and smelling so strongly of herbs it hurt the nose.

Lifting the cauldron, he placed it beside the bed. Taking Clio's arm, he gave her a soft look before snapping it back into place roughly. She cried out, and he ran a hand over her braids to soothe some of her pain. After a few moments of that, he took the paste within the pot and began slathering it over her broken flesh. Clio felt a strong burning sensation, but she kept herself still. It took her mind off her mental pain.

Grabbing some bandages, Theo wrapped the arm up tightly, and looked over at Starfire. "Should mend itself soon enough." He said, shrugging. That was all he could do for her. "But she's weak. If she weren't so thin and lacking in energy, it wouldn't take near as long."

Starfire cringed at the crude but effective fixing of her broken bone, and then went to the side of her friend.

”I believe the poisoning was a miscommunication. It was supposed to be helpful. I also did not know Clio was thin and lacking of energy. You were not always like this, Clio?” She asked, leaning slightly over the side of the bed.

Clio looked over at Star, her face hot. She nodded slightly, ashamed but unable to speak on it.

"Before she left she was…" He resisted the urge to say beautiful, something his other half wanted to put out into the world. "Healthy. No one's been taking care of her, obviously. You're her friend, aren't you? You haven't been able to tell she's not been eating?" He knew it wasn't their responsibility to force feed her, but when she had lived with the family all it took was gentle encouragement to make her swallow down a meal. Clio needed positive reinforcement, it was who she was.

Starfire regarded Theo sadly. She was not paying any attention at all to Clio’s eating habits. All she did was offer her some cookies, and Clio refused those. ”No, I was not. I am sorry for not taking good care of your cousin. I will do more in the future, I promise.” Just like she promised to keep Karen safe. She did not even know where Karen was.

Since Clio lacked the strength to comfortably speak, Starfire withdrew from the bed and began to wait at the wall. This was not going at all how she expected. They had only been at Clio’s house for half an hour before she was grievously injured.

Staring down at them from the medicine cabinet, Effy gently cawed in Theo’s direction, the first sound she had made. She had been perched on his shoulder for the entire fight, and had only moved when he went to take Clio to the infirmary. Her head craned towards Clio, her black eyes practically boring into her.

Clio stared back at the bird, lifting her hand to disturb a shadow next to it in the hopes of making it flee. "Why? She attempted, but it came out throaty and slurred.

To Starfire and Theo, it would appear as if Clio had randomly raised her hand without purpose, for the shadows did not move. It wasn’t because Makaya was too weak this time, however. They wanted to obey, but something was...forcing them not to.

Clio's brow furrowed. She didn't like this bird, at all. Whatever was messing with her shadows had something to do with that creature.

Theo glanced at Effy, shrugging. "Maybe she likes you?" He waved it off, turning his attention back to Starfire. "Thank you, Starfire. That being said, the best thing you could do for her is to leave her here to recover."

Starfire twisted her mouth to the side. She once again subconsciously performed her anxious tick, holding her arm behind her back and rocking back and forth on her heels. ”Will my presence bother her? I would rather make sure she is safe. I do not need to sleep or sit, I will be fine here.” Starfire also felt safer in here. She did not believe she was in danger in this house, but what if someone decided to challenge her? Or Starfire made a mistake? She already refused the sweet potato pie. Plus, Clio was the reason she came down here in the first place.

Clio glanced at Starfire, sympathetic. She felt like a failure in her presence, she was surprised the girl was still around. The fact that she wanted to protect her was endearing, but she couldn't take the pressure. Still, where else could Star go?

Theo took in the silent exchange. "Your presence here is fine, but why don't I show you around the estate? Clio needs rest, she won't be able to relax until she knows you're safe. You'll be safe with me."

Starfire bit her lip. Theo knew more about this than she did. She considered Clio briefly and then looked over Clio’s cousin. The last thing the alien wanted was to be a burden. After a moment of thought, Starfire nodded. ”Okay.” She said quietly.

Clio waved her goodbye, and fell against her pillow as they left. Theo closed the door behind them, locking it. He motioned for Starfire to follow, and began their tour.

Now alone, Effy flew down from her perch atop the medical cabinet, landing on one of the lights near Clio’s bed. Staring down at her from this closer vantage point, the raven loomed in silence, seemingly searching for something within the bedridden girl.

Clio's nostrils flared, and she reached out with her left hand to shoo away the familiar. "Leave me be, Effy."

But the raven didn’t budge. Her black eyes continued staring deeply into Clio’s. Deeper and deeper, until they were looking past them. Into the very depths of her being, until at last Makaya herself could feel them upon her.

Clio gasped, and Makaya responded with her usual aggression. She closed herself away, mentally flipping off the bird.

“Struggle,” a voice whispered inside Clio, not directed at her, but Makaya. It was a coercion spell, but it might as well have been on another dimensional plane in comparison to the one her younger cousin had used earlier. It was, simply put, overwhelming.

Makaya screamed, rising to the forefront and manipulating the shadows around herself. They launched toward the bird, sharp and volatile.

And yet...they didn’t?

The shadows, though they felt her call and seemingly desired to obey it, refused. Effy, seemingly satisfied with this show of strength, spoke again. “Relax.”

"Fuck off, Effy." Makaya said viciously, despite her body being entirely calm. Her mind was screaming, realizing everything that was going on.

“Now, sleep,” commanded Effy again, the voice not a physical one, but within her mind, commanding Makaya to go dormant. For the time being, at least.

Makaya struggled uselessly, before collapsing in Clio's mind. Clio stared at Effy, feeling defenseless and frightened. She prodded at Makaya, but she was out cold. Clio had the urge to scream or run, but she couldn't.

Effy raised her head slightly, and the shadows off the room sprang to life, consuming the infirmary in much the same way that the “arena” had consumed the house earlier. Once this was done, the raven leapt from the light and flew down to the floor, vanishing from Clio’s sight.

Like a snake slithering up from a charmer’s basket, a cloaked, humanoid figure began to rise above the edge of her bed until it loomed over her.

Clio threw a punch at its face as it rose.

The cloaked woman blinked when she was punched, reflexively reaching up to touch her face, even though it hadn’t hurt. Shifting somewhat awkwardly on her feet for a moment, she cleared her throat. “Well, you certainly ruined my ominous introduction, didn’t you?”

Clio scowled, sitting up straight. Picking up the cauldron, she swung it at the woman's face, followed by a bedpan and whatever else she could get her hands on. Whoever she was, she didn't belong in her home. She had entrapped her, and shut down Makaya. If that didn't make her bad, then what did?

The cauldron made a distinctive bong as it struck the woman’s head, the other medical equipment similarly shattering or breaking against her. Sighing in frustration, she pursed her lips. “Yes, yes. Can you perhaps not?”

The shadows that covered the floor shot up to bind Clio in place. Their hold wasn’t painful--they had take special care with her arm, it seemed--but they would hold her firmly in place. “There, that’s better. Now, would you please permit me to speak without attempting to bludgeon me further?”

"What do you want?" Clio asked, struggling against her binding for a moment before resting.

“Potentially? To help you,” she said, smiling. Reaching up to lower the hood of her cloak, Aelia shook out her light blonde hair, which fell a short way beneath her shoulders. Taking the ends of her cloak, she performed a rather formal curtsey. “My name is Aelia Marcella Lumena. I am from the Mage Consortium, do you know it?”

"No, I don't know it. And if you want to help me, I suggest you release me. These bindings aren't helpful." Clio's voice was full of spite.

“Will you continue heroically smashing the medical equipment on me if I do?” asked Aelia, folding her arms.

"Pa gen manman, pa janm." Clio said, batting her lashes.

Aelia smiled, releasing her bindings. “Trè bon, ti fi."

Clio huffed, sitting up straighter and cradling her arm. "Okay, please explain why you're here."

“Well, I was here before you, technically speaking,” said Aelia, curling a blonde strand of hair around her gloved finger. “I have been for more than a week. It’s a part of my assignment, you see; but I digress. None of that really matters to you, does it? No, you wish to know why we’re having this conversation.”

Aelia called a chair over to Clio’s bed before sitting in it. Her posture was impeccable, her legs politely closed and her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I would be lying if I said my first week as ‘Effy’ the raven familiar was all that I had hoped it would be. I learned precious little about the Delphines, or their goals. A hundred idle conversations about often morbid, but unambitious topics. It was very frustrating work, maintaining that form for occasionally hours at a time for naught. Do you know how often ravens must relieve themselves? Too often.”

“But that all changed a week ago, when you called your mother,” said Aelia, smiling coyly. “Suddenly, one couldn’t stop speaking of their family’s great destiny, and how you were ‘threatening it with your foolish disregard for their traditions.’ Oh, the things I learned...their plans to turn dear Theo into a demon who could lead their family to glory, and how you--or rather Makaya--might have been in his place, had you stayed.”

Aelia chuckled, raising her hands in a shrug. “Of course, we both know that’s impossible, yes? Makaya could never be what they wish for her to be. Even if she consumes you entirely.”

Clio struggled to take all of this in, her brow furrowing. This was a lot of information to process, but she appeared to take it with ease. She knew that Theo had a ‘demon’ as well, but he was far away from being consumed. At least...she hoped so. As for what she said about Makaya...Clio pursed her lips. ”And what do they wish for her to be, exactly?” She asked, wondering why Makaya wouldn’t be able to fulfill that role.

“Oh? So it’s true--they haven’t let you in on the family’s ‘great destiny’?” asked Aelia, though she didn’t seem to desire an actual answer from Clio. “Well, essentially, they were hoping Makaya would consume you completely, and become their new demonic Head of House. From there, they would assist the Blackthorn Coven in at last overthrowing New Orleans, in exchange for a position of power and privilege within the ranks of the Three-Horned God’s followers.”

“Of course, since you left, they had to find an…alternative.”

Clio considered this, then busted up laughing. ”You’re really accusing my family of working with the Blackthorns?” That was absolutely ridiculous.

Aelia shrugged, standing from her seat. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Spend enough time around Theo and the rest of your family, and you’ll discover the truth--as I did.”

“Just...make certain not to lose yourself in the process,” said Aelia, smirking. “Remember, it’s not you they’re interested in, Clio. Though, as I said--Makaya will fail to meet their expectations. She is...incomplete; defective. Theo’s demon is more of a threat. He works in harmony with his master.”

Clio looked away. Everyone kept saying these things about Makaya. It was starting to work its way through. And while she didn’t believe everything Aelia was saying...she wanted to know why she presumed this about her second half.

”Why do you say that? What makes her...defective?” She spat the last word out.

For the first time during their conversation, Aelia seemed to be genuinely surprised by her question. “You’re not aware? She’s your demon, and you’ve surely felt the effects...”

Shaking her head, Aelia reached out to poke Clio’s stomach. Clio cringed, the slight touch enough to make her gag. “You’re not a great journey away from being emaciated. Do you think that’s normal? Furthermore, during your battle, Makaya seized complete control over you, even though you wished to surrender.”

“Do you really think that’s how Chaos Magic is supposed to work? Losing yourself to the embodiment of your power? Becoming ill with its use?”

Clio frowned, protecting her stomach with her hands. She wanted to curl up in a little ball and disappear. ”Well...how do I make it stop?” She asked with a small voice, feeling traitorous for wanting the best for herself. She knew that Chaos Magic didn’t affect everyone in the way it affected her. But no one had told her she was wrong, before. Except Karen...and that had been a large blunder.

Aelia sighed, once again brushing a blonde tress behind her ear. “A Chaos Mage who reaches their full potential is one who has achieved an understanding with their inner demon. It embodies the power, yes? But you, Clio, wield it. It marches to the beat of your drum, because it respects you. Such is the relationship I have with my demon, Clarissa.”

“But Makaya has become parasitic. For whatever reason--self-doubt, feelings of inferiority, childhood truama--she views herself as being superior to you,” continued Aelia, pacing the room as if she were a lecturing professor. “She is a manifestation of your own self-loathing, in a way; and thus strives to be everything you feel you’re not. You made her this way through your lack of confidence. At least, that is what I suspect to be the origin of the problem.”

Clio cringed, rubbing at her chest. She could feel her heart beating softly. Could this all be true? Was Makaya really the result of her issues? She didn’t want to believe that, but she felt like this woman was smarter than she. The fact that she had her own demon solidified that. ”Okay…” She said slowly, gently. Her heart was aching now. ”How do I fix her?”

“As I said, your inner demon must respect you, Clio,” said Aelia firmly. Leaning forward to look her directly in the eye, she asked her next piercing question. “Can you envision Makaya ever doing so? Ever agreeing to embody the power you wield, instead of demanding control?”

Clio couldn’t, but she didn’t want to admit that. Makaya was headstrong. She believed she was better in every way...she was right. ”I don’t know...but she’s my friend. She’s a part of me, I can’t just throw her away.”

Aelia gave her a coy smile. “Ah, but I did not say you had to get rid of her...and yet you already know that is what must be done, don’t you? Even if you don’t wish to admit it.”

“No, Makaya is not your friend. She is a parasitic demon using your body to grow strong enough to overtake you,” explained Aelia, resting her hands upon her hips. “Any perceived kindness or protectiveness on her part is simply due to the fact that you share a body. It is self-preservation from an entity with very base, instinctual desires.”

She then raised a finger before Clio could offer up a counterargument. “But you must be thinking--’without Makaya, I’m powerless!’. Not so. You must have wielded Chaos before she manifested, yes? You can do so again, and, in time, a new demon will manifest within you. And if you follow my advice and find the strength to value and respect yourself, it will do the same. It will be your lifelong partner. A true partner.”

Clio shook her head immediately. She couldn’t wait, not when she had Makaya there right now. She knew it would sound silly, but she needed someone. She had never been alone, ever since she turned thirteen. She couldn’t even sleep without knowing Makaya was there. How could she wait for a new demon, and what if they were even worse? ”I-I can’t…” She mumbled, looking at the wall.

“Then you will die,” said Aelia simply. “Makaya will consume you, and your family will have not a leader, but a mad attack dog that must be kept on a very short leash until she can prove to be useful in some simple capacity. Is that the life you desire for yourself? Is that the life you’re willing to accept, just so you can cling to the companionship of an entity that will gladly devour your soul when the day finally comes?”

”She-” Clio nearly finished with ‘wouldn’t do that’, but her voice fell flat. Karen had been trying to tell her something similar. She had trusted Karen before, but it was Makaya that had torn them apart. Now, this complete stranger was attacking her with supposed facts. Clio had to consider the truth of the matter. She also had to consider that if she wasn’t lying about this, she probably wasn’t lying about her family’s collusion with the Blackthorns.

Tears began to pour from her eyes. The thought of removing Makaya mortified her, but her death at the hands of someone she loved were enough to petrify. ”Give me time...to think. I still don’t know why you’re helping me.”

Aelia tilted her head to the side. “Well, it would be the very height of cruelty to do nothing when I see someone destined for such a gruesome fate. I would also rather not wish to see a city of more than two hundred thousand people become sacrifices for the Blackthorn Coven, and so I’m hoping you will help me to save poor Theo as well.”

“In the meantime, would you please lend me your gaze for but one moment longer?” asked Aelia, leaning over to stare into her eyes.

Clio faced Aelia head on, opening her eyes a bit wide so she could enter her mind.

Aelia once more descended past Clio’s eyes, to the sleeping Makaya. Once there, she extended her finger and swiftly etched a strange rune Clio had never seen before on the back of the inner demon. It glowed red for a brief time, before fading.

Stepping back from her mind, Aelia smiled. “That will keep Makaya from accessing any memories you do not wish to share with her. I would highly recommend keeping our conversation confidential.”

Clio thought about this, then nodded. ”Thank you...give me until the end of the week. I’ll have made up my mind by then.” At least, she hoped she would. Otherwise, she’d be long gone.

“Of course,” said Aelia, stepping towards the door to the infirmary, the shadows now receding. “If you need me before then, simply look for Theo. I’m usually with him.”

Turning the handle, she allowed the door to swing open. Her body then shrank, her robes becoming a black coat of feathers and her face elongating into a black beak. Effy now sat on the floor, and with a quick beat of her wings, she launched herself into the air.

Slowly but surely, Clio allowed herself to fall into a deep slumber. She didn’t turn in her sleep, but her face was scrunched in thought.

January 7th, 9:00 PM
New York City, Central Park

There was a gentle breeze moving the leaves overhead, the moon already high in the sky. Central Park was quiet, at least deep in its depths. There, amid a few trees, was tucked a small camp, a hammock strung up between two trees, and a few items below it that were for other purposes. One of which was meant to alert the hammock's occupant if anyone tripped motion detectors hidden around the site. It was best to be safe, just incase in this world, the city police didn't take kindly to anyone camping out under the stars in the public space.

All things considered, the past two days had been productive. Serene had arrived in New York City sooner than expected, as the weather was good, the roads were okay, and she had means for rough terrain if needed. Well more like the bike could handle such. Which had been the night of the 5th. She'd struck camp that night in Central Park, having to move once when someone got too close, probably a late night walker or a homeless person, to a hopefully more secluded area. There were a number of reasons why she was camping. The first was that it was "free," even if probably of a questionable legality, the second that it was just the sensation of being under open skies that somehow soothed her alongside nature sounds, the third was...Serene lacked American currency. Well, not currency from this world's US Mint. She probably had plenty of American Dollars from various worlds in her ship, but until she was able to sort out a proper source of income, actual housing in any of her destinations would be tricky. That and well, she just found it easier to get away if in the open. Rather than underground.

The Sixth had been her day of getting to explore the city's nooks and crannies, learning about various locations of interest. Feeling her way around. Plus trying to find a way into the city's sewers or better, abandoned subways. All of this had turned up enough information to warrant her wanting to spend more than a day in the city. The seventh had been less exploration, and more focused. Visiting a few PIs who after looking up on the internet, seemed able to handle supernatural/alien lifeforms asking for help. And two whom had agreed to at least look into a pair of matters for her. The first was simply to ask around if anyone knew the term "Draconian." The second which was given to the second PI, was just ask if there were any actual dragons in the city, or beings who had an energy signature similar to her own. Which had been achieved by handing over a vial of her blood, and asking for it back. Payment had been agreed upon if the PIs actually found anything that warranted further hunting, gold would be used as currency. After that, she'd dived into more research, this in the form of visiting the Central Library, and investigating maps of the city and its underground network of tunnels. She'd found a few abandoned sewer and subway tunnels she could use as a temporary base of operations.

But now, Serene was reviewing her own thoughts. Laying there in her hammock, listening to insects making their own noises, she questioned the risk/reward of asking around about the Draconians. If they existed in this universe, were they good or bad? If they were anything like her own universe's version, odds were good with some bad eggs, but no promise of a central leadership. Best case, maybe the Draconians hadn't lost their homeworld 90,000 years ago like in her universe, and were led by the Three Sisters, or their counterparts, and were good. The risk was if the Draconians were bad guys, asking about them could draw the wrong attention, either from aliens who had been driven from their worlds, or Draconian agents. And fighting even one was a gamble if they were skilled enough with their powers. Though the good version had the risk that enemy factions still would question who was looking into them. But at the end of the day, there wasn't much she could do about it.

As for asking about others with her kind of magic? Well, considering what Runic beings did to the environment of worlds they were introduced to, it wouldn't be too farfetched to assume that they could be seen as a "plague" if they weren't contained to one world like in her universe. Now, it was all in the hands of whatever beings governed this universe how things went.

"Let's see...Gotham is next after this." Murmuring under her breath, Serene considered the road ahead. Gotham was a must, setting up a major base there would be good. If risky given the local heroes might not take well to her presence, so she was unsure. But there was that Harley lady. An ex-villain who was what, a therapist now? As much as Serene hated to admit it, someone she could talk to about some issues of hers would be helpful. Skymother knew she didn't want to burden Champ or the others she'd already met with her personal issues. Given they'd probably go out of their way to try and locate the problems in question if they were in this universe. So it was the street level former baddie it was, no one with larger scale burdens who would probably try and take them on for her. Someone "normal."

Days like this, it reminded her just how much she fucking missed Alex. Having a normal noblesse by her world's standards who she could talk to about mundane normal stuff, it was the kind of anchor she needed. Reminded her of her purpose. That not everyone was well, like her.

"Wherever you are, hun, I hope you're having a better time of it than I am." That was enough to mope upon. Serene needed to sleep before tomorrow, when she was going to decide if she was to keep prowling around New York hunting relics that might be from her end of reality, or clues, or head south to Gotham. She'd left the two PIs with a way to reach her, so that wasn't an issue. She reached up her hand, tugging her hat down so its brim covered her eyes, keeping her shades close, while adjusting her trenchcoat like coat that covered her. Better safe than sorry. Adjusting her position, she kept her gaze up towards the stars, and waited for sleep to take her.

Tomorrow was another day.

January 3rd 08:00 EST
New York City, New York - Farmer's Boulevard Spirits

Morning traffic in New York always tended to work one into a mood, even if road rage wasn't exactly a normal tendency. For Donovan Breen though, it was inspiring. Both hands gripped the steering wheel of the 32 foot box-truck, knuckles turning white as he resisted the urge to at the very least shout at the stupid fuck who just cut him off- "Watch where the fuck yer going stupid fuckin' tosser!" There it was, his fist shaking out the window as a honk sounded in return and the driver in question gave him the single-finger salute. Now he could feel his blood pounding, a slight twitch to his eyes as he took in a deep breath and tried to ignore his brothers arguing in the back of the truck. That had been going on for the last hour and honestly he had just about had enough, tempted to pull the truck over and shoot both of them. Yet they had a job to do, and unfortunately this job needed Angus' rather unique skill set.

The brother in question was sitting there in what little room was available, cigar in mouth and open bottle of whiskey on the floorboards next to him. Once Donovan might have been concerned about his brother's decision to smoke while he worked, but long ago he decided that if God were to take him from him in that way, he would just hope not to be next to him. Of the three, while he may have been the least likely to be suspected of some kind of violence at first glance, he just so happened to be nearing the top of the FBI's watchlist due to his so-called shenanigans. Angus was only being watched at the moment because he was merely suspected of having a role in a dozen bank robberies over the last decade, all involving thermite or explosives of some kind. Regardless of his supposed involvement in major crimes, he was likely the smartest Irishman most would meet, even if that's not saying much for some, and he did know what he was doing.

Next to him and scratching at the mess he called a beard was the other Breen, Patrick. Compared to Angus he might as well have been a rock for all he had rattling around in his head, but each of the brothers had a purpose and they rarely did a job without one of the others around. And if there was one thing that he knew how to do and did well, it was act as the muscle. He was probably the only one of the brothers to have an actual warrant out for his arrest as well. It was well deserved of course, he had very nearly beaten that police officer to death, and that wasn't even touching the six armed robbery charges, the fourteen assaults and the three actual murders. If Donovan didn't know any better he might think that the youngest brother actually enjoyed it.

"Look Paddy, I'm just saying that with a skirt like that I bet she keeps it nice and smooth. Like a feckin slip and slide if you get my drift."

"Oh I git yer drift alright, but ye cannae tell me that there's not the slightest possibility of her being an absolute freak."

All the while as they argued over the personal hygiene choices of prominent female heroes, Angus was tinkering with the job in his lap. The job of course being the warhead to a rocket. A rather large rocket at that, being the almost sixty-five pound ammunition for the launcher taking up most of the space within the truck. Donovan was probably the lucky one for this, and considering he was the boss of the local branch of the Irish Mafia, he banked this one on "Executive Privilege." Horseshit as both younger brothers called it, but he wasn't about to be set ablaze because he depended on Angus' "Ingenuity" as he liked to say. Really all the youngest of the Breen's was, was an overly patriotic kid for a country he wasn't even born in and trying to prove himself to a bunch of wankers overseas. In truth it was their grandfather and father who were the real hardasses of the family, the former serving in the last world war, and the latter taking it to the brits for the homeland.

It was part of how they were able to get their hands on this kind of hardware, shipped overseas in pieces and reassembled earlier in the week for the job that would put them back on the map. Yes, this would cement the Breen name in NYC history, and that thought alone was enough to settle not just his doubts on how crispy he might be once that big bastard launched, but also kept him calm enough until finally they pulled up to the spot. Farmer's Boulevard Spirits, a regular stop for the legitimate side of their gang. Of course, they had already done a delivery two days ago and weren't due for two more, but no one would be paying attention enough to really notice so slight a detail as that… Except perhaps for the real reason why they were here. Just down the street facing the back of the truck was the local Chinese Hand laundromat, and one of their main distribution centers for drugs and cash. Donovan could almost smell the sweet scent of charred heroin and burning cash now…

"Now the fast one though, oh man she's got the thighs to die for. Yeah sure she's not rocking the skirt and bare legs anymore, but even if you put pants on cake it's still cake."

"Yer a damn loon Angus, she'll give yer dick rugburn, and that's if the lass would even touch yer dumbass. Now that Sol on the other hand…"

"I'm the loon? I'm the loon?! Fer feck's sake Paddy, she'd crush you without even trying!"

"If only I could be so lucky…"

"Oi cunts!"

Donovan's shout was accompanied by the banging of his fist against the plywood separator between the cab and the cargo area, turning back to stare at his idiot brothers. "Truck's parked, so git yer shite together."

---

Meanwhile, just down the road with quite a bit less swearing, vulgarity and Irishness the Triad was doing business as usual. Above were the residents of the local neighborhood making nice with Madam Mao as she did the normal routine of giving out her 'sagely' advice and checking in with her neighbors. Never mind that one of them was a local hero, who the Madam was quite aware of and always did her best to appear as the doting elder that she played part-time as. It wasn't entirely an act though, as Robert Mao knew quite well and as did many of the local Triad members. The Madam as they called her, considered most of the gang as part of her extended family and that meant that any time one of them was in trouble she would be there to do her part. It also meant that they were subject to her full wrath if they happened to screw something up for the "family", but no one really paid too much mind to that.

At least Robert didn't, and once more as he went over the current business of the day his thoughts turned to matters of family. His own, that is. He took the stairs from the basement, handing off his clipboard with today's numbers on it and informed the crew he would be taking a quick break for a smoke. Madam Mao hated smoking, said it was a westerner thing and that it rotted his spirit just as it did his lungs, and as much as she was probably right he just couldn't kick the habit.

"I'm going out front for a smoke Mother."

His comment drew an exasperated sigh from the old woman, turning away from the pink-haired hero as she was about to go into another tirade against him, but seemed to think better of it. Maybe it was that she felt it wouldn't have any effect, or maybe she didn't want to seem like a bitter old crone from the far east hating the country she lived in to Sol. Robert made no fuss over it just as his mother didn't, resting a hand on her shoulder and promising to return in just a moment.

"My son, Robert." She said once he was out the front door, bell at the top ringing. "More American than some Americans, and certainly speaks English better than some of those kids I've heard running around in the afternoon. Says to me that he wants to leave New York, can you believe that? Married this Kansas girl who always talks about how much she loves the countryside. Sweet thing, works as a nurse in one of the hospitals, you know the type, one of the ones who does it for those in need."

As she spoke, coming up beside Sol and taking a lean against the counter, some discussion was underway down below in the basement. Mostly in the way of what product was being moved where, and some of those places most certainly not being Triad territory. With the relative quiet of some of the larger gangs of the city, the Triad had been rumored to be making moves, just the same as those moves were also rumored to be well and truly stirring the shit in New York. Sooner or later one of the others would have had enough, and raised voices down below made it seem like not only was the Triad prepared for such an eventuality, but that they were working towards it. Of course, most people in the laundromat couldn't hear over the machines constantly running, only one might be able to and the Madam stood beside her continuing on about her son.

"Robert, my dear son Robert, confided in me that he actually wants to leave the family business entirely and start a restaurant out west." Nothing too out of the ordinary for a family of immigrants from China- "Tells me that he can't stand our food and wants to fry chicken." Oh.

The son in question currently stood out front, quite unaware of his mother decrying his choices, but thinking of them nonetheless. He had been saving for a good few years now, worked on his credit applications and felt it wouldn't be too long before he would be able to say goodbye to the city and head west. A long draw warmed his body against the cool January air, the cloud of steam rising from his lips as he held the cigarette there for a moment and remained pensive. His thoughts were interrupted by the trundle of a large box truck working its way down the road towards the intersection. This time of morning it wasn't unusual of course, most businesses were receiving their deliveries and had already been open for a couple hours if not getting ready to do so. What struck the man was to whom the truck belonged. As it passed by he got a glimpse of the driver, an irishman who seemed like he took eight or nine punches too many in the last pub-brawl.

It was a face most of the local Triad were familiar with, that of Donovan Breen the head of the local Irish Mafia. What he was doing here this early in the morning was anyone's guess, but already Robert was feeling a little suspicious as the truck made the turn down the road facing the laundromat and pulled up in front of the local liquor store. A slow puff of the cigarette in his mouth accompanied his thoughts, working on what kind of angle could possibly be had. There was the logo of the 'legitimate' shipping company for the mafia, a rather vulgar interpretation of irish folklore depicting a leprechaun riding something called a butfor. After a few moments he simply shook his head and dismissed the thoughts, returning to those of his future culinary pursuits.

He didn't have long, as before half of the cigarette was gone the door to the truck opened and the vague outline of a large mechanism within could be seen with two men operating it in the confined space of the cargo area. It was almost comical in a sense, so much stuffed in that truck that there was barely room to move, and he would have laughed if he wasn't confused as to what it was they had managed to smuggle into town this time. If he had been a little more familiar with such things, he might have recognized the distinct shape of eight rockets sitting in the rack, steadily lining up with the glass front of the laundromat he was smoking in front of. Then came the bright flash of fire against the back of the truck, one by one each of those rockets firing and screaming down the street. In slow motion the cigarette fell from his lips, eyes going wide as he watched the cluster of eight powering towards him and the laundromat. There was no time for any sort of warning, all he could do was watch as a yellow-painted warhead passed right by his face and punched through the glass.

Almost as soon as it did it hit the back of the laundromat, landing in an open front-load dryer and detonating with enough force alone to bring the building down. The bow-wave of explosive force shattered the windows of the store, sending glass shrapnel ahead of the flame, and launching Robert Mao off his feet and across the street. Then came the explosions and the world screamed back into full motion as the laundromat went up in flames, as did the two businesses on either side, and burying the basement with everyone inside.

---

January 2nd, 12:05 PM (EST)
North of Atlanta, Georgia - Side of US Highway

Chaos did truly work in mysterious ways, or at least that was what she thought at first. It had been ten years since she lost pretty much everything she knew except her powers and the League, and they were better at saving people from physical danger than emotional as she found. Sure, for a bit she held out hope. There had been people coming in along both coasts from Central City, claiming to have escaped the destruction, and each time she had been there expecting… What could she really have expected? Every tale of heroes told about how they had to make sacrifices, and in those early years she thought she could be the exception. So it was that eventually, though she put on the same smile, she steadily lost hope. To the point where when someone showed up out of nowhere on the back of a friend, as cold a friendship as it was at this point, she doubted.

Doubt was what put her sister on the bench as she worked through every little possibility. She had gained a sense for chaotic magic over the years, and though it was nothing close to that of a proper demon or mage, this girl had a feeling of it about her that she couldn't shake. Not to mention the sheer coincidence of showing up just after being confronted by the spooky german. Next thing she expected Duncan to turn into a werewolf or something, maybe make an off-color joke about peaches and finding her in… Okay, she might have set herself up for that one and really couldn't fault anyone for that. Still, it felt weird and then… Then it got weirder.

She watched as all of a sudden her sister's hands started to vibrate, then energy sparked from them all around her. Being what she was, she knew what speed-force looked like and could see it coursing through the girl's body. Quite suddenly she remembered what her first time was like, ending up almost two counties over and more than a little confused as to what actually happened. Verra started to reach out, trying to get a warning out but found herself once again too slow as she had taken too much time thinking things through to act. With the quickness of a speedster just manifesting, the girl went from the bench and forward a dozen meters within the blink of an eye for any normal person. Then… Then she stopped quite suddenly, with the assistance of a brick wall.

"Hey! Language."

Verra was quick to scowl and point at Champ, finger wagging in his direction as she heard his curse and sighed. While the canuckistani could be rather endearing at times, difficult to reason with at others, and of course there was the whole thing with their last conversation… He had not once lied to her or anyone she knew of. Truly a boyscout. An alien one, but still a boyscout. She sighed again and pressed her palm to her forehead, fingers running through her vibrant red locks as she thought about it. If there was anyone left who knew her and her sister, it would have been him considering the connection they had before all this went down. So that meant… Well, first before she got hopeful, the girl had just knocked herself out cold with her first dose of speedforce. Everything else could wait until she was awake and aware.

"Okay. So, that's Lexi then. We uh… Should probably get her to a place less public and sort things out, people are staring."

She was starting to suspect that perhaps this woman was purposefully trying to distract her from something going on within the laundromat. While she very much doubted that the old woman had any clue who exactly who she was, it could've been something going on around the building that anybody could notice. With that in mind, Kara let her gaze slowly drift around the laundromat, acting as if she were just a teen halfway paying attention to an old lady prattle on about her son. Though, she quickly found that she couldn't see much of anything suspicious going on in plain sight of the potential patrons. Unfortunate, really, given that the girl very much wanted to be able to do something about the triad right then and there. Though she was soon enough satisfied that perhaps this was simply a kindly old woman, prattling on about her son to other patrons as the elderly seemed rather prone to do. Turning her attention back to their conversation, Kara listened to the woman complain about her son Robert, who had just gone out front to smoke, and how he wanted to move out west. To fry chicken, nonetheless. Granted, Kara felt there was absolutely merit to frying up some chicken. Matter of fact, she might go and get some fried chicken for dinner later.

Though her attention was soon stolen by the sounds of a box truck rolling down the street, though it was the sounds coming from inside the truck that really drew her attention. As it seemed that there was a very heated conversation going on within the box truck even as it rolled down the street and came to a stop. Thanks in no small part to her rather enhanced senses, Kara could clearly hear what was being said inside of the truck. The conversation seemed… off color to say the very least as she started to listen in on the men with very thick accents.

“... she'll give yer dick rugburn, and that's if the lass would even touch yer dumbass. Now that Sol on the other hand…"

"I'm the loon? I'm the loon?! Fer feck's sake Paddy, she'd crush you without even trying!"

"If only I could be so lucky…"

"Oi cunts!"

With that being noted in her mind, Kara decided that she would be paying that particular truck a visit later. Ask them about their ever so pleasant compliments towards some mystery woman and herself. She was just about to excuse herself from the conversation to do exactly that when she heard the doors on the box truck slam open, quickly followed by the sounds of… rushing air. Then replaced with the roar of a fire, similar to the sounds of missiles being fired off in various different games she so commonly played. Turning towards the source of the sound, Kara’s eyes went wide as the world seemed to move in slow motion. Rockets came racing towards the laundromat, and the girl looked between the few here and knew that she wasn’t fast enough to save any of them. Much less get out of the way herself, seeing as she didn’t know whether or not she was explosion proof in addition to bulletproof. Kara let out a scream of fear as the roar of the rockets slammed into the building, and she felt the impact from the explosive force. Her eyes closed tightly, everything suddenly fell silent and she wondered if she had died and this was some weird ass limbo.

Then she felt the cool movements of a gentle breeze against the back of her neck, and her hair moving slightly in said wind. Slowly the girl’s eyes opened, then shot wide as she noticed that the ground was far below her. Not only had she survived the rocket attack, but somehow she was just floating high above the buildings that made up Chinatown. ”I-I can fly!?” She demanded, incredulous over the fact that she was somehow able to fly despite being fairly certain she couldn’t do that the day before. The next thing that went through her mind was pure rage, emotions running through high as she spotted the truck starting to pull out. She hated them, hated what they did, and that they dared do that in her city. In the next moments, her eyes glowed a bright green before a beam of pure solar radiation of the same color shot from her eyes. Tearing clean through the engine of the truck and making it grind to a halt in the following moments. The girl’s eyes went wide as she tried to process what she had just done…

---

---

It was strange, one moment she had been panicking as she noticed the rockets in the back of the truck. Now, she was flying, of all things she could possibly be doing she was flying! Then to make things even stranger, she was staring at the truck far below stopped in the middle of the street. Already the police were hauling the assailants on the laundromat out while other responders tried to put out the fire from the exploded building. The truck, now had a hole in its engine block from lasers she had shot from her damn eyes. The girl stared in surprise as she floated at the top of skyscrapers, trying to understand how she had just done what she did.

“Analysis complete. Alias: Sol. New powers logged in the database.”

A soft click accompanied the emotionless, mechanical words. Behind Sol hovered a strange sight: a seemingly floating orb of black metal, center to it a lens mimicking an eye. Even stranger, the metal around the eye almost seemed to be teeth, a maw of some sort. While it was nearly silent, to someone of advanced hearing there was a tell tale hum of mechanical parts beneath the metal, which clicked once more as the object continued to ‘speak’.

“Please remain where you are if safe until Operative Grim arrives. Failure to do so will result in catastrophic results.”

The girl turned around with a wide eyed expression as she stared at the floating orb. Trying to figure out what the hell it was, although she recognized the hero it was talking about, she was still thrown off by the mechanical orb. Floating a little bit closer to the orb, she slowly reached out and grabbed the thing, bringing it closer as she looked at it.

“Please do not grab the Grim Sentry.”

Instead she tried to slowly lower herself to a rooftop below, and wound up falling rather rapidly. Slamming onto the roof with a loud thud she let go of the orb, hoping it would be able to tell she was cooperating, just moving out of sight of the civilians.

The sentry moved back and forth rapidly, almost as though shaking off. Finally however it focused the red glow of its ‘eye’ back on Sol, the humming of its mechanical parts increasing. It spun around upside down once before beginning to patrol along the edge of the roof.

”You fell too quickly. It has to reconfigure.” The voice came from the sentry despite not being the mechanical one it was using earlier. This one was still calm, cool, but a deeply masculine one. ”Though understandable, considering the lack of disguise.”

From above, a black object streaked across the sky, a somewhat familiar sight to any who resided in New York City. It descended rapidly, a faint whistling accompanying it - and a soft sound of engines as it neared the top of the building. Finally, Grim himself stepped onto the edge of the building, the wolf-faced hero moving forward from prying eyes on the streets below, his own gaze focused solely on the woman before him.

”Sol, is it?”

Kara jumped back a little bit at the oddly familiar, yet masculine voice that suddenly came from the drone, though it took her just a moment to piece together who it was talking to her. ”Probably comes with the learning to fly thing, I don’t exactly know how to control it.” She said before hearing the ship come in as she spun towards the sound of the aircraft coming in. Then she heard the footfalls of the hero stepping onto the roof as she turned with a critical gaze.

”I would say who’s asking, but thats self-explanatory.” She said quickly, before holding out her hand to shake. ”I doubt you recognize me, but we’ve met… long ago. I’ve looked up to you my whole life, honestly.” She said quickly with a small smile. ”I don’t mean to sound rude, but this isn’t Gotham. Why are you here?” She asked, a little bit pointed as she wondered why the hero was in her city so suddenly.

The stoic mask of Grim stared back cooly, and it took a moment before he raised his hand to take the other hero’s, giving it a firm shake.

”I’m honored,” He stated plainly, before giving a nod upwards without moving his gaze from her. ”I was headed towards the Justice Station when I was given an alert about the triads my sentries were watching. It was good timing. Yours was better.” Finally he glanced away from her face to her arm - or more specifically the sleeve of the shirt she was wearing.

”Though I feel it wasn’t intentional. Are you hurt?”

“Scans revealed no injuries.” The sentry behind them beeped, even as it continued its patrol along the edge of the roof.

”It wasn’t, I was doing laundry and spying on the Triad here when those assholes rolled up and shot rockets at the place. I didn’t know if being bulletproof extended to rockets, but then I was flying.” She explained sheepishly as she awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck. ”And uh… I can apparently shoot lasers from my eyes. I didn’t know that one either.” She explained with a slight sigh. After a moments she seemed to move away from those awkward thoughts.

”So, yeah, I don’t exactly know whats going on with me now. Kind of worrying given that I’m out here trying to help people with abilities I never knew about suddenly manifesting. Its kind of scary.” She said before her eyes went wide as something dawned on her. ”Oh shit! My costume! It was in the laundry. Thats gone…” She swore, as she thought about how much it would cost her in order to make a new costume. Thoughts raced across her mind as she stood opposite of Grim, thinking about to fix the situation she was now in. ”But, thats not important right now. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Grim?” She asked the hero, wondering if he came by just to say hi or if he needed something from her.

A soft hum came from Grim, thoughtful and low - though the voice distorter made it rumble out as a bit of a growl. He tilted his head, arms crossing as he examined her.

”I merely came due to the potential of large scale injury, as well as to check if this might’ve been an attack that needed aid. My sentries are already on the lookout for others, and those that escaped. I wanted to check on you and the surrounding area.” He paused then, tilting his head rather like a dog itself. ”Your abilities are just manifesting? Yet you’ve been participating in vigilante work for…” He trailed off, seemingly thinking as behind the mask information flashed across Zoey’s visor. Where had she heard this name before?

”Six months according to earliest reports. You’ve been quite successful. As well as on… Instagram, Miss Palmer?”

”Oh God please tell me you didn’t look through that.”

”I have a program to do so, though I manually compared your license to your face now to confirm it. Is there a pro- is that me?”

It was almost easy to have Alfred take the visuals both from the sentry and Grim’s own visor and run it through a facial recognition program, narrowed down to the area around them. Considering Kara Palmer’s very large online presence, it made it even easier. Out of a morbid curiosity, a whispered command had Alfred looking for what Sol might be wary of - presenting two options. One was a Grim cosplay. The other was a far less dressed Grim cosplay.

”I…” Grim trailed off, speechless. ”... Good detailing?”

The girl’s face was a bit pale until the Justice League member asked if that was him, followed by the speechless part of it all. Then her face turned a bright red as she looked away. ”Oh God just kill me.” She muttered to herself as she suddenly became very interested in everything except Grim. Then turning back towards the hero, she felt an explanation was owed to the man over what he had likely just found.

”Look, I model and do cosplay modeling for a living. The first one on there is a passion project and so it looks similar to you. Because you saved me and I look up to you. The second was another cosplayer was doing a sexy cosplay of Mr. Champion, and she wanted me to do one of you with her. The shoot paid for like, three months of rent so it was super nice and I never knew I would meet you!” She said, getting more flustered and embarrassed as she talked, and her words speeding up as she did. ”I’m so sorry!” She said, absolutely paralyzed with fear she had insulted the hero.

All at once, something clicked in Grim’s mind.

It had been years ago, hadn’t it? A decade, in fact, shortly after the start of that dreadful Halloween and before Grim had committed himself fully to finding the cure for the children that … had been able to make it. A child, scared and alone during Grim’s frantic attempts at scouring as many cities as she could find.

Thankfully, the mask kept Zoey’s surprise hidden, as well as how her normally sharp gaze softened. It was the fear that reminded her, now stark across Kara’s face, and what also prompted Grim to raise his hand and rest on the shorter woman’s shoulder.

”It’s alright,” Grim rumbled, patting her a touch awkwardly. ”I’m glad that I could help you, both back then as well as now. Even if it’s rather unconventional.”

”I uh… I won't do it again!" She replied quickly before something else seemed to slowly click in her mind. ”Hey wait, you said back then, did you remember when you saved me before?" She asked, her attention stolen as she zeroed in on that simple fact, wondering if her hero had remembered her from back on that terrible night.

”Yes,” was the simple response, accompanied by a small nod. ”I’m glad you have grown up so well, Kara.”

”Uhm… thanks! Although I don't know if I can call it well given that I've got new powers popping up out of nowhere and I don't understand how anymore." She admitted sheepishly, giving Grim a sort of sideways look as if asking him for help figuring out what the hell was going on with her.

The Gotham hero inclined his head in acknowledgement, making another soft, distorted hum. ”That would be problematic. Not to mention unusual. Powers can often evolve, but yours has a broad range that doesn’t seem to branch off each other. How in control are you of your strength? And you’re not sure of the range of how much damage you can take?”

He began to circle Sol, examining her from behind that mask. With a gesture the earlier sentry came over, beginning to scan as well.

”Are you opposed to blood samples?”

”"Good luck breaking the skin, bullets don't even break it anymore. Otherwise I can deal with it. As for my strength, I think I'm pretty in control. I can throw around cara but also can dial it back and shake your hand. I trained alot to control my strength so I don't kill somebody." She explained calmly, trying to think of what else might be relevant. ”I'm also really fast, and can see and sense stuff super far away. Oh! As well as X-ray vision!"

”X-Ray vision?” Grim parroted back. Beneath the helmet, Zoey’s eyebrows furrowed as she considered the list of powers being listed. Strength. Speed. Senses. X-ray. Flight. Laser eyes.

That was … a very familiar list.

Yet it was hard to come to a certain conclusion, considering what that would entail. Kara was definitely younger than Champion. It must’ve been a coincidence, and yet what kind of person would she be if she didn’t look at it from every angle?

Besides, at worst it was a little wasted kryptonite.

”Alfred, have one of the sentries bring me my medical kit for Champion.” The sentence wasn’t broadcast through the voice modifier, instead hidden within the confines of the helmet. Yet outwards to Sol, Grim brought her left arm up and turned it, a compartment opening on the inside. From it he retrieved a small needle, offering it up. ”May I try for a sample?”

The girl nodded after a few moments at Grim's response, holding up her arm. Although she honestly did not know what to expect since Grim always seemed to have a gadget for something on her. Yet at the same time, Sol knew her own abilities and doubted that any sort of needle was going to do anything like piercing her skin. At the very least, she'd get an I told you so moment on a superhero, which was pretty cool all things considered.

As soon as the nod was given Grim moved forward, while behind him the sentry floated up and began to go towards the edge of the building. The Gotham hero paid it no mind, carefully checking for a vein on Sol’s arm. After a moment he retrieved a small alcohol wipe from his suit and carefully cleaned away any debris leftover from the rockets, just in case. Yet, as expected, when he went to press the needle in it merely skidded along the skin, as though it were completely solid. Another jab, harder, only bent the sharp tip.

”Interesting,” Grim intoned, before holding the needle to the side. As the sentry came puttering back with an object in its mouth the hero dropped the syringe, which was swallowed by a hole opening in the back of the sentry. Taking the small box adorned with The Champion’s sigil he rested it on top of the sentry, opening it to retrieve another needle, though this one had a faint green sheen to it.

”Let’s try that again.”

Kara simply shrugged in response to the needle getting bent against her skin. ”Told ya so." She said immediately towards the hero, even as he pulled out that new box that the sentry brought up. Though her gaze did lock in on the symbol, which she immediately knew what it meant. ”Hey wait, why's that box got Champion's symb-" She said before stumbling as the green needle was exposed. In a mere moment, Kara's stance had gone unsteady as she moved to sit on the ground. ”I-I think flying isn't agreeing. Or the eye lasers. I'm lightheaded now."

”Fuck,” Grim swore low, eyes swivelling between Kara and the needle. It was a very small amount, just enough to pierce Champ’s skin when he needed a blood draw - especially since she didn’t have an infinite amount of the stuff laying around. After a moment, rather than risk making the woman sick with the needle, Grim kneeled down beside Kara, taking a moment to rub her back reassuringly.

”It’s alright, just one more moment and I might have the solution…” Withdrawing his hand, Grim drew one of the titanium blades out of his suit. With a gentle motion he pressed the tip of the blade to Kara’s skin, keeping the kryptonite nearby in his other hand. When the blade sunk in he was quick to withdraw it, merely staring at the small bead of blood gathering on the previously indestructible skin.

”...Fuck.”

Sol was to busy focusing on the way she suddenly felt so unstable and wondered if it had been one of the new abilities causing it to really piece together the cause, or what was happening. She was aware of something cold, then a sharp pain as something pierced her skin. She yelped out slightly, recoiling a little as her head swam and she looked at Grim with concern at hero’s cursing. A confused look clear upon her features as she hoped that wasn’t something really bad. ”Is something wrong? A-am I dying?” She asked the hero, her heart now beating just a little bit faster in fear of what came next.

”Well, it should be impossible but-” Grim’s deep voice cut off as he glanced up to Kara, seeing that fear once more streaked across her face. For a moment, her face swam in his vision, replaced by a younger one streaked with tears. ”I… no, you’re fine Kara. It’s my fault you feel like this.” The Grim Sentry came closer, allowing the suited hero to drop the syringe back inside before it puttered off.

”I apologize. You will feel better in a few moments, just let it wear off.” While taking the time to rub the woman’s back, the Gotham hero couldn’t help but mull over what was just revealed. Zoey doubted that Captain Canuck, wherever he was, knew of Kara’s existence - or what it implied.

What did it imply?

”... and I can replace your costume. It needs to be fireproof anyway.”

Slowly things started to click together as Grim admitted it was his fault, and the similarities in her abilities to another. Then the box that had Champion's symbol on it, and how the needle she had produced made her skin able to be pierced. As the sickness faded, her eyes seemed to spark slightly as she stared at Grim. ”I-I'm like him. The Champion. Aren't I?" She asked, a theory slowly forming in her mind.

”Potentially,” Was the rumbled response, accompanied by a short nod. ”It should theoretically be impossible, yet all signs are pointing to yes.” The Grim Sentry returned, and it took only a moment to take the offered cotton and bandage, pressing the former against the bead of blood for a few moments before applying the bandage.

The bandage had a little Grim icon on it.

”How is it impossible? I mean if he made it here what's saying that I couldn't be from the same place?" She asked, her now piqued interest on the subject getting the better of her. As she might finally have an explanation for suddenly developing new super powers that had been missing for most of her life. Especially with how similar they were to another popular hero's own abilities. She wanted to know if it was true, the theory forming in the back of her mind.

”It’s not my place to tell.” With that, Grim stood once more, offering his hand. ”Now come. My AI let me know a news helicopter is incoming - I have to contact Champion, and you need to go clean up.” He glanced away, towards the smoke still billowing up from the nearby laundromat.

”... Do you need money for clothes?”

”No, I don't need any. I've got clothes at home. But uh… do we need to run more tests? And uhm… how long should it be for my new costume? I don't have the money for that." She said quickly, half way wondering if she should follow along after the hero. ”Also would you be able to give me a ride? I kinda don't know how to fly well and I can't be seen like this, people might find out…"

”Of course.” For a long moment, Grim was quiet, presumably waiting as the jet came to them. In truth, Zoey was contemplating Duncan’s reaction to being called for his assistance. Again. It has been a popular couple days for the two Justice Leaguers.

This year was cursed.

”Miss Palmer,” Grim smoothly commented, even as the near silent jet came close, the hatch opening to the two. In truth, what he was about to suggest wasn’t the best idea - Zoey hated strangers in her base. Yet what else could contain a Kryptonian if pressed? ”Have you ever wanted to see the Justice Station?”