She looked at herself in the mirror, unable to really grasp what she was about to do. She was a woman that had no idea who she really was, about to go out for a social meetup with a coworker. Was Sandy a coworker? Or was she Booster's boss? The hero honestly didn't really know.

Didn't really know. That was the story of her life at this point. She didn't know her real name. Didn't know where...or when she really came from. Hell, she didn't even know what kind of drink she usually ordered at a bar! She was a cypher to herself, how could she possibly have anything to say to another human worth their time?

She adjusted her shirt to make sure it looked as she hoped. Nothing more than a simple tank top and a pair of jeans to go with it. If she was being honest with herself, she had no idea what was considered fashionable in this time. She had seen so many different styles. This would, at the very least, be passable in the

"Ma'am?" Skeets's voice emanated from the door of the bathroom. She had gotten used to him not giving her much privacy. He was a robot, after all. He wasn't trying to be creepy, he just had no semblance of what was appropriate when it came to human behavior. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Skeets," she shrugged. "Just getting ready to go out for a drink. What do people drink in 2019 anyway?"

Skeets buzzed for a second, "Bloody Mary's random fried food stuffed into them. Beers brewed less than five miles from where they are consumed. Whiskey."

"I think I'll stick with whiskey," Booster muttered to herself, the words seemingly springing from her subconscious. "Yea, that sounds good."

"Sounds good, ma'am," Skeets was apprehensive. "But that's not exactly what I meant."

She turned over her shoulder and looked at the robot, "What do you mean, then?"

"During the meetings today, you had two more reactions," the AI responded matter-of-factly. "Once when Captain America was mentioned, and once when Tony Star was. It didn't read differently on your vitals than when we first appeared in this time."

A long sigh escaped her as she thought about it. She knew that Skeets had been monitoring her vitals. Of course he was. The robot was attached to a suit of armor she never really took off. He knew when her heart rate spiked. Skeets hadn't brought it up to her yet. Maybe he did know a little bit about propriety. He didn't want to hurt her by bringing up things that made her uncomfortable.

"Yea, Skeets," she nodded. "I think...I think they're my memories. They're triggered by words, phrases, sights...different things. I don't know. But they hit me like a punch in the face."

"These seemed a little less intense than the one the other day with the news reports of Captain America killing that Stryfe character," Skeets added.

She thought about that long and hard. The vision that had come to her that day was the most intense that she had experience outside the initial one when she woke up in 2019.

Booster looked up at the robot and started, "When we saw that news report, I had the longest vision I've had yet. I saw the moments before I...before we were sent back in time. Parts of it at the very least. I was in a room. It was under siege. Captain America was there. He was giving me instructions. At least I think he was. But he was old. At least a few decades. Iron Man was there too. Then three people I'm not familiar with. An older guy in blue. An older guy in blue and red. And an older guy with white hair on the sides of his head. The three of them were working around some computer. You and I were in a transporter or something. I assume it was what sent us back to this time. As I said, Captain America was giving us instructions. Iron Man was preparing for something to come through the door of the room. I could smell ozone burning. Everyone else looked like hell. They looked like they had been through a war, and they were all on their last legs. This was a last stand. That much was obvious. Everything else was a blur. But before I was...transported, Cap said something to me. Something that wasn't clear in my vision. But it was important. As my vision began to be taken over by the time travel, something came through the door of the room. Ripped through Iron Man like he was a paper doll. That was the last thing I saw, I assume, before waking up in 2019."

Silence hung heavy in the air as Booster finished her story. It was something that had haunted her dreams since the day she saw it, but what made it even worse was the fact that she didn't know what it meant. The words that came from Captain America's lips were nothing more than the wind on a summer day on the beach. They were like trying to catch smoke. Each time she tried to figure out what he had said she just got a headache. It was maddening.

"I'm sorry, Booster," was all that the robot could respond with. "I remember nothing of our final moments from where we came from."

She looked over at him, "I kind of assumed that. If we ever get a chance to link up with Tony Stark or someone else who can fix you, we'll have them take a look."

"I would like that, ma'am."

"So would I," she nodded. Not because she cared about the robot's well being, but because she needed to know everything he had in his databanks.

---

The clinks of glasses and the hum of conversation floated in the back of Booster's mind as she shifted uncomfortably in the seat across from Sandy. She was wearing the same blouse from earlier, a shiny off-white, though a few of her buttons had been undone since she left work. Her hair, usually worn up while in the office, was now falling down to her shoulders in red, slightly-wavy cascades. It was lovely, Booster had to admit. Her gin and tonic rolled in her hand as she swirled her glass, and sighed, "It's good that this job pays well, because otherwise I dunno if I'd be able to take it."

Booster's eyebrow raised, "Dealing with me is that bad, huh?"

Sandy's freckled cheeks went deep red, almost matching her cheeks, with a blush, "Oh, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Relax!" Booster also spat up her drink from laughter. She had ordered a whiskey. Maybe it was something in her subconscious that told her she would enjoy it, and she really was. "I was joking."

"Not funny," Sandy shook her head at the superhero. "Pretending that I just pissed off the most powerful person I know isn't exactly ideal."

"Sorry," Booster was apologetic. "But I would figure Agger was the most powerful person you know. He is technically my boss, after all."

"Please," the PR rep rolled her eyes. "Agger's terrified of you. Only reason he looks so calm around you is because you make him money, and that cures all ills for him. But he's the reason I'd probably leave the job if you hadn't come around. Working for a company with big money sounds great at my age, until you really see how the sausage is made, and Agger is ruthless. When the world is moving away from oil, he's fighting tooth and nail to keep it alive. And even ignoring that...something else gives me the willies."

Booster was surprised to hear that, "You are a superb actress. In that meeting I would have thought you were behind him fully. But it relieves me you feel that way. The guy is slimier than a sea slug. Am I really the reason you haven't left?"

"Sure," Sandy nodded sheepishly. "We can do some good here, even if it's in the name of a shit company. But you need to be careful on this mission."

The superhero leaned over the table closer, "How so?"

"Agger is obsessed with Irons's project," she explained. "I've never seen him more invested in a single company project. He swears up and down that there's no desire to weaponize those suits, but I don't buy it. There's something fishy going on. At least I think there is."

Booster considered her words. It was nothing more than conjecture, and could be nothing more than Agger's normal ick factor. But if he really was involved with what was going on with the stolen suits, it meant he wanted to sell them to the highest bidder. Iron Man wanted to keep such tools out of the hands of those that would misuse them, but it tracked that other people would try to do the exact opposite. That was a scary thought.

"If something's going on, I'll figure it out," Booster comforted Sandy. "After all, who better to foil a plot than Booster Gold? I do it in my sleep."

Sandy's eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, "You can't fool me with that braggadocios attitude, Booster. You're hiding something too. And I'm going to figure it out."

"Well, when you do, let me know, would ya?" she responded, only half-joking.

Arc 2: + Power Outage +

---

STATIC SHOCK

---

Episode 1.1: - Back With a Bang -

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♦ Topic: Mayoral Election in Dakota City - The Future of Bang Babies Uncertain?

In: Boards ► General Affairs ► East-Coast

Peasant_Ghoul - (Meta Groupie)

http://www.whih.org/news/mayoral-showdown-at-dakota-city

" It's all too easy to mistake them as just monsters when in reality, they're kids. Misguided and lost boys and girls from Paris Island. From Utopia. From Hemingway. From Washington Avenue. Who all need a second chance at life."

This was just one of many choice quotes spoken by Robert Hawkins, head manager of Freeman Community Center and current mayoral nominee for Dakota City spoken during last week's campaign rally.

Today, on September 7th, marks two months since the infamous chemical incident that struck the harbors of Dakota City. The Big Bang, as dubbed by the local civilians living in Dakota City, resulted in the largest recorded artificial boom in metahuman populations in America since experimentation by the SSR in WW2. The status of metahumans as having access to human rights has long been a long contentious issue nation-wide.

His opponent, current incumbent Mayor Morris Jefferson is an active supporter of police militarization, advocating for the occupation of the D.M.A and a hostile policy towards meta-humans........

Hopefully, the DMA doesn't get their hands on Dakota City. It's surprising that Dakota's been left unscathed by the Stryfe Attack. My relative says that they're planning to break out mandatory checks for metas in every city....

►StainedDuCChess
Replied on 13:24:20, 5th September

What's more surprising is that Static's managed to keep a tight noose on all those metas. Someone at least give this man a pat on the back.

►Ram Mette
Replied on 13:42:35, 5th September

Hope that the new mayor puts all those dirty fuckin' mongrels in camps. Police should gas them again and make sure it works this time.

STAFF NOTICE: Honestly, Ram Mette, we are sick of your shit. You can get your anti-meta tirade out of here and off to whatever bridge you lurk under.

►SpamLetters
Replied on 13:44:42, 5th September

ugh, crowd were friggin' packed when I went there.

►Krimson Angel
Replied on 14:12:29, 5th September

Say, anyone still got footage of Static at NYC? I'm planning on using it for a school project.

►HarryMan45
Replied on 14:30:01, 5th September

[@Krimson Angel] PM me and we can work something out.

---

" YO, META-BREED! ARE YA READY TO ROCK?!"

" YEAH"

" I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"



“ THEEEENNN, LLLLEEETTT’SSS PARTAAAYY!”

Boom pumped his fists in the midst of his jockeying, the crowd jumping up and down in erratic waves, as another track came on. The sub-woofer growing out of his chest reverbated and vibrated sporadically, electronic bass shaking the air. The music was infectious to the point where Ebon began to tap his feet in time with the beat.

It was a shame that he was late to the event.

Paris Island barren wastes were teeming with wild hoots of celebration and the raucous racket of mix music. Ebon watched from a distance, under the wreckage of a gutted fishing trawler, as the feathered figure of Talon dropped a crate of beer to the frenzied crowd of Bang Babies down below. His crew had managed to set up a circular wall of shipping crates stacked upon one another, technicolor rays of light glowing out of the pit, a rainbow in the night.

Suddenly, there was a muffled sound of gagging that he heard but no one else could. His stomach turned and buckled in nausea.

“Quit being shifty." He growled out. " Your time will come soon, Buchinsky. You've already failed me again. Be grateful I'm granting this chance for you to prove yourself. ”

The nausea ceased. Ebon snorted. Was that all it took to silence the Electrocutioner? It was hard to believe that he once believed this washed up old timer could bring down the Kilowatt Kid. However, it was still annoying that he still hadn’t managed to figure out the problem of containing living beings in his shadow dimension. Transporting Buchinsky all the way from Ryker’s to Dakota probably had a factor in how the criminal had managed to figure out how to affect Ebon from another dimension. He made a note for himself to fix it later. Right now, Buchinsky had other uses than being a thorn in his backside.

Ebon moved through the shadows like a serpent, gliding in between the darkness until he was on top of a shipping container, surveying the chaotic scene below him. Racks of meat and sausages were being cooked over campfires. He looked around at the shadows of corroding shipping containers cast by moonlight. The only other illumination available on the island were bonfires and the lightbulbs that his men had managed to scrounge up. It took only a few moments before one person noticed him. Then, the next. Then, the few other dozen. It was a game of Chinese whispers and shoulder nudges that soon had made him the sole attention of the largest population of Bang Babies on the east coast. There was enough firepower here to topple Dakota PD or hell, even the city if he tried. For anyone else, it would have been suicide. But he wasn’t some normie scrub. He was the Master of Shadows and the boss of the Meta Breed. He was on top of the food chain as far as he was concerned and everyone else that he was staring right now got his scraps.

" How's it hanging, y'all?” Ebon shouted down towards the silent crowd. It was disappointing that they only reaction he got were coughs. Boom’s music was still on, though, it’d now had switched to a reggae track.

“C'mon, guys. Just cause they call me the Shadow Man don't mean you all gotta get cold feet.” He spoke exasperatedly. “ Makes me sound like some sort of pedophile, now that I think about it.”

The levity cut through the tension like a needle popping a balloon. There were giggles and sounds of laughter elicited from every Bang Baby. Boom took it as a signal to continue on, inserting a new track of Europop into the mix, to the cheers of the mob that had formed around his station.

“ Now, that’s what I like to hear! C’mon, Talon, gimme your poison of the day.”

Talon soared overhead and tossed him a bottle from her clawed feet which he caught deftly. He uncapped it and began to chug it down. It was all an act, of course. One of the downsides of his powers were that everyday normal sensations for him were dulled right now. Of course, that had upsides. The cheap beer now tasted faintly of apple juice to him instead of the bitter crap that so many swallowed down their throats.

Ebon hopped down from the metallic crate in a dark blur, looking where exactly to plan his little stunt. Funny. Nightinggale was nowhere to be seen, though, given how skittish the Night Breed were -

“ Look who came crawling back out of their cave again….”

He’d recognised that snide accent anywhere. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a lone individual part out from the crowd, ginger haired with yellow streaks dyed throughout. Hotstreak. The man toed the line so many times that Ebon was considering tossing him out of the Meta-Breed. He decided against it. Having a loose cannon on a leash was better than having a loose cannon on the leash pointed against them. Thankfully, Hotstreak’s brains didn’t match his skills for being a firestarter.

Hotstreak’s stabbed his finger into Ebon’s jacket, the tip glowing like a fire poker. Singe marks peppered the expensive leather. He knew it would make him mad. He wouldn’t let this jumped up chump get to him.

“ Fancy seeing you here, Hotstreak.” Annoyance edged into Ebon’s normally suave baritone. He was almost tempted to drop Hotstreak into a portal and out into Hemingway Harbor.

“ Why are you here, Ebon?” Hotstreak stared at him with barely veiled suspicion.“ I thought you were supposed to be out doing your own business?”

" I’m glad you asked, Francis.” The pyrokinetic bang baby looked as if he’d been slapped. “ Cause I hauled myself a fish I think everyone’s itching to get a piece of.”

A black chasm formed above him, dripping shadows. Hotshot’s arms spread out, pointing towards Ebon, burning orange . Funny. He actually thought he could take him in a fight. A moment later, the prisoner tumbled onto the ground. He hit the ground writhing. Someone screamed and for a moment, the bustling, lively atmosphere of the party had been shattered. Hotstreak lowered his arms, cutting off the flames, his cheeks pale white with fear, as he rubbed the back of his head. He gave him a look that said 'Am I off the hook?'

Ebon stared back and then, slowly nodded. We'll see. Hotstreak’s expression returned back to his arrogant demeanour.

Meanwhile, he had everyone’s attention now. Boom had cut his music off and the entire Meta-Breed was staring at who exactly Ebon had brought uninvited to the party. Ebon cleared his throat and lifted his prisoner up by the shoulders for everyone to see.

" Everyone. May I introduce Larry Buchinsky, the Electrocutioner and the ho-mo sapien who tried to ice our good old friend, Static."

Whispers of 'The Kilowatt Kid?' and 'Shocker?' travelled through the crowd of metahumans, several of them moving closer to see the truth of Ebon's claim. Several of them looked at the Electrocutioner with disgust whilst others remained impassive.

" Now, I know that there are plenty of us here who share a certain...history with Static. We know Talon's sob-story about how he nearly sent her falling from five stories up. The truth is...I don't hate the he-ro.” He drawled out the syllables mockingly. “ I just pity the fool.” He paused to let it sink in. “ Think about it for a moment. Here's a brother who's the same blood as us. He's out there bleeding sweat and tears for those filthy normies, fighting their battles instead of ours. He thinks they're the oppressed instead of the rest of us here on Paris Island.”

He turned his gaze towards the crowd, slithering through the small gaps like quicksliver as he spoke into their ears.

‘All of you know what they call us. Freaks of nature.” he said, his eyes searching through the crowd. Murmurs of anger spread through the crowd. " The muties. Monsters."

" So, I say, if they live in fear of us, then, why not embrace it?"

" I’ve told you all before and I’m gonna tell again. I'mma make sure that Dakota belongs to us. The city is our turf. Our territory. Stick with me, my friends, and ain't nobody gonna mess with us ever again. Not the mayor. Not the government. Not the D.M.A. Not Supergirl. Not Wondie. Not Spider Man. Not anyone!"

Not even the Kilowatt Kid.

" We're the beginning of a new century, my friends! And it only begins when we have the guts to do what's right!" Ebon raised his fist upwards and the entire crowd followed him. " When we bring justice to our corrupt city!"

Ebon then turned his head towards the wide-eyed waiting form of Electrocutioner. Ebon wondered what was on his mind right now as his eyes looked to the crowd pleadingly, waiting for someone to rescue him. He wouldn't find any sympathy here. Ebon pointed towards the trembling form of the super-villain. Well, to be former super-villain.

“ Starting with this Bang-Baby murdering homosapien.” There were shouts of agreement as he hauled Buchinsky's hysterical form over on his shoulder. The man was pulling at his rope bonds, cutting blisters into his skin as his screams of protest were muffled by a gag. " Shiv, would you so kindly do the honours for us?"

The crowd parted to reveal a grinning man, pierced lips stuck in a perpetual smile. He sauntered over towards Ebon, hands loosely hanging by his side, radiating confidence. His arm began to glow pink, shimmering light shaping into a bladed mass that resembled the man’s namesake.

" What are we?" he shouted out.

" A NEW BREED!"

" WHAT ARE WE GONNA BE!?"

" A BETTER BREED!"

All of the crowd was into it now. Ebon dropped the Electrocutioner on the ground and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him through as Bang Babies spat curses and threw empty bottles and trash towards the convict.

" Who are we?"

" THE META BREED!"

He slammed the Electructioner onto the hood of an old forklifter, positioning his neck so it stuck out over the side.

" And our time starts right here! Right now! We’ve all lived in the shadows long enough! It's time this city stands in ours."

“ EBON! EBON! EBON! EBON!”

The chanting loudened and Ebon in that moment felt that the world was his stage. The Electrocutioner began to struggle, tugging on his restraints, and screaming out from behind his rope gag, looking at Ebon with shocked betrayal.

Shiv’s hand swung down at the peak of the crowd’s roar. Flesh boiled and bubbled away in a hissing slash. The Electrocutioner’s head rolled on the ground, blinking, his mouth frozen in a mortified expression of anger and resignation.

Ebon’s boot then slammed down on his head and crushed it into a red puddle. He watched as the crowd cheered for the brutal display, savouring the feeling of Buchinsky's skull snapping like a twig. The Electrocutioner had been more useful to him in death than he'd been alive.

Tonight was going to be a new beginning and Dakota would be his turf one way or another.

When every player on the streets had a shadow, who couldn't he beat?

_{Valentine, Texas - 2 Months After the Crisis}

Issue 2.01.01: Show Me the Way

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: Issue 1.02.04: Sure Shot

The practically one-road town not too far from the border between Texas and Mexico looked like the set of a disaster movie. Cop cars had been knocked aside with large dents in the side, there were a few large bloody dents in the brick wall of the local bar, and the open door of the bar revealed a scene straight from a horror movie. The two suited men were quick to notice these details as they stood in front of their black SUV. Agent Phil Coulson removed his sunglasses as he knelt down next to the corpse of the police captain. His chest appeared to have collapsed in on itself. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, to say the least.

The other agent peered into the bar and took a step inside, making a quick scan of the scene as he walked to the other side of the bar and towards a large corpse that was missing half of one of his legs. Agent Masters examined the plethora of bullet holes lodged within the wooden booth and surrounding walls, before looking back towards the door. Not a single stray bullet had been fired in that direction.

Coulson entered the bar, shaking his head at the sign of the past bloodbath. ”You sure this was him? I’ve worked with him for years, and he doesn’t just go around shooting up bars in the middle of nowhere without a reason.”

Tony didn’t even look in Phil’s direction as he examined the countertop of the corner table. ”The locals in the bar all died from various gunshot wounds. They missed nearly every single shot. The other gunman didn’t miss a single shot.” Tony pulled out a small evidence bag and a small scalpel and carefully began chipping away at part of the table before using his gloved hand to place the sample in the bag. He tossed it across the bar with impeccable aim to Coulson, who only just managed to react in time to catch it. ”That blood sample should confirm it. I’m going to call in a Forensics team to see if we can figure out where he is going. He couldn’t have made it too far.”

_{Valentine, Texas - The Night Before}

Issue 2.01.02: Blue Collar Man

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: Issue 2.01.01:Show me the Way (ABOVE)

A raucous cacophony of cheers erupted in the small bar as a crowd of men in red vests began clapping each other on the back. It was the sort of bar you might expect to find in a backwater town like Valentine: the walls were littered with the paraphernalia and articles about the local high school sports teams, a few animal heads were hung up near the entrances, the single tv mounted in the bar looked like it was from the 80s and was barely holding on to life, and the only choice for alcohol were a plethora of domestic beers. Everyone in the bar had been born in town… with the exception of one person sitting in the corner. He was huddled over a greasy burger and a glass of water, doing his best to ignore the cheers from the other patrons.

Of course, that was never going to last on an occasion like this.

”Oi! Ginger! Why tha fuck aren’t ya celebratin’?”

The leader of this motley crew tilted his head from the midst of the crowd. He was a rather large man, standing at six and a half feet easy. Roy Harper simply kept digging in to his burger, grease dripping from his scruffy chin. He didn’t have to look up to see the boulder of a man lumbering towards the corner: the sound of the creaking floorboards were enough to give it away.

”You fuckin’ deaf? Or are you a tard?”

Roy finished chewing as his eyes turned up towards the man. [color=red]”It’s 2019, are we really still calling the disabled ‘retarded?’”

The man’s face contorted in anger for a moment as he looked down towards Roy, before looking back towards his friends. They looked over quizzically, which was just enough to get the man to flash a smug grin. "Well, ya ain’t deaf. So why aren’t ya raising a glass to celebrate a good hunt?”

Harper looked the man over before turning his gaze back towards the rest of the bar patrons. There were more guns in the bar than people. So Roy picked up his glass of water and lifted it in the air, giving a fake smile towards the instigator. ”Cheers.”

The glass shattered almost instantly as the hunter slapped Roy’s hand downward. Harper’s eyes, pointed downward, flashed with anger as he assessed the damage to his hand. Luckily, it was just a small cut: nothing he couldn’t fix easily. The former archer reached into his pocket to pull out a small red bandana that he quickly wrapped around his hand and tied up with the help of his teeth. ”You don’t cheer with water, you dumb fuck. Somebody get him a pint!”

As the barkeep quickly poured a pint, Roy shook his head and tried to wave his hand in the direction of the barkeep. ”I can’t have beer. I’m an alcoholic, and if I-”

The patrons of the bar began laughing as the barkeep nervously stepped out from behind the bar and walked over towards the table. The instigator snorted before lowering his face down next to Roy’s. ”Listen here… you’re going to lift that glass in a cheers to our successful mutie hunt, drain that stuff down your throat, and get out of our town before the sun rises in the morning. We don’t like you outsiders around these parts… and not accepting our generous gift of a beer might make us think that you’re refusing to cheer cause you’re some sort of mutie lover…”

The barkeep set the glass down on the table and quickly hobbled back behind his bar, pretending to nervously check something under the cabinets. Roy looked the instigator in the eyes before his gaze was drawn towards a tattoo on the neck… a tattoo he hadn’t seen in a few months. Of course they’re watchdogs… Through gritted teeth, Roy practically spit out, ”I didn’t come here looking for trouble… but hunting people like animals just because they are different… that’s where I draw the fucking line.”

The next three seconds were a blur for the instigator. Just as his nostrils flared and he cocked his arm back for a swing towards the ginger fuck, the watchdog heard a loud bang followed by searing pain in his left knee. Pain unlike anything he had felt before, he might add. The “outlaw” had pulled out a sawed-off shotgun from under his duster jacket next to him, and now the outlaw rested it directly against the watchdog’s sternum as he pulled a rather large semi-auto handgun from a holster on his belt and rested it on the watchdog’s shoulder. Roy gave a small smile as the others immediately began drawing for their own weapons, and he looked over the watchdog’s shoulder while nodding towards the man’s now missing left leg. ”Your friend needs medical attention. Might be best you all just walk away before this place becomes a Jackson Pollock knock-off.” The other patrons of the bar seemed to cock their heads to the side in collective confusion, forcing Roy to roll his eyes. ”Damn it, go to a museum sometime… point is, y’all can either walk away now or go back to your families in a casket.”

They chose poorly. Half the other patrons drew their choice of firearm and pointed it in Roy’s direction. Roy sighed and pulled the trigger on his sidearm, firing a single well-aimed shot at one of the hostiles in the center of the crowd. Brain matter flew out the back of the man’s head into the open eyes and mouth of an armed man behind him. As that man began tearing up and gagging, the rest began trying to circle around, shooting wide shots to try and scare Roy. That trick wasn’t going to work. Three more shots from Roy, and three more of the bar’s patrons fell to the ground. There were still about twelve armed patrons left, trying to circle around the outlaw with his back in the corner.

They didn’t realize that this was the chance Roy was waiting for. To his left, there was a normal table and some chairs that one of the hostiles was circling towards to get a shot off with his hunting rifle. With a shove, the watchdog instigator was left flailing backwards and soaking up a few shots from in front of Roy as he flicked the safety on for his handgun. Roy threw the handgun towards the man who was about to get a shot on him before ducking his head and charging left to knock the table over for cover. Some shots impacted against the wall behind Roy as he managed to lift up the table with his right hand just in time to take a few shots. The hostile with the rifle had just about recovered from getting a solid piece of metal thrown into his face when he saw the barrel of a shotgun. Then he saw nothing as his head was blown to hell.

Roy ducked his back behind the table and felt the vibrations in the wood as the rest of the hostiles kept up their barrage of bullets in his direction. Roy didn’t have much time to think. Luckily, he was able to catch a decent reflection in a framed newspaper article. Roy picked up his sidearm once again and fired around the corner of the table. Four shots, four dead. Only 7 were left, but their hail of bullets wouldn’t let up.

So he assessed the scene and tried to think of the best way to distract the others. Roy fumbled with the revolver in the deceased hostile’s belt and set it on his lap before reaching towards his pocket and pulling out a lighter. The outlaw quickly tossed the lighter off to his side. It was just the distraction he needed as the other bar patrons all turned their guns in the direction of the lighter to continue their volley of bullets. Roy used this opportunity to jump to his feet, one sidearm in each hand as he lit up the remaining hostiles. And then there were none.

---

The cops arrived on the scene once the violence had ended, and just as a lone unarmed individual exited the small bar with his hands raised in the air. Three cop cars arrived at the scene, and before the cars even reached a complete stop the officers had their guns pulled and were barking orders to the lone figure. He didn’t resist, and simply knelt down slowly before lowering himself to the ground and placing his palms on the ground. Two officers rushed up and dug their knees into Roy’s back as they continued aiming their guns at the outsider. The Captain of the small police force opened up the door to the bar and nearly threw up at the sight of the carnage inside. He pulled his sidearm and pushed aside his other officers as he placed the barrel of the gun against Roy’s temple, screaming the question, ”What have you done?!”

Roy remained quiet, gritting his teeth at the pain for a moment. Until he heard a rumbling in the distance. He recognized that faint roaring sound. And it wasn’t a good sign… not now. ”We need to get out of here… now.”

”YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO GIVE ORDERS, ASSHAT!”

As the roar began to grow louder, the other officers moved to hide behind their cars and draw their weapons. A lone light appeared and grew louder, but as the cops tried barking out commands, their voices were drowned out by a distant scream.

Explosions of colour and mystical energy erupted around the Sorcerer Supreme as his astral form fought its way through the whiteness of the dreamscape. Before him, waves of creatures rocketed around, flying like smoke on the wind, their monstrous faces gleaming out of the blackness. They outnumbered him a hundred to one, yet Doctor Stephen Strange was not scared. Such festivities was a typical Tuesday for a master of the mystic arts.

Swinging the ghostly visage of the Axe of Angarruumus with his spare hand, Strange kept most of his focus on channelling blasts of magic before him. He moved swiftly. Summoning a shield of deep blue to repel the oncoming wrath of one nightmare before immediately launching the shield towards a pack of shadows. The shield shifted its form as it launched through the air, taking the shape of an orb of electricity, which hurtled forward like a bullet. It thundered loudly, entrapping the creatures it struck in an electrical storm that boomed dramatically over the battle. Their screeches were louder though, threatening to tear Strange’s eardrums asunder. As he winced in pain from the noise, the nightmares made their attack.

Their black energy snaked forward, ensnaring their shadows around him. He reacted with a swing from the axe; the blade cutting swiftly through the mass of darkness, releasing him into the light. He readied himself to take on the two that followed the first attacker. Another swing from the axe dissipated the form of the next shadow that plummeted towards him before the crack of his wrist launched a fireball towards the final of the three. He almost let out a loud taunt towards the group, before realizing that another large number of them were beginning to make their move.

Smugness crossed his face as Doctor Strange crossed his arms flamboyantly before him, issuing an array of inhuman sounding words as he did so. A whispered veil of grey drifted into being between the lone man and the swarm of shadowy rockets that hissed and howled towards him. They moved by the dozen, yet he stood motionless now. He was calm. He was collected. He had them right where he wanted them.

As the creatures hit the veil, their forms scattered, taking on sharp shades of blue and white. The wisps of smoke took form, as their remains fluttered around the Sorcerer, now transformed into a parade of beautiful butterflies.

He smiled triumphantly, before speaking confidently to the hordes that still waited on the periphery of the veil.

“Who’s next?”

A familiar laugh from his left drew his attention. Turning he watched as his apprentice drifted through the emptiness towards him, entering the field of butterflies that surrounded him.

“Showing off again?” Illyana Rasputina asked with a smirk as she made her way to his side.

In one hand she held the blue flamed blade of her soul sword, which flashed with a fury of unparalleled power. Her other hand guided along someone who was just as important; Christina Weir, the young girl whose mind they were currently fighting to protect. The young girl was clutching to Magik’s hand as if her life depended on it, her eyes gawking around them like spotlights. Her breathing heavied as she stared around at the nightmare that encircled them, however, she seemed to grow calmer as she found herself amongst the butterflies.

That was good though because, at the arrival of the two girls, the creatures seemed to grow more rabid. Their growls and snarls grew louder as their spectral bodies swirled just beyond the veil impatiently.

Before Strange could offer a rebuttal to Magik’s mockery, the sorceress continued.

“I found the girl.” She motioned her heard the child. “So vhats one less thing to vorry about.”

“And now we just need to clean up shop.” Strange finished, giving his apprentice a short smile. Things had been tense between the two of them over the past few months ever since Star City. Thankfully it would seem that things were starting to return to normal.

A shriek from behind caught their attention. The young child had finally caught sight of the waves of shadows before them.

“What’s going on?” She cried, tears running down her face. Her hands trembled violently in fear as she gripped tightly onto the metal of Magik’s armoured arm. “You said this was in my head… but I don’t understand. Where’s my mum?”

Illyana moved to turn and comfort her, however, Strange got there first. Getting down on one knee, the Sorcerer Supreme placed a hand on the child’s shoulder calmly, giving her an endearing look. It was a look Illyana recognised well. It was the look he’d given her when they had first met.

“Hi there, you must be Christina.” She nodded meekly at his words. “My name is Doctor Strange.”

“Am… Am I poorly?” She asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“Oh Heaven’s no. You’re perfectly fine.” He smiled reassuringly, prompting Christina to let out a brief look of relief. “But as my friend here said, you’re currently just dreaming. A big bad man named Nightmare is trying to make you have a bad dream. But we’re not going to let him do that, aren’t we?”

Christina shook her head triumphantly.

“Good!” Strange continued, proud that his motivational speech had worked. “Then let's do some magic!”

---

The four Guardians and their new charge tumbled through the darkness towards an unknown fate, before splashing down into a pool of clear, clean, and cold water. Thor came back up, breaking the surface with the small, green girl clinging tightly to his neck. Her grip was strong, but not strong enough to cut of his air. He was a god after all. It would take more than a child to take him down in such a situation. He looked back and met her eyes. She was scared. Of course she would be. But there was a determination to survive in them as well. She had to have that to have survived for this long in such circumstances.

He looked around, seeing that Rocket was now afloat on Groot, who bobbed up and down like driftwood in the calm waters. Quill treaded water next to them.

"Is everyone unharmed?" the God of Thunder asked his comrades.

"My guns better still work," Rocket grumbled. "I hate when they get wet. They're not supposed to get this wet."

"Seriously?" Quill shot back at the little mammal. "That's what you're worried about right now!?"

"They are expensive!" Rocket bared his teeth. "I understand that you don't appreciate the finer things in life, but that doesn't mean we can't."

"I am Groot."

"You're right, buddy, he is a simpleton," Rocket chuckled.

"He didn't say that," Quill rolled his eyes.

"I am Groot."

"Yea, that is rude. I agree," Rocket patted the living tree's head.

"Enough."

Thor's word rung through the cave with force, silencing their bickering. The three Guardians that were with him were strong and capable warriors, but they were still nowhere near what he would consider a team. During the days of Asgard, Thor had the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and Heimdall by his side when he was on the battle field. There were none that could stand up to them when they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Maybe one day Thor and these misfits would turn out to be just as strong of a fighting force, but the others would have to learn to work together before that would be possible. So far that was looking unlikely.

"Rocket," he started calling out orders, "can you find a beach? Or shallows where we can stand? If those creatures are here, and they find us like this, we will certainly end up as their meal."

"Yea, sure," was his response. "Let me just get a flare out. Should give us a clear view of the cave."

Suddenly, a blinding white light exploded before him and flew up, illuminating the domed-cave that surrounded them. Thor could see the hole they had just fallen through, as well as a beach about one hundred meters away, "There. A beach. Once we're there we can find our way out."

"Uh...we should probably get there pretty fast," Quill's voice was filled with fear.

Thor followed his eyes up to the roof of the domed cave. Where once had been what seemed to be black rock was now looked like a night's sky of stars. Hundreds of them gleamed down at the five of them in the cold underground lake. But they were not stars. They were the eyes of the creatures staring back down at them hungrily. There were more here than in the Asgardian cache on the dead planet. That much was for certain.

"Move!" Thor growled and the three swimmers were making haste towards the beach. The cold water slowed the others' movements, but not Thor. The cold was in his blood. He liked it. It fueled him. It gave him something to fight against, and that was always where he was at his strongest.

As they moved through the deep, black waters, he heard things falling around them. Usually one would have to worry about a cave in when hearing that in normal situations. This was no normal situation however. He knew the creatures were now in the water with them. More were joining with every swimming stroke. All it would take was one to get below the Guardians for them to end up a snack. They needed to get to that beach, and fast.

When they were merely yards from the beach, Thor felt a clawed, exoskeletoned hand wrap around his ankle and yank him below the surface of the water. He felt the girl panic on his back. She would not last long under the surface, and it would be easy for another creature to snatch her off his back and she would be gone forever. He would not let that happen. He reared back with his free leg and slammed it hard into the clawed appendage. He felt the insectoid's grip loosen as the arm popped off of its owner. Thor and his charge broke back above the water, where he found vines stretching from Groot's arms towards them. Thor grabbed hold, and the tree pulled them swiftly towards the shore.

Once they were there, he let the girl off his shoulders and he took Jarnbjorn off his back. All around them the creatures stormed their way.

"There's a cave back that way," Quill motioned behind him. "Looks like it leads...somewhere."

"That terrible choice of words is unfortunately the best we got," Rocket admitted. "Should we head that way and die in a small cave, or stay here and die in a big one?"

Thor's mind was racing with possibilities. The tunnel could lead to an ambush of more creatures. It could be a dead end. But it was probably the only chance any of them had to survive.

"Quill, you and Rocket take the girl through the tunnel. Find a way out. I will ensure this filth does not enter the tunnel."

"Thor, no," Quill shook his head. "You can't sacrifice yourself here. Not now. Come on, we'll all go."

"Nay, Peter Quill," Thor shook his head. "This is not where I die. But if it somehow is, I need you to find Niðavellir, the land of the dwarves. Tell them of the symbol we saw here. They will be able to tell you the rest."

"But-" Quill was cut off.

"No time for parting tears, fly boy!" Rocket yelled as he took his guns out of his holsters and began firing at the creatures on the ceiling who were now trying to cut them off from the tunnel. "We gotta go!"

Quill met Thor's eyes. The boy may have been a mere mortal, and not all that special of one. But he had courage, and sometimes that was enough to make one special. He would have died with Thor. The Asgardian could see that now. It was touching, even if he didn't think he deserved that dedication. He broke the gaze as one of the insectoids charged up the beach. Thor decapitated it with his large axe.

He walked backwards towards the mouth of the tunnel, swinging the great blade left and right, slashing through the exoskeleton armor of the approaching horde. None of them seemed to feel pain. There was only one, all-consuming goal, and that was to rip the Guardians limb-from-limb. They were like robots, alive only to finish their goal.

As terrifying as the situation would be for a mere mortal, Thor was not that. The blood that splattered on him after every strike Jarnbjorn was true seemed to empower him even more than usual. It was the berserker blood lust that he knew all too well. Often he would try and hide it, especially when fighting sentient beings. But now this was all he had to keep him alive. He would kill every single one of these abominations if it meant his comrades would escape unharmed.

Thor reached the cave mouth and set up a wide, powerful stance that would allow him to guard the entrance fully. The creatures may be able to get around him some other way, but he would kill all that tried him here. As he prepared for the next wave, a large rock from the cave flew by him and smashed into two of the approaching creatures. He turned to find the tree standing next to him.

"I am Groot."

"Thank you, my friend," he smiled mischievously. "It is an honor to fight by your side."

---

On the other side of the galaxy, sparks crackle around the mighty hammer Mjolnir.

---

_{Location: Metropolis, Centennial Park - Normal? Metropolis Day}

Issue #2.03: Lost

---

Kara and Lucy were having great fun so far, many different styles of bands, people dancing with various degrees of success, and of course refreshments a plenty. Everyone from the rich to the poor were all mingling together through the love of music, this was how people could get along, by finding something they could bond together with. Lucy was acting a little antsy though as the ones she was waiting for had yet to play.

"There have been a few decent bands so far but where are the Lostboys? I was sure they wouldn't miss an event like this considering how new they are." Lucy lane scowled as she scanned the various bands to see if she could find any familiar clothing or instruments.

"Would it be so bad if they weren't here? I know I'm having a great time!" Kara grinned as she popped open a can of Coke and took a delightful chug of the sugary beverage.

"That...would...be...absolutely...terrible!" Lucy responded, then she took snagged a can, a Pepsi, and started to chug it down.

"Really? A pepsi Lucy? I don't know if we can be friends anymore."

"Heh, you're just jealous that your taste isn't as good as mine! The majority agree that Pepsi is king!"

"Well, the majority isn't always right, also maybe you should check your sources! Pretty sure there are other studies proving the opposite!"

"You sure about that Kara? Pretty sure I know more about the subject than you!" Lucy took another swig then grinned. "Say wanna trade?"

"Sure." Kara grinned back and the two tossed their cans at each other and caught the other brands and quickly drank the rest. "You know I do like Pepsi in small amounts but I prefer Coke still."

Lucy rolled her eyes and tossed her empty can away. "Enough with the pop talk, the real pop stars are about to arrive!" Lucy pointed toward one of the makeshift stages as a new band took their positions. Just one look instantly revealed who they were, the Lostboys.

There were two easy ways to recognize the Lostboys, either by their music or by their particular style of clothes. Like their names, the Lostboys were a bunch of guys who dressed like they had been missing from society for quite a long time. Tattered clothes with dirt and grass strains, worn hiking boots, and even instruments conditioned to look like they were old and worn out. The only thing out of place was their rather perfect looking hair and clean-cut faces.

The red-headed lead singer took hold of a mic and started to speak.

"Hello Metropolis! We're the Lostboys and we're here to make you lost in our music! Time to give you a taste of real musical talent!" With a fist bump in the air the band started to play, inviting screams from the fans, including Lucy. The song was quite catchy and Kara found herself moving to the beat along with Lucy.

Around mid-way into the second verse however, Kara realized something wasn't quite right, the music started to sound muffled. Even if there was a sound issue with her excellent hearing it wouldn't be a problem but for some reason she was finding it hard to understand the lyrics. Everything was started to sound jumbled, distorted, as if the band itself didn't know what it was doing.

"W-What is going on here?" Kara turned to Lucy who was still dancing beside her. "Is something wrong with the Lostboys?" Kara was hoping to get a second opinion from her friend but Lucy just looked confused at the question.

"What are you talking about, they sound the same as always, better even!" Looking around it appeared that everyone else hadn't noticed but that should be impossible, especially if they were fans of the band.

"Could something be wrong with me? But certainly that can't be it, right?" Kara looked back at the band and then realized that something had suddenly changed, the lead-singer was suddenly wearing a blue, hooded tunic? When did the costume change happened? Something very strange was going on. At this point there was pretty much only a barely recognizable beat left and there weren't even words being sung anymore. The lead singer's face went completely dark, as if concealed in the shadow of the hood. Suddenly a cold, ghost like voice came from the strange figure.

"Actually there is something wrong, why are you here as Supergirl?" Kara felt a chill up her spine, how did the figure know who she was?

"Huh, so Kara is Supergirl, strange I didn't realize it sooner." Lucy chimed in and suddenly the entire crowd seemed to turn on her.

Kara looked around in a panic, this couldn't be happening. "This has got to be some prank right? No way I could be Supergirl, we've got different hair and everything!"

"What are you talking about Kara, you're obviously Supergirl, just look." Lucy slip up Kara, took out her phone and posed for a selfie with her, on the screen was Kara without her wig and in her Supergirl attire. Kara slipped away from her and tried to find a way out from the prying eyes around her.

"No, no, no, this is impossible! I was just regular old Kara half a minute ago! I'll never be able to live as a normal person ever again!" Kara turned toward the faceless figure with an accusing finger pointed straight at him. "You must be behind this! I don't know how you did it but realizing you couldn't beat me, you decided to ruin my life as much as possible instead!"

The figure laughed as it tossed the mic away, the band members behind him disappeared into a sort of mist. "Oh yes I was just so angry at how powerful you are I tossed away all sense of self-preservation and decided to expose you to the world for all to see! Hardly, though I must say it is fun to see you squirm."

Supergirl was on him in a flash and grabbed the front of his tunic to bring his face up to hers. For some reason, even at point-blank range she still couldn't make out his face, which should be impossible with her vision but he had somehow managed to do it. "I don't know who you are but since I'm already exposed anyway I'll just take you to jail right now before you can cause anymore damage."

"Take me to jail? On what charges? Exposing your identity to the world? How so full of pride and arrogance Kara Danvers, you seem to be under the impression that you can still take control of the situation." Without warning, the hood caved in on empty air and all Supergirl was left holding was an empty blue outfit. She looked around quickly to try and find him but he had just vanished into thin air.

"You see, I'm the one with the power here!" She turned toward the voice and a gloved fist slammed into her face, knocking her to the ground. She scrambled back up, whoever this guy was she had actually 'felt' his blow and it hurt quite a bit. But he was gone again.

"You must think you're so great, flying around in the sky, helping the little guy on the ground like some guardian angel. You probably think you're so much better than anyone else with your fancy powers, probably haven't met anyone who could really stand up to you until today." Kara tried to get a read on his location by the sound of his voice, but it just seemed to be coming from everywhere.

"Look, I'm just a person like everyone else, I just have some powers that I know I can use to help everyone else! If you're so strong how come you're not doing the same?" She was met for silence for a moment, then she realized something strange, even though she had started fighting, all the party goers were still around. "Hey! Everyone should get out of here before you get hurt?"

Audience members looked at each other, and laughed.



A swarm of hurtful accusations were suddenly thrown her way, causing Kara to recoil in horror. Kara looked around at all the accusing faces with dread, then she spotted Lucy Lane.

"Come on Lucy, it's me, Kara! I'm your friend right?" Lucy Lane smiled and stood in front of Kara.

"Oh Kara of course you're my friend." Lucy put a warm hand on Kara's cheek as if to comfort her. Then all the warm evaporated from her face, replace by an accusing stare. "But you've been lying to me this entire time haven't you? I don't want to be friends with a habitual liar and an alien."

Kara took a few steps back in shock, the emotional pain outweighing any physical she had ever endured so far.

A friendly hand supported her from behind so she stopped stumbling back, then whispered into her ear. "Would you look at that, your adoring public has turned on you in an instant. Were you hoping to be a symbol of hope? A defender of mankind? Mankind won't accept you, someone who has the power to squash them like insects. How can you be friends with them when you are so far above their playing field?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Kara screamed and struggled but there was no power in her body. She was forced to turn around and look into the dark void of the blue hood.

"You don't belong here." The figure took out a cruel, black knife from inside his tunic and brought it up to her face. "The world doesn't need a Super-@#*%!)$" Suddenly his speech was a garbled mess and the figure seemed to start to fade away.

"Time's &%, see you !#$#!^*"

The world went dark...

---

"Come on wake up! Wake up!" Kara groggily opened her eyes, fluttering her eye lids a few times as she looked to see someone with a freckled face. She had the feeling she had seen him before somewhere.

"Oh thank goodness, I was afraid when you suddenly fell from the sky like that."

"Where am I?" Kara sat up, forcing the young man to back off too. She tried to get a better look around but then winced when she felt a sudden massive headache. "Ugh," she cradled her head and thankfully the pain passed away almost as soon as it came.

"In front of one of Lex Corps technology firms. I noticed a break-in and went to investigate, you came to stop them as they were leaving the building but when one of them saw you, you just suddenly dropped like a rock! I made sure to hide until they were gone and I've been trying to wake you up for a few minutes. I'm glad you're ok, good thing you're so tough or they might have killed you!"

"Thanks for being worried, it actually means quite a bit...guess that means I let them get away." Kara sulked as she looked at the damage her fall had done to the asphalt, this parking lot was going to need some repair work. "Wish I knew what they did to me. What's your name by the way?"

"Jimmy Olson, a pleasure to finally meet you Supergirl!"

Kara noticed a camera around Jimmy's neck. "Ugh, guess there is gonna be a not so flattering image of me in the papers tomorrow."

"Sorry, but I can't let a story like this go after all."

"Fine, guess I can at least help you with the story a bit so today isn't a total waste."

---

---

Jaime could barely think as he fell towards the ground with alarming speed. There was a little bit of screaming initially, this wasn't assisted by the fact that he quickly realised not only was he falling towards the ground but when the beetle's armour had receded it apparently took his clothes with it. So he was falling towards the ground, naked where he would make a really dignified looking corpse. He extended his arms and legs to make him as big as possible, from what he knew off physics that should at least slow him down a little bit. Then again there wasn't much hope of doing anything but minimising the blood splatter once he hit the ground. He was getting to the point where he was watching people, a couple looked up at him as he neared the pavement.

Then he blacked out.

Wake up Jaime Reyes

Jaime could feel every muscle, every tendon, every inch of his body. He was lying on his back, something soft. He heard a door open as he tried to open his eyes. It was just a bad dream, the beetle, the flying, the falling to his untimely death before he even had a chance to make real friends at his new school. All just a bad dream.

Jaime Reyes there is a threat approaching

If it was all just a dream, why was there still a voice in his head? It sounded angry, to the point and spoke a language he didn't know but could understand.

I am here Jaime Reyes and you must prepare for combat

Jaime forced his eyelids open. To find himself in an unfamiliar room, no wait. He did recognise it. It was different, reorganised somehow. This had been his room back in El Paso!

"Ah, meirda."

He turned to jump out of bed when he was confronted with a stocky man, twice his size with a baseball bat.

"What the hell are you doing naked in my house?!"

Threat level increasing

"What are you talking about?" Really Jaime wasn't sure who he was talking to, the voice in his head or the man in front of him, he rolled out of bed to the side farther away from the threat.

"This is my house kid, and I wake up to find you naked in one of the beds! Why I ought to call the cops!

I recommend disintegration to resolve threat level to an acceptable level

"No!"

"No Cops 'eh? Well maybe then I'll teach you a lesson the old fashioned way."

The man charged, bat raised. Jaime tried to run back but found his back pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. He looked around in panic looking for anything that he could use to possibly defend himself, though came up short. Apparently, this room wasn't being used much these days other than for him to wake up in naked after he fell to his death. The man raised the bat into the air to swing it down, Jaime raised his arms in a cross to cover his head.

Activating defensive countermeasures

Searing pain erupted all over his body as the chitin armour extended all over his body. Locking into place as it tore into his skin to take hold off his body. The bat struck but he barely felt it. "What the..."

The bat snapped, the end that hit Jaime rolling away harmlessly after it clunked to the ground. The man simply stood there with a terrified look on his face. The next thing Jaime knew his arm was being forced in the direction of the man as his it reconfigured into some form of laser gun thing. Preparing to terminate hostile

[b]"No! I'm sorry, I didn't realise... you can stay here as long as you like..."[b] The man fell to his knees sobbing, arms raised as Jaime pushed himself to his feet, he could feel the energy building in his arm.

"No! Scarab!" Energy continued to build in his arm, the room began to glow blue with the hum and crackle of energy in the rifle. He strained himself, using every ounce of willpower he didn't know he had, and just before the weapon discharged Jaime raised his arm to the roof. Blasting it open, it crumpled and buckled and fell back into the house as Jaime stood there, dust and small pieces of debris falling on him and the man. "Dios Mio, what was that all about?"

He presented a threat I was ready to deal with the threat

"Can we fly?"

Affirmative

"Then get me the hell out of here."

Houston, TX

Booster Gold landed softly on the roof of the Roxxon Compound on the outskirts of Houston. The heavily-armed, private security guards that patrolled that rooftop nodded stiffly at the superhuman newcomer. She could feel their animosity towards her. Not that she could necessarily blame them. If they brought someone in that could do her job better than she could, she would probably be just as annoyed. Granted there was no one that could do her job better than her, but she understood the sentiment.

"Nice to meet you too, gentlemen," she saluted and smiled.

"Up yours, meta," one of them called back.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" she asked as she was led into the building. It was located a few miles outside the city, and was located on Roxxon's first ever well. They had turned it into a kind of museum mixed with a design lab for future technology. Agger was sure that this would be a safe place for Irons to hide out and continue his work. It was defendable, separate from the city, and they could see anyone coming from a mile away. Still, there was something giving her bad vibes. Maybe it was just Agger. She didn't know. But there was definitely something wrong.

"Readings indicate that this facility is full of incredible technology, ma'am," Skeets chirped in her ear as he detached from her armor. "Doctor Irons seems to live up to his reputation."

Booster had done as much research on Irons as she could. Former soldier that served in the Middle East, but then came back and managed to get into MIT. There he got degrees in both mechanical and electrical engineering. If Tony Stark, Ray Palmer, and Reed Richards, among others, didn't exist, Irons would probably in the conversation as one of the smartest men in the world. As it stood, however, he was often overlooked. That's how he found himself working for Roxxon. He didn't have the private capital the other geniuses of the world did, so he had to work to prove himself.

"Yea, maybe we can get him to fix you," she looked at the robot slyly, who recoiled in horror.

"I am made from advanced future technology, ma'am," Skeets shook himself. "I do not believe that anyone in this time could fix me."

"Way to be humble, buddy."

"I do not believe you are one to talk on that front, ma'am," he responded matter-of-factly.

"Touche."

They were led by the leader of Roxxon's security detail, a man by the name of Williams. He looked back at her, "Sorry about my men up there. They're not necessarily thrilled about having enhanced back up."

"I get it," she shrugged.

"Nice robot buddy you got there," he added. "I got one at home. Plays my music whenever I ask her too."

"How dare you compare me to those antiquated things," Skeets was horrified.

"Whatever you say, Alexa," Williams chuckled.

He pressed a button on the wall and a gleaming, white panel split in half and opened onto a similarly immaculate lab. All around her as she stepped inside were automated manufacturing robot arms, welders, and workbenches filled with metal legs, arms, and torsos. She would have expected this kind of workspace to be dirty or grimy, but instead it was clean as a whistle.

"Doc's kinda a clean freak, to be honest," Williams whispered as they moved through the lab. That much was obvious, but so was the work of John Henry Irons. The mechanical limbs looked like a prototype of the armor she herself wore. That was impressive considering she had came from the future. Sure, they were bulkier and were several iterations behind, but Irons was on to something. She sure hoped that Agger was telling the truth when he said that they weren't weaponizing these things. They already looked like they could do some damage.

They turned a corner and she had to shield her eye from the sparks coming from a welding station. In front of it, a burly African American man sat controlling the welding arms from behind a protective barrier. Around his head she saw that he was wearing goggles to protect his eyes. As the sparks dissipated, she saw that he was putting the finishing touches on a completed suit. It was a hulking construct of metal, and she could tell that it was for mining.

John Henry Irons laid back and pulled the goggles off his head. She could feel the relief washing over him. He turned, revealing a face that seemed to be chiseled out of the same metal he had just been working with. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that he was a statue himself.

His deep, brown eyes narrowed at her, "Well, looks like my babysitter finally got here. How's it going, showboat?"

"Wow," Booster shook his head, "everyone is just so friendly here. Is it something they put in the food?"

"Sorry," he put his hands up. "Stressed after having to pick up everything I was working on and move it across the country."

"Sure," she nodded and presented her hand. "Booster Gold, pleasure to meet you, Doctor Irons."

He shook her hand with his oven mitt sized grip, "Glad you're here. And I appreciate you making sure one of my inventions didn't hurt anyone. Wouldn't have been able to live with myself otherwise."

"It's the job," she smiled. "What's that one do?"

He smiled with pride, clearly happy she asked, "Gives the wearer quite a bit of super strength, endurance, and durability. The idea is we'll get one guy to do the mining operations of twenty in a much, much safer manner."

"Quite impressive, sir!" Skeets flew over to examine the armor, before he shorted out and buzzed as he often did.

"Can you do anything about that?" she asked the engineer hopefully.

"Probably not," he shook his head. "I'm more of a nuts and bolts kind of guy. Not AI."

"Yea, that's what I thought you'd say," she sighed.

Illyana’s felt a strain on her heart as she watched her teacher comfort the young girl. The way he knelt down onto one knee to get onto her level. The bemusing and whimsical chime of his voice that made any explanation regardless of how far fetched it may seem, immediately believable. The way he smiled and acted as if everything in that instance was ok. It was exactly how Strange had acted when the two of them had just met. When he had found her cold and alone, just after she had escaped from that hellscape.

His interactions with Christina made her think. Was this how he had viewed her. As a helpless child? A child in need of saving?

She stood watching in silence, her eyes glancing precariously towards the impending army every so often. She flashed her teeth angrily if any got too close, twirling the soul sword in her hands with the grace of a majorette. They growled in retaliation, their piercing eyes staring in fear at the unknown blade of blue that she held.

“Then let's do some magic!”

Strange’s words drew her back in. A smile escaped her lips as she watched the look of pure joy that had consumed Christina. She looked so happy at the thought of casting a spell; a childhood daydream come true. Illyana imagined it must just like in some kind of fairytale to her right now. It was sweet. It was all a load of nonsense, of course. Strange couldn’t really imbue this girl with the magic of the cosmos. No, that was too much. This was merely a ruse to lift the girl’s spirits and give her hope. It was a skill that Strange was good at, as Illyana knew well.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad skill though.

Giving her mentor a nod, she got down onto one knee and took the young girl’s hand, smiling gleefully at her. Both she and Strange rose up in unison, with the three now standing hand in hand, the butterflies around them beginning to fade, along with the whispery veil that held the creatures back.

“Keep your head high, Christina.” Doctor Strange instructed, giving the girl’s hand a squeeze. “I want you to think of your happiest memories. Your mum. Your dad.”

“And your friends.” Illyana continued, swinging Christina’s arm slightly, leading to her to giggle cheerfully.

“What if I don’t do good enough?” She asked, peering up at Illyana wantingly.

As she spoke the power of the veil faded further, with the swarms of nightmares beginning to rile themselves up. They flowed towards the gaps like sharks; bloodthirsty and relentless. Illyana could feel Christina begin to tense up slightly at the thought.

“You are the most poverful person vere.” Illyana spoke calmly, speaking words she wished she could believe herself. “Fail or succeed, vou’ll alvays be good enough.”

She avoided the gaze of her mentor as she spoke, focussing on Christina instead. Her ideas had widened, and a confidently childlike smile had spread across her face.

“Ok then. I am ready!” She declared, beaming into the destruction ahead.

“Perfect.” Strange smiled, bringing his spare hand up before him. His fingers skimmed the air, producing sparks of energy and the visage of runes before the three of them.

“Now, Illyana…” He began to speak before Illyana cut him off.

“I know, I know. Pronunciation.” She groaned childishly, rolling her eyes as she raised her sword arm into the air to mirror Strange.

He simply nodded, much like teachers do.

“Remember to roll your tongue on the R sounds.”

As Illyana released one last scoff of annoyance, the magical veil finally broke, and the two began their incantation.

Their voices flowed vibrantly as the hordes soared towards the trio, radiating words incomprehensible to the mortal mind. Their arms moved in unison, each touch against the air sparking a small wave of pure light and spirit. Yet despite the light show, the beasts grew ever closer.

Fifty feet. Then forty. The threat of what was to come lost on them.

As they spoke in tongues, Magik and Strange began to channel the energy before them.

Thirty feet. Twenty.

The energy took form. It was not a shapeless cloud of energy now, but a blinding, dazzling, silver creature.

Ten feet.

The majestic butterfly sprouted into life before them, it’s body radiating in silver light. The creatures reared back on their approach, their nightmarish screeches racketing their eardrums. But it was too late. One second the butterfly was flying before them, the next it had erupted. The whiteness that emerged engulphed everyone, rushing outwards like a tidal wave of energy.

The nightmare’s scattered, their spectral forms rocketing to get away. Yet despite their speed and determination, they were no matter. Much like the previous veil, as soon as the light hit them, they found the smoke of their forms dissipating into nothingness. Screams and shrieks echoed around the dreamscape, fading away with their bodies.

As the light died down, the magicians looked over their handiwork. Seconds ago an army had floated before them. Now there was nothing. Or so they thought.

A shout from Christina broke them from their admiration.

“Oh no…” She cried, visually distressed. Her finger pointed out over to the distance within the dreamscape, where the form of two lone nightmares could be seen slithering away. They looked feeble now. Weak.

Strange simply put his hand on the girl’s shoulder to reassure her.

“It’s fine” He said. “They’re just running scared.”

A scowl spread across Illyana’s face. Those creature’s had terrorised this child’s dreams before they had stopped them. If they escaped, they could regrow their numbers and return. Magik wasn’t going to let that happened.

“No.” She stated angrily, conjuring the glowing yellow light of a stepping disc beneath her feet as she brandished her sword. “Not on my watch.”

“Magik, wait!”

Strange’s pleas for her to stop fell on deaf ears as she vanished from their sight. She emerged in a fury, appearing directly before the smoke of the nightmares, her sword swinging wildly above her head. The beast’s let out a shriek as their bodies moved to avoid their newfound obstacle. But the daughter of Limbo was too quick. With a swing of her sword, the nightmare to her left found itself inflamed as her blade chopped it in two.

She turned on the second as the first dissolved around her, her face filled with anger. Her body had changed slightly now, a thick row of black plated metal armour encasing both her sword arm and legs. What's more, a pair of small hellish horns had sprouted atop her head, emerging violently through the blonde bangs of her hair. Her breathing had heavied, growing brutish and angry. The nightmare seemed to squeal in fear as the demonic woman prowled towards it, her sword fixated on her prey. Her eyes burned like fire as she raised the blade above her head.

Yet before she could cut down her target, she found her arms entrapped. Thick red bands of energy had wrapped themselves around her wrists, stopping her from finishing her swing. Her head snapped to her left in anger to follow the source of the tendrils, until her eyes stopped on the shape of her teacher. Strange’s face was cold and unloving as he drifted towards her, his eyes filled with disapproval.

Illyana anger rescinded into fear, her eyes widening. Her armour faded away as the horns retreated into her hair. As he grew closer, she felt the tendrils loosen on her arms, allowing her to break free from her shackles. Embarrassed she stood still, her eyes glued to her feet. She didn’t want to see the look her mentor was giving her.

“Go.” The Sorceror Supreme commanded. Illyana finally glanced upwards to see him facing the nightmare now. She felt relief wash over her, yet part of her knew this wasn’t over.

“You’re done here.”

The creature whimpered, being turning in haste. Its forms twisted, as it fled from the dreamscape, disappearing back to where it had come from.

Illyana couldn’t help but wonder whether that command was also directed at her.

T H E ‘ E M B A S S Y ‘

---

^{Earlier This Week | Manhattan, New York}

Ted and Janet both stepped out of the Bug carrying boxes, followed by a clanking L-Ron.

“You’ve got a lot of... stuff... here, Ted.”

“I caught the implication there, Jan. You meant ‘shit’.”

“Good. You were meant to.” She said, puffing slightly.

“I’m just moving some day to day stuff, and things that connect my other life to the Blue Beetle. You know, the kind of things that might be hard to explain if I have house guests, when there’s a guy running around in a costume calling himself ‘Blue Beetle’.”

Ted reached inside his box and pulled out the perspex box containing the blue scarab artifact.

“Things like this.” He lobbed Janet the box with a grin. “That could potentially be quite the conversation starter these days, if people see that on my mantle. I can imagine I’ll be dodging quite a few awkward questions by having it here instead.”

Janet, hefted her heavy box onto one shoulder and grabbed at the perspex box which had been tossed to her. She bobbled it a few times from trying to do too much at once before getting a good grip on it.

“Careful. This thing looks expensive.” She said.

“Relax, I’ve had it since I was a boy, Jan. That thing’s been dropped more often than OsCorp release deadlines.”

Jan looked perplexed at Ted.

“...Please don’t tell Norman I said that. The man’s in terminal need of a humour transplant.”

She looked closely at the artifact. “Still, it’s very beautiful. Can’t be too careful.” She put it on the top of her already full box and the pair kept walking to the front door with L-Ron clanking along behind them.

“It’s pretty impressive how fast you were able to put all this together.”

“The land was the main thing. Expensive in the inner city, I’ve had the plans in my mind for a long time. So it was never going to take long for the design to come together.”

The clanking had stopped, the pair turned around to see L-Ron holding the perspex box with the azure artifact.

“Oh. It fell out.” Ted said.

Jan lowered her box to make an easier target for the robot.

“L-Ron, hey, throw it in.” Said Ted.

The robot didn’t respond, seeming confused. Looking from the pair, to the perspex box.

“L-Ron! Throw it! This is heavy.”

The robot considered what was being said, and then suddenly the arm holding the box started to spin 360 degrees at the shoulder socket, growing faster and faster.

“Hey, whoa. Easy now.” Ted said with concern, palms out in a calming gesture.

The arm was a blur. L-Ron released and the scarab soared over the pair, Ted flinched and ducked instinctively even though the box flew more than a few yards over their heads.

He turned and watched it fly past, over the compound’s fence and away, off into the distance.

“L-Ron has thrown it. The box will get no heavier.” The robot explained his action.

“Maybe it’s still ok?” Janet looked off in the direction it had gone.

Ted sighed. “My uncle gave me that…”

“We’ll just put the boxes inside and go look for it.” Jan reassured him.

But this wouldn’t be the day they found it again...

---

T H E A B O D E O F H A N K P Y M & J A N E T V A N D Y N E

---

^{Two Weeks Post-Crisis | Manhattan, New York}

Janet fluttered around Ted, whilst he slowly found his way back to his feet.

“So what do you think?” She landed on a table and showed off a few different angles of her costume.

“I’d say it’s a bit on the small size, but just like everything else you put on you’ve found a way to make it work.” The diminutive designer/model laughed at Ted’s joke.

“So I take it the logic is we have someone small to be able to take it to Scott on his own terms?”

“Something like that.” Hank explained. “But Jan’s suit has a few other features that Scott’s doesn’t. Obviously the wings, which enable controlled flight, but she also has use of some bio-electric ‘stingers’ to go with the motif.”

“The bumblebee?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘wasp’.”

“Well, sure, but I don’t think you need to go waving Jan’s white anglo saxon privil--! Ah!”

Janet let Ted have it with both stingers.

“Stingers work fine, Hank... I knew you’d go making that joke the second you heard the codename, Ted.”

“Sorry. I need to get a writing staff. Until then, we’ll just have to occasionally accept I lean into the obvious gag from time to time, when you do something like call yourself ‘WASP’.”

“Well, I have limited options when I’m looking to not clash with someone who calls themself something like ‘Blue Beetle’.” She replied with no small measure of snark.

Hank opened up his tablet and checked the real time diagnostics on her suit.

“Stingers re-charging, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-six… stingers fully re-charged. Now be mindful of what I said, Jan. If you overuse your stingers you can stall your flight. If you max out your use at 30% remaining power, you should still have standard flight capabilities, any more than that and you’ll have to be mindful of any aerial manouevers you’re attempting.” Hank clarified the suits limitations. “I will be in contact with you over the ear-piece.”

“What bandwidth?” Asked Ted. “I have my own inside the cowl as well.”

“It’s an encrypted line.” Replied Hank. “I could give you the bandwidth, but it would only be garbled. We’ll set everyone up on a single line next time, once I have more time to establish one. For now, just stay in close contact and relay messages through Jan.”

The pair checked their equipment. Ted checked his new fully functional B.B Gun, and his cartridges.

“I mean it Jan, know the limitations of your suit’s design and don’t overtax the stingers. And Ted, make sure she comes back ok.”

“Don’t worry, if she runs out of magic pixie dust I’ll just have her think more happy thoughts. Right, Tink?” He smirked at Janet.

“It’s a Catch-22. My happy thoughts are having fully charged stingers so I can get you back for jokes like that one...” Janet smirked right back.

“See? We’re all on the same page already.” Ted said, turning to Hank. “So where’s Scotty 2 Robbery?”

“Burglary.” Hank corrected. “Robbery is a different crime, he--”

“Hank, please don’t edit my jokes for accuracy. Sometimes you’ve just got to roll with the gist of the message...”

“Crossroads Innovations.” Janet responded. “He hasn’t returned here since the-- burglary.” Hank nodded with a satisfied smile. “But after making a few calls, I’ve been able to glean that he’s still been going in to Crossroads, where he’s also been contracted out to clean. They say he hasn’t missed a day there, even in the past when he’s called in sick at other locations he’s still kept those bookings.”

“Crossroads?” Clarified Ted. “Well, we’ve got an intersection point, if you’ll pardon the pun. We know where he’s going to be then, so we can scoop him up when he’s unaccompanied, question him and make him give back what he stole.” Ted outlined the plan.

“You can leave your car in the garage,” Ted explained, as he took off his outer clothes revealing his Blue Beetle outfit underneath, “I brought mine.”

“You didn’t?!” Jan gasped excited. Then squealed.

Ted’s only response was a wink as he pulled his cowl down over his face.

Hank and Jan rushed out to the front of their house. Ted walked slowly through the house behind them with the clanking cumbersome robot in tow.

“Where?” Jan asked, scanning the skies. “Can you see it, Hank?”

“No. Not yet, Jan.”

Ted walked through the front door fiddling with the remote controls on the back of his glove.

“If you can’t see it now, you’re not gonna.” Ted smiled at the rare occasion he could get one over his brilliant friend.

A line seemed to descend from nowhere, as Ted grabbed the skywire and turned to Jan.

“I want you to follow me up, flying slow. The last thing I want is another flying bug smeared against the paintwork. I just cleaned it up after the whole drone fiasco the other week.” He stuck out his tongue in jest, leaning into his joke.

Jan stuck her tongue out right back at him. “I’ll see you when we get back, Hank! We’re going to get your stuff!”

And the two heroes ascended until they disappeared into the unseen airship, leaving the genius and his robot all alone on the compound’s lawn.

---

Reality 000001
“The Maw”

Philbert J. Parnell squared his glasses and looked over the edge of the mesa once more. The pitch black of the Maw gaped below the rocky surface of the planet Scylla. Down at the bottom of the forty mile deep chasm lay the Madn N. Zondar Memorial Learning & Rehabilitation Center. No learning or actual rehabilitation took place at the bottom of the Maw. In Scylla’s native language, words often have the opposite meaning of their true purpose. It’s why Remul Sewage Water was the name of the best selling soda on the planet, and Healthy Water was the finest toilet declogger this side of the galaxy. It was also why the Zondar was not a place for growth and change, but instead of beatings and confinements.

The worst of the worst were housed in the facility. It wasn’t a planetary or even an intergalactic prison. No, the Zondar was the first and only interdimensional supermax prison in the known multiverse. It was where people like Space Hitler, Time-Traveling Manson, and the woman who invented checked baggage fees for flights were all imprisoned. And Parnell was heading straight into that madhouse.

Parnell felt a rumble beneath his expensive wingtips. He peered over the side of the balcony once more and saw a distant light in the dark below that was rapidly becoming brighter and larger. A shuttle roared out of the Maw and circled the mesa. Parnell had to hold on to his hat to prevent it from blowing away as the shuttle landed in front of him. A large insectoid alien dressed in body armor and wearing a visored riot helmet scuttled out of the shuttle and eyeballed Parnell. He noticed a score of tally marks drawn in whtie paint on the alien’s body armor.

“Assume scanning position,” said the guard.

Parnell held his hands above his head as the guard pulled a metallic ball from his belt. The orb floated away from the guard and rapidly flew around Parnell. He could feel a warm fuzziness in the hollow of his throat. Years later, when he was diagnosed with throat cancer, Parnell would look back at this moment in anger. And then, sadly, he would remember signing an iron-clad waiver that absolved the Madn N. Zondar Memorial Learning & Rehabilitation Center, its parent company Freedom & Happiness LLC, and all of its employees from any and all legal and financial responsibility during Parnell’s visit.

“You’re clean,” the guard said after the orb had finished its scan. “You may enter the shuttle now.”

Parnell rode down into the Maw aboard the shuttle. After ten minutes of darkness the prison complex below came into view. Slabs of windowless concrete buildings, some sixty stories high, stretched across the bottom of the Maw. It was the most depressing sight Parnell had ever seen. Just the sight of it brought tears to his eyes. Parnell had no way of knowing this, but that had been by design. In keeping with the theme of the entire project the facility’s architect had been subjected to his own form of torture during the drafting process. He had been forced to sit in a slightly rickety chair just a bit too small, draw his plans up with a drafting pencil that had poor quality lead, all the while he wore headphones that blasted nothing but S-Pop, high tempo pop music recorded by bellowing slugs, and audiobooks where the narrator had a distinct stutter. This discomfort had put him in such a bad mood that he set out to pass the pain along. Anyone who even glanced at the building would be overcome with a brief but a deep sense of melancholy. It’s why Parnell’s shuttle driver wore the isor. Going into the Zondar without eye protection was first day stuff.

They docked on the top on one of the skyscrapers. Parnell straightened the lapels of his suit as the airlock of the shuttle opened and he was greeted by a small platoon of guards. At the head of the pack was a human guard that wore the white uniform of a commander instead of body armor.

“Mr. Parnell,” the commander said. “Follow me, please. Any sudden movements and we will be forced to terminate you where you stand.”

“Yes,” said Parnell, slowly wiping a tear from his eye. “Of course.”

The squadron flanked Parnell on either side as he followed the commander down the corridors of the facility. Parnell felt an odd sense of deja vu at the sight of the concrete walls painted in a neutral taupe. Hung on the walls at fifty foot intervals were motivational posters. They featured cute pictures of puppies and children playing and said things like VIGILANCE: If you see Sandra near the commissary, please inform a correction’s officer. DISCIPLINE: Any infraction will result in a month of meals made personally by Sandra, and TORTURE: We’re for it! Parnell suddenly realized he felt like he was back in high school once again. This place was truly hell.

“You must have some well-connected friends, pal,” said the commander.

“Not me,” said Parnell. “Just my employers.”

“Well whoever it is running things they’ve done something no one has ever seen before. I was born here, I was raised here, and I will die here… probably in some brutal fashion at the hands of an inmate. Just like my daddy, his daddy before him, and my non-gender assigned ancestor before him. In all that time, no inmate has ever left the Zondar once they go down into the hole.”

“Money talks,” said Parnell. “The one true language that transcends the multiversal membrane.”

“Here we are.”

The commander stopped at a thick metal door. He held his hand palm out to an electronic eye. Parnell heard a low buzz and hum. The door hissed and started to slowly swing open. The guards that surrounded Parnell readied their weapons. On the other side of the door was a 7x7 cell covered with padded walls. A solitary figure stood in the middle of the cell, wrapped in a straitjacket and with a metal facemask covering their mouth. Parnell saw a mess of blonde, greying hair that hung down over the person’s shoulders.

“You’re getting out,” the commander told the prisoner. “But until you leave the Maw, you are still an inmate at this facility. I am removing your restraints. Any attempts to disobey my orders will result in your sudden and painful termination. Do you understand?”

The prisoner nodded. Pernell stood back and watched as two guards walked forward with the commander. They kept their rifles trained on the prisoner’s head as the commander loosened the straitjacket. When it was off, the prisoner removed the facemask. Parnell saw the face smiling back at him and felt a little queasy. Of all the people he had to come in here to collect, why did it have to be her?

“Why, hello,” Meryl Streep, the most dangerous criminal in the multiverse, said in a chipper tone. “And who are you?”

“Philbert J. Parnell,” he squeaked. “And I represent people who have paid a lot of money to see you freed.”

Parnell saw the sparkle in her eye as she waved him off.

“Oh, stop it! Making such a big fuss over me.”

---

Reality #8675309
Peck Property & Casualty Insurance Offices

“Hey. I’m Mr. Dickhead. And I’m a real asshole. I go around dimensions and I do things like key your car, set your house on fire, and tea-bag your mom's vegetable soup. If you want to protect your shit against assholes like me, then get Greco Interdimensional Insurance today.”

“Waugh,” Howard the Duck snarled. He grabbed the remote on his desk and turned off the monitor mounted on the far wall of his office. He shook his head as he laid the remote back down beside a stack of three-ring binders.

Howard rubbed his temples with his feathered hands and sighed. “Greco, Greco, Greco.”

“A new ad?”

Bruce Banner walked through the door holding two cardboard coffee cups. He gave one to Howard while he kept the other. Howard took a deep pull off his coffee before talking.

“Yes. A new ad. I expect nothing less from the company that prioritizes marketing over superior coverage and products.”

Howard’s company did their own share of advertising. For awhile, Howard had been featured in commercials as Peck Property & Casualty Insurance’s Agent of the Year campaign. It was pretty straightforward. Howard gave a speech to the folks watching:

“Hi, folks. My name is Howard the Duck, and I am Peck Property & Casualty’s Agent of the Year for the year 2018 in realities 0003-0054, and 0057-0068, 1969 for all you groovy cats in realities 9813-44401, and the year of 42069 (nice) in the reality where everyone is perpetually sixteen years old. Along with my accolades, those same realities also named Peck Property & Casualty as the #1 insurance company for those years. How was it that over a thousand different dimensions recognized our work? It’s simple. At Peck Property & Casualty, all our agents go above and beyond the expectations of good service. It’s the Peck guarantee. And for an agent to be named agent of the year, it speaks to how far I will go to offer good service to my customers. Don’t take it from me, hear it from some of my insured:”

“As a power hungry dictator, I often have to face many threats from challengers both at home and abroad. When it looked like the cursed Richards would finally win the day, Howard assured that my plot armor insurance was up to date, and he also helped me figure out how to go get a good discount on Life Model Decoys. NO ONE BESTS DOOM! VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE, RICHARDS! Thanks, Howard.”

“*indecipherable howls.* *Yak bleating* *bones crunching* Howard. #1!”

“When some greedy executives tried to use me as a bargaining chip in their corporate negotiations, I was worried I would be kicked out of the cinematic universe I had just recently entered. So I called Howard and it turned out that he had me signed up fr reboot fatigue coverage for up to ten years. Take that, Andrew Garfield! What’s more, he told Kevin Fiege to &$@# off. Thanks, Howard!”

“So you see, I go the extra mile for my customers. It’s what all Peck Property & Casualty agents do. If you want to experience the different first hand, give us a call and get your quote in as little as ten minutes, or go to peckpac.com or .org or .biz or .boobs, depending on your reality. Peck Property & Casualty, no slogans, just good service.”

"Good coffee, Bruce," said Howard. "You always do a great job.

"There's a science to it," said Banner. "And of the few things I know, science is one of them."

Howard watched his trainee sip coffee from across his desk. To Howard, Banner looked like a college professor. Round, rimless glasses with long graying hair pulled back into a ponytail. Hard to believe that the Hulk was inside him, just waiting to come out. But Banner had insisted that those days were behind him. In Bruce's reality, the Avengers had a falling out after Hawkeye spiked the lemonade at the Avengers annual picnic with laxative. They'd called the event Civil War 3, which Howard fully couldn't quite grasp. What had happened in Civil War's 1 and 2? Regardless, the fight had been brutal and Banner gave up both the Hulk and the dimension for a second life here with him. Howard had his doubts on if Bruce really had banished the Hulk. On one hand, having the Hulk as backup would be great. But as an insurance man, a raging monster who destroyed property left and right was a nightmare. Think of how high his premiums must be!

“Enough about advertising, let’s look at the Book.”

Howard placed a small metal cube on the desk and pressed the single button on the cube’s smooth surface. A hologram projection showed a network of dots across a great expanse. There were plenty of green dots, several red dots, and a vast collection of black dots.

“Pop quiz,” announced Howard. “What do the color coding on the dots mean?”

“Green is a dimension where you have at least one insured client,” said Banner. “Red means that you don’t. And black means those are realities where there is no interdimensional traffic, so they are outside of PP&C’s coverage.”

“Correct. And what does…. It mean when a green dot is flashing yellow?”

Banner looked at Howard with a puzzled expression.

“I don’t know, Mr. The Duck.”

“Call me Howard. Mr. The Duck was my father.” Howard pointed towards hologram map of the Book. One of the green dots was in fact pulsing a deep amber color.

“That means that one of our insured is currently in the process of filing a claim.”

Howard pressed the button on the Book again and zoomed in to the dot. Information crawled across the display beside the flashing dot.

REALITY # 3311
LOCATION: EARTH
INSURED: US PRESIDENT MCGILLICUTTY (JOINT GLOBAL POLICY)
CLAIM: ALIEN INVASION
COVERAGE: YES

“Alright,” said Howard. He pushed stood up and rifled through the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a large rifle and tossed Banner a black rectangular device. “That’s an interdimensional beacon. It’s how we move between realities. Keep it clipped to your belt and never have it leave your sight.”

Howard flicked a button on the rifle. It sparked blue energy and began to hum. He looked at Banner and winked.

“Let’s go give some great service.”

---

---

Jaimes entire vision was in some kind of orange tint. Alien text scrolled over his eyes in some form of HUD. He could make out the occasional phrase, more than he could the first time the suit came out. Which made him think that this suit was somehow downloading more information into his brain. This wasn't good, this was some kind of weird Iron Man tech or something. It wasn't meant for him. "Okay. So you're hardwired into me. How do I get you off?"

⟟⋏⎐⏃⌰⟟⎅ ⍾⎍⟒⍀⊬

"What do you mean- Woah!" Jaime twisted as a flock of birds was flying right at him. Using his arms to steady himself out he was on the level again. Okay, he had to admit, this flying thing was pretty cool. ""What do you mean Invalid?"

☍⊑⏃⟊⟟-⎅⏃ ☊⏃⋏⋏⍜⏁ ⏚⟒ ⍀⟒⋔⍜⎐⟒⎅ ⎎⍀⍜⋔ ⏁⊑⟒ ⋔⟒⏃⏁ ⍜⋏☊⟒ ⏚⍜⋏⎅⟒⎅ ⍙⟟⏁⊑⍜⎍⏁ ☍⟟⌰⌰⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟒ ⋔⟒⏃⏁

"Okay so. Assuming I'm the meat and you're Khaji-Da... you can't come off without killing me?"

☊⍜⍀⍀⟒☊⏁

The feeling of elation, the adrenaline high that he had been souring on as he flew through the air came crashing down with the realisation. He wasn't ready to be attached to this for the rest of his life, what about his friends? What about school? He couldn't live a normal life with this thing fused to his spine wanting to kill everyone.

⟟ ⎅⍜ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⟒⟒☍ ⏁⍜ ☍⟟⌰⌰ ⟒⎐⟒⍀⊬⍜⋏⟒ ⟟ ⟊⎍⌇⏁ ⍙⟟⌇⊑ ⏁⍜ ⌿⍀⍜⏁⟒☊⏁ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⋏⎅ [⎎⟟⌰⟒ ⟒⍀⍀⍜⍀]

"Would you stop reading my thoughts! It freaks me out, and what do you mean file error?"

⟟⏁ ⏃⌿⌿⟒⏃⍀⌇ ⋔⊬ ⟟⋏⏁⟒⍀⋏⏃⌰ ⎅⏃⏁⏃⏚⏃⌇⟒ ⟟⌇ ☊⍜⍀⍀⎍⌿⏁⟒⎅

---

DARK SIDE OF EARTHS MOON // SOL SYSTEM

The tall dark figure growled slightly, an animalistic sound reverberating around the control room of the ship. "The Meat continues to exert control over the Scarab." He stepped forward, the black chitin of his armour reflecting the light of the various screens around the control room. The surface of his armour matching most of the interior of the vessel in texture. His feet fell heavy, each step echoing slightly in the empty chamber. Only himself and the ambassador were present, watching as they tracked the Blue Scarab and its host as it travelled through the skies on a course towards this New York that was apparently so important to this insignificant little planet. In their initial reports, he had already marked it for one of the cities he would inevitably deal with. Should the ambassador's plan fail.

It was him that spoke next, in his calm and slow tone. Unintimidating and yet every bit as controlling as his own. "Calm yourself Djo Zha. This is the first scarab within thousands to fail in such a way, we must monitor this young scarab and determine why this human is able to resist its influence. Earth has seen a rise of these Champions called Heroes, perhaps something in their geneology makes them more advanced than they appear to be. This requires study before we begin the implementation of our greater conquest."

"What do you suggest then, Ambassador?" The Ambassador snarled at Djo Zha, who bowed his head once he remembered his place. He may have been one of the greatest warriors to ever exist, but he was but of the Warrior Caste.

"We shall test the meat. It has already expressed distaste at allowing the Scarab to kill, something many of these humans see as a heinous act. We shall put the Scarab into a combat-heavy environment, and see how well the meat controls the scarab."

"And if the Scarab should take over the meat during your test?"

"Then it shall be deemed all the more successful, as we will then have our tool back where it belongs." The Ambassador stepped forward, keying a button on the console as a low thrum was sent throughout the vessel.

---

Quill's heavy, rapid footfalls echoed off the stone walls of the cavern as he and Rocket tried their best to put distance between them and the monsters behind them. Around his neck, the little alien girl held tightly, scared out of her mind, he was sure. Whoever she was, it was a miracle she had survived. She was either the luckiest girl in the galaxy, or had some mad survival skills. Either way, Quill couldn't deny that he was impressed.

"Any idea if all this running is actually gonna end with us getting out of here?" Star-Lord asked his furry compatriot. His lungs were already starting to scream. He wished he could use his rocketboots, but the lake water seemed to have affected them.

"How would I know!?" Rocket barked back.

"I dunno!?" Quill protested. "You have like animal senses! Can't you smell fresh air or something?"

"Oh that is just typical!" Rocket growled. "You've got a good sense of smell, so obviously you can magically tell everything about the planet we're on! Can't you see in the dark well!? How about taste a rock and find water or something! I got no clue what fresh air would smell like down here, numb nuts!"

"Okay! God!"

Suddenly, the two came to a halt as a shear cliff dropped off in front of them. Rocket nearly tumbled over as he pinwheeled his arms around to keep his balance, only for Quill to snatch him back from certain death.

"Well that sucks," Rocket sighed and threw a rock into the blackness laid before them. After an interminably long time, they heard the faint thud of it hitting the ground far below. "We're totally gonna die here, aren't we?"

"Oh, 100%," Quill groaned.

"Well, I guess there are worse people to die with," Rocket smiled weakly. "Assuming the girl isn't like a secret serial killer or something. But I doubt it."

"That's oddly sweet, for you," Quill clasped the raccoon's shoulder. "I'm going to choose to take it as a compliment."

"You probably should," he nodded. "That's about as close as I come to giving one."

That's when the ground shook below their feet.

---

The blood of the insectoid creatures coated Jarnbjorn like a thick, slimy film. Their bodies were piling up in front of Groot and Thor by the dozens, yet still more came, forcing the two comrades in arms back towards the way their escaping friends had went. The creatures were drones, nothing more, and nothing less. And if these were the drones, it meant that there had to be a queen somewhere. Whether on this planet or somewhere else. The latter was the more worrying prospect. If these creatures could be controlled from anywhere, the Guardians' enemy was far more deadly than even Thor had thought. These ravenous beings could be sent to any planet and eradicate any opposition. That was a power that could not be allowed to stand in the universe.

That wasn't even considering what Thor had discovered here, either. If what he suspected their enemy was after was obtained, nothing would be able to stand in their way. They'd be able to cut a swathe of destruction across the galaxy that was hitherto undreampt of. He needed to stop that from happening. Even if it was the last thing he did in the mortal realm, he would not let such a devastating weapon fall into the hands of a butcher.

Groot tossed one of the creatures into an advancing column of its brood mates. The tree was formidable, that much was certain. Thor was glad to have such a being to fight alongside. Thinking that of a mortal was an odd experience. He had never really found much worth from them, save from their praise and maybe their mead. But fighting with Groot, and the other Guardians, for that matter, had sparked something in him. If he hadn't already been ashamed of how much he had shunned his responsibilities as a god, he certainly was now. Their lives were short lived, sure. But there was a grace and a fierce struggle for survival in them. Hell, that's probably the only reason they were fighting with him now. Still, it was nothing short of admirable.

"Groot!" he called out to his partner. "They're going to overrun us if we don't get some breathing room."

"I am Groot!" the tree nodded. He understood exactly what Thor was getting at. The two of them struck simultaneously, Thor with Jarnbjorn and Groot with an extended, treetrunk arm. The wall of the cave around them shook as they took off running. Thor looked behind him, and saw the roof of the cave collapsing on top of the brood. He glanced over to Groot with a smile as they headed to meet up with Rocket and Quill.

---

Shayera Hol paced back and forth in the bowels of the Hasselhoff, wondering how long she had to wait to bail on this planet in order to give the appearance of caring about the people in the caves below. Not that she really needed to keep up appearances, of course. No one knew that she was here with these goons. Unfortunately that was a problem. If she did leave without them, she wouldn't be able to claim their bounties. It might be enough to clear her own.

You don't want to do that.

The voice in her head that she had buried for a long time whispered to her. The last time she had listened to it she had gotten exiled from her home and nearly killed in the process. Listening to it now was bound to get her killed for real this time. Still, it was there, and it was getting louder. Maybe it was a side effect from being around the intolerable Asgardian. She had heard stories about their kind. How they could sway the opinions and emotions of mortal folk. Maybe he was subconsciously making her his slave or something. That's all the powerful were good at. Forcing you into situations that you had no business or desire to be in.

You know that's not the case.

Hol, who told everyone who she knew to call her merely "Hawk", shook the voice out of her head again. No, she wasn't going to get caught up in some crazy crusade. Not again. She had done that once and it cost her everything. Since then it had been her mission to stay to herself. Doing that kept her safe. It kept her from getting hurt. And it kept her getting paid.

Then the ground rumbled below the spacecraft. The voice prodded in protest. She couldn't leave them down there to suffer the fate of whatever happened to those poor colonists that went into the mines foolishly believing they would be safe. No matter how much she tried to silence the voice, it kept calling to her louder and louder until it was deafening in her head.

"FINE!" she called out to herself and took the controls of the ship.

---

Thor came to a sliding stop in front of Quill, Rocket, and the girl, who were all waving their hands in warning as Thor and Groot turned a corner. The Asgardian saw that there was a huge cliff behind them, and that if the two escapees didn't stop the five of them would currently be falling quite a long way down.

"I assume we do not have an escape route this way?" Thor sighed.

"Sure, an escape route from life," Rocket shrugged.

"I am Groot."

"Yea, well, even if you survived a fall those bug things would eat you," Rocket shot back at the tree.

"I am Groot."

"I don't care if they eat meat," Rocket shook his head in amazement. "They clearly want to kill you!"

"Uhhhh..." Quill motioned behind Thor and Groot. "Looks like they're about to kill all of us."

Thor turned to see the brood wave approaching quickly. He snarled and gripped Jarnbjorn tightly. He turned to his new friends and nodded to them, "If this is where the song of Thor Odinson should end, let it end bathed in the blood of his enemies."

"Haha! Badass!" Quill smiled.

"I could live, er, die with that," Rocket nodded.

"I am Groot!"

The four of them stood in front of the girl, ready to make sure that none would get to her as long as they still stood. Thor felt the worst for her. She probably believed she would be saved when they found her in that cave. Yet all they did was get her fed directly to the monsters that had tormented her and took her away from her family. They had hand delivered her to them. He felt a pit form in his stomach over this fact.

The teaming mass of giant insects clambered over one another to get to them. The squeezed through the cave opening like a living avalanche full of snapping jaws and swiping, clawed limbs. As they began to get close, the four Guardians began to let out a war cry, ready for the coming storm.

But before they got there, a rapid fire of blue blasts flew over the Guardians' heads and slammed into the wave of creatures. The four heroes spun to see the Hasselhoff floating over the drop off. Behind its controls was Hawk, firing indiscriminately at the advancing hordes and motioning for them to come on board.

Without wasting a moment, they hopped onto the extended ramp, Thor scooping up the girl as he did. Once on board, he ran to the helm and laugh-yelled at Hawk, "I thought you weren't going to help!?"

"Yea, well, I felt like making a huge mistake," she smirked back at him as she began piloting the ship to the surface. "Do we have any idea where we're going next?"

"Niðavellir," Thor nodded. "I'll show you how to get there once we're as far away as possible from this planet."

Arc 2: + Power Outage +

---

STATIC SHOCK

---

Episode 1.2: - Circuit Failure -

“ Yo, yo, yo, what’s hanging, Dakota CITY?! Welcome back to Dakota Midnight Central live. It’s your boy, DJ Rubberband, keeping you wonderful people company with the freshest tracks and beats. Today, we’ve got a very special guest folks. You may have become acquainted with his magnetic personality over the last few months. He’s the defender of Dakota City, the Kilowatt Kid, Lightning Junior. May I introduce STATIC! What’s up, my man?”

“ Rocking a new costume, I see. What happened to the good old white, black and blue?”

“ Well, yellow’s the new lightning in town, you see. One thing’s for sure. It makes laundry easier.”

“ I bet. Now, we heard about your scuffle on the street with the leader of the Wild Pack yesterday. Down near Washington Avenue? ”

“ Yeah. I've been trying to help Dakota PD stop the feud that's been happening between the Wild Pack and the Blood Syndicate. Let's just say both gangs got really peeved 'bout me intereferin' with their right to kill one another.”

" You didn't get hurt too bad, did you?"

" Hurt? Please, Rubber. Nothing can touch me."

---

Why was it always the windows?

Dark spots danced in Virgil’s eyes, brushing shards of glass off his jacket. Several oranges rolled aimlessly on the ground beside him, some relatively unharmed by his landing whilst others were squashed underneath his weight. Standing up with a grumble, he ignored the faint scent of sweet. Ending up in a greengrocer’s wouldn’t have been his first choice but at least the fruit made the landing softer. The crash had scrambled his mind, jumbled it up until he could no longer tell what day it was anymore. He readjusted his googles and stared through the open broken window.

What was he doing here in the first place anyway? The answer soon came to him in the form of a tip jar jiterring relentlessly before toppling off the side of a counter. Then, the ceiling above him began to shift. He first confused the rumbling for an earthquake and then, corrected himself. Dakota City hadn't seen an earthquake in over fifty years. The entire world was shaking up and down that he couldn't make sense of where was up and where was down.



Oh, right.

BOOM.

Him.



The source of the shaking arrived around the corner, leaving cratered footprints in the concrete with every step they made. It sounded as if a Tyranosaurus Rex with diabetes was taking a tour of the city. He wasn’t sure if there was a word in the dictionary to describe how big the man’s feet were. Huge? Ginormous? Colossal? His knees were slightly bent, as if he was preparing to take flight at any moment. It would have been comical, if it wasn’t for the fact that there were remnants of dried blood stuck on his heels. His corn-rowed hair was hidden underneath a red cloth bandanna. Underneath the man’s shades, a thick cigar was stuck in his mouth as he stared at Virgil as if he was nothing more than a bug to be crushed.

“ Ya must be a crazy interferin’ with ma businezz, Kilowatt boy." Kangor drawled his words lazily in a thick Jamaican accent. “ Washington Avenue is ma territory and everyone knows what happens if you get in an animal’s territory.”

“ Some business you’re running, Tim!” Virgil flicked off several squashed fruit peels off his shoulder and winced at the bruises beginning to form on his backside. He raised his hands in front of him in a placating manner. " Look, we don't have to fight. We can settle this like civilised -"

Kangor leapt towards him mid-speech, one leg raised outwards to kick him. You didn’t expect a man with such abnormally sized feet to be so nimble. Virgil rolled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a human pancake.

" Da name is Kangor." The Bang Baby criminal wrenched his foot free from the ruined shelf. “ Now, step out before you get stepped on.”

“ Step out?” His fists glowed with lightning “ We’ve only just begun this dance, Kangor.”

Kangor skipped out of the way to avoid getting drenched in a gout of electricity. It was almost infuriating how deceptively quick the Jamaican was, dancing around him in a slow yet efficient manner. The din of his stomps filled his ear, not enough to distract him from dodging a elephant-sized foot. The back wall of the small store was pulverized into smithereens, courtesy of Kangor's twenty-inch long boots.

“ Dance? I doubt a little boy like you can handle my style.”

“ Style?” Virgil gave a wild grin as he backed himself against a rack of ripening bananas. “You’ve got as much style as your choice in footwear.” He pointed towards Kangor's steel-tipped loafers that looked like it'd been cobbled together from scrap metal from a junkyard. He was honestly surprised that the guy's toes weren't bursting out of them. Virgil ducked underneath a wide kick, fist loaded with lightning. There! He caught Kangor in the gut, delivering a stinging payload of electricity that seized his muscles up. The Bang Baby’s face contorted in pain for a moment, teeth gritted in annoyance before shoving Virgil back with his left foot. Virgil wheezed, his back slamming into a shelf of homemade jam jars that rattled upon impact. He’d just hit him with enough volts to knock out a man. It looked like the Bang Gas changed him on the inside as well as on the outside. Kangor's confident gait had been broken now, stopping every once in a while to catch his breath as he eyed Virgil with a scowl. He'd made him angry now, instead of irritated. Kangor wouldn't be pulling his kicks anymore. Furthermore, he was awfully tired of playing cockroach. They'd been roughing it with one another for over fifteen minutes and Kangor wasn't showing any sign of slowing down.

He had to finish this quick and fast, before Kangor made the decision to finish it for him.

Think, Virgil, think. He's tougher than you, bigger than you and moves like a rabbit. You'd have to soak up enough energy to power a football stadium to bring him down and even then, you'd most likely fry his heart. What do you know about him, Virgil? He needs solid ground to stand on to kick off, unless he can suddenly break the laws of physics."

Kangor continued to sail forth in the air, swearing as he landed inside a crate of peaches.

That's it. He can't control his momentum. All of his mass is centered on the bottom of his feet. All you have to do is find the perfect target for him to stomp on....

Where to lure him to? The harbor? Too far away, and he didn't want to be in charge of making sure Kangor didn't drown from asphyxiation. He needed Kangor to land in something that could trap him; like taffy or bubblegum or -

A small brush was all that was needed to slam Virgil into the concrete floor. Concrete. There was a block of new construction projects along Washington Avenue, gentrification project if the papers had it correct. Kangor would have nearly crushed his head like a grape if he hadn't aim a bolt directly into his eyes. As Kangor reared back in pain, Virgil struck back with a kick that made Kangor stumble backwards. He leaned his back against the shelf, steadying himself as Kangor charged towards him. At the last minute, his right arm snapped out, radiating electrical energy, and a volley of jam jars flung itself into the Bang Baby's face. Kangor yelled out in surprise and spat jam out of his mouth, Virgil taking advantage of the situation to summon a nearby man-hole towards him. Virgil grabbed onto both sides of the manhole, legs squirming in the air as he pulled himself up onto the levitating cast-iron disc.

“ That all you got, Kangor?" He taunted from on top his surfboard. " You know, if you aren't interested in the supervillain gangster career, I heard they're looking for a Bigfoot impersonator on National Geographic!"

Kangor jam-smeared glare looked upwards towards Virgil without saying anything. One thing he hadn't considered was how exactly he was going to make Kangor keep up with him. Besides, how fast he could run with those overgrown feet? Kangor remained silent, taking off his charred shades and dropping them to the ground. Then, he jumped.

" HOLY - " Virgil didn't have to time to finish his words as a man-sized blur sent him spinning uncontrollably in the air. Did Kangor just fly towards him? He regained control of his board, breathing in shock, as Kangor fell back down, landing on top of a semi track and compacting the front of the hood. No, he friggin jumped. Virgil sucked in a breath as Kangor bent his knees, coiling up like a spring. He wisely took it as his call to book it, burning ozone towards the construction site faster than he ever surfed in his entire career.

By the time they'd made it to the construction area, Virgil's heart was still pumping. Every leap that Kangor made was punctuated by the rushing of wind behind him followed by a brief graze of his hair, his pants, his jacket. Hell, he nearly got close to Kangor touching his hand if he wasn't making a left turn. The workers wisely began to flee the scene, dropping whatever they had on hand, and ran away from the ongoing brawl between the two super-powered youngsters. Virgil halted the motion of his surfboard and looked around for a nearby concrete mixer. A scream alerted him to the sight of a worker jumping out of a concrete mixer and tossing his hard hat away. The rotating drum poured down a river of wet concrete down into a hollow shaft.

" I've a had it with your games, KILOWATT KID!" A kick to the back knocked him off his surfboard, sending him rolling near the edge of the rapidly filling shaft. He reached out his hands to pull the manhole back to him, only for Kangor to stomp it dead in its tracks with his foot. " Nice place. Ya saved me da convenience of finding a grave for you."

" Look, forget Bigfoot. Maybe, you should try out for my high school's athletics team?"

Kangor growled and then, leaped in the air in a flying kick towards him.“ You ain’t gonna be saying no more words when I squash you into da ground -”

Virgil then side-stepped at the last moment, Kangor's attack only hitting empty space where we once stood. Unable to change his trajectory mid-fall, Kangor fell with a splat into the pool of wet cement. Virgil crouched down, resting his elbows onto his knees. The cool and confident gangster was wading about in the muck like a toddler learning for the first time how to swim, screaming for him to help.

“ I've got this sinking feeling that you'll be more willing to cooperate now..."

---

So, how’s the life of being a teenage superhero?”

“ Well, it’s probably one of the worst jobs ever. No pay, you can’t use it for your CV and no insurance either. ”

“ There’s gotta be ups as well as downs, man. Something tells me you ain’t no Mother Teresa.”

“ Well, some of the shops down in Upper Hemingway do give personal discounts to me while I’m on the scene.”

“ I’d bet. You got any special person in your life yet, Static? With a magnetic personality like yours and all the fame you’ve been cumulating.…..”

“ I know what you’re trying to do, Rubber. Stop teasin’ me like that. It ain’t gonna work.”

“ “ Chillax, bro. I was just playing with ya. So, one of our listeners asked this question that I think has been on everyone mind for quite a while.”

“ Shoot.”

“ Is Black Lightning your Dad?”

"...."

" Yo, Stat-man. I'm kinda getting mixed signals here, judging by the lack of words. You gonna answer it or -"

" No."

" Right. Now, was that so hard - "

" Speaking of which, I've got a event to attend at Freeman's right now. Sorry, Rubber. Can't keep me away from playing basketball with the folks."

" Come on, man. You don't have to - Mike, turn off the goddamn mic. Wait! Come back here, man! I was just - "