"Cowabunga!" Michelangelo's voice bounced off the sewer pipes as he sped though the sewers of New York City. The teenage turtle couldn't help but smile as he sped through the concrete tubs and soared over chasms where they dove down towards the deeper bowls of the city. Every so often he would pass a moving train car or get a glimpse of the city above him, which would light up his imagination with a thousand possibilities.

Mikey loved humans. Well, he technically didn't know any humans, but he loved the idea of them. He watched them on TV. He watched them from sewer grates. He marveled at how many of them there were, and how different they all were. He wanted to meet them. He wanted to be friends with them. He wanted a real life.

Of course, he also knew they could be dangerous.

He still had nightmares about the night his sister was taken. The night the van sped up next to his family as the scrounged for food and scraps in the city. The men inside tried to take all of them, but Father had managed to fight them off. But he wasn't fast enough to save Artie. The scene plays out in his head nearly every night. He missed his twin more than anything in the world. The two of them were the youngest of the family, and were the only two that were related by blood.

Of course, the departure of their adopted sister had hit him hard as well. Leo and Raph had been butting heads more and more lately. Donnie seemed more closed off than ever.

Mikey just wanted his family back.

He sighed as he reached their lair, pulled the false pipe by the otherwise unseen door, which then swung open, revealing the cavernous chamber on the other side. Old, dark, wooden walls lined the main room of their home. Donnie theorized it had once been the hideout of bootleggers during the age of prohibition, and that hypothesis definitely fit. The main room was like an ornate meeting room, full of old books and furniture. Above them, a system of mirrors reflected light all the way from the river down into their home. The turtles had made it their own, of course. Donnie updated the electronics, and TVs and video game consoles were now interspersed with the turn of the century woodwork.

The lair had been boxed in by construction, and it was more than likely no one knew it was there. The walls around it were thick. There was always a chance that humans would find them, but Donnie was doing his best to make sure that wouldn't happen.

Branching rooms came off the main chamber, featuring bathrooms, the boys' bedrooms, a full kitchen, a dojo, and their father's room. There was even a big space that was blocked off by a cave in, which Donnie and Raph used as a workshop.

"Anyone home?" Mike called out, receiving no response.

He shrugged and plopped down on the old, Victorian couch before turning on the old Super Nintendo they had managed to salvage. If no one wanted to hang out, he was at the very least going to beat Link to the Past.



The sound of fists hitting a heavy bag echoed dully through the dojo, as the lone figure struck the training tool over and over again.

His hands were taped up from above the wrist all the way down to his knuckles, but the repeated punches still bruised and broke the green skin underneath the protection. He was in the training room too much. He knew it, Leo knew it, and Master Splinter definitely knew it. He wasn't even training. Not really, anyway. He was just in here taking out his frustrations.

He had too many frustrations.

He was mad that they barely ever left their home. He was angry that Master Splinter, after all these years, still would not tell them why they were training in the ninja arts. He was pissed off because Leo never asked the questions he needed to. He was frustrated that he wasn't allowed to do more to help the humans above.

But most of all his was furious that his father ignored the fact that their sister had been missing for the better part of a decade.

It was all getting to be too much.

His brothers shared some of his concerns. They were all better at hiding it, in different ways. Mikey pretended to be dumb, aloof, and a clown to mask the fact that he's torn up about Artie to this day. Don threw himself into his tinkering and reading to mask the fact that he's uncomfortable with all the combat Splinter seemed to be preparing them for. Leo focused on a mission he doesn't know the goal of in order to pretend that he had a purpose. They were all broken in some way.

How could they not be. They were mutant turtles gifted human intelligence and amazing abilities by a random accident. They were bound to be fucked up in the head.

"You are troubled, Raphael."

The soft, almost melodic, tone of Splinter's voice carried over the relative silence of the dojo. It was a sound none of the turtles had heard in days. Ever since the terrorist attack above, Splinter had been alone in his room meditating. Over what, they didn't know, but here he was.

Raphael turned to see the tall, slender, human-like rat standing in the door, leaning on the cane he always had with him. These days, his dark, chestnut-brown fur was tinged with more and more grey. He may not have been as fast as he once was, but he was still wise beyond his station.

He made his way to the center of the room, and sat cross-legged before motioning for Raphael to join him.

As the young turtle did so, he asked, "Master, it's been a while."

The rat sighed, and the fur around his mouth ruffled, "There was much to think on, my son. Too much. For too long I have kept our family here. For too long I have believed we were safe. That we could be happy cut off from the outside world whenever possible. I believed I was training you, but for what I was never sure. Until I remembered."

Splinter trailed off, staring into the dark corner of the dojo. Raphael, on the other hand, had a chill run through him. He had never heard Splinter talk as he was. It was almost as if he was scared. Even when they lost Artemisia, he kept his calm about him.

"Master?" Raph asked with a quiver in his voice.

His father looked down, his warm, brown eyes meeting his adopted son's. He smiled, "I'm sorry, my son. It is time for us to have an increased presence on the surface. We have hid for too long, and I fear it may have allowed our enemies a foothold we could have prevented. Now we must ensure they do not get more."

"Enemies, father?" Raphael asked, almost with an intense hunger. He had been training for so long. It was time to show what he could do.

"I will explain later when Leonardo returns," his father smiled calmly. "He is visiting your sister in her new home."

"Alopex," Raphael said, his eyes narrowing.



The clicking of keys going up and down echoed through Donatello's room as he idly surfed the internet. Everything that came across his screen sent him slumping deeper and deeper into his chair. The humans were fighting. The humans were killing each other. The humans were polluting. The humans were persecuting some of their own kind.

The world they had been born into was dangerous and deadly, and all Donnie wanted to do was help them. Yet he was stuck below the surface, unable to really use his scientific knowledge in any meaningful way. The internet helped. He could reach out, but he was only so believable over the internet and not in person.

His father believed they would help protect the world from some unknown threat. They were training in combat by the time they were able to walk. He drilled them nearly every day. They were masters of hand-to-hand combat, or very nearly at that level.

Don hated it with all his heart.

He didn't want to fight. There was enough violence in the world. He had better ways of helping, yet all Splinter wanted to do was hone his fighting ability. He was tired of it.

"Donatello," the voice of his father came from behind him. "When Leonardo returns, we will meet in the dojo. There is much to discuss."

"Understood, father," he responded, more coldly than he intended. But his father knew of his frustrations.



He watched from the shadows of an alley as the cars stream down the street like an endless stream. At least, what he saw from streams on TV. He had never seen one in real life. If he spent the rest of his life in the city, he probably never would see one. That was an odd thought. Spending his entire life in this humongous, sprawling organism of concrete and steel. It didn't feel right, deep down. He was an animal, after all. Or at least he was. He still wasn't sure what he was.

Still, staying here forever, never getting out, seemed weird.

New York was his home, and up until that part of his life, it was his entire world. He rarely saw the surface, as Master Splinter decreed it off limits outside of the times they needed to scavenge.

As the torrent of traffic continued to flow, he looked to the sky. There the moon shone big, bright, and red above the city like a spotlight. The blood-red color made the face in the moon turn from a benign old man to a wicked, sneering demon ready to devour the world it watched over.

Some said the red moon was an omen, a sign of the ends times. He wasn't sure about that, but he had felt that . So maybe people weren't all that far off the mark.

The cars stopped, and he peaked his head out of the alley to make sure no more were on their way, and that the street was clear of pedestrians. When he was sure he was alone, he dashed across the street with surprising speed. On the other side, he kicked off the sidewalk and sailed over a fence, landing on the other side in a junkyard.

He had been here many times before to visit his sister. She had been living here for the better part of a year under the watch and care of her new family. Thinking about it still brought a bitter taste to his mouth, but if she was happy and safe, he couldn't be too mad. She'd come back to them when she was ready. He was sure of that.

What he wasn't sure of, totally, was her new protector. Hob was a mean son of a bitch, and his motives had never really been clear. But he kept Al safe, so he was tolerated.

He weaved his way through the rows of garbage, following the path he knew by heart at this point. The mountains of junk were something to awe at. Him and his brothers often sifted through it, looking for anything they could use in their home. It was a treasure trove, and they were thankful for it.

It was an odd space in modern New York. Something left of a bygone era, somehow untouched by the city's changing face.

Before long, he came across his destination. Rising up in the middle of the junkyard, hidden from everything around it, was a sprawling shack. Built out of pallets, plywood, and corrugated steel, it stood like something out of the Mad Max movies he watched with his brothers. While they lived underground, this is where his sister now resided.

He approached, and before he reached the front door, a squawk rang out in the night above him. He looked up to find Pete, a large, anthropomorphic pigeon perched on the roof, "Hi! I'm Pete!"

"Holy shit you can talk now?!" the interloper asked with surprise.

"Hi! I'm Pete!" the pigeon replied.

"Okay...," the other one look at him sideways. "I'm gonna go inside."

"Hi! I'm Pete!"

"Okay, pal," he chuckled. "You stay Pete."

The door to the shack, an old door to a shipping container, creaked loudly as it swung open. The warm, orange light poured out into the rubbish. As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he heard Pigeon Pete call out that he was, indeed, still Pete.

The door slammed shut, and an old, upside down dumpster popped off the ground. From the opening came a tangle of red, armored limbs, before a face with stalk eyes and crustacean features.

"Ah! Private Leonardo!" the huge hermit crab Herman snapped a quick salute. "Good to see you, soldier."

Soldier. That's what Hob saw his family as. Soldiers in the inevitable war between mutants and humans. None of the mutants knew where they came from, really. Hob thought their "births" were providence. He thought they were destined to come about. That they were part of a new, natural order of things. He also assumed that meant a clash between their kind and the humans. Leonardo was young, but he was a solid strategist. He knew of about ten mutants in New York. Even if there were five times as many, there were millions of humans to every mutant. That wasn't going to end in a victory for Hob.

Plus, Leo had no desire to fight the humans. They were flawed, sure. Many lacked the honor he valued so much. But they were good, deep down. That much he was certain of. Even if they didn't always show it, there was good in them.

"I'm not a soldier, Herm," He rolled his eyes at the crustacean. "Just Leonardo."

"Whatever you say, Private," Herman responded. "The time will come when you see your mistake!"

Moving further into the hovel, Leonardo came across the kitchen, where he found Old Hob, the leader of this band of mutants, as well as Alopex, his estranged sister, sitting at the table. When he entered, Hob turned to face him with his good eye, the other hidden behind a patch. The old alley cat had lost the eye before his mutation. He snarled at the turtle, bearing his sharp teeth, and ruffling his greying orange fur, "Turtle."

"Hob," Leo nodded. The turtle never understood why Hob hated the humans so much. Maybe it was from his time before the mutation, when he was living on the street. But whatever the reason, it was intense. "My sister said she wanted to talk to me. Mind if we do that alone?"

"She ain't your sister no more," he growled and stood. He stood a head taller than Leonardo, but while the turtle and his brothers were built short and powerful, Hob was tall and lithe. His muscles constantly tensed, as if he would strike at any moment. Leonardo always felt uncomfortable around the cat. "She's a member of the Mutanimal Liberation Army. She has a purpose now. A real purpose."

"Whatever, Hob," Leo grunted. "Just let me talk to her."

"Or what?" he smiled meanly.

"Back off, Hob," Alopex finally spoke up. "I told you he was coming. You said it was fine."

The arctic fox's white fur waved as she moved between the two mutants. She was as tall as Hob, but looked bigger, mostly because of the puffed out fur. She was the quickest fighter Leo had ever encountered. She may not have been as strong as him and his brothers, but she could hold her own with her speed.

Hob mumbled something before leaving.

Once he was gone from the room, the two mutants took a seat at the table. Alopex looked down before meeting Leo's eyes, "He's right, you know. I'm not your sister."

"Oh come on, Al," Leo rolled his eyes. "Not this nonsense again. Of course you are."

Her face turned angry, her sharp teeth showing, "No, I was just a fill in for your real one. A replacement for Splinter to try and make amends for his failings. Nothing more."

Leo's eyes narrowed, "You can tell yourself that all you want. But deep down you know it's not true. We miss you. We want you to come home. You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth."

She shook her head before changing the subject, "Whatever. That's not why I told you to come."

Alopex shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she continued, "I was scouting the city the other night for Hob. We're trying to track gangs, the mob, and other criminal organizations. With the Kingpin dead, the city is like a tinderbox about to blow. Well, last night I came across a group of ninja wiping out a street gang in the Bronx."

That got Leonardo's attention, "Ninja? Your sure?"

"Yea," she nodded. "A large group of them. Garbed in red. Lets of red, not even counting the blood."

Leo took the information in. A group of ninjas in New York City was about the last thing he ever expected to see. Could this be why Master Splinter was hold up alone? Had he figured this out already?

"I also ended up fighting one of them," Al admitted next, reaching into a band on the floor and tossing Leo a mask. "I took that off of him. I wasn't paying attention and he got the jump on me. Probably a lookout. Didn't stick around to see if there were any more. Whoever these guys are, Leo, they're smart. They're talented, and they're recruiting for something big."

"Yea...we'll look into it," Leo nodded and looked down at the mask, running his finger over the emblem on the forehead.

It was nothing more than a black hand.

It didn't take long for Skeets to track down the metahuman terrorist. The future AI was indespensible when it came to stuff like this, and Booster couldn't have been happier to have the little guy by her side, even if he was a bit of a spaz now and again. Without him she'd be lost. Well, even more lost than she already was in a completely different time with no memories, which, to be honest, was incredibly hard to comprehend.

"Closing in, ma'am," Skeets added into the comms. "The bike trails lead to this warehouse."

Booster soared over the building, one of many in this old industrial area of Houston. Didn't look like anything out of the ordinary, but she couldn't take any chances. This person had already leveled a quarter of the city. Going in blind could lead to her being buried under a pile or rubble.

"Got any weird readings?" she asked the AI.

"Weird...readings?" the artificial voice was obviously confused.

"You know! Energy signatures! Radiation levels! I dunno! Weird readings!" she responded with frustration.

"No weird readings, ma'am," the robot answered promptly.

That's all she needed. Booster looped around over the warehouse, skimming over the roof of the building by a few inches. When she reached the other side, she dove down and smashed through the second floor windows. Old, weakened glass rained down on the concrete floor below. Booster landed with a soft, metallic thud and powered up her weapons, "I know you're here. Come out before I really have to hurt you."

Digital warning signs went off in her visor, and she just managed to get out of the way of the explosion that followed. A small one, almost like a grenade blast. She had managed to throw up a shield to deflect most of the concussive force, but it still rattled her. So did the ones that followed. Blast after blast reverberated off her shields, and a fourth one broke it completely, sending er flying backwards. Booster slammed through one of the large crates. When she came through the other side and hit the ground, she saw the contents of the box spill out like a white, spherical waterfall. One of them rolled and bounced lightly off her foot.

Baseballs.

"You know, you really are as dumb as the rumors say," a seductive, confident voice came from deeper in the warehouse. From the darkness stepped a blond, shapely woman with striking blue eyes dressed in a white and pink catsuit. She could have been Booster's sister if you looked closely enough, the hero thought. As she approached, she tossed one of the baseballs up and down. One second it was an ordinary, everyday ball. But after one toss up it began to glow with energy. She tossed it by Booster, who reflexively recoiled. It exploded behind her, sending her sprawling forward onto the concrete. "Don't you know a diversion when you see one?"

Groggily, Booster retorted, "Don't you know a bad outfit when you see one? You sponsored by a bubblegum company or something?"

"No, hero," the woman tittered with delight. "Some of us do what we do in service of ideals greater than ourselves."

"Yea?" Booster was amused. "And what's that?"

"To bring it all crashing down," she smiled broadly and shrugged as she rolled another ball towards another one of the boxes and ran. As the ball flew through the air, Booster saw that the box it was headed towards was glowing as well. All she could do before the explosion was throw up a shield around her and Skeets as the massive ball of energy erupted around them and brought the warehouse down in an avalanche of steel and debris.

Darkness engulfed her.

---

The concussive blast blew away the last of the debris away and Booster stepped out into the sun yet again. Dust from the collapsed building filled the air, but it was still the sun none the less. She dropped down and took a seat on the pile of concrete and steel.

Skeets detached from the back of her armor and flew around to look at her, "Ma'am! You heard her! It was a distraction! Doctor Irons is in danger."

"No, Skeets," she shook her head and kicked a bunch of rocks down the pile. She watched as they hopped and clanged against the rest of the debris. "Irons has already been taken. There's no way she was in this alone. I am in a world of shit."

"Damn straight you are," a confident, authoritarian voice said from behind her.

Turning, she found the dust starting to clear. From inside it came armored trucks, armed soldiers, and hovering aircraft she had never seen before in this time. But at the head of them all was the owner of the voice. His skin reflected the now strong sunlight like a human lighthouse. The metallic epidermis was red, white, and blue like some sick ripoff of Captain America. She felt one of her visions coming on, but fought against the feeling. Passing out in front of who she assumed was ARGUS's main man wouldn't be the best look, and after today she figured she'd already be down enough sponsors.

Citizen Steel offered her his hand, "You're going to have to come with us. ARGUS wants to have a little chat."

---

_{Location: Metropolis, Met-U - Lunch Time}

Issue #2.04: Embarassment

---

"It won't be as bad as it could be." Kara told herself as she glanced around the University Cafeteria as students and staff looked at their phones for the latest news. She had been dreading the day that article would go online but she had been mentally preparing herself for it, heck she had even tried to do preemptive damage control by sticking around but there was only so much she could do. A reporter had to eat and make a name for himself after all.

Distracted by everyone talking around her she did not notice her new bestie taking the seat across from her and slamming down what appeared to be a newspaper in front of her. "Ha ha ha, oh Kara you have got to look at this! I just had to get myself a physical copy for myself as a collectible."

"Umm, what?" Kara asked, confused by Lucy's attitude. She looked down at the paper and noticed it was a Daily Planet Newspaper, they mostly did everything through their apps these days but they still printed a few physical copies for their older subscribers plus a few extra. With dread she looked at the upside-down cover, and nearly breathed a sigh of relief when the front page was not what she was dreading.

"Oh you'll find it on page 3!" Lucy excitedly opened up the newspaper, turned it over for Kara to see and pointed straight to the article she had been dreading. The article title read

Also on the page was a prominent photo of Supergirl taking an asphalt nap in front of the LexCorp building. She was sprawled out in a very undignified manner, a nice little impression on the parking lot could be seen where she had taken her fall from on high.

Kara internally cringed, oh why oh why did Jimmy have to pick such an unflattering photo to use in his article! Kara wanted to rip her hair out in shame while Lucy just laughed and made sure to point out every embarrassing bit about the photo. Lucy especially pointed out particular details, like where Supergirl's skirt had been hiked up a bit and how there seemed to be some cold sweat on her face while Kara felt like she was being stabbed multiple times over.

"That's not nice making fun of someone who was trying so hard to help." Kara couldn't help but pout, trying to save her good name if only a little.

"Ha ha ha, I know its a bit mean but just look at her. Oh how shameful she looks, bwhahah!" Lucy laughed and took back the newspaper before Kara could trash it. "I feel bad for all the stuff that was taken but there's just something about see the 'perfect' Supergirl taking a fall for once that kind of puts a smile on my face."

"You have more of a mean streak than I ever knew! I thought you really liked Supergirl!"

"Don't get me wrong Kara, I absolutely adore her, but you know, sometimes it's just comforting to see someone so perfect fall for once. Makes her feel more relatable to us poor mortals you know?" Lucy's laughter started to subside as she carefully folded up the newspaper. "I know it's kind of petty but somehow, just knowing that Supergirl can have a bad day just like the rest of us is kinda cool ya know? She may have super powers and can save the day in a Flash, pun intended, but seeing this, reminds me that she is just a girl like you and me, not a regular girl mind you but still, a girl I can relate to."

Kara listened in silence, it was strange hearing such things from Lucy Lane, did a lot of people feel the same way that she did? Despite how embarrassing her failure was, was there actually a positive to the whole mess where people would see her a bit more as a girl before just being Super? Frankly Lucy sounded a little jealous of Supergirl, but then again, if she was the human and Lucy was the alien, wouldn't she feel the same way.

"Well all that hogwash aside, her pose is just hilarious!" Lucy grinned as she finished putting the Newspaper away in her purse for safe keeping. "People are gonna have fun with this for days!"

"Yes I'm sure they will..." Kara grumbled under her breath but then changed the subject. "Well amusing as that is, I've heard that LexCorp is finally going to put in that affordable housing in Suicide Slums, I really hope it can start to make a difference there."

Lucy's smile turned upside-down at the mention of LexCorp. "Ya, I guess...it will certainly change things that's for sure." Of course Kara could easily sense the disdain in Lucy's voice as she thought about the newest LexCorp project.

"You really don't like Lex Luthor do you? But you have to admit LexCorp has really changed things around for the better in Metropolis!" It was true, crime was overall down as LexCorp jobs popped up all over the city, the economy was doing better than ever and in general people's lives just seemed to be better overall.

"I'll admit LexCorp has quite a lot of good, statistics, going for it, but it's not like its been good for everyone. A lot of smaller businesses have been assimilated into that Borg collective of a company. Less and less people can get away without bowing down to LexCorp these days. Kinda of makes me glad Supergirl wasn't able to stop those robbers."

"Oh boy, I really had no idea about this side of you." Supergirl rolled her eyes and thought about how she had been stopped.

After her failure she had went straight to Kelex to figure out just what had happened to her. The robot had explained that Supergirl had been the victim of a psychic attack that had forced her body into REM sleep, which explained why she had fallen out of the sky and not noticed until she had awakened. Unfortunately there was no easy countermeasure that the robot could give her for such a situation. The only advice Kelex could give her was to try and train her mind to recognize when she entered a dream, once she could do that she should be able to find a way to escape, or at least fight back.

If she ever met that strange guy again, she would be forced into a mental battle rather than a physical one and Kara had to admit, she was not sure she could win.

' T H E E M B A S S Y ‘

---

^{Present Day | Manhattan, New York}

Tora walked the grounds at her new home. She marveled at the amount of effort and the finer details that Ted had considered with this new place, whilst still being customizable if the decisions he made didn’t suit. It seemed to factor in equal parts functionality and very much allowed for the human touch. Entertainment facilities, the pool, a state of the art laboratory set up, sizable bedrooms for each and every member including Ted himself who split his nights between here and Boston.

The Embassy was, in many ways, the perfect extension of Ted to Tora. Eager to please, functional yet fun, and full of wonderful ideas yet considerate and willing to make change to suit others. They’d been seeing each other, when their schedules would allow, for a few months now and she really couldn’t be happier so far. She was also excited about the prospect of this new ‘Super Buddies’ work, yet a little worried she wasn’t ready for it. When she was in the Global Guardians she was trained rigorously before released in field work. Every operative was absolutely confident in their own abilities to do the job because every scenario had been drilled to the point that agents would often dream through set scenarios of assassination attempts. But this? Superhero work? How could a person possibly train for the unexpected and unexpectable.

Ted had a training simulation room - he’d made some kind of comparison to Star Trek when he described it, and seemed immensely proud of it. But the team was still in the early phases and hadn’t been putting together any team training exercises yet.

“Oh, hey, pretty lady.” She heard Ted say as she walked past. He was staring at the sky and fiddling with his glove.

“I was wondering when you’d eventually find your way around here.” He shot her a smile before returning to what he was doing, which seemed to take some degree of concentration.

“What are you doing? What have you got there?” She asked.

His smile broadened at her interest. “Doodlebugs!”

“What?” She laughed. “What’s that?”

“I’ve been working on some support tech for the Bug. I landed on these drones. Minitiarized some of the more rudimentary defense systems that the original Bug has and applied it to them. There’s six of these, they stick magnetically under six ports I’ve added to the Bug, I’m just getting familiar with the controls for them at the moment. Seems a lot simpler than the controls for the ship itself.” He spoke very quickly, as he often did when he got excited about what he was talking about.

Tora looked up and saw a blue drone hovering and doing various manouevers.

“They’re mainly good for giving me extra sets of eyes. But they have other advantages too. You’ve given me some ideas.”

“Me?” She asked.

“Yeah. Let’s just test something out together, I was going to ask you about this eventually anyway. Just give me a second.”

Ted lowered the drone to about eight feet high a few yards ahead of the pair of them. He stepped behind Tora and hugged her with his left arm and held his right arm out for her to access the remote controls.

“Hold that button there down for about three or four seconds.” He said.

“This one?” She checked.

“Ah-huh.” He confirmed.

She gently pressed her finger down on the small button he’d indicated. A growing puff of white vapour was emitted from the Doodlebug drone.

“Oh! Like sky writing!”

“Yup, or cloud seeding. That’s right. I was just thinking about your powers the other day. What kinds of applications there could be for them. Now I want you to reach out with them. Reach into the cloud. Start gentle and we’ll see how fine your work can be with them.”

Tora stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth slightly as she concentrated. Gently she pushed until she made a visible indent into the cloud like someone poking a dot in snow.

“Oops…”

“No, that’s ok. You’re getting your bearings. See what you can do with it from there.”

He gave her a squeeze from behind with his left arm. She smiled and changed the dot into a straight vertical line. She started on another line, and then a third. A dot, a circle. The water vapour was very malleable. Ted watched as she worked, until she was finished.



Ted gave her another squeeze. “Hey, good start, can you--?”

“I’m not done yet.” She said, the tongue once again protruding with contemplation.

She brought her arms into her work. Moulded the shape, and as letters began to get squished, chose instead to do away with excess water vapour like a sculptor chiselling something from marble, rather than a clay-worker shaping a pot. When she was done, the cloud had formed a heart shape. She went back over her letters to make them cleaner.

“Now I am.” She finally said.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Ted said. “And the cloud’s pretty good too.” They kissed on the lawn as the Doodlebug hung in the air.

---

K O R D O M N I V E R S A L - E A S T D I V I S I O N

---

^{About Two Weeks Post-Crisis | Boston, Massachusetts}

Murray Takamoto strutted up the executive hallway of the main administration building in his best suit and tie. He pulled his glasses off and gave them a final clean before placing them back on his face. Everything pristine today. Today’s the day he’d make his run, best make sure he can see clearly when he’s talking to… her.

He sped up as he saw her walking towards her office. She was looking down at printouts she’d retrieved from the shared printer. She walked back into her office and closed the door behind her. Leaving the new “VERONICA SINCLAIR - CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER” sign on her door hanging right in front of his now spotless glasses.

Murray looked down the hallway to Angela Revere’s desk. He raised a finger and opened his mouth to ask the receptionist a question.

“No.” She said simply, cutting him off without even looking up from her work.

“Ah.” He replied, dropping his finger. He looked down the hallway at Ted Kord’s door which was open a crack.

“How about Ted? Is he in?”

“Yes, but he’s very busy and he’s NOT TO BE DISTUR-- HEY!”

Murray heard enough from the first word and decided to drop in on his friend.

“You’ve gotta introduce me, man!” He burst into Ted’s office, with an exasperated Angela Revere in tow.

Ted looked up from his reports and calmed the situation with a single hand.

“I’m sorry, Mister Kord, he burst right in.” Angela apologised.

“I know, I know. It’s OK. I’ll handle this.”

“Are you sure, Mister Kord?”

“Weeeeell--” He looked at Murray. “--Maybe send up a security guy to stand by with a taser.”

“Sir?”

“No. No, I should be able to handle it just fine, Angela. Thanks. Maybe close my door on the way out to make sure it doesn’t keep happening, if you could, please?”

Angela closed the door behind her and Kord put the reports to one side as he leveled his eyes on his friend.

“Now… How may I help you?” Ted smiled broadly and somewhat sarcastically. He had a pretty good idea what this was all about.

“Come on. Don’t jerk me around. You’ve got to introduce me, man.”

“Would I be right in assuming this is about our new Chief Financial Officer?”

“Dude… Duuuuude!”

“Geez, you’re going to be a walking talking H.R. issue for me, aren’t you?” Ted pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She’s soooo hot! Wearing those tight…”

“I can’t be hearing this…” Ted closed his eyes and winced.

“...and those chopsticks in her hair. She’s got that whole ‘Dirty Librarian’ look that I love!”

“Alright, first of all… I’ve told you this before. If you could steer clear of referring to any female employees of my company as ‘Dirty’ or 'Naughty' or 'Nasty' that would just be fantastic. And second of all, those are hairsticks, not chopsticks. I mean, you of all people…”

“Me of all people??” Murray rocked back.

“Oh, yeah. Because I’M the one being offensive…”

“Well, you can make it up to me… Just introduce us.”

“What part of this conversation should give me any faith in you whatsoever to introduce you to ANY members of the fairer sex, let alone our new senior executive who happens to be a family friend?”

“A family friend? Great! You’re in the perfect position to introduce us!”

“Are you… are you incapable of listening? What are you on heat or something? I’m not going to have to start spraying you to get you to not hump the furniture, am I?”

“So you’re saying you are not going to introduce us?

Ted shrugged as if there were any doubt on his position.

“‘Can’t’ or ‘won’t’?” Ted stared at his friend for a beat or three, surprised he still had to explain his position.

Ted got to his feet and walked Murray out. They congregated at his receptionist’s desk.

“Definitely ‘won’t’. Thought that was abundantly clear. You know I don’t have any brothers or sisters, Murray. But Veronica’s pretty much the closest I’ve got to that. And when you’re running your mouth like this, drooling. I’m not comfortable doing that.”

Angela spoke up with what seemed like actual work. “Mister Kord, you had a message delivered for you in person from a Beatriz DaCosta.”

“Beatriz--? I don’t know any Beatri--”

Angela pointed Ted’s attention down the hallway to the green haired woman who was walking away. Murray’s eyes almost fell out of his head, and he ran down the hallway to get a closer look at the woman.

“Oh… Bea.” Ted stated in recognition. “What was the message?”

“She was organizing a meeting for you and some 'tawdry Olaf’s daughter' for this Wednesday night. Does that make any sense to you?” Angela read off her handwritten card.

“Perfect sense. Did she leave a phone number or say where this was to take place?”

Angela passed the message cue card to Ted, who took it and committed all the details to memory. Murray gradually started to walk back, looking over his shoulder all the while.

“Was that the model Stark was with at the New York Expo? ARE YOU SEEING the model Stark was with at the New York Expo?!?”

“No. Well, yes. Well... Maybe, but not the one you’re thinking of.” Ted stammered out a reply.

Murray folded his arms and awaited an explanation.

“Do you remember the white haired girl he was with at the Expo?”

“No.” Murray said. “No. Right now, all I can see is that green haired goddess.” In fact…”

Murray closed his eyes. “Yep… even when I close my eyes, she’s still there. Presumably to haunt my dreams forever. Which I am okay with.”

“Alright, well, Stark was also there with a white haired girl. Very cute. Very sweet. Kind of shy. She sort of suggested she was interested, but I mean, I kind of just thought she was just being nice so I forgot about it. Well, not forgot, but… you know what I mean. Anyway, as I said, she’s kind of shy, so it looks like she got her friend to deliver a message for us to go out this week.” Ted said, holding up the message card.

“So you’re saying you’re not seeing this green haired girl… and that you would know her well enough to introduce us…”

“Ha! No. No, that would not be a good idea.”

“‘Can’t’ or ‘Won’t’?”

“This one’s ‘Can’t’. In fact, worse than can’t. Believe me, any mention that you know me could only hurt your chances there.”

“She did seem rather irritated to be delivering the message, Mister Kord.”

“Yeah. She-- She doesn’t like me very much.” Ted explained.

“Any of you planning on doing any actual work today?” Veronica Sinclair asked, head deep in her previously printed report as she retrieved another fresh stack of paper from the printer. She kept reading the whole way back to her office, closing the door behind her again.

Murray gave Ted a pained look.

“Ugh… Fine. I’ll introduce you to her some time. But not now. And don’t be all weird about it.”

“‘Weird’. When am I weird about anything?”

“Five minutes ago, in my office. None of that. And don’t do that fake cool, bullshit nonchalant thing you try and do. That’s weird too. Just... be a person.”

“I don’t have to fake being cool…” Murray said, breathing on his nails and pretending to shine them on his suit.”

“That. You’re doing it now. Don’t do… any of this.” Ted waved his arms around gesturing at all of Murray. “Thanks again, Angela. Looks like I’ve got a call to make...” He stepped back into his office and closed the door behind him.

Murray leant on Angela’s desk.

“Soooo… do you know if she likes… anything?”

“No.” Angela replied bluntly.

“Well, I suppose she hasn’t been here long. Can take a little while to get to know--”

“No. I mean, ‘No. Don’t try and involve me in anything you’re planning on trying.' I don’t want to be held responsible when you crash and burn.” Ms Revere replied, not looking up from her work.

Murray walked away. “Crash and burn… I’m not gonna crash and burn… Pfft…” He walked down the hallway, pretending to yawn and raising his hand to his mouth, checking his breath.

Arc 2: + Power Outage +

---

STATIC SHOCK

---

Episode 2.1: - AC.DC -

---

---

34894570. He checked the order again, even though he'd burned the number in his head over the last few days. Correct. He pressed CALL and waited.

" ....You have reached the office of...."

He beat the numbers again in a tattoo, pressed CALL again and waited.

" ....Please hold while we play this...."

Again.

" ...We are sorry to inform you that..."

Waiting.

“..... Please leave a message and remember, a vote for Hawkins is a vote for tomorrow-“

The line clicked shut as someone snatched the phone away from Virgil’s hand. He’d been busily working out a proof to a nasty piece of algebra.

Of course it had to be his annoying sister. Sharon played keep-away with his phone, placing one hand on his head, as he clawed in the air to reach for it. He had enough charge within him to fry a power grid yet all of that Bang Baby nonsense was useless against the godly strength of an older sibling. Eventually, he surrendered after a few more minutes of tussling, with a vulpine grin on Sharon's face and a grumpy look on his. Eventually, her grin faded away into a concerned frown.

“ That’s the sixth time you’ve tried calling his office today, Virgil.”

“ C’mon, sis. You gotta admit it feels a bit more emptier than usual." He began to speak slower. " Especially with….”

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“ We all supported him when he began this journey.” Sharon said.

“ Yeah, I know. I know…..” VIrgil stared at her blearily. " But, couldn't he just spare a little more time for us?"

He heard a sign, tired and defeated. “ Look, I know I wasn’t around when…..Paris Island happened but I understand that life’s difficult for you right now. It’s only a couple of months until you graduate high-school. Then comes college and your uni applications….”

“ Open as a book, huh?” Virgil groused. Sharon's pointed glare somehow made him quick to forget any complaints he had in his mind.

“ Whatever you’re worried about, Dad was always here to support you and I. Now, it’s our turn to support him.”

“ Sometimes, the supporting seems more difficult than it should.”

She chuckled. “ Well, no one said that becoming mayor was easy.” Sharon’s hand pushed a scrawled piece of noted paper towards him.

“ What’s this?”

“ Groceries. You did say you were going to see a movie with Richie, right?” Sharon lifted an questioning eyebrow, waiting for Virgil to answer her question.

“ R-right.” Virgil hastily nodded.

“ Remember to be back before 10 or I’ll whoop your ass.”

The door locked shut, leaving him alone with his homework. Well, that was reassuring. He rocked back on his wheeled chair, head leaning back to peek outside the open window. He needed something to take his mind off. Something familiar. Something to settle back into. A habit. The cupboard doors yawned open as he pulled out a cardboard box tucked underneath the rack of jeans and drab shirts.

The inside of the jacket pulsed intermittently as he pulled it onto his shoulders. The fight with Kangor last week had done serious damage to the suit. The collars were beginning to fray and there were tears running along the fabric. A caveat was that the suit was at least machine washable. Once he snapped on the orange goggles, Virgil took a look at the list. Eggs, pickles and toilet paper. Got it. He folded it into a creased wad before pocketing it.

The window was open and Dakota City, draped in night, lived before him in a scillintating grid of dancing current. The traffic lights shone to the tune of trumpets, the lamps flickered to the rhythm of bar pianos and every flourescent light in every apartment was a drummer rapidly bashing his kit into detritus. People saw dead concrete and decay where as he saw something waiting to be given a shock to its system. Virgil took one breath, glanced back towards his homework with a sign before leaping out in a trail of lightning as Static.

Incense smoke wafted through the dojo as the four turtles sat on their heels, their knees on the ground.

Splinter paced in front of them, leaning on his cane as he did so. Once Leonardo had returned from his excursion to the surface, the master had gathered his sons in the dojo, but that was nearly half an hour ago. Since then, he has been silent, pacing the floor, searching for the words to say to his children.

What he would say would change everything for them. It would make them targets. It would thrust them into war.

"Ever since our transformation," Splinter began, finally, "I have known we were special. That we were changed for a reason. What that reason was, I could not be sure. Still...I have always remembered things from before we became what we are, unlike the four of you. Some of those memories were nothing more than vague shadows, dancing in a flickering flame. Some were solid and formed like moving statues. They were where our training came from. They were why I was always certain some threat was on the horizon, even if I could not remember what it was."

He took a seat in front of his children and exhaled a deep breath, rustling the fur around his mouth, "Most of my memories were of the latter variety. Until recently. Slowly it is as if my mind has been opening like a man digging out of his own grave. My past, everything that has happened to me, is flooding back into my mind. Which is why I shut myself off from you. For that, I apologize."

"We understand, father," Leonardo tried to console his sensei. "I can imagine that was a difficult time."

"Brown-noser," Raph muttered under his breath before receiving an elbow to the shoulder from Leo.

Mikey chuckled.

Splinter merely smirked. His sons were still children, even if they were trained in the art of ninjutsu. Being shinobi did not change their nature. He was heartened by that. He just hoped they would be able to keep their spirits in the trials to come.

"Thank you, my son," Spinter continued. "As I sifted through my memories, attempting to piece together my life, I remembered how I came to be at your side. Before I was on the streets, I was the pet of a man named Hamato Yoshi. Yoshi had come to America from Japan with his wife, Tang Shen. The two were happy and in love, and at some point, Shen purchased me as a pet. I spent my time in my cage watching my master run exercises in his own dojo, teaching young ones as I did you."

"Whoa!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "He was like your sensei, sensei!"

"Indeed," Splinter smiled at the youngest turtle. "His teachings were stored in my mind, only usable after our transformations. But he was a fierce warrior, and the guardian of a terrible secret."

He stood again, turning his back to his sons, the red robe he wore was the color of dried blood in the candle light, "Hundreds of years ago in Japan, there was a clan of shinobi called The Hand. While I have taught you to use ninjutsu with honor and to defend the weak, The Hand had no such scruples. They served a demon, a tengu, aonly known as 'The Beast'. They worked for power above all else. Few knew what the Beast, if it did exist."

"Nothing more than a fairytale, I'm sure," Donatello scoffed.

Leo wasn't sure. He put his hand into the pouch on his belt and ran his finger over the mask Alopex had given him once again.

Leo looked over at Donnie. While Don was admittedly a scientific genius, he had closed him off from their father's spiritual teachings. Don didn't believe in chi or yokai or tengu. He believed what was in front of him. What he could feel. Leo felt his brother was weaker for it, and hoped he would see the light.

"Maybe, my son," Splinter turned to acknowledge him. "But that is not where this story ends. For one of the ancient Hand's greatest warriors broke from his masters and blasphemed. The young ninja lord was named Oroku Saki, and he claimed The Beast itself had granted him power. He broke from The Hand and created its opposite, The Foot. While the Hand would maneuver its plans behind the scenes, the Foot would stomp on the throats of their enemies. Saki was ruthless, and if he was the host of the demon, he showed it. In short order, The Foot had most of Japan under their control. Saki was known as the Shuredda, the Tengu Shogun."

"That's incredible," Raph thought about the logistics. "To dominate a whole country in such a sort order."

"But he was stopped in the end, by an alliance between the Hand and the shoguns of Japan," Splinter continued. "Two enemies came together to stop their enemy. At least for a while. But there was a myth, possibly started by the Shurreda, that if his helmet and arm blades were reunited with his corpse, the Tengu Shogun would return."

"Oh come-" Donatello was cut off by a look from Master Splinter.

"The pieces of armor was guarded by the line of Saki's elite guard, being passed down from generation to generation as they were constantly hunted," the rat continued. "All the while, it was hunted by the Shoguns' own shinobi. None wanted the Shuredda to return. Eventually, the armor was taken from the Foot. The shoguns' men found the arm blades, the Hand the helmet. Their locations were known only by a select few, and that too was passed down through their lines. My master Yoshi was the last of the Shogun shinobi line."

"Wait, so he knew where the arm blades were?" Leo realized. "He came here to America to hide. To make sure Saki wasn't revived."

"Yes," Splinter nodded. "The Foot began to reemerge in Japan, and Yoshi was afraid that they had found out that he was the last to know of Shuredda's location. So he took his pregnant wife to New York, believing they would be safe there."

"But they weren't," Mikey groaned, knowing what was to come.

"No," Splinter sighed, the sadness in his voice was evident. "The Foot found our home here in New York. In their attack, my cage was knocked open and I was able to escape. Their leader at the time was a girl no older than you are now. She threatened to kill Shen if Yoshi did not reveal the secret of Saki's baldes. He did so, and she killed her hostage anyway, leaving Yoshi to his shame and failure. I watched as my master took his own life in the ritual of seppuku, his body falling next to Shen's, their eyes locked on one another even in death."

Leonardo could see the wet streaks of tears running through the fur around Splinter's eyes, and his heart broke for his father. To witness all this tragedy, brought on by such dishonorable actions, brought anger to his heart.

"Monsters," Raphael growled, outwardly showing the same anger as Leo. The two were more alike than different, Leo was just better at keeping his emotions in check, or at the very least masked. "The dishonor. The barbarity. You always taught us to be better than that."

"And as I said, The Foot has never believed in honor," Splinter closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. "And now they are our responsibility to stop."

The brothers looked at each other. Leonardo could see the determination in everyone of them's eyes save for Donatello, who had never been excited at the thought of fighting. Leo wanted to stop the Shuredda before he could finish his goals. Raphael wanted to bring someone so dishonorable to justice. Mikey wanted to avenge Yoshi and Shen. Even Don felt a twinge of anger at the story.

Splinter said with an air of destiny, "I believe we were created to stop the Tengu Shogun from being revived. While my master was never able to see his child take up his burden, we can do so. We are the last of the Hamato line, as unorthodox as we are. We are tasked with finishing Oroku Saki, once and for all."

"But sensei," Mikey asked, "where can we even start to find him?"

"Easy, Mike," Leo said, tossing the mask onto the floor of the dojo. "The Hand are in New York. Alopex saw them. If they're here, the helmet might be as well. We find the helmet, and we stop The Foot before they can bring him back."

Splintered considered the proposition, "Very well. But be careful, my sons. The Hand are not to be trifled with. And if The Foot are indeed on the hunt, I fear we will find ourselves in grave danger. Remember your training. And remember that we are family, and nothing can stop us when we stand together."

_{The Glades of Star City - A Few Days Later}

Issue 2.01.04: Renegade

---

_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: Issue 2.01.03: Lady

It was a rather unassuming building. A warehouse just south of the Glades, in a small industrial park. Roy recognized the names of the other company warehouses and office buildings, since he had become very familiar with them: they were Queen subsidiaries, after all. Of course, the place they were going had no clear signs besides the “Keep Out” and “Private Property” signs that littered the property.

The building looked more like a shed than anything else, with only one door clearly visible. Next to the door was a simple keypad, which Roy approached. He began typing in a sequence of thirty numbers, after which a small panel in the wall next to the keypad opened up to reveal a blue screen and camera. Roy placed his hand on the screen, and watched as it scanned his fingerprints while the camera focused in on his face. After a few moments, the screen began to glow green, and the series of locks on the door all simultaneously clicked.

Inside the shed was simply two benches with over the shoulder seat belts that seemed far more fitting in an automobile than a building like this. Roy sat down and buckled up, motioning for Grace to join. She followed suit, and the two sat under the glow of a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. That is, until the ground beneath them seemed to fall. The floor around the benches immediately began to plummet into the earth, in what was clearly some sort of strange elevator. Then, in but an instant, the elevator slowed down rapidly and then jolted to a stop. The lightbulb still dangled high above, though the facility the two found themselves in was incredibly complex. Display cases showcased a few variant costumes Roy had developed years before for his use as Speedy, as well as various quivers and bows.

Of course, a few half-opened cases that Roy had never had the time to clean up before he shipped himself off to rehab were still filled with various high-end gadgets and guns. Most of this remained to the side of the relatively stark silver room. In the center, though, was a desk with a monitor, a keyboard, and a mouse, all connected to wires that ran into the ground below. Roy gave a nod towards the computer, but immediately made his way towards one of the open cases. He reached in, picked up a rather large sidearm and loaded it with a readied magazine. Grace tilted her head in confusion for a moment, even more so when Roy turned the gun in her direction. ”What do you th-“

”You can step out now.”

Grace’s face was still plastered with confusion, until she heard steps behind her. She hadn’t bothered to look behind to notice that there was a small space behind the “elevator” hidden behind a wall, and that a woman wearing jeans and an oversized t-shirt with her arms held high had been hiding in that spot nearly a moment before. She glared at Roy. ”How did you know I was here. I kept the place spotless.”

Roy nodded towards the desk at the center of the room. ”I didn’t use a mouse last time I was here. I used a Trackball.”

The intruder glared at Roy as she kept her hands raised in surrender. ”I had to make upgrades. Your shit couldn’t get the job done.” Her voice was surprisingly calm and forceful, with not even a hint of fear.

”Sorry, haven’t been here in over a decade. Want to tell me why you’re here?”

”Put the gun down and maybe I’ll tell you.”

”Why would I do that?”

”You want to find out?”

Grace gave a small smile as she watched the two stare each other down unflinchingly, before finally stepping between the two and holding a hand out in Roy’s direction. ”I swear to the gods, I will knock sense into both of you if you don't settle down. Now.”

He relented, sliding the sidearm into the waistband of his jeans while the intruder lowered her hands. She instantly began making her way towards the center console, only to be stopped with a sudden jerking motion as Grace’s hand grasped around her arm and holding her in place for a moment. ”That doesn’t mean you have free reign of the place, darling. You’ve got some questions to answer.”

The intruder raised an eyebrow towards Grace and attempted to yank her arm away, only to find the grip tighten. In a relenting sigh, she responded, ”I’m a hacker. I got curious when Oliver Queen and the Green Arrow disappeared around the same time, only weeks apart. Decided to do some digging, and managed to find the perfect spot when it turned out that recurring payments for a small warehouse plot were still coming from an offshore account in an industrial park owned by Queen Industries. Didn’t realize I’d find the perfect hangout.”

Roy rolled his eyes, and began walking over to the terminal while Grace held the intruder in place. With a few quick taps, the monitor hummed to life. A few more, and Roy began tracing through some of the intruder’s current work. Until he found some anonymous post on a backwater forum that the intruder just happened to sign. The vigilante turned his gaze towards the woman still caught in Grace’s grasp. ”I’ve seen that name… which means you’re the mythical Quake who leaked the Vlatavan Report. SHIELD offers a fine bounty for your capture.”

”I guess that makes two of us, then.” Her voice had softened significantly, and Quake turned her gaze towards Grace Choi. ”You must be the accomplice Roy worked with in busting the meta trafficking ring.”

Grace raised an eyebrow and tightened her grip. ”How in Hades do you know he had an accomplice?”

Quake turned her gaze towards the ground. ”I… I was there. Lured me in with a job offer, wanted to meet in person. Must have picked up how I was posting about meta-rights, and figured out I was one too. So as soon as I was free and out of there, I ran and did my best to find a place where no one would ever find me. Well, except for you two. But you two are much ruder up close.”

Roy and Grace shared a look before the latter finally let go of Quake's shoulder. Quake rubbed her slightly bruised bicep while Roy worked on typing away at the console. He tossed a question out over his shoulder. "In the spirit of fairness... what's your name?"

Quake stood dumbstruck for a moment by the question, before finally just shaking off the confusion with her head. "Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

Roy finished tapping on the console, logging out of the system to reveal a fresh log-in screen. He spun on his right foot and faced the trespasser with a smile. "Alright then, here's the deal Daisy: You need a place to lie low, and I happen to be in need of someone who can break into a few servers to track some people down for me. Sound fair to you?"

Daisy's lips curled into a sly grin. "I think I can do that."

Booster leaned back in the chair she had been sat in at the ARGUS facility, already rolling her eyes at whatever questions they were going to ask her. So far, from what she had seen on the news, these ARGUS clowns were doing far more harm than good. Policing people who were just trying to help others out was something that would always end poorly, especially if they were going to do it with an iron fist.

That was quite literal, too. Nathaniel Heywood literally had fists of metal, and he was about as stiff to match. She had never met anyone in her life as dedicated to being a boy scout as Hawthorne. She figured all the Captain America-like iconography was to make up for the fact that Steve Rogers had been declared a murderer for taking care of Stryfe. The man was still on the run as far as the rumors went, and Booster was happy to hear it. From where she stood, he did exactly what needed to be done regarding that monster.

But of course the government didn't see it that way. No, they clutched their pearls and saw it as a great injustice that the man who forced innocent people to rip each other limb from limb wasn't going to get a fair trial. It was bullshit. Booster believed in a fair trial as much as anyone, but intentional terrorism on that level? No, Steve Rogers did exactly what he should have done.

She had been having to fight the visions from coming to her while she was in custody. Something about being around this place, with its armed guards, government officials, and lapdog superheroes brought something back to her. But she couldn't let them take over. Last thing she needed was them committing her or something.

Heywood took a seat across from her and folded his hands over one another. As he did, each made a clink, one after another, almost like wind chimes fluttering in the breeze. It was an intimidation tactic, showing how much raw power he had in his body. How much ARGUS had done for him. It was obvious that they had given him his powers, even if no one would say it. He came out of nowhere right after Steve Rogers disappeared. All too convenient if you ask me.

"So," he began as Booster let out a huge sigh. "Is there a problem?"

"My problem is getting marched in here like a criminal," she leaned over the table. "My problem is you people thinking you're helping."

"And you are? Abandoning your post to try an play hero and allowing the enemy to get to Doctor Irons?" he looked amused. It was an odd effect with his metal skin. "And not doing anything when you did but get played by a terrorist? Yea, you're doing a ton to help."

"I'm sorry, Captain Shiny Ass, what were you and the knockoff stormtroopers doing besides showing up way too late?" she shot back. "Granted, late for government workers is relative and all. You guys union? How many breaks do you get?"

"Make all the jokes you want, but we're not the ones who look like they're in league with Onslaught," he shrugged and flipped through the file he brought into the room with him.

"That's preposterous!" Skeets protested.

"Don't get me started with you," Heywood pointed at the hovering robot.

"Don't point at my robot, jackboot," she retorted.

"The fact remains that you showed up on the day of the Stryfe Incident. You embedded yourself into Roxxon's enhanced guard program, and then you basically hand deliver an important scientist right to the enemy," the metal man shrugged. "Seems to me that's a little too convenient."

"You kind of left out the part where they dropped a building on me," Booster added in.

"Where you weren't really harmed at all? Also convenient."

"Listen, I can't help the fact that I'm incredibly powerful and no villain can put me down," she smiled sarcastically. Becoming more serious, she added, "Point me in the direction of this Onslaught group and watch. I'll have Irons back within a few days."

"Well we are going to point you that way, and we're going to be right next to you get to where we're headed," he smiled the smug smile of a jackass who knew there wasn't going to be any way the opposite could happen. "Welcome to ARGUS. You've been conscripted."

"Bullshit," it came out half a laugh, half a statement. "I have a contract."

"Ah yes, your precious money. Tell me, how does it feel to sit on your high horse and judge me for being a government stooge while you collect money from the private sector to showboat and sell some product," Citizen Steel responded coldly. "Awfully hypocritical, no?"

"At least I'm not leeching off the taxpayer," she smirked. In truth she didn't care about someone working for the government. But Heywood's buttons were easy to press, and she was going to do just that. It was going to lead him into a mistake. He'd give up some nugget of information she could use.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. Good. She was getting through. "Roxxon has signed you over to us until this opp is over. Welcome to the taxpayer's dime, Booster Gold. Maybe since you're so against it you'll help us wrap up this Onslaught problem quickly."

"Would be the first time the government ever wrapped anything up quickly, huh?" she laughed.

Tokyo
Six Years Ago

“DC Kato.”

The young detective looked up from his cubicle and felt a jolt of anxiety. Detective Superintendent Mori stood at the entrance of the cubicle with his hands on his hips. Mori always wore a black suit and tie with a white shirt, something no one ever did in Japan unless they were attending a funeral. Everyone called Mori Andāteikā-- The Undertaker -- behind his back. His pale complexion didn't help combat the nickname. Kato was sure this was the first time the man had laid eyes on him, let alone actually spoke his name.

“Walk with me.”

Kato got to his feet quickly and followed closely behind the older man as they walked through the corridors of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s famed sixteenth floor. Home to the Criminal Investigation Bureau, the detectives that called the sixteenth floor home were the best Japan had to offer. At the moment the cubicles were half empty. Despite being the best of the best, most detectives worked banker's hours.

“How are you settling in to Homicide, Kato-kun?”

“So far so good,” Kato said as they reached Mori’s corner office. He was surprised at Mori's use of kun. He either really cared for the junior detective... or he wanted Kato to think he did. The office was spartan in the way of decoration. The Undertaker preferred to let the view do the heavy lifting. And what a view it was. Tokyo lit up at night sprawled out before the eye. To a country boy like Kato, the sight of it always took his breath away. It was so vast and illuminated as far as the eye could see. The most beautiful city in the world. Kato came to that conclusion the first time he had taken the train into the city, and he would always believe that.

“DCI Sato has nothing but praise for you,” said Mori.

The older man plopped down behind his desk and motioned for Kato to do the same.

“He says you’re smart, observant as hell, and a very quick study. You have yet to be lead on a case, but Sato is confident the time to take off your training wheels is fast approaching. Moreover, you have a way with suspects and talking to them. Any old fool can use their fists to get a criminal to talk, but you use your words and mind.”

Kato felt his face warming at the praise. He mustered a mumbled thanks and slightly bowed.

“I’ve looked at your file, Kato-kun. It says you are originally from Hiroshima?”

“Hiroshima Prefecture,” said Kato. “Akitakata, specifically.”

Mori held his hands up and looked puzzled. “Then why come to Tokyo? Why not stay out there and live a nice, comfortable life as a traffic cop?”

Kato allowed himself a smirk. “Because Tokyo is where the bad guys are.”

Mori chuckled and nodded.

“Good…. Good. Your work in Homicide has not gone unnoticed, as you may have already guessed. We have another potential assignment for you if you would so like. A chance to go after the real bad guys.”

Kato leaned forward in his chair. His initial anxiety had washed away. Excitement had replaced it. “I’m all ears, Mori-san.”

“Tell me, country boy, what do you know about the Yakuza?”

---

Coast City
Now

“You hooked it!”

Britt Reid cursed when he saw his golf ball disappear into the treeline beside the green. The other three members of his party traded snickers as Britt walked back to his golf bag.

“You’re really bad at this, Britt,” DA Barney Scudmore said with a shake of his head.

“Now your father was an excellent golfer,” said Mayor Wally Holmes. “We never put money on a game if we were teeing off with him.”

“Hell no,” Police Commissioner Mick Walmsly said with a laugh. “Dan would empty your pockets, take you car, and the shirt off you back if money was on the game. The man hated to lose.”

“And who among us actually likes to lose?” said Britt.

The four shared a laugh before Scudmore prepared to tee off. Britt got behind the wheel of his golf cart and watched Scudmore drive his ball on to the fairway. He didn’t care for Mayor Holmes invoking his father’s name so casually. It seemed to be a lazy shorthand to try to get Britt to warm up. Of course Britt knew his dad was a good golfer, but he also knew the man had a very low opinion of Holmes.

Dan Reid privately didn’t care too much for any of Coast City’s political leaders. But he still made nice and played politics. Britt was learning to do the same. He would get along to go along. And it would be a mutually beneficial relationship, he reminded himself. Whatever they needed him for he was sure he could get something in return. If not for the paper, well then… for the Hornet.

“So how are things with the CCPD,” Britt asked Walmsly.

“Don’t answer,” said Scudmore. “Young Britt here is pumping you for information.”

“Remember, Mick,” said the mayor. “From your lips, to his ears, to the front page of The Sentinel.”

“I know better,” said Walmsly. “Besides it seems Britt is too busy covering the criminals to actually give some ink to the cops.”

More laughs as Britt shook his head.

“The costumed crazies are all the rage, guys. They sell papers.They get page views and clicks. You start giving your officers masks, Mick, and the Green Hornet gets bumped to page six.”

“You know what the best headline is,” Mayor Holmes said before swinging his club. “‘CCPD Apprehend Green Hornet.’”

“Awfully quiet, Barney,” Brit said with a wink. “Don’t tell us you’re pro-Hornet.”

Scudmore shrugged. “Not much to say, fellas. You arrest him, Mick, and I’ll prosecute.”

“As much as I enjoy watching you legends of the links,” Britt finally said after Holmes’ ball disappeared into a sandtrap. “I do have to ask. hy was I plucked from the hoi polloi to join this meeting of the minds, as it were.”

“Hoi polloi,” Walmsly laughed. "The heir to a media empire, richer than all of us put together, but he’s the hoi polloi.”

“Senator Evans is coming through Coast City next week,” said the mayor. “We’re putting together a small gathering with civic leaders. The Senator wants to pick their brains about issues in the area and a roadmap for the next few years. Quiet stuff, nothing to broadcast. We want you there.”

Britt knew Evans by reputation alone. Former mayor of San Francisco, running for reelection to the US Senate. An odds on favorite to sit in the White House one day. The Reid family had always had their hand in California statewide politics. His granddad had started to retreat from that position as their empire started to recede. But even at their heights, the Reids had never had the ear of a president.

“I remember my dad always liked to think of himself as some kind of kingmaker.”

“Dan was to a certain extent,” said Scudmore “At least around these parts. He could throw his weight behind the right candidate and get them over the top. It worked for me.”

“And me,” said Holmes. “And hopefully you’ll see it in your heart to throw that weight behind me again in two years, Britt.”

“Depends,” Britt said as a grin appeared on his lips. “On how these next few holes go.”

---

“Who’s the prey for tonight?” Kato asked.

He looked up from his laptop at Britt. His employer walked through the study, still dressed in a polo shirt and tacky golf slacks. Britt placed a tablet on the desk and slid it across to Kato. The screen showed a snapshot of tomorrow's Sentinel front page.

“Ax has been working on a story that we’re running with in tomorrow’s paper,” said Britt. “First of a four part series on human trafficking in Coast City and Northern California. Men and women smuggled here from other countries, forced into low paying jobs with no rights. Essentially slaves.”

Kato read over Axford’s story. It took him back to Tokyo. Chinese and Koreans, desperate to escape their home countries and shoved into shipping containers by Yakuza looking to make a quick buck. The dead eyes of those just looking for a better life.

“Who’s behind this?” Kato asked.

“It’s not coming up until part three, but Ax has reports of the gang behind it. Los Hijos de la Muerte it literally means ‘The Children of Death.’ They’re an off-shoot of a cartel off-shoot. Supposedly worship Santa Muerte.”

“You said gang, Britt. Are they on the street?”

“Axford identified a couple of potential fronts for their businesses, but we’re holding back on that part. Casey is afraid of libel suits, and any potential retaliation from the gang.”

“Right,” Kato said with a smirk. “But the Green Hornet and his nameless bodyguard? They have nothing to fear.”

Britt put his hands in his pants pockets and nodded.

"Maybe we can give Ax's story a happy ending."

An early chill laced the air of Empire State University as April O'Neil trudged towards what she assumed would be outright rejection.

"No," Professor Fenwick shook his head without looking up form the papers he was grading. To April O'Neil he looked like a large, predatory bird hunched over a kill. His beak of a nose did the trick, though his unkempt hair helped give him a look of a vulture. His eyes were always intelligent. too much so, if April was being honest. His writing class was her hardest, even if she thought it was one of her best skills. Fenwick was the kind of professor that just assumed no student could live up to his standards.

Fenwick also happened to be the faculty editor of the ESU student news organization, and the bane of April's existence.

"Professor, there are multiple eye-witness reports!" she protested. "None of the main publications have even toughed this, and you're not even going to let me do some digging? This could be huge."

"We're a student publication, Ms. O'Neil," the professor droned. "We're not the New York Times or Gotham Gazette. We write about things that affect student life-"

"Having killer ninjas in New York doesn't affect student life?" April interrupted.

The teacher held his hand up, "Not as much as faculty changes, school administrative policy, and the like. Sports! Our football team is nationally ranked for the first time in recent memory. Write about that."

She rolled her eyes hard at the condescension, "Fluff and garbage. That's all that is. Professor I want to report on the real news."

"And you'll have plenty of opportunities for that in the future, when you graduate," Fenwick finally looked up at the young, redheaded girl who was currently staring daggers into him. "But I'm not going to authorize you to investigate dangerous criminals whether they're real or not. I'm not having a student killed on my watch. That's my final word on the matter. Now go home and proofread your paper that's due tomorrow."

With nothing more than a grumble, April turned and headed back towards her apartment.

---

The steel of Leonardo's blade sang against its scabbard he checked the edge of the blade. It was as sharp as always, and he placed it back into its holder with care. His father had always told them to treat their weapons with reverence. They could be used to take the lives of their enemies, meaning they were not toys. They were to be respected, as was the idea of taking a life. Leo had never done that, obviously. But if Splinter was right about what they were up against, it meant that he may have to sooner rather than later.

"You ready for this, bro?" Raph asked as he wrapped his knuckles up. "All this time training. All this time preparing. We're finally going to crack some skulls."

"You're not gonna be a liability out there are you?" Leo furrowed his brow. "I'll leave you like a redshirt. Don't think I won't."

Raph laughed and smacked his brother on the shoulder, "Bro you are such a nerd. But I love you. Don't worry, I'll only attack with the go ahead of Space Fleet."

"It's Star Fleet, but I appreciate the attempt," Leo chuckled.

"Hopefully the Force will be with us!" Mikey smiled broadly as he twirled his nunchuks.

Donnie sighed, "Wrong sci fi property, Mike."

"Whatever, let's go out on the town boys!"

"Form up, Mikey," Leo nodded to his younger brother. The three other Turtles came up around their elder brother. For all their differences, for all the things their family had been through, even the loss of Artie, had led to this. He knew Raph was ready. He knew Mikey might have some trouble focusing, but he was one of the most creative fighters Leo had ever seen. And for all Donatello's doubts about the path their father had set them on, Leo knew that deep down Donnie would fight with his family to the last.

"Guys, the day we've been waiting for has finally come," he looked each of them in the eye in turn. "We're going to the surface. For real this time. To use all the training we've had for damn near our entire lives. And we're going to make sure that no one threatens the people above without hearing from us. Not the Hand. Not the Foot. Not the Shredder. I don't care if the goddamn devil shows up, we're taking that bastard down."

"Hell yea," Raph nodded in agreement.

"Now rememebr. We are ninja. We strike hard. Defend. Protect. Then fade into the night. Now let's go kick some shell."

---

"He said no, April," Irma Langenstein sighed as she pushed her thick rimmed glasses up her nose. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with this anyway."

Irma was a great friend, but April had never found her to be all that ambitious. She wanted to go to the party her boyfriend had invited them to. April would normally be in for that, but she was on a mission.

"Irma, if I'm ever going to be a great reporter, I'm not going to do it covering college football and quality changes at the dining halls," April protested as she grabbed her camera and put her hair up. "It's time I stop asking for permission and start asking for forgiveness."

"Oh girl that is so cliche," Irma rolled her eyes.

"I know, shut up," April stuck her tongue out at her. "Don't wait up."

---

_{Location: Metropolis - Suicide Slums - Lex Luthor’s Press Conference}

Issue #2.05: Transformation Begins at Home

---

Lex Luthor was a man who was on the world stage, a man that was going to shape the upcoming world as things got crazier and crazier. He was already busy in much larger circles but no matter how much national noteriaty he achieved, his true test of mettle would somehow always come back to Metropolis. Never was there a place that he received more love and hate than the place he called home.

At this point in the process he had essentially already won the legal battle, paid his fees, even the demolition of the city block was already complete and the foundation of the future low-income apartments set, but the PR battle was still a hard fight and it was time to lay out his plans completely in the open. The stage was set, the reporters were in place, protesters against the building were already set up, and of course the police were ready for them. There were always those who would fight against the change that came with progress.

Lex Luthor stepped up confidently to the podium that had been set up in front of the construction location. Mercy and a private security detail were set up around the platform, just in case any of the protesters got any funny ideas. Camera lights flashed and signs waved in the sky as Lex Luthor gazed over the gaggle before him. The signs had sayings like 'protect our neighborhoods', 'Lex Luthor displaced our children', and 'down with the Oligarchy' as they waved them for the cameras to see. Lex Luthor put on his most gentlemanly smile as he prepared to give his speech, it was time to win over the hearts and minds of Metropolis.

"Citizens of Metropolis, welcome to LexCrop's newest project, the Future Vision Apartment Complex!" A model of the new facility was set up for all to see. "It has always been my dream to raise up my fellow man up in the world so that humanity may one day unlock its unlimited potential but that dream has always been locked away behind poverty and inequality. In order to achieve my lofty dream it is my duty, no, my privillage to prove myself in our own fair city of Metropolis! Compared to many other cities we are one of the brightest, wealthiest, cleanest, and best run cities in the world but even our bright city of tomorrow has its fair share of darkness."

Lex Luthor made a grand gesture to the run down streets and buildings in the Suicide Slums area. While of no comparison to some other cities, it was still the slums of Metropolis and the lack of care was evident in the surroundings. The suicide slums was Metropolis's very visible darker side, but Lex Luthor was here to provide some light.

"Ashamed that our fair city still has such a stain on its luster, I have designed these low-income apartments to meet the needs of the cities living here but of course merely providing shelter would do no good, opportunity is what these people need to change their lives around. Some of our brightest might be found right here in Suicide Slums but without the opportunity to thrive they will be lost to history. So, I have decided that every family housed in Future Visions will be given the opportunity to work at nearby LexCorp subsidiaries."

This revelation came as quite the surprise as flashes grew in intensity and the press started to ask questions even though Lex Luthor wasn't done talking. The offer was really quite generous and potentially quite costly to LexCorp, that much unskilled labor to suddenly just take on would be quite a strain on the system, plus a lot of those in suicide slums were not exactly the most reputable of folks. Lex Luthor ignored the clamor and continued.

"Now do not take me wrong, this is not a mere handout by any means." At this the crowd started to shut up to hear what he meant. "Any who decide to take up LexCorps terms will be subject to strict guidelines in order to keep their housing, only those with the will and intent to change their lives for the better will be able to fully take advantage of my most generous terms. Everyone deserves the opportunity to change their life around but the rest must be earned by their own efforts. Through my new Future Visions foundation we shall save those stripped of opportunity by the environment around them. Compassion, combined with accountability, shall save those long forgotten by society! I will make sure that the city of tomorrow will offer a better tomorrow to those willing to seize the day!"

Suddenly a commotion from the back occurred as a man pushed his way through the crowd to rush the stage. Somehow he slipped past the police and was rushing toward the podium while shouting at Lex Luthor.

"So destroying our neighborhood isn't enough huh Luthor!? You want to control our very lives now too!?" The man reached into his waistband and pulled out a handgun, before he could aim though, Mercy Graves had already intercepted him. With lighting quick reflexes she disarmed the man swept out his legs from under him. He fell hard on his back and Mercy already had a heel to his neck while the rest of the detail had him surrounded.

Lex Luthor calmly watched the proceedings and stepped down from the podium. "LexCrop only wishes to help the poor citizens of Metropolis get back on their feet from hard times. It is a shame you tried to lash out in violence, LexCorp would have been happy to help if you had given us the chance. Which brings me to my next point, all those who had to move because of the new construction will be the first to be offered an apartment in the new Future Visions Apartment Complex, LexCorp wishes to make amends with the displaced citizens of Metropolis as soon as possible!"

Mercy and crew backed off once the MPD got the situation back under control. The Press Corp looked a little shaken by events but soon regained their resolve and started to ask the hard questions to Lex Luthor and to the attempted assassination that had just happened. Without missing a beat Lex Luthor quickly entered the fray of questions, the future was coming to Metropolis.

A certain red-headed reporter had managed to slip away and secretly examined the actual building site. He knew he wouldn't get too much out of Lex Luthor himself so decided on another angle. While there could very well be no story he had a feeling there might be one to find away from the lime light.

---

"A stunning speech Mr. Luthor." Mercy complimented her boss as he went over the newly generated media data from the event. Already the news was circulating the web thanks to a little extra drama added to the mix.

"Hmm, I've actually done better but the speech was of course not really the point of the conference. As you well know the majority of Metropolis couldn't give a care about what happens to the slums, but certain fanatics do, so we had to expose that element to the public to show them the need of Future Visions. Imagine, the idea that some nobody from the slums would have the gull to turn their gun on someone as powerful as me? Think about what the common citizen must feel, seeing first hand the atrocities that can occur right on their doorstep. Suicide Slums needs someone to mold it, and who better to do that than Lex Luthor, who is kind enough to help even someone as ungrateful as him."

Of course if it was completely organic public opinion might actually side more with the man considering how many had been displaced by the project, but LexCorp's communication team was hard at work planting the seeds of trust to the public for Lex Luthor.

"Mercy, make sure Mr. Eavery gets his lawyer and bail as soon as possible, plus the payment for his services."

"Of course Lex." Mercy left to complete her new directives while Lex smiled. Of course he did believe in Future Visions, but his true project was already almost complete, beneath the foundation of the apartment complex. His little pet project for the betterment of Metropolis would be the perfect cover for the real story, hidden beneath the concrete.

Special Issue #1: Loose Change

---

location:19th crowley, washington avenue, dakota city, michigan

time: 22:45

“ Stop me if you’ve heard this before. Shouldn’t I be more responsible for myself by doing my homework and not going out fighting crime while buying groceries at your store? Instead of asking that question, how about I ask you several? Do you have to drag shoplifters along with you to the police station?” His right wrist jangles as he tugs on a dozing criminal, lazing on the floor. “ His name’s - uh - Mike by the way but that’s beside the point. The point is, Do you fight murderous superpowered Bang Babies every week? Do you have to brew a thermos of coffee every night to stay asleep on your patrols? Have you ever rescued a box of puppies from being frozen out in the middle of Dakota City winter? ” He lifts up his mangled sleeve for emphasis. “ You haven’t. And I respect that, mister, because you have a much more harder job than me. I’m tired but you’re even more tired. You’re in a late-night shift. It’s eleven pm. You think I’m just some dumb punk in a costume harassing you for a discount. All we could use right now in Dakota is a little less tired. So, whaddya say we forgive the fact I don’t have 75 cents on hand for this carton of eggs and we do a ‘ I owe you a solid, you owe me a solid’ thing right now.” Virgil flashed a smile along with a thumbs up. “ Sounds good?”

“ Sir, this is a Seven-Eleven.” The shopkeeper kept a thin lip of patience throughout his entire rant. “ Please give the required amount or I will be forced to eject you from the store.”

Virgil signed. He didn’t like November nights in Dakota. The chills came in with a vengeance, riding on the coat-tails of autumn’s truce between summer’s baleful heat and winter’s cold fury. He swore that a meta or a Bang Baby somewhere was somehow responsible for the dropping temperatures that made his breath fog up into a peaky mist. Somehow, it affected the people as well. They became more moodier, more disagreeable, more grouchy like this gentleman in front of him here.

So, screw him if he expected just a little more gratitude from his fellow Dakotans, right?”

The shoplifter at his feet decided now was the best time to wake up.

“ Yoooo, man - “ Mike coughed. “ Can I...like….get some hangover food, man? You got any refried beans on hand-”

“ Now is not a good time, Mike.” Virgil chided him softly. “ We’ll go there after I get my carton of eggs.”

He then paused. Of course. He was an idiot. Sharon did always told him that he was blind as a bat when it came to obvious solutions. He leaned down and gently forced Mike’s inebriated face to look at him.
“ Uh, Mike, sorry about this but I need cash from you. 75 cents, specifically. ” The drunk criminal glanced at him with suspicion. “ Look. If you do this, I’ll buy you a capuccino.” Mike raised his eyebrows even further. “ And a sandwich from Delmar’s.”

“ Well…” The robber shrugged apologetically as he slid something out from his grimy pockets into Virgil’s hands. “ Sorry but this is all I had on hand. I don’t even know the PIN code….”

His face reflected off the Mastercard’s moulded plastic lettering, staring back at him like it was mocking him. The shopkeeper chose that moment to speak out.

“ The distribution of electronic payment has not been offered to this Seven-Eleven outlet due to - “

The flourescent lights overhead crackled and the corporate babbling stopped. Finally. Virgil was relieved for a moment for his lack of emotional control.

“ Sir, be aware, that according to Seven-Eleven’s policy on metahuman damages, damage to any 7-11 property will be fined - “

“ Zip it!” Virgil hissed out loud. He only got a deep frown from the shopkeeper as he returned back to mussing over the cash register. Virgil paced around the shop, Mike’s head following him like a sports fan at a tennis rally. He could stop Talon, Aquamaria, Kangorr, Armadillo and Shocker but…..He stared at the metallic name-tag on the shopkeepers lape...Ashwin just had to be his greatest enemy?

“ Sir-” The shopkeeper tersely spoke out again in his bored tone. “ Please stop pacing around. You are disturbing the other customers.”

The sliding doors to the 7-11 opened with a sudden welcoming *pling* and Mari strode into the convenience store with a grin on her face. Coffee time was her favorite time of the day. She’d been camped outside of the non-descript bank for hours. She was cold. She was tired. But worst of all she was bored. Bank robberies were not as fun as Hollywood movies had suggested. The planning phase was a great disappointment and she had long since tired of Nancy’s banter. His cryptic comments about fortuitous meetings had gotten old and she wasn’t sure what a spider wanted with a Boston creme donut at least three times his size.

Nodding towards the store clerk, she made a beeline towards the filthy looking coffee pot that stood sadly on a counter that had seen far better days and fewer layers of accumulated grease. Grabbing an empty paper cup, she flipped the lever, and listened to the welcome sound of coffee hitting paper.

Crossing her arms as she waited for her coffee to cool, Mari turned towards the costumed figure pacing in front of the cashier and his tied up victim. She did her best to look bored. The scarf wrapped around her face worked as well as any mask and her hoodie hid the rest of her features.

“Yo, fuck face, what’s up with the suit and your tied up friend? Did I miss the comic convention?”

It felt like a slap to his face. Fuckface? All thoughts of pestering the cashier some more disappeared as his face swiveled to the right towards whoever it was that called him out.

“ Okay, who the hell called me - “ His right hand began to burn with voltage before he saw the cup of coffee next to the person who’d spoken to him. She was wrapped in thick clothing, hooded with her mouth hidden by a scarf. Not a thief. Hopefully. He pushed down the instinct to fight as the white glow in his hand receded back.

His eyes were squinted in disbelief behind his polarized visor. “ First of all, ComicFest 2019 is actually 3 months away from now. Second - “ He pointed towards the stylised lightning bolt on his black t-shirt. “ have you been living underneath a rock by any chance? I’m Static. The Kilowatt Kid? The Bang Baby hero? Ring any bells?”

“ Actually - “ Mike piped up. “ - to be fair to the lady, I’ve only heard ‘bout you today after you stopped me from crackin’ open that ATM machine - YOOWCH!”

The amateur thief yelped in pain as a minute bolt skipped from Virgil’s pinky to his butt. Virgil stared pointedly at him. “ If you keep quiet for the next hour, I’ll buy you two sandwiches.”

“ Pastrami with pickles.”

“ Deal.” Virgil turned back to her. “ Third, he’s not my friend.” He then looked longingly at the cup of steaming coffee on the counter before rubbing the dark circles in his eye. It was getting late. Too late. “ Look, miss. I’ve had a really long day. All I want is 75 cents so I can get my carton of eggs and go home.”

“Yeah, and I’m Wonderwoman,” Mari said with a roll of her eyes. The kid couldn’t be Static. Static was supposed to be 6’7’’. He was supposed to have an 8-pack, he was supposed to be shredded. Nancy said that he rode a cloud like some modern day Zeus and threw lightning bolts at his enemies. This bargain bin knock-off was disappointing and Mari didn’t buy it. Sparky just seemed like a kid.

Narrowing her eyes, she cast a quick glance towards the 7-11 clerk. He didn’t look like he was afraid. There didn’t seem to be any danger. The clerk seemed bored. Maybe the costumed kid wasn’t telling the truth, but he wasn’t a robber. He wasn’t a threat. He was just annoying. The stellar quip that Mari had primed was interrupted by the sight of her cheerful spider companion hanging above the cash register. Mari wasn’t sure how or when Nancy had entered the 7-11, but she was glad he was quiet for once. The spider flashed a terrifying, impossible smile as he gestured wildly towards the costumed punk with one of his eight legs.

Hearts and minds. Mari thought with an irritated sigh as she caught on to the scheme. If the dude was Static, she’d have to make friends, and she’d have to play nice. Nancy had told her that they needed him. They needed the Kilowatt Kid. He hadn’t said why. But she trusted Nancy. He was the spider with a plan.

Grabbing her coffee, Mari stepped up to the counter, “Well, Sparky, it’s your lucky day. I’m going to give you a whole dollar.”

Nodding towards the pair of comedians, Mari reached into the pocket of her hoodie. She pulled out her wallet and watched as the pistol she had stolen fell onto the floor with a plastic thud. The words “Dakota City Police Department” were emblazoned on the barrel.

“Oh, fuck. I can explain...Let’s just be cool about this,” Mari said holding both her hands up in the international sign of the Fonz as she shifted between the costumed kid and the clerk. She watched the 7-11 clerk inch closer to the silent alarm that she knew was hidden beneath the counter. Choosing her battle, she pointed a menacing finger at the clerk, “Ashwin, I swear to God, if you press that button I will cut you.”

“ Ma’am,” The clerk’s voice was considerably more quiet now. “ 7-11 does not allow customers with handheld firearms to be allowed within store vicinity…..”

Ashwin’s voice became lost amidst the buzzing in his brain. It looked like a prank gone wrong. The moment the pistol clattered on the floor, the fluorescent light above the both of them flickered erratically as his breathing became strained. His forearm tingled. Just phantom shock. He hadn’t even noticed that his left arm had raised out towards Mari reflexively, electricity dripping off it like a leaking faucet. It took seemingly an eternity for him to raise his arm down, his mind providing excuses but his body paralysed in paranoia.

His crackling palm was still raised towards her as he kneeled down to pick up the pistol, eyes trained on her. Gripping it brings back memories of Paris Island, of pressing a barrel against Ivan Evan’s cheeks, of revenge. He pushes them down and focuses on the present. The now. The initials on the gun were DCPD. His teeth chattered as he breathed in, slowly breaking into a nervous smile.

“ Cool,” he chuckled. “ I think I could use some of that no-”

Virgil paused as something glowed behind the woman's shoulder. A dim orange. Had tomorrow come already or was it just hallucinations from his fatigue? The orange was becoming brighter. No, it was moving. He smelt the air.

Burning.

It wasn't sunlight. It was a sedan on fire heading straight for the store.

Without thinking, he pushed the woman down, forcing her behind him and ripping the aluminium shelves out of the wall to form a barrier, a wall, crumpling the frames apart to mesh into one -

It was too late. The mass of flaming metal shattered the windows into mist and rammed into his arms. Something broke. His joints popped and his bones buckled and bent. He wasn’t sure how his body had broke but he didn’t want to find out. His back slammed against the wall and sent him spiraling into unconsciousness, the sensation of his singed skin fading.

The four brothers stood on the roof of the closest climbable building they could find after emerging from the sewers. Raph was happy to see that it didn't have a roof deck. He didn't know what the hell people wanted a roof deck for, but annoyingly every building was putting one on. It made getting around the city unnoticed kind of hard.

Freaking humans.

The city smelled differently tonight. Raphael wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the way the wind was coming off the river, or maybe the humans had put their trash out on the wrong night in this part of the city. He wasn't sure. But he had an inkling it was something more than that. His senses had been dulled by adrenaline and endorphins flowing through his body at an increased rate. He had waited so long for this day, the day he'd get to take out all his anger and frustrations on people who deserved it.

Raph knew such thoughts ran counter culture to what his father had taught them, and he did his best to stay centered on the moment. He knew he'd need to in order to keep his brothers safe. The last thing he needed was to lose another sibling on a night out in New York. He'd die before he let that happen again.

"So where do we head, fearless leader?" he slapped Leo on his shoulder. The elder gave Raph a narrow side-eye, and Raphael shrugged with a chuckle. Leo and him could butt heads at times, but it was usually in the heat of a fight. Raph wasn't dumb enough to think he could formulate a plan better than his brother. But in a fight? He was for sure the best in that category.

"I figure we'll hit where Alopex saw the Hand the other night," Leo laid out the plan. "They probably won't be there, but it's a start. And who knows, we might get lucky."

"I love gettin' lucky," Mikey moved his brow up and down in a suggestive manner.

"You have no clue what that means," Raph rubbed his temples with a thumb and forefinger.

"Yuh huh!" Mikey shot back before leaning over to Donni and whispering, "What does it mean?"

"I'll tell you when you're older," Donnie patted the smallest turtle on the head. "Sounds like a solid plan, Leo. Lets go so we can stop these mystical demon worshiping ninjas. That way we can get home and get cracking on the murderous unicorns plaguing central park."

"Ha! Good one, Donnie," Mikey chuckled. "Unicorns."

"Droll, Donnie. Droll," Leo mumbled. "Remember, these guys are the real deal. Keep your heads, and don't do anything rash."

Raphael noticed Leo was looking at him, "It is pretty ironic that rash and Raph rhyme, huh?" Let's get the job done."

---

She pulled her jacket close against the cold and tried not to make too much eye contact with anyone she passed. Not only was she disobeying the will of the student newspaper, she was in a neighborhood small, red-headed college students rarely tread in. Usually she didn't have a problem strolling through dodgy places with friends, but going it alone was a different story. She needed to get in, and get out.

April had gotten a tip from a friend of a friend whose father was on the police force that there were reports of shady, robed individuals meeting with mob-types in a warehouse in this area. It wasn't much to go on, but April needed all the help she could get, and maybe putting her neck on the line would end up reaping some major rewards. And hopefully wouldn't involve running from gun fire and katanas or something.

A long, dark alleyway beckoned, and she sighed to herself, "Well, April, you're in it now."

The ladder that her contact had told her about was right where it was supposed to be. She took a deep breath and climbed up. She found the small fire escape landing empty, and pushed her way through the metal, rusted door. It scraped against the grated flooring inside, sending a screeching echo reverbirating across the large, empty space inside. She winced, but knew there was no one inside.

April readied her camera and began taking pictures. There were signs of the meeting the other night. A large table was setup in the center of the warehouse, eight seats around it. An ashtray at one of the seats still had the stub of a used cigar teetering on the edge. April cursed herself for not bringing a kit to do some finger prints. Naming names would really make a story sing. No one could have ignored her after that.

Oh well, no need to worry about that now. At least she had proof they were meeting here. Now all she had to do was set up the small, battery powered camera she had brought to record any meetings that came after. April climbed back up towards the fire escape, placed the long-lasting camera in a corner no one would see it, and headed back outside, closing the door behind her.

' T H E E M B A S S Y ‘

---

^{Present Day | Manhattan, New York}

Ted was hyperventilating. Tora patted him on the back on the lounge and tried to soothe his spiked anxiety. The others looked on at the Blue Beetle with perplexed expressions, not understanding his severe reaction to the news.

Bea just looked slightly amused at the overreaction, before uttering “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. I’m the one who’s going to be expected to babysit him…”

...but we’ve gone too far. Let’s back up a bit.

---

Most of the team was sitting in the main lounge. Tora and Ted were curled up together on the lounge watching the television. With big bowls full of mixed nuts, popcorn and potato chips sitting on a central coffee table. Janet was sitting on another sofa watching the same TV whilst Hank had his nose deep in some science periodical or another and Scott was at the adjoining kitchen, making himself a sandwich when the news came in.

Beatriz walked in the room on her phone and made the announcement.

“I know this isn’t exactly what we do… But my stepmother’s tearing her hair out. My stepbrother has caused some ‘issues’ at his company. And whilst he’s going to have to eventually step into the role, he’s irritated enough of the senior board that she needs to get him out of their hair for a while before they kill him.”

“Is this really the right place for him?” Janet asked.

“Well, I can understand if none of you want to have him here. I don’t really either… Little jerk… But she wants me to ask, since he is technically a metahuman, and I don’t think she really understands what we do here either.”

“Well, now I don’t know about that.” Ted said earnestly, getting to his feet. “We are here to better human/metahuman relations and where better to start than family? Bring him on over. What’s the little tyke’s name.”

“Lee-ttle Bobby.” She said condescendingly to the Blue Beetle, before she sighed and returned to her stepmother on the phone. She spoke rapidly in Portuguese to her stepmother about ‘’Berto’, she’d been hoping for the request to quickly be turned down so she wouldn’t have to put up with him.

“It’s fine.” Ted said to the others, reaching for a handful of mixed nuts and throwing them down his mouth. “I had this place built with more than enough spare rooms, we can easily take little Robert DaCosta off their hands for a few--”

He stopped. The pallor dropped from his face.

“Bobby… ‘Berto… Your brother is Roberto DaCosta? DaCosta Industries, Roberto DaCosta?”

“That’s right.” Bea smiled, taking some glee at seeing the omnipresent goofy grin drop from Ted Kord’s face, and no small amount of joy in the fact that she was no longer the only one who seemed to be bothered by the thought of her stepbrother’s presence.

Ted started choking and coughing up clouds of nut chunks. Falling back to the lounge. His breathing started to rapidly accelerate. The others looked on at the Blue Beetle’s severe reaction to the name ‘Roberto DaCosta’ with perplexed expressions. Tora started patting him on the back, to make sure he’d coughed up all of the chunks, and to soothe his breathing.

Bea looked slightly amused at his reaction, uttering “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. I’m the one who’s going to be expected to babysit him…”

“Who’s Roberto DaCosta?” Janet addressed the elephant in the room. It was becoming abundantly clear that only Ted and Beatriz had any familiarity with the name, or the company.

Ted got back to his feet and pushed his way past Scott to get to the kitchen. He opened the pantry and grabbed a few cans and tossed them to Janet, Tora and Scott. Hank still had his nose in his science journal, completely disinterested in the current conversation.

“No thanks. I don’t want creamed corn on my sandwich…” Scott winced, offering to toss the can back.

“Look at the back on the label.” Ted directed the three.

“They’re cylindrical cans.” Hank said, not prying his view from his reading material, as he turned a page. “Technically there is no ‘front’ or ‘back’.”

“Thank you for your semantic lessons in geometry, Hank. Very helpful. Just look.” He directed the others.

“‘Distributed by DaCosta Industries’ So they, what, make canned vegetables? Makes the cans?”

“They don’t make anything… Except for the odd container ship every few years. ‘Industries’ is a misnomer, but there’s no law against his company using it. They’re a logistics company. Emmanuel DaCosta, their father, is... sorry Bea, was probably the richest man you've never heard of.” Ted said, exasperated.

“So what? He just ships canned food? I don’t see your point.”

“I pulled that can out at random. I could have pulled out pretty much anything in there. Or the refrigerator. Or the freezer. 90-95% of everything in there has that logo on it. Produce as well.”

“Not my produce at home.” Janet said. “I buy it fresh from the supermarket. Not this canned stuff.”

“‘Fresh’ supermarket produce gets stuffed in a refrigerator or cryo container and sits on one of these ships for months, bobbing around in the ocean before they pull the container, thaw it and lay it out in your fruit and vegetables aisle. They just thaw it and spray it with water so it looks crisp.” Ted corrected.

“But why?” Tora asked.

“Money. Supply/demand. The ships are cheap warehousing, most of them are either fully automated, or are at least close to so little to no expenditure in wages. And when it comes to buying off of the farmers, it drives the prices down. They’re able to get it for pennies on the dollar.” Ted said, putting the cans back as they were returned to him.

“So you want me to tell her ‘No’?” Bea asked, her hand on her holding her phone out.

Ted’s mind race as he considered everything.

“No! No, we’re here to help people. How’s it look if we won’t even help family? Tell her we’ll take him. Just let me… Give me a few minutes.” He swept up his laptop and disappeared out back.

“Where are you going?” Tora asked.

“Starting a share buy-back!” He yelled out, from another room. “The last thing I need is to piss her stepbrother off telling him he’s taking too long in the bathroom or something and have him retaliate in other ways!”

Bea sighed and dropped her head at the news she’d have to put up with her half-brother. She begrudgingly spoke in Portuguese to her step-mother, a disappointed acquiescence. Before she heard something that caused her to burst forth a stream of angry obscenities.

She hung up the phone with a slide of her finger, a humorously dainty movement given her furor. She swept her green hair out of her face and looked at the others who were waiting for an explanation.

“Sorry. She said the car is already here. It… bothered me, because I realised she wasn’t asking for permission, but telling me what was already happening. She’s sent my little praga of a half brother here. He’s been waiting out the front in his chauffered car.” She walked over to one of the Kord Omniversal hubs on the wall, checked the car was indeed there and buzzed them up the driveway of The Embassy.

Suddenly Ted swept back in the room, presumably having already started the Kord Omniversal share buy-back.

“It’s OK.” He said vaguely, leaving the others unsure if it was to the others or for his own reassurance. “This just means we’ll have to tighten the belt somewhat.” He swept up the bowls of nuts, popcorn and chips from the table. “Cut back on our expenditures and luxuries. You’ll all still be getting paid, I’ve just got to run the numbers on--” The doorbell rang, interrupting him but Ted was in a hyperactive autopilot mode. Still flustered by the news.

“It’s alright. I’ll get it.” He ran to the front door, still carrying the bowls.

He opened it and was met by the sight of a perfectly manicured nineteen year old Roberto DaCosta, the smirking prince of DaCosta Industries, standing there in a white suit with a pair of sunglasses which Ted guessed cost more than his one-of-a-kind Blue Beetle goggles folded up and tucked in the top of his shirt. He let out an involuntary yelp at the sight.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough there, chunky?” Bobby said, grabbing a potato chip from the bowl balancing on top and walking past him into the Embassy.

ARGUS was everything Booster had assumed it was. A police force that was over-militarized and over aggressive for what they were supposed to be doing. A bunch of military surplus in a country known for having too many guns and too many ways to use them. Body-armored soldiers lined the hall, and the outside of the building. Booster leaned on the sill of a window and watched they run drills in the yard below. It felt oddly familiar to her. She wasn't sure why, and of course Skeets wouldn't tell her. He wasn't good for anything, and being here for a few days had her annoyed with him.

The flashbacks seemed to be at bay, though she was getting more and more inklings about who she truly was. Not enough to make a definitive statement, but enough was coming to her.

She couldn't say the same with her read on her hosts. Nathaniel Haywood was a boy scout, but he was the worst kind of them. All rules, all business, and absolutely no cracks to show in the metaphorical armor. She was good at finding what drove people crazy and using it to really get to the heart of who they were. So far Heywood was about as open as a clam. The longest sentence he had said to her was telling her that the bathroom was down the hall. It was maddening.

"Why are we staying her, ma'am?" Skeets asked from behind her. She turned to see him inspecting the room they had been given at ARGUS headquarters. They called it her quarters, but in reality it was a prison. One she could break out of at any moment, granted, but a prison none the less. ARGUS was all about control. They wanted to make sure people like her were under thumb.

They were here so they could keep an eye on her, and for now she'd let them. She didn't have anything to hide. Hell, she couldn't hide anything about her if she wanted to.

"We're here because our lovely hosts were kind enough to extend us an invitation," she smiled to the robot and then motioned him closer. "Mind hooking up to the suit? I want to run some diagnostics."

Once the robot was attached, she said quietly, "Okay, that was a lie. I need to send an encrypted email off their servers. You can do that, right?"

"Of course ma'am," the robot responded in the affirmative. "To whom will I be sending it to?"

"Sandy Vincent," Booster sighed. She was with Roxxon, sure, but she seemed trustworthy, and that's exactly what Gold needed at this point. Not only was she under ARGUS's "command" at this point, but the Houston operation had left a sour taste in Booster's mouth. She ran by her thoughts into the messsage. On how that ARGUS seemed to show up exactly when the members of Onslaught got away, and how they knew exactly where Irons was being held. Something about it stunk. She wasn't sure if she was being played, but at least Sandy could look into it for her.

"Message sent, ma'am," Skeets confirmed.

"Thanks, Skeets," she sighed. "Let's go see if we can find some food in this place."

"I do not have to eat, ma'am," Skeets corrected her.

"Yea, I know," she rubbed her temples.

---

John Henry Irons sat in a rusted lab filled with sparkling new equipment. Wherever the terrorists had brought him was ancient, but their funding allowed the the top of the line when it came to actually kitting out the lab. On the one wall hung the armor that he was working on, and next to it, inexplicably, was a larger version of it. Instead of making a man the size of a very large gorilla, it would make him the size of an elephant.

That wasn't the baffling thing about it, thought. No, the baffling thing was that no one outside of Roxxon was supposed to know about this particular invention. Outside companies had surmised he was working on human exoskeletons for a while now. Hell, some of them had attempted to poach him away from Roxxon. But this one was top of the line top secret. They had wiped the computers in the North Dakota lab after they moved him as well. The only place these plan were kept was on his laptop. It was impossible.

"Admiring our handiwork, I see," a voice from behind him announced its presence. He turned to find a tall, well-built man in a red-and-black tactical getup sitting behind a pane of glass staring into the lab. He almost looked like Captain America, if Irons didn't know better and the colors weren't wrong. His face was also completely covered, unlike the disgraced American hero. But the makeup of the armor looked similar. Made for quick, sudden movements and flexibility. "I'm sure you're wondering how we got it."

"Don't right care how you got it," Irons was unimpressed. "All I know is you're not gonna get me to finish this. That's what you want, right?"

The man in red and black smiled. Irons couldn't see it, but he sensed it. The man had something planned for this occasion.

Of course he did, John, Irons thought to himself. He's an international terrorist, not an idiot.

The terrorist stood and motioned towards a screen on the other wall of Irons's lab. He flicked a switch and it came to life, revealing a woman and her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, laughing over dinner.

As soon as John saw them, he shot out of the cot he was in and smashed his fists against the glass, "If you touch them I will kill you."

The terrorist laughed softly, "Doctor Irons, you are in no position to harm me. But you are in the perfect position to help your sister and your niece. Finish the armor and nothing will happen to them. It's as simple as that. You have two days."