[IC] The New Frontier: A Marvel/DC One Universe RP

[Roman]

Matthew followed the clacking of the metal heels deep into Hell's Kitchen, every step rippling out across the street and down the curb, lighting up the asphalt. The ripples mixed with the rain, every individual drop giving him constant flashes of the city - every sidewalk tile, every trashcan, every streetlight. A whole city as one surface, pulsing and radiating soundwaves and heat. Matthew himself spread noise, the low wet thud of his boots against rooftops feeding him information that he accepted, analysed, and discarded. Above all that was Matthew's mark, and now, despite the rain, he was picking up smells as well - wet leather, musky cologne...and the slight tinge of salt, mixed with oil and the unmistakable scent of gunpowder. The salt carried the sea with it, but Matthew already knew they were headed to the docks by their direction - but the oil and gunpowder was from the pistols Daredevil's mark carried, holstered beneath his coat around his torso. They'd been fired recently, but the man didn't carry the smell of blood with him, so Matthew assumed it was target practice or goods testing. They were drawing closer to the docks and he was learning more about his mark every step - testing pistols. Flashy fashion sense. Bald, wearing sunglasses, thin vest top. Something in his left pocket - the coat swung heavier on that side. He leaped another rooftop, putting a hand to his batons in mid-air. Something told him he'd need them.

Matthew kept on the mark's trail. They went a couple more blocks and then buildings gave way to warehouses and Matthew had to hit the ground if he wanted to follow. Warehouses were noisy and involved a lot of glass - in the rain, he didn't want to slip. Or put his foot through a pane. The guy carried guns, and bulletproof armour was hard to move in. Instead, he dropped carefully, leaping from the rooftop to the indent of a window a few stories down on the opposite building, landing with the balls of his feet on the outcropping and springing back, flipping backwards from the window and reaching out to grab a steel cable that was strung between the buildings another few stories down. His orientation didn't matter; he kept track of himself through proprioception and the buildings through sound, air pressure, the smell of brick and concrete. The cable flexed as it took his weight and he dropped the last few metres, rolling as he hit the ground and unsheathing his batons. He spun them in his hand and tested the retracting cable that strung them together, and then, satisfied, re-centered his hearing. The footsteps were still there, still his mark's. They'd been alone for a while now, and he hadn't changed his gait. Matthew slunk across walls and behind shipping containers, still in pursuit. They were by the sea's edge now, and the docks had turned into massive corridors of corrogated metal, walled off by cargo.

He whistled. A simple four-note tune, but it was clear in its purpose. A woman appeared from behind one of the containers. Matthew had heard her heartbeat as they'd approached - it remained calm. His mark's did not. He cleared his throat, and spoke:
"The guns are good. I'll take more pistols, and I want to add the assaults and the sniper. It'll all be useful." His heart rate was rapid, but his breathing and words remained steady. He was about to do something stupid.
"You sound like you're takin' a crew. He doesn't like supplying crews. They might get stupid and think they're competition." She replied, voice calm, heartbeat to match. She seemed to anticipate it.
"No crew. Just what's needed for the target. High-risk."
"If you're going after who I think you're going after you're going to need a crew. Not like you'd lose much on the split."
"I don't need the money." It wasn't a boast - his heartrate hadn't faltered, so he believed it. Either he was well-off or didn't care. "I'm not doing it because someone paid me to do it." Still telling his truth. "I'm doing it because it can be done. And everyone's going to know my name when I do it." He seemed proud in himself, puffed up on his own stupid ego. The woman just shrugged.
"Whatever. Just make sure you keep whatever trouble you stir up in Gotham. He doesn't need egos bringing trouble back here. You know what he wants for the goods. You can wire it direct."
"I know what he wants." Muttered the man, voice low - trying to be threatening. Matthew primed himself, every muscle wound tight, ready to spring. His fist clenched around his batons. The man unholstered his pistols, arm stretching out to hold it in front of him. "But only I get what I want."

The woman would have begun to laugh, had Matthew not loosened his body and launched from the corner, already raising his arm to strike with the baton - but the woman had seen his fast movement and the man had noticed her, throwing his arm out behind him to the left without looking and pulling the trigger. Matthew felt the arm's movement through the air, the heat from the muzzle and the sound of the gun telling him the exact path of the bullet and he was able to throw himself backwards to the ground immediately, feeling the air ripple and vibrate above him as the bullet slammed into a shipping container and ricocheted away. Matt barely had time to register the good shot before he flicked the top of his baton as he fell, releasing the cable that tied the two together and whipping his arm out as he hit the floor, hitting the man's inside wrist, nearly breaking it with the force of the throw and forcing him to drop the pistol. He slid in the rain, pitching forward and pushing up on his feet as the mark drew his other pistol in his remaining hand. He barely had to time to wrap his finger around the trigger before Matt brought his stick straight down on the arm, cleanly breaking the ulna as the shooter yelled out in pain, silenced by a boot to the chest as the other pistol clattered to the ground. The woman was pissed - at the mark.

"You brought the fucking Devil with you? You let him follow you? You're a fuck-up and a nobody and you thought you were going after the fucking Bat?! After threatening me? He'll come see you soon, don't you worry about that. Then, people are going to know who you are."

She was gone before Matt could stop her - not that it would have been useful to do so. He took a deep breath through his nose, analysing all the scents he could find before isolating one that would be easy to follow up on - fish, variety of, from the nearby market she obviously frequented - before he delivered a sharp heel-kick to the skull of his mark. Extorting an arms-dealer to get weapons so he could go after Batman. He probably wasn't doing much damage that hadn't been done already.

It didn't take long to deliver the no-name to the PD, and Matt wondered if he'd see him later in court. Probably not - he didn't see much of his handiwork. He usually got them on the streets before he needed to defend their victims in the courtroom. He spent the rest of the night on more patrol, thinking over his new lead through the arms dealer and listening to his city. Gotham had its own problems; but Hell's Kitchen wouldn't see anymore trouble tonight.

[Hexaflexagon]

There was a soft click as the backdoor to the estate on the east end of Long Island was picked open. No alarms or cameras would pick up the intrusion of the scoundrel. They had been disabled three minutes before, five more minutes until security truly started to suspect something. It had been almost too easier, she had picked the day when the gardening staff had been let out early and the patrols themselves were light. The guards were too busy watching the latest super heroic antics on the news. Of course they would. The chaos and depravity of the outside world seemed so far away from their current local with it’s perfectly manicured lawns fenced in by large gates fitted with the latest security tech available on the private market. It was enough to deter any normal thief or vandal. Of course Natasha Romanova was no mere thief.

Stepping through the threshold and into the house proper her feet made barely a noise as they step along the smooth marble of a contemporary kitchen. It was a simple affair with a large refrigerator with an electric oven built into the countertop. The cabinets hung were long and rectangular and took up much of the space in the upper portions of the room. The kitchen table was large and looked like it could fit several individuals at it but on closer inspection one would realize that only one individual sat at the table. The location at the head of the table where the window would provide the best reading light only marked by the permanent circular mark of a hot coffee mug used over the years. Natasha moved quickly moving towards the edge of the wall by the large rectangular opening that lead into the hallway. Pressing her body against the wall she closed her eyes and continued down from thirty, heart beating at a steady rhythm.

At thirty exactly the guard the patrolled this section of the house came rounding the corner and passed the entrance to kitchen. At the same time Natasha twisted her body around the corner and grabbed the man’s head and with strength unnatural to a woman her size pulled the man backwards with a hand clamped over his mouth. Seconds later she smashed his head against the kitchen wall hard. Shout muffled by her hands she smashed his hand against the wall again, and then once more as he eyes rolled into the back of his head. Gingerly she brought him to the floor. She looked at the indent in the wall that she had made with the man’s head peering into the blood as she listened intently. No sounds followed, not the rushing of footsteps of somebody coming to investigate. She silently thanked that the house was built prior war, back when men used to build things to last and made walls thick enough to dampen the noise. She quickly took the ID card off of the body before she made her way into the hallway and turned right.

She moved past many rooms: a workout room, some kind of office, a spare bedroom, bathroom, among others as she continued down the hall. The hallway itself was sparse, painted off white in color and with solid wooden floors that ever so slightly flexed beneath gentle footfalls. Paintings and pictures adorned the walls, the paintings were valuable most dating from the baroque or further back. The pictures were all of one man, wide and muscular with a big smile and vaguely eastern european features and they showed the man all across the world somewhere in black and white, others in color. No pictures of children or women, just the man growing steadily older throughout. She came to the end of the hallway and pulled to the right as she remembered the map that she had memorized. She came into a large space with towering windows twice her own height. To one side there was a grand piano and a staircase leading to the upper level and to other a fireplace and above it a large TV in which the news was blasting, two guards sat beneath it on the couch watching the antics of Superman and members of the Justice League. It was always a media circus wherever they went. Natasha hated it, it’s why she preferred missions like this where she could be alone, where she could thrive.

She moved quickly in a half crouch towards the couch and produced two knives from her belt. She couldn't just leave them, Ivan’s voice still spoke to her in her head low, gravely and smelling of Vodka. Leave no witnesses little one. They never heard her approach, they would of had enough trouble if they were actually paying attention but they were far too engrossed on the helicopter footage on the large screen in front of them. Natasha rose and with a swift movement of her hands drove both the knives into the guards, one in each neck. She held her hands there as their own hands came up to grasp at hers, gurgling past blood and metal as they tried to say something. She counted to three and the two slowly slumped over and she withdrew the blades and stored them before moving on leaving the two where they were slumped over one another coating the couch in their blood.

She moved quickly past the piano and upstair case to the upper level. She passed more paintings and more portraits as she stopped just shy of rounding another corner ahead of her. She listened and she heard it, the soft breathing of the one guard that was guarding the door to the target’s study. He was there twelve hours a day and promptly at 12 the shifts would change for the next to stand and watch. She took out the ID card that she had snatched from the first guard and with a flick of the wrist she threw it around the corner and into the hallway. Natasha heard the grunt of surprise, she waited and then heard the sounds of footsteps getting closer. She reached down and produced one of her pistols and waited. The wood floor creaked harder as the man knelt down on one knee to examine the card. She took her chance.

The guard looked up and barely had time to let out a gasp as he saw the figure slide out from the corner with a silenced AMT Longslide pointed at his head. Natasha finger pressed against the trigger there was muffled bang and the man’s head rocketed backwards as a .45 ACP round smashed into his forehead. Blood splattered against the nearby wall and floor and the guard dropped the ground. Holstering the pistol Natasha gingerly stepped over the body and moved down the hallway and opened the door to the study.

The study itself was more like a tiny library than anything else with large shelves of books reaching upwards to a ceiling. She made her way past glass cases filled with memorabilia some was more recognizable than others such as gold bars etched with the swastika. Others were less recognizable parchments and pieces of paper, some looked like diplomas or other official documents some in english others in cyrillic. One even had a picture of the man in portraits arm in arm with Stalin smiling medals adorning his chest and the hammer and sickle flying in the background. She finally came around the corner and into the central area of the study, a fireplace going in the corner and a chair sitting in front of a bear skin rug. In a chair a man sat watching the fire. As Natasha approached he spoke and she froze.

“Это уместно, что они послали одного из вас.” The man spoke fluent russian in a fading voice as he stood up with great difficulty to turn and face his killer. He was far flung from the man that had once clasped Stalin arm in arm. His strong physique had faded and crumbled appearing as if a strong breeze would blow him over. Black hair had long started its dispersion left only with remnants around the edges of his head, like some sort of monk.

“Ты предал нас. Вы предали свою страну.” Natasha spoke back her voice cold and emotionless as she drew her gun and trained it on the man.

“Что я предал? Мертвый идеал? Мертвый видение? Это время давно прошло.” The man spoke his voice filled with a surprising amount of conviction as he took a few painstakingly slows steps towards Natasha.

“Это не освобождает вас от ваших преступлений.” Natasha responded gun still trained on his chest.

“Даже в этом случае, почему вы убили за давно умерших призраков?” The man asked taking one step closer.

“Потому что я не забыл, что у вас есть врач.” Her finger snaked around the trigger of the pistol.

“Вы можете быть гораздо больше, чем мстительный призрак ребенка.” The man responded with another step closer his chest now pressing against the barrel of the gun. His hands clasped Natasha on the shoulder as he own unwavering eyes peered at her.

“Нет, я не могу.” Natasha pulled the trigger on the gun and she felt the man’s grip on her shoulders tighten only for a few moments later them to slip away as he dropped to the ground. Natasha looked down at the body and sighed. It used to be hard, she used to feel something. These days she didn’t feel much of anything anymore. It should've bothered her and yet she found solace in the cold emptiness. It made things easier. Walking towards the fireplace she opened the protective grate covering it and let the embers leak. They soon caught on the rug and the numerous scattered about and a dozen small flames began to steadily grow in the study. Walking over to the corpse she put one bullet in the back of his head just to make sure and then she slipped out the door and out of the house.

As she made it over the fence that separated the house from the outside world she looked back at the burning building. The guards had come rushing as soon as they saw the smoke and she could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. They wouldn't come in time of course. And even if by some miracle they did all the evidence of her appearance would of been burned away. She slipped off of the main road and made her back to her car which she had hidden away. As the car door opened automatically unlocking when it read her fingerprints touching the handle she looked back towards the direction of the house, the smoke still rising in the distance a deep black even against the night sky. She then sat inside and there was a soft click as the car door locked behind her.

[miette]

Raven had agreed to meet Rose after the meeting, but had not seen her amongst the throngs of mutants leaving the old building. She'd scanned the crowds two times over but couldn’t see the girl's silver hair against the dull yellow of the street lights. Raven had accepted Rose when she had come to her at her lowest and maybe more than she wanted to admit saw a little of herself in her.

Wilson was smart, quick-witted and had great potential but Raven needed to see true commitment from the girl in order to take her on as her apprentice. Rose was talented but still craved acceptance more than anything else.

Mystique had taken Rose under her wing because he father had refused to do so, believing it to be too dangerous for his daughter. Mystique provided both the home and cause Rose sought for. If the girl applied herself she could become indispensable to the Brotherhood's cause. Though her strength and combat abilities were of note Wilsons precognitive abilities were why Mystique was interested in Rose. That was the talent the Brotherhood needed most.

Pyro avoided Mystique's yellow gaze as he skulked out of the door.

"How long are you going to be sulking with me?"

"You know that I trust in you and we needed you to step up in Magneto's absence. I need you to show me I'm not making a mistake by following you."

"I meant what I said in there, if anyone has reservations about my leadership they are free to leave. You're useful but the Brotherhood will rise - with or without you."

"Fine," His shoulders dropping with exasperation. "Sooner or later, Raven you're going to realize you do need me. This cause of ours, we're here to build the life we deserve, and what life do you have if you don’t let anyone become part of it?"

"This fight won't end, Pyro you're naive to think it, not in your lifetime. I made you my right hand to see that my orders are being followed, not to manage me. Don’t make me think I've made a mistake."

She pushed past Pyro, deciding to take the longer route back, leaving him twirling his lighter in frustration.

Since infiltrating the Department of Defense, Darkholme had intercepted intel from DARPA about planned attacks on the Brotherhood. She also had been smuggling weaponry, managing to secure firepower which hadn't even been rolled out in the military yet. There was no question the JLA had the upper hand here, but they wouldn’t be ready for the Brotherhood's next move. Mystique was no fool, she wasn’t blind to what had been happened to the other factions of the Brotherhood. She was determined to stay under the radar until they were ready to hit their enemies big.

For now the offshoots of the Brotherhood would keep Captain Marvel and the rest of the Justice League distracted. Mystique's cell was to remain underground. They would gather more power and momentum until they were ready to strike. Without their knowledge, the Department of Defense would be sponsoring their next attack. The Friends of Humanity had been drawing a lot of attention to themselves. There was nothing she could do to stop her followers from fighting back. For now the distractions were welcome. It kept Captain Marvel occupied and drew suspicion away from Mystiques silence. Mystique knew where the Justice League's achilles heel was.

Raven clung to the shadows as she transformed herself into a more inconspicuous form. Pyro was right, she hadn't much to go home to. She didn’t need anything. With sleep would only ever come regret and nightmares of her past. She didn’t need to be weakened by emotion. Not now.

Damaged buildings cast broken shadows on the sidewalk as Mystique walked further out into the slums of Coast City. It was deemed a waste of an investment for Coast City to rebuild down here. That suited Mystique just fine. She had found a spot away from humans, some old run down flats that were home to drunks and drug users who couldn't tell who was coming and going.

Raven noticed a familiar smell as she passed the alleyway adjacent to her building - Rose. Something wasn’t right. Wilson knew not to come here. Mystique dropped, becoming part of the shadows, and crawled closer to the alleyway. Startled by her sudden appearance a rat scuttled past her. Without flinching she shunted her clawed hand down on the rats skull and prevented it from making a noise. Mystique heard a faint sobbing from inside the alley and slunk along the wall to find Rose Wilson slumped behind a garbage tank.

Rose Wilson was propped on some garbage bags and at her feet were scattered inhaler refills.


"This again, Rose?"

The drug enhanced Rose's precognitive abilities and allowed her to enter a temporary dream state. Rose had begun to rely on the drug to see her own future. Though Mystique had no idea what she was searching for, but she knew it was a distraction. One the Brotherhood could not afford.

"I need you to help me, Raven"

"You don't need me to help you, you need to help yourself. You missed the meeting because you were too focused on piecing together your half formed premonitions."

Rose's head lolled as she mumbled into her dirtied sleeve. "I'm sorry, Raven. I didn’t mean to come here. I just need to know, I need to be able to see-"

"You're wasting away living in a world that doesnt exist yet. You have responsibilities, Rose. You have people that want you here. Don’t ignore that. You're meant to be a part of what's going on right now. Don’t let me d-"

Mystique cut herself short.

"Don’t let the Brotherhood down."

There was some truth to what Wilson was mumbling. After all, Mystique needed her and the girl wasn’t naive enough to think she had taken her this closely under her wing out of the goodness of her heart. Rose Wilson was the reason the Brotherhood had found the Justice League's weakness. They needed every chance they could get, they needed to utilize every mutant's power at their disposal and as long as it was in the name of the Brotherhood there was no loss they could not excuse.

The empty inhaler cartridges clattering to the floor as Mystique hooked her arm under Rose's and pulled her upright. The child needed a parental figure, and Raven needed her abilities, but it would be remiss of her not to admit to herself that she felt some old wrong being righted by taking care of a child in need. Maybe if she'd have taken care of Graydon things would be different. Shaking the thought from her head, Raven cleared her mind. There was only one person she needed to be, only one that she was ever meant to be, and that was the person to see the Brotherhood's cause fulfilled.

A new dawn was coming. In the next few days she would show the humans that had doubted them just how powerful and superior the Brotherhood really were.

[Sep]

---

Vista Verde, New Mexico. 1959HRS Local Time

"RROOOOOSSSS!"

Hulk continued slamming the vehicle up and down, as Hulk would eventually make puny man come out. If not puny man would be crushed in the vehicle! That was all that mattered, the puny man. Ross. Had to pay for everything he did to Hulk! Hulk wasn't bad, but everyone treated Hulk like a monster so they got a monster. Hulk would show them how he is strongest. Nobody could beat Hulk, and eventually they would learn. They'd learn to leave Hulk alone!

As an explosion hit his shoulder, likely from a hand held grenade launcher, Hulk cast a look over his shoulder. Half curiosity, half snarl. Then another grenade blew up in his face. Shaking his head in pure rage Hulk threw the vehicle in his hands towards the offending troops, shouting after the vehicle as it flew through the air... before colliding with the street and going rolling.

Hulk wouldn't know but inside Ross was getting a true feeling to what it was like to be in a tin can... or he would if he hadn't lost consciousness several minutes ago. The generals vehicle out the way shells began firing again crashing into his back and pushing him down onto the pavement, he could hear the helicopters in the distance.

They wouldn't let Hulk go. More puny humans were coming, always coming. Always attacking Hulk. Never leaving him alone, not only Ross. All the others were bad too! Hulk was wrong to trust Banner. Could never be happy here, this was a place full of puny humans. Puny humans who probably told them that Hulk was here. Before Hulk could push up, stand up. Jump away. The puny humans shot a net at him.

Though it wasn't a normal net, pins surrounding the net were attracted to one another so the second the net was shot it began trying to constrict as they tried to rejoin to have it's prey fully ensnared. Though the sheer size, and strength of Hulk wasn't making it easy. As thousands of electric volts poured through the net into Hulk it was unclear who was going to win the battle between the beasts anger and the abuse it's body was taking. Then suddenly, the net began to budge. Hulk began pushing his arms out towards the edge of the net, and against all the odds the net began to pull apart. Within a couple of minutes the entire net tore apart and lay in tatters on the ground.

Hulk let loose a defiant roar aimed at the heavens, as soldiers surrounding him looked to each other. Not really sure on what to do, until one Major Talbot tapped his radio. "Bring in the gunships!"

Hulk wasn't as stupid as they thought he was! He broke their puny net, could hear their puny helicopters coming towards him. The powerful cannons began firing tearing the paved tarmac apart, through ruined walls and buildings. Hulk just began to run in the other direction.

Then something tugged at his mind. Banner. There were people that way, but Hulk didn't care about puny Humans! Though Banner wouldn't let him get them hurt... Though Hulk knew that Banner was puny! He couldn't control Hulk. Though he could stop Hulk from getting to go free. So, right shoulder first he tore into one of the many abandoned buildings.

Occasionally fire from one of the gunships would rip through a wall, window or ceiling as Hulk continued to one through one wall after the next. Across streets pushing cars out of his way as he carved a path of destruction through Vista Verde. Hulk didn't care, he just wanted to get away. If the choppers would stop chasing him he could do it quickly, but no. They continued to chase. Crashing through a last wall there were no more buildings. So he jumped, his powerful legs casting him high into the air. Before gravity took hold of him again and he came crashing back down....

Stumbling slightly and creating an impact crater where he landed he jumped again.

and again...

and again...

_{and again...}

[Eddie Brock]

“Calm Thor down” in this particular occasion roughly translated to ‘indirectly or directly stop Thor from killing a prominent Brotherhood member because he has a god complex’.

Carol thought about the options— fight somebody who could take her energy pulses and strength on equal footing… or try to defuse a god’s wrath. This hadn’t been the first time she and Flash had to think about how to proceed with the situation given Thor’s overzealous nature that really… couldn’t be tempered. The superheroine knew she didn’t really have to time to be choosy as either option was a headache by a different name. To calm Thor down would be the opposite of fun, but Carol felt like she was the better fit and she knew Flash was waiting for her to bring out her fist for a good old game of rock, paper, scissors to decide. But she’d never make the mistake of playing a game based on timing and chance against the Scarlet Speedster again.

“Can you handle Scarlet Witch?” She asked the speedy superhero, matter-of-factly. “Because I know I can take whatever Thor dishes out.”

“Unless you want me to go after Scarlet Witch instead?”

@Gowi

"I think you better handle Goldilocks," I answer, glancing at the fuming Thunderer with a frown. "Between the two of us, it seems less likely that he'll try to put a hammer through your teeth." Turning back to Carol, I give a little smile. "Besides, I might as well complete the Maximoff set while I'm at it."

As if on cue, Scarlet Witch looses a bolt of crackling pink energy at Captain Marvel's blindside. Acting reflexively, I grab Carol by the waist and spin her out of the shot's path. Giving a satisfied grin only slightly marred by nervousness, I say, "Looks like my dance partner's calling me out. Gotta run." And before Carol can argue about our respective assignments, I take off to meet the other Maximoff twin in battle. Unlike with Pietro, I can actually play my usual game against the Witch. In fact, my fight with Quicksilver gives me an idea for an opening move.

I start racing in circles around Wanda, picking up the speed with each pass. A vortex begins to form, funneling all the air inside the circle upwards. With just a few more moments, I could deprive Scarlet Witch of oxygen and bring the fight to a peaceful, harmless, and quick resolution. Unfortunately, Wanda doesn't go for that idea. With a terrible cry, she throws out her arms and unleashes a wave of energy. I'm caught up in it and thrown off my feet. My momentum is turned against me as I roll for a few moments before coming to a stop. Right, she's got area effects, so that tactic's a no-go. Back to basics, then.

I make a rush at Scarlet Witch, zigzagging between bolts of energy thrown my way. Just when I think I'm going to get close enough to land a punch, the Witch throws up a protective shield. The pink force field catches my fist, shuddering for a moment, before redirecting all of that energy back at me. I'm launched backwards and sail through the air until a friendly windshield breaks my fall. Scarlet Witch doesn't relent. Throwing up her hands, she starts to fold the car in half around me. I close my eyes and vibrate my molecules, passing through the car harmlessly before the two halves slam shut above me. Wanda drops the folded hunk of metal on the spot where I once lay, but I've already moved clear of the wreck.

"Alright, you wanna play rough? Let's play rough."

I decide to attempt something a little drastic. It's a new technique that I've been developing in conjunction with Harrison Wells, the STAR Lab scientist who is helping me harness my power. I zip around to various spots surrounding Wanda, pausing for only the briefest moment at each one. Once I've gotten up to speed, it begins to create a speed mirage, an illusion whereby I can create multiple afterimages of myself. I can see the confusion in Scarlet Witch's eyes as she finds herself looking at essentially a dozen blurry images of me. Unsure where I'm standing at any given time, she begins to fire energy bolts frantically. They pass through my afterimages harmlessly, like throwing rocks at a hologram. Meanwhile, I wait for the precise moment to strike...

Now!

Abandoning the speed mirage, I charge Scarlet Witch from behind. She never sees me coming as I drive a shoulder into her back, dropping her to the pavement. The impact dazes her, and the pinkish haze around her hands and body dissipates. I pick her up and carry her to the spot where I left her brother. He's still woozy from the fight, too, so it's no problem to quickly untie his hands and bind them to his sister's. "Guess what they say about twins is true, huh? You do do everything together."

[Sep]

---

Farm house outside Austin, Texas. 1847RS Local Time

"I told you to wait in barn."

"Yeah, Yeah. Thank me later."

Using the momentary distraction as the gun went flying into the other corner of the room Colossus grabbed the chain that was meant to bind his hands and pulled it to the side. Sending the man careering into his compatriots. All of them falling to the ground. "I wouldn't recommend standing up again. The big guy will just knock you back down." Colossus would have chuckled if the situation wasn't so serious. It was always an advantage having a telepath on the team. He had yet to face one in anything other than the danger room back at the mansion, he was dreading the day he met one in combat. That said all the members of the congregation, minus one, complied with Ruths request.

Colossus turned to flash a smile at her when she noticed a look of horror on her face.

BANG

Colossus froze, the bullet was not aimed for him. Though Ruth didn't fall. Colossus turned around the boy! He was no longer on the ground, where was-

The priest was standing in the doorway, having been trying to escape. He fell backwards onto the ground, a red hole in the middle of his forehead where the bullet struck it's target, as he fell Colossus could see the young mutant holding the gun. Frozen. "Вот дерьмо" Colossus began to walk towards him, a look of pure sympathy on his face. "My friend-" The boy just raised his gun at Colossus. Colossus raised his hands to show him that he wasn't meaning to do anything threatening. "-it will be okay. Come with us-" He indicated back to Ruth "-We'll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can be you."

The boys arm began to shake as Colossus reached him and put his hand on his shoulder. Raising his other hand to get the boy to give the gun over to him. "Come, tell me your name comrade. We are here to help you." The boy pulled the gun back to himself, understandable. It was a security precaution.

"My name-" This brought a smile to Colossus' face, he was getting through to him. Soon they would be able to put this unpleasant business behind them. Though the moment was short lived. "-doesn't matter to anyone."

"COLOSSUS, STOP-"

Before he could react, and before Ruth could finish her sentence. The boy raised the gun to below his chin and pulled the trigger. Colossus caught the boys body, lowering it gently to the ground. They did this to him... these Purifiers. They turned him against himself, made him feel as if he was an abomination. Unworthy. He heard a slight whimper in Ruths voice as she spoke. "So what, uh, what are we going to do with the others?"

Colossus stood tall, closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Letting the air fill his chest for a moment before letting it go. "Call authorities."

"But-" He flashed her a look she had never seen on his face before. He wasn't just angry, he was pissed.

"Call authorities. I'm sure they would want to know what has happened in this place." He grabbed the chain of the ground, wrapping it around one of the mens hands and going from one to another. "You should all remember one thing from this day." He stood on front of them after they were all tied up. "I was reluctant to resort to violence, I came here to help. Not hurt. You did not comply, and brought this upon yourselves. Not only that-" He pointed to the body of the boy. "-You turned a boy against himself. That is your greatest crime."

With that Colossus turned and walked to the door. However before walking out of the farmhouse he cast one last look back. "He has more humanity, than any of you ever will."

[Blue Demon]

Metropolis

There were days that Steve just never wanted to get out of bed. This was beginning to turn into one of those. It all started when he had been thrown off his feet. Added to that now was a guy dressed in purple. Well, purple and blue. And what at first appeared to be a skirt*. Which thankfully turned out to be a tunic. Steve knew the future was progressive. But a guy in tights and skirt was pushing it for Steve.

Anyways, this crazy guy comes flying by on what appears to be a zip line. He probably has a death wish. But he sails within a few feet of Carl. Coming between him and Zatanna. The magician's eyes widen and her chanting falters. The insane interloper fired a literal arrow at Creel. Which Steve knew would have no effect on steel. An arrow.

Of course Steve was as surprised as Creel as it stuck. And electrocuted him. The hopeful, optimistic part of Steve hoped that would be the end of the fight. The realistic part just sighed.

The archer slid to a stop and offered a cocky smile. Steve hefted his shield and braced himself as Creel began to smirk. He ignored the look the man sent him and instead shouted. "Down!" Nearly at the same time as the new comer. He didn't take his own advice and instead advanced as fast as he could towards Creel.

Zatanna moved to throw herself down, but she wasn't going to be quick enough. Steve was already nearly touching Creel, but he was too late. His stomach was tying itself in knots at the knowledge of what would happen next. Hoping the girl would be fine, Steve ducked behind his shield as Creel turned on him with another blast of electricity.

Since Creel was now pure electricity he needed to find another way to stop the man. Direct contact wouldn't do anything but get himself hurt. He quickly moved through all his electrical knowledge. They needed a ground. Or to force him to take on another substance. Cap briefly debated if he wanted to temp Creel with his shield. But dismissed the idea. That wouldn't make the situation better. However it could act as a lure. Steve's eyes shifted over to the building Creel had been hacking at earlier. Some of the metal framework was visible. All tall buildings were built with lightning conductors.

If Steve could lure Creel towards the building he just might be able to ground him out. Assuming of course that he wasn't completely wrong about everything. He lowered his shield just a little as the bolt of electricity died. Here went everything.

"What's the matter Creel?" Steve taunted. "I thought you were the most dangerous man alive. That didn't even tingle."

---

*I'm assuming Hawkeye isn't wearing his original costume which did consist of a skirt (and no leggings or even tights!)

[Morden Man]

Clark watched as America’s wartime hero dangled the bait in front of Creel’s face. It went without saying that Creel would take it. He was dumb, really dumb, and having been a fighter first and a supervillain second he couldn’t bear not to rise to any challenge. With the powers Creel had he could have been one of the most dangerous metahumans on the planet. Instead he was alternated between thug and petty thief from week to week. Clark reckoned he’d seen that the Justice League were out of town and seen an opportunity to strike. Unfortunately for Creel, the Justice League weren’t the only game in town. Far from it.

The Captain rolled out of the way of the bolt of electricity and it struck the exposed metal along the building. As it did so Creel began to convulse in pain as he felt the electricity for the first time. He staggered backwards a few times, trying to remain on his feet, but the pain was too much. It knocked him to his knees and he reached for the concrete beneath him. In one last, desperate attempt to hang on he absorbed the concrete beneath him and his electric skin became grey and hard.

It was too late then. Clark wasn’t going to risk Creel endangering any more lives. As the Absorbing Man turned his now-concrete head to face the heroes, Clark sped towards him and sent his fist directly through Creel’s chest. Creel shattered into two-dozen pieces, if not more, and fell to the ground.

“Jesus,” Clint muttered as he eyed the pieces of Creel. “You didn’t need to kill him, Boy Scout.”

“He’s not dead, Hawkeye. Our old friend Creel here can take on the properties of pretty much anything he can get his hands on. I’ve seen him transform himself into water and reform from a single drop. This should put him out of commission for a while so long as we keep the pieces away from anything else.”

Clark looked towards Zatanna.

“Perhaps you can help us out with that?”

Zatanna muttered one of her magic words beneath her breath and suddenly Creel’s shattered pieces levitated into the air and hung there harmlessly out of reach of anything Creel could absorb. In the corner of Clark’s eye he spotted Captain America approaching the three of them. He took in the slightest of breaths as he prepared himself and then extended his hand towards the Captain.

“I guess I should probably introduce myself, Captain. My name is Superman and my friend here goes by the name of Hawkeye. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

[Lord Wraith]

_{Lord Wraith presents}

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^{'O N E K N I G H T T O K I L L T H E B A T'}

G O T H A M C I T Y – U N I T E D S T A T E S

"Barbara, I'm serious." The chiding tone of Captain Gordon echoed in the small bedroom as the young woman sat on her bed, listening to the voice on speaker while painting her nails. "I really want you to stay home tonight. I know you had your heart set on going out to celebrate Frankie's birthday but Gotham is simply too dangerous tonight." A smile crossed Barbara's lips, it always did when her father reminded him of how much he cared about her but he often neglected to remember that Barbara could take care of herself.

"Yes Dad." Barbara replied in her most sincere tone. Truth be told she had lost all interest in going out for Frankie's birthday. The thrill of getting into bars had wore off the day she turned twenty one, instead of hopping from bar to bar there was another priority on the young woman's mind. With the bounty on the Bat's head it was the perfect time to witness him in action.

Peering out her bedroom window, Barbara watched the spotlights from the GCPD zeppelins sweeping the streets hoping to deter any criminals looking to add to the city's already overwhelming chaos. Jumping off her bed, Barbara swapped her shorts for a pair of jeans as she grabbed the purple leather jacket off the back of her computer chair. Preparing to leave, Babs stopped as a family photograph caught her eye. Picking the small frame off of her trophy shelf, Barbara traced the smiling face of her late mother and baby brother. While many in Gotham disagreed with the Bat's crusade, Barbara fully supported it. Not that her father was a bad cop but he a minority among the GCPD. Gotham's police force was as corrupt as they came, it wasn't just a tree full of bad apples, it was a dying tree. It was the shoddy work of the GCPD that had led to her mother and brother's death and it was the same shoddy work that had drove her father to accept a transfer to the Detroit police force a month later.

Yet four years ago Barbara and her father returned to Gotham when Jim was offered the position of Captain pending his return to the force. Seeing the opportunity to make a change in Gotham, James accepted it and Barbara found herself back in the city that had cost her a mother and brother. But now there was something different about Gotham, change was washing over the city and Barbara wanted to be involved in it. While Barbara could have left Gotham at any time, she couldn't leave her father to be swallowed by the city and enrolled in Gotham University. For the past four years she had been taking courses year round and was now completing her master's thesis in Forensic Psychology. Gotham's Batman had become the subject of her thesis and his every appearance and action filled each of her waking thoughts. Frankie had even begun jokingly referring to her as the Batgirl due to Barbara's extensive knowledge on Gotham's resident Dark Knight.

Swinging her leg over the saddle of the parked motorcycle outside of the small townhouse, Barbara pulled her helmet on and brought the engine to life. Tonight wasn't about finding out why the Bat fights crime, it wasn't about getting an interview with him. No tonight was Barbara's turn to help the Bat and she knew just how to do it.

With a roar, the motorcycle dropped off the curb and bit into the aged asphalt as it tore off down the street in the busy Gotham night.

~ ~ ~

The security detail at ACE Chemicals had been completely caught off guard. Crimes had exploded all over the city with the announcement of the anonymous benefactor's offer but none of the staff at ACE had ever expected that the gang activity would come over to their island factory. Struggling against his bonds, Aaron Cash tried to free himself as the man in the red balaclava had his back to him.

"I can hear you struggling." Came the humored voice. "You're lucky I was told not to hurt you." He continued, turning around to look at Cash. "Otherwise perhaps we could have some fun, maybe jump rope with a bullet in each knee cap, or tie you up with bungee ropes and see how many dips into the vats it takes to burn all the skin off your skeleton."

"Shut up Jerome!" Came the voice of another man as the other Red Hood walked towards Cash's tormentor.

"Napier, you're always ruining my fun." Jerome bemoaned with a mocking tone.

"Life isn't always about fun." Napier replied. "Where's Joe? Has he set the explosives yet?"

"Don't know, don't really care." Jermone said with a chuckle as he twirled a guard baton around in his hand and strutted up the catwalk. "Does Todd truly believe we can actually deactivate the plant's reactor after we set it into overload?"

"No." Came a third voice as Jerome turned, his smile wide upon hearing Willis Todd's voice. "We don't need to be able to either. We just need to get far enough away from here before it goes and takes the closest block with it. The Bat will come either way and he'll stand down upon seeing the risks."

"That's an awfully large gamble." Napier interjected. "Even for a hundred million."

"The Black Mask operates on this side of town. We'll extort him too." Todd replied dismissively.

"Someone's ambitious tonight." The voice of Oberon Sexton said with a satisfied smirk as he arrived to join the other Red Hoods. "Kerr said to let you know he's got the explosives set. When the reactor goes, they should boost the range roughly tenfold."

"And the others?" Todd asked waiting for Sexton's answer.

"They're making their way back. Said they wanted to raid the vending machines. Something about a hankering for a Twinkie."

"Amateurs." Todd grumbled as he pulled a radio from his belt. "Where are you guys?" He asked into the radio, the empty sound of static replying. "Go check it out." Todd ordered Sexton before turning to Jerome. "Valeska, go check on Joe. Make sure he didn't tie himself to the detonator."

"Why me?" Jerome protested. "Napier knows that stuff better."

"Because your face bothers me." Todd retorted. "Now go before I decide to throw you in the chemical vats."

"Alright, alright. Keep yer panties on." Jerome waved dismissively as he began to walk away. Pulling the radio out again, Todd spoke into it.

"Any sign of them Sexton?" Several seconds went by, the crackle of static seemed to echo above the catwalk before Todd spoke again. "C'mon you clowns. Knock it off." The radio suddenly crackled again a voice coming out of it.

"He...Oh god!" Sexton's voice was filled with panic as a scream echoed from the radio. The hairs on the back of Todd's neck standing up as he free hand went to the gun tucked into the waist of his pants. "...I'll tell you everything... No! No! Not that..." A crack echoed over the radio as it was followed by more screaming.

"Jerome, get Kerr back her on the double. Napier arm up. The Bat's here!" Todd yelled as a 'WHOOSH' of air went by his back. Suddenly an arm was around his throat as his heart left his chest. Finding himself spun around, Todd came face to face from a creature that could only have been spawned by his nightmares.

"Where's the detonator!" The creature roared, its spit hitting Willis in the face as he swore he could smell blood on its breath.

"I... I ain't telling you!" Todd managed to spit back, fear slowly paralyzing his body as the creatures seemed to smile at him.

"You will."

"Boss! Get down" Napier's voice rang out as the other man raised his firearm. Todd found himself dropped to the catwalk as Jack's bullets bounced off the creature's wings. Within seconds, the beast moved across the catwalk and disarmed Jack before knocking him over the rail. Reaching out, Jack scrambled for the ledge as the Bat showed mercy at the last possible second, catching Jack and dropping him on the hard edge. Sliding as gravity took hold, Napier's hands scrambled to grab a hold of anything that could keep him from dropping below. Suddenly his fingers found a gap in the catwalk as Jack held on for dear life, heat from the boiling vats below rising up all around him.

"Boss!" The radio Todd had been holding suddenly crackled to life. "I just found Joe. Moron took some sort of sinus pill before the job and passed out in the reactor room." Even over the radio, the sneer could be heard in Jerome's voice. "I'm going to draw a penis on this dickhead's face." Reaching for the radio, Todd suddenly yelped in pain as the Bat's food came down on his hand. Bones splintered as his fingers broke beneath the creatures heel.

"Stay down." It growled before moving away.

"You can't stop it!" Todd yelled as he tried to move. "This whole block is going to blow."

"You'd best hope not." The Bat retorted as he spun around, a hand wrapping around the back of Willis' head before introducing it to the railing and leaving the man lying unconscious on the suspended walkway.

"Heh! It's a big veiny one." Jerome's voice came again from the radio as it broke the silence.

Putting the cap on the marker, Jerome slapped Joe across the face.
"Wake up beautiful." He teased as Joe's eyes fluttered open only for them to suddenly go wide as he scream. The distinct smell of urine flooded Jerome's nose. "What the fuc..." His words were cut off as his face was smashed into the controls above Joe's head and his body tossed aside like a rag doll. Joe felt his instincts taking over as he began to crawl, trying to put as much space between him and the Bat as possible only for something to wrap around his leg and pull him back towards the demon.

"Disable the reactor." The creature commanded him as Joe suddenly went limp, the Batman dropping the body in disgust.

"Criminals truly are a superstitious and cowardly lot Sir." Alfred's voice remarked as Batman placed a hand to the side of his cowl.

"They've set the reactor to overload Outsider." He replied to Alfred, "It's a Wayne Industries make, sending you the model number now." Batman added as he sent the information to the Batcomputer.

"I do believe the overload can be reserved Sir. But time is of the essence."

"Just tell me what to do." Batman replied as Alfred began the instruction. Initializing the reactor's flood chambers, Batman began to cool the reactor as he sent the plant into a shut down. Beside him, Jerome began to stir, as he looked up at the Bat.

"Fuckin' eh that hurt Batsy!" He growled as he pulled a knife and leaped at the Batman. Suddenly the catwalk shook as a small explosion shook the reactor, the coolant and excess heat creating a reaction. Overreacting to Jerome's attack, Batman sent the Red Hood flying over the rail. Another explosion shook the walkway as the metal suddenly began to twist only for a third explosion to cause it to give way. Holding on as the catwalk began to plummet towards the vats below, Batman tried to grab Jerome as the man fell through the air. Catching a pant leg, there was an audible rip as it let go and the man plunged below. A second scream tore Batman's attention away from his failure as Joe re-awoke and began to slide off the catwalk himself and too plummeted towards the vats before Batman could save him.

"It would appear there's no rest for the wicked sir." Alfred's voice said as the Batman pulled himself away from the twisted railing. "I've received reports of a mass break out at Blackgate Penitentiary."

"Call Gordon and have him bring a Hazmat team and medical." The gravelly voice ordered as his eyes narrowed searching the vats below. "Bring the Batwing around, I'm on my way."

[Blue Demon]

Metropolis

Cap was thankful that they still made villain's dumb. Creel feel for the whole routine. Blasted the building, panicked and turned to concrete. Steve raised his shield, prepared to finish the fight only to watch a fist pop through the man's chest. Steve's eyes followed the arm to the 'S' crest. Mentally he closed his eyes and too a deep breath.

This just got complicated. He thought before he lowered his shield.

He vaguely listened to the new duo talk. He made sure to keep them both in his line of sight as he looked around for Zatanna, hoping for the best. But still prepared for the worse. The woman was further away than she was earlier and miraculously unharmed. Thanks to Superman Steve assumed. There was a short list of people who could move fast enough that even he couldn't see them. She gave him a small smile before making sure Creel would stay down. And until the authorities came and took him back to jail.

“I guess I should probably introduce myself, Captain. My name is Superman and my friend here goes by the name of Hawkeye. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Superman

Steve took the offered hand. "I could say the same. Word is you've done a lot of good around here. Thanks for the assist." Steve allowed himself a small smile as he released Superman's hand. Zatanna walked in closer, apparently satisfied that her spell would hold Creel.

"You always arrive just in the nick of time?" The Leaguer teased. "Or do you watch and wait for the most dramatic moment to arrive." She smirked broadly. "Though to be fair, we were handling it until Hawkguy arrived." She directed her best award winning stage smile towards Hawkeye.

Steve resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. While he wasn't happy with Hawkeye's incomplete grasp of the situation, Superman did make up for it. Still there was a certain decorum the league was expected to meet.

"Zatanna." Steve said her name in a warning tone before continuing on normally. People were crowing back around with camera phones again. And was that an actual reporter? They were like vultures. How they managed to arrive before the cops did, the world would never know. It was their super power. Or so quite a few people had suggested. "Is Creel doing okay?"

Zee waved her hand dismissively. "He'll be fine. Just might take him a while to find a substance that will allow him to more easily reconstitute himself. While he's concrete he wont be a problem thanks to Superman."

Steve nearly arched an eyebrow. Either Zatanna was jealous or embarrassed. Or even possibly entertaining a crush on her rescuer. Or any combination thereof.

[Morden Man]

Clark suppressed a smile as he spotted Jimmy Olsen amongst the crowd. That boy had a knack for finding himself in the right place at the right time. There was a starry look in his eyes as Superman looked in his direction that Clark recognized – Superman in Captain America in one place at the same time was Olsen’s dream come true. Come to think of it, it was a lot of people’s dreams come true. Clark’s brief partnership with the Justice Leaguers sat far less comfortably with him than he showed and it was clear from the look on Clint’s face that he had no intention of making nice. Between his bruised pride at having nearly handed Creel enough power to short out the city and the fact Superman and Zatanna worked for Lex, Clint leant on his bow churlishly avoiding Zatanna’s smile.

Clark looked to the pair of Justice Leaguers pensively.

“I thought the Justice League was in Coast City fighting the Brotherhood?”

Barton let out a derisive chuckle.

“Yeah, well, they need something to do when they’re not chasing mutants around.”

Superman shot Clint a disapproving look and Barton merely shrugged his shoulders unrepentantly at him. Clark had his differences with the Justice League but he knew that for the most part they were good people. Together the League had had foiled more terrorist attacks and rescued more people from natural disasters than they ever could have alone. It wasn’t their fault that Lex Luthor financed the team and Clark was determined not to let that colour his image of Captain America and Zatanna. Not least because his source on the inside of the Justice League had vouched for the both of them.

As much as Clark might not have liked it, the Mutant Registration Act had been passed by Congress with bipartisan support and barring something major happening it was likely never going to be overturned. He took a more active role than most in protecting mutants, ushering those he could to Charles Xavier’s Institute in Westchester, and helping them avoid persecution. It hadn’t made the Kryptonian very popular with the growing anti-mutant lobby that seemed to dominate the airways. Given the Justice League worked so closely with the government and SHIELD they were all but obliged to defer to them on mutant issues from time to time.

Yet it wasn’t all bad. Captain America and Zatanna seemed like a well-oiled machine. It was clear the pair of them had worked in the field countless times before, they seemed well drilled and well prepared – the credit for which Kent gave solely to Captain America.

Clark smiled politely at the pair of them as he attempted to make amends for Clint’s shortness.

“If Hawkeye and I had known the two of you were on the scene we would have left Creel to you. From the looks of it, we only slowed the pair of you down. Maybe there is something to be said for this team thing after all.”

[Sep]

---

Austin, Texas. 1850HRS Local Time.

"Colossus! Hold up!" Ruth ran down the dirt track to the main road from the farm trying to catch up with him. He hadn't waited for her, she had been safe back in the farmhouse so by the time she turned around he was gone. He wasn't really in the mood for staying behind. What good was this gift, the strength, when he couldn't help others? It was frustrating, even more so that the Brotherhood continued to undo their own work in bridging the gap between regular humans and mutants. Everyday the Brotherhood grew in strength, and what many of their numbers didn't realize is that they were the ones helping create the stigma against their kind. With groups such as the Purifiers and the friends of humanity springing up all over the place one the country was only one catastrophe away from things getting much, much, worse. Or so the people who understood these things better told him.

"Colossus!" Shaking himself out of his reverie he turned to Ruth. "You alright big guy?"

He weighed his answer for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I do not believe I am. Though-" He flashed her a smile. "-I will be. At least we know that once the authorities arrive that those men will never conduct anything like this again." As soon as he finished his sentence he saw how easy she became. Something wasn't sitting right. "What?"

"Yeah, about that. I don't think they're going to be held for long." She was scratching her left shoulder. She always did that when nervous, this wasn't good.

"What do you mean?"

"Well just think about it. Two mutants turn up, the priests son who just also happens to be a mutant kills his father then himself? I don't think this is going to spin in our favour. Even with how brutalized the boys body is." When she was right, she was right. He turned back to the farm house. Even staying wouldn't do anything, him and Ruth would likely be the two to end up being incarcerated.

"At the end of the day comrade, we still won." She stopped as he said it, a perplexed look on her face as she tried to replay through the events in her head.

"No offense, but... how was this a win?"

Colossus just smiled. "We did what was right, at the end of day that is what matters." She nodded to herself, returning to her more cheerful self. There had been a time after everything that had happened that she had been unable to have these happy moments. Bullied outside of the institute, and shunned when in it for strange speech patterns and her seemingly lack of respect for other peoples mental privacy. When the Professor asked for the first time for him to take her on a mission he had his concerns, now he would not have it any other way.

"You know, if we're going to be super-heroes we should really look into getting a new set of wheels-" She pointed at the car that the Professor had rented for Colossus to use while in Texas."-That is not a good image for a pair of strapping young heroes. I mean even that crazy Batguy has a fancy car."

"Bat-man."

"What?"

"I believe that he is calling himself Bat-man."

"You're missing the point."

"You do realize we aren't super-heroes? We are just ordinary people, with special abilities."

"You're meaning to tell me, if you were to see a robbery you would just walk right past it?" Ruth positioned herself on front of Colossus so he couldn't continue to the car with a stern look on her face. He had to give it to her, she was much more capable of pulling a stern and commanding face than he was. Intimidating, he could do. This face was commanding. That in itself was frightening.

"No, but intervening would be doing my civic duty. Not being a superhero." Had she had eyes, he was sure she would have rolled them as she kicked her head back and sighed before moving out of his way.

"You're impossible, you know that? Right?"

"That depends, do you want to stop for Ice-Cream?" He opened the driver side door fo the car and got in, the suspension creaking under his weight as he did so. It wasn't really necessary for him to remain in his metallic form anymore. Though after the outing of mutants he had decided not to hide who he was. He wasn't ashamed. Did it make things complicated? Yes. He had to be careful in the streets and shops that someone didn't get the wrong idea of his intentions. Especially careful at airports, though any plane he got on had to be private anyway. After registration he couldn't hide the fact he was a mutant anymore, with the nature of his mutation he wasn't able to go on any public flights. For reasons of national security of course.

He turned the key as the engine came to life, turning to look at her. "Well?"

"Yeah I want Ice-Cream..." Colossus smiled and turned the steering wheel. Bringing the car out of where it was parked he began driving down the road. "Though don't think this conversation is over! I still think we need our own car. I mean the X-Men get a jet, surely the reserves get something too." With that, Colossus just laughed.

---

"Yeah, two of them were here. Just as you predicted. The boy acted according to the plan. What do you want us to do next?"

[Blue Demon]

Metropolis

Steve noded his head in Zatanna's direction, acknowledging Creel's condition. He then turned his full attention back to Superman. The man was something of an enigma. Steve knew most of what he knew about the man through old newspaper articles. There was always something missing though. Sure the articles covered Superman's presence and actions. But they left out motivations. Steve knew Superman was a good guy. He saved people and didn't expect to be paid for it. Or to even get the glory. From the videos it seemed Superman was just a nice guy.

However.

Steve watched Superman and Hawkeye verbally par. The later was obviously grumpy and slightly annoyed. Cap knew the type. Still he couldn't quire pin down Superman. If he was as good as he seemed to be, why was he so adverse to the League? Sure they were privately funded. That was something that rankled Steve. He didn't do this to be paid. But he did need money, and with Luthor he was no longer in poverty. And they didn't pick and choose who they helped based on economic status.

"We go where we're needed." Steve said to Superman's earlier statement about the brotherhood.

So why did Superman not join the League? Steve could understand the commitment. Batman was a reserve member because he had other priorities. Gotham was a full time job. Everyone understood that. But if there was a true emergency. Like a world threatening event, Batman would be there, no questions asked. Steve knew this. Which just made Superman even more of an enigma.

"The League hasn't retracted Luthor's offer. Since teamwork isn't what's keeping you away." Steve looked over pointedly at Hawkeye. Still, he made an effort to be friendly and not be judgmental. If Superman had his reasons not to join, Steve wasn't going to force him. Having an unwilling team member was possibly the worst thing to have on a team. It would bring disaster.

"But I'd never turn down a helping hand." Steve added with a bright smile. Though he hoped they'd be better prepared next time they did so. The next blunder might not be as easily taken care of. The wail of sirens from the containment team was growing louder to Steve's enhanced hearing. He looked over at Zatanna and she nodded. She'd take care of it. Since all Cap could do at this point was stand around and look pretty for the cameras.

[Morden Man]

It was surreal to be stood across from the man Jonathan Kent had grown up adoring. His father had been a Captain America super fan as a child. The young Jonathan Kent had collected every piece of Captain America memorabilia that he could get his hands on – which given he was in rural Kansas, wasn’t very much at all. Somewhere in an old box in the Kent room were yellowed Captain America picture books that detailed his adventures during the war with the Justice Society of America. And here Clark was holding a conversation with the man, talking as equals.

Captain America seemed every bit the good soldier that history had made him out to be. He was strong, his resoluteness came through even in his silences, but there was a kindness there that was plain to see. The Justice League was not Clark’s enemy and Captain America certainly wasn’t either – that much was clear from the look on the Captain’s face. Lex had pulled the wool over their eyes as he had done with the rest of America. Stood there across from Captain America, Clark had some hope that he might be able to steer the League away from whatever Luthor had planned from them.

He hoped when the time came he could count on Captain America’s support. If he was half the man he seemed, he suspected he might be able to. For the time being though it was better he didn’t give voice to his concerns about Lex. He’d focus on what they did have in common instead.

Clark smiled.

“If the world needs us, we’ll be there, Captain. You can count on that much.”

In the corner of his eye Clark spotted Barton lift his hand from his bow and tap an imaginary watch on his wrist.

“We’ve got places to be, Big Blue.”

Clark nodded in his direction as his thoughts turned to Lois sat at home waiting for the pair of them. He squinted a little as he searched Metropolis for any other opportunists that sought to strike whilst the League were gone. There was nothing.

“It was a pleasure working with you both,” Clark shook Captain America’s hand again and smiled towards Zatanna. “I don’t doubt that we’ll run into one another again sometime.”

Clark turned to fly away and Barton took aim with his bow towards a nearby rooftop. As Superman’s feet left the ground, Barton looked to Captain America and Zatanna with a smirk.

“If you ever get some free time, I suggest you take a deeper look into your sugar daddy’s other business dealings.”

Clark was halfway in the air when the barb left Clint’s mouth. He rolled his eyes as little as Barton unfurled an arrow that careened over Clark’s shoulder and embedded itself in one of the city’s many buildings. The pair of them made their way through the night, assured that Metropolis could rest easy for the night again.

[Dblade26]

---

Gena's Diner,
Corner Booth,
The Big Apple at Dusk

"Y'know, it's a nice little corner of the world you have here, really."

Jake Locksley set down his coffee mug, freshly filled, to regard the man in front of him. Amos Lardner of the CIA, currently one of the most well-connected agents of the U.S. government stateside not to be at work for one of its' more irregular branches, not that you could tell by looking at him. He'd spent his life sitting at desks, poring over case files, speaking into the occasional earpiece and thereby quietly changing the world in massive seismic-level ways. He was here on a personal favor rather than on behalf of the government, a rare occurrence ever since...well...

Marc Spector pushed the memories back down, picked up his coffee mug and took a long, slow sip. Bitter of course, but with a slightly fruit-like undertone and slightly burnt-out. Gina's diner was a good place, certainly. A table where his back was to the wall and slightly away from windows, an easygoing place run by a single mother with two boys who didn't mind passing on the occasional bit of on-the-street gossip to a discerning, well-tipping cab driver like Locksley. More importantly it was the sort of place where Amos could meet with an old high-school friend who'd been significantly more down on his luck than the big-time CIA desk-jockey, catch up on old times. Marc appreciated that right about now. He took another sip of the coffee. Was it a cherry undertone he was detecting underneath the slightly burnt and bitter coffee bean? Gina must've switched brands.

"Well, the coffee's not Yemeni, but it's satisfying anyways. So's the work. Speaking of, what've you got for me? Our first meeting in years, you must have a gift right?"

The older man frowned and shook his head, giving a little sigh of frustration along with it as he answered.

"I'm sorry, I tried, I really did. I even called in a few favors higher up for you, knocked on some doors I normally stay away from, but as far as I can tell there IS no organization calling itself The Committee. It's a complete dead end, pal. Your source's emails, I checked them too as best I could but as far as we can tell the trail goes cold after some spambot account and the money he received involved a bunch of Swiss Bank Account style stuff, a real pain to get into. That'd be worrying by itself if this were an on-the-books case, but officially we aren't investigating so that's all I can give you. You're pretty much chasing ghosts."

Well, then at least he was back in familiar territory. He put down his half of the bill plus tip and stood up to go.

"It's fine Amos, I've worked dead ends before. It just tells me how in-depth this whole thing must be. Lemme know if I can do anything for you."

"Wait, before you leave, since you mentioned it there's one thing!"

"Really? Well that was fast, what is it?"

"Yesterday, there was a killing in Bludhaven and-"

Marc held up a hand.

"Amos I don't do that sort of work anymore, I've told you half a dozen times. I'm out, that's final."

"Just- Alright, I won't ask you to work the case with The Company, but at least look at the crime scene pictures and tell me what you think? You were always one of our best when it came to synthesizing intel into a real picture, y'know? Please? Lives are at stake."

"What am I, your own personal Sherlock Holmes?"

"No, but I was hoping you could do a decent Nero Wolfe impression."

Marc sat back down as Amos handed him a manila envelope full of labelled pictures. A massacre-no, a controlled assassination. Multiple gunshot victims, a single decapitated body with an odd bruise on the remains of the throat. Strange bloody wheel marks on the table, fragments of a flashbang grenade, a few bloody footprints...all too quickly the full picture locked into place in Marc Spector's mind.

"Your assassin is a male, ambidextrous, nine or ten years old. He's highly skilled for his age too, well-nourished and the training hasn't stunted his growth...yet. probably somebody's pet weapon rather than the mass-produced village kids you normally get, not that they're bad shots. The wakizashi's an interesting touch, don't see that much nowadays, plus the cut was made while the last vic was still alive, probably all some symbolic 'ninja' thing."

Amos stared at Marc for a minute, though he was polite enough and experienced enough with the other man's work not to actually gape.

"I'll spell it out for you. We get relative positioning off of this thug killed at close range, which was obviously the case given the burns on his skin, no detectable change in foot positioning or weight distribution during that shot so we can assume the killer just switched hands for it. Height comes mainly off of this fourth man to die as the bullet entered from the throat but up at an angle to create the exit wound at the back of the skull, suggesting an uncomfortable position for the shooter unless he was roughly the size of a nine or ten year old child. The angle, shape and force of the cuts coupled with positioning substantiates the body metrics along with the nature of the weapon, the post-mortem bruising on the neck gives a guess at hand size to further back that up. The way the weight is distributed during those cuts and with the wheel marks indicates male. Highly trained is just obvious from the fact that your killer never missed a shot, never gave his targets the chance to return fire and was finished and out before the police arrived on scene even in a city like Bludhaven. Not too many non-child assassins wear child-sized Heelys to their kills. That enough information for you?"

"Ah...yeah, thanks. But...well you're good but this is still educated guesswork right? How can you be sure the assassin's a kid?"

At the question, ghosts of the past floated up before Marc Spector's eyes. Children, the faces always changing but the eyes always the same, empty, alone. Clutching at guns like security blankets, living for the praise that came with taking a life whether it came as words or food or drugs...or just an end to the pain. So many in so many places...he'd forgotten their names...

"Kids like that, you don't forget what the signs look like. I'm sure."

Amos Lardner thanked him again, got up, left. Marc Spector took another long sip of his coffee.

He'd been wrong about the taste. It was just bitter.

[Blue Demon]

Bełchatów Power Station, Poland

Every step Ivy took shot waves of agony down her side. The stray bullet had taken her in her shoulder. She had been able to stop the bleeding with her plants. She could even numb the pain a little. But she couldn't heal herself like she could her loves. She's have to dig out the bullet later and stitch the wound closed. But her goal was no yet complete. And she wasn't hurt nearly enough to abandon her promise. She'd destroy the Station. She'd raze it to the ground.

She stopped and lifted her face upwards and inhaled in the polluted air. She couldn't feel the land anymore through the thick concrete. That would have to change.

It wasn't a quick process. Ivy had to feel for her darlings. Had to see which ones were close enough. Check to see which ones had the strength to rip the concrete and buildings apart. There wasn't anything close enough. But there was a faint spark. A seed deep below of an very old tree. A smile crossed her face for the first time in a while. But there were preparations to take. Waking the seed would be a matter of hours. Not minutes. She'd need peace and that meant she had to stall the police coming.

Ivy grabbed a hold of the local plants and forced them to grow and entangle among themselves creating a thick barrier. When she was satisfied it was complete, Ivy sent as much life from herself that she could spare down to the seed. She lost track of time as she stood there, blocking out all distractions.

When the woman came back to herself she was hit by the cries of plants. Ivy physically staggered into a wall. The pain of her lovelies was almost more than she could bare.

"No!" Ivy screamed with their pain and rage. "You're burning them!" She scream turned into a feral growl and she reached out. The police were clustered at the gate, trying to burn and hack their way through her barrier. Senseless and uncaring. But she didn't have the strength anymore. Either she raised her seedling, who was resting. Or killed the butchers.

The choice was one of the hardest she ever had to make. With a sob she turned her attention away from the tortured plants outside and to her seedling. She pushed her life back down into the earth. The seed was tired, exhausted. Just like she was. Still she pressed her life force back into the seed, caressing away it's exhaustion replacing it with strength.

"Grow." Ivy whispered, even though the seed couldn't hear her. Or even understand English. "There's light up here. You just have to reach for it."

For long seconds nothing happened. Still Ivy didn't give up. She waited and waited. Then the seed burst into action. Ivy quickly cut the link as the seedling grabbed for more and more life. Instead she directed it up and up with the promise of light and life.

The ground began to shake so much that standing was impossible. She slid down the wall and ended up in a ungraceful sprawl on the floor. The shaking became much worse and the ground began to crack. Ivy's smile turned full on feral. A wide grin that split her face.

"Grow!" Ivy cried, not even audible to herself as the ground cracked open. A small tendril escaped from the crack. Then another. Then another. The tiny mass clumped itself together and grew. It broadened and lengthened. Limbs spouted and produced leaves. Yet, the sapling was still trapped inside.

"Grow!" Ivy yelled at the tree. "Grow!"

As if spurred on by her need and words the tree began to press on the roof of the corridor. The building creaked and groaned. Then it gave, showering Ivy with small and larger chunks of ruined building. The woman didn't care. She was too fixated on her new plant. Now free from the small confines to double in size within a minute and it was still growing and tearing.

Ivy grabbed a hold of one of the lower branches and as it grew it took her with it. Soon she was overlooking the Station. Her new tree was spreading it's roots and working on collapsing the station as best as it could. Within a few hours it would be complete. Already there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

So Ivy turned her attention to the accosted plants at the front of the station. She reached out and their pain hit her again. She gritted her teeth and push through it. She pushed the last of her strength to her darlings.

Hurt them like they hurt you. Ivy ordered before the world titled sideways and blacked out.

[Bounce]

Blue Heaven turned out to be a dead end. By the time the domestic situation was under control, enough attention had been brought to a Green Lantern being on the asteroid that any drug smugglers who were there had absented themselves from the population by the time I got around to asking. Aya had mapped no less than twenty-seven different spacecraft departing on varying trajectories throughout the sector during the incident, some with priors, but not enough for a warrant. So we headed back home, and hoped tomorrow would be a brighter day.

_{"Miami Vice" // Part 03 // [ Post Theme ]}

_{S A T U R N I   L U N A}
T I T A N

Saturn's largest natural satellite was discovered on March 25th, 1655, by a Dutch astronomer inspired by Galileo and empowered by improvements made to the telescope. Originally designated Saturni Luna, the moon would be alternately referred to as Saturn II, Saturn III, Saturn IV, and even Saturn V at various points in Earth's history before 1847 when the name Titan was suggested.

Well before that time, various alien cultures had arrived on Titan and begun the establishment of a colony that would later grow into one of the most respected democratic republics of Sector 2814. As the Solar System was located toward the middle of the sector, when Ysmault had become a restricted zone the focus of attention had settled on Titan for the location of the local Green Lantern precinct for the sector. That had been a little inconvenient for a Green Lantern like Abin Sur, as it had required a bit more travel for him to visit his homeworld of Ungara. But Kai-ro?

Kai-ro could see Earth from his apartment. It was the blue-white star in the night sky. Close enough to be within reach, far enough away as to feel disconnected. The Tibetan diaspora had spread the people of Tibet to the far corners of the globe. He supposed he ought to be proud to be the first to plant the seed of Tibetan culture on another world.

The young monk had slept in.

It had taken him awhile to go to sleep. Or, rather, find a position that was comfortable to sleep in. He felt like he'd been run over by an Acanti, one of the giant space whales that sometimes cause problems for interstellar travel.

Yes, giant space whale. Moby Dick in space, complete with whale strikes.

He'd bathed twice before going to sleep, and immediately headed back for a third time as soon as he'd woken up. There was nothing like getting tackled by a waste disposal unit out on a fringe asteroid to make you arrive at a new appreciation for showers. Of course, the alien tech wasn't quite the same, but the wave fountains used on Titan were close enough. As he felt his body being blasted by the water vapor, the boy studiously shaved his head as part of his normal routine.

His mala, Tibetan prayer beads, were wrapped around his right hand as the boy sat in the small apartment eating a breakfast of sequenced proteins and carbohydrates that were edible for human digestion. It was somewhat like whole grain bread, only it tasted like wet cardboard. He'd tried it once with a fire jelly from Quistraa... that had proven to be less compatible with humans.

...Nova Prime is expected to address the Coalition Security Council later this rotational period, about Nova Corps activities in Sector 1149.

One universal constant in the universe appeared to be tea. Pushing the now empty plate that had borne the aptly named food board, the boy lifted up a steaming cup of a reddish tea that was rather similar in taste to kukicha or twig tea. The news feed from IGN was playing in the background, though the boy was scant paying much attention to what they were saying.

...Officials close to the hearing spoke to IGN on the condition of anonymity, saying that the Nova Corps had encountered the Brood...

Leaning his head back, the young monk tipped back the tea cup as he drained the last of the drink. With a sigh, the boy set the cup down, then deposited his mala next to it before picking up the large ring. Playing with that for a moment, he lifted it up closer. His eyes inspected the detail work on the symbol across the face of it. Eyes that were no longer as they had been. Part of the process of forging the neurological link that existed between a Green Lantern and his ring infused the body of the ring bearer with the green energy. As an effect of which, Kai-ro's brown eyes had turned a different color, one not naturally occurring in Tibetan populations.

Finally, the boy slipped the ring on over the middle finger of his right hand. As he did, an envelope of energy spread across his body, decorating it in the green and black suit that had become symbolic of his status as a Green Lantern. Flexing and relaxing his hand a few times, the boy pushed himself up from the floor when he noticed the ring flashing. Internally, the boy played back the message in his head as the ring relayed the saved data to him.

It was the police inspector on Ungara who had taken over the domestic investigation of the drug smuggling uncovered by the death of the courier. "Green Lantern Kai-ro, we wanted to share with you information from our investigation into the Grund. It appears that the drugs were not destined for Ungara at all. They were being refined here before delivery to a planet we have not heard of before, but we thought that you may know of it."

"It is a planet called Earth."

[Sep]

---

Unknown Location, New Mexico. 0700HRS Local time.

Banner woke up with a start, drawing a deep breath as if it was his first. For a couple of minutes he sat, disorientated. Confused. Obviously whatever had happened with the Hulk had been more serious than he had expected. The transition wasn't usually this... rough. he looked around trying to get his bearings. It was cold, sand irritated his skin and he could hear birds in the distance. Standing up he recognized that he was in what appeared to be a small impact crater, obviously the Hulk had decided not to stick around with Ross. Probably a wise decision given the way things always seemed to turn every single time they faced off against one another. He just hoped he didn't cause too much damage back in Vista Verde... he truly did care about the people there. He'd never go back, that was for sure. He had ruined their lives not once, but twice now. He'd make sure to not make it a third time, he wouldn't make it a third time anywhere.

Hulk tore families and homes apart, destroyed infrastructure and peoples livelihoods. It wasn't fair for him to try and gain some sense of normality, only to destroy the normality of those around him. He wouldn't stand for it, not anymore. It was time to look into getting rid of the Hulk once and for all, he had been a defeatist before but he couldn't let Hulk control his life. Couldn't let Hulk ruin his life anymore, or other peoples. Ever again.

Walking to the edge of the small crater he had to use his hands to dig into the sand in order to pull himself out. Looking around the scenery wasn't terribly familiar. At the very least he would surmise that he was still in New Mexico, and the temperature indicated that it was either morning or night. So turning to have the sun on his right shoulder he began to walk south... or north. At the very least he'd find out in a couple of hours depending on whether or not the temperature increased or decreased. Either way he'd need to hurry, the last thing he wanted would be for his vitals to take a turn for the worse and have him hulking out again. That would probably just cause him to become even more lost. No, he had to find civilization. That was his goal for now, keep it simple.

Find civilization, don't worry about the next step. Just complete the first simple task. Then worry about the next step. In the distance, through the waves of heat along the horizon line he saw a flash of light as something moved quickly along what would most likely be a road. A road meant people, at least when there was a car driving along the road. A road bridged the gap between one town and another, though with any hope he wouldn't need to walk for hours to find an actual town. While roadhouses were rare nowadays they still existed, that would be his ideal target. Somewhere very far away from law enforcement so that if people did report his presence it would take Ross a while to respond.

Looking around, he realized something. This truly was no-mans land, and this was the kind of place he needed. Somewhere far enough away that if anything did happen Hulk couldn't hurt anyone.

---

Elsewhere, Unknown Location, Unknown time

"You understand the mission at hand?" The man standing opposite him simply nodded. "Good. Use the needle I provided, remember I only need one sample. Then bring it back to me."

[Bounce]

_{"On His Demon Head's Secret Service" // Part 05 // [ Dami's iPod ]}

Changing in the car was always awkward.

Everything went into the bag to be destroyed. Burned, after they'd turned the car and the weapons back over to their contacts in the local mafia for destruction and recycling into new crimes. The shoes went in first, followed by the shirt and pants. Everything went in there, as trace chemicals from firing the gun could have stuck to any part of him. The gloves went in last, at which point the alcohol wipes were used to scrub his face and neck. Once those were in the bag, it was tied tight and the boy could change into the clothes that had been set out for him to travel in.

Pajamas.

Since they were departing Gotham late, these clothes had been selected as both practicality and use in further deflecting attention away from the pair. A pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with a faded Avatar: The Last Airbender graphic on it, along with a new pair of Heelys to replace the set that were getting burned. That seemed to be the way all his clothes and shoes got laundered. The boy wondered if he'd ever worn the same clothes twice, ever. To complete the look of a sleepy headed youth bound for air travel, his one carry on was a pillow.

He'd just finished changing when the car had rolled up to the curb at the Gotham airport. At the same time that the pair were exiting the car the pudgy man with the small eyes and round spectacles was emerging from out of the terminal building with a Starbucks cup in his hand. Without a word, he got into the Volvo and rolled away from the airport. The car would be emptied out and detailed before being turned back in.

As for Damian and his assassin-nanny, they made their way back through the airport. Retracing the steps from just hours before. The crew had the Gulfstream V prepped for take-off. Making his way to the back of the fuselage, the boy tossed his pillow down on the sofa that stretched along the side of the private jet's well appointed interior. Kicking off his shoes, the child flopped down on the sofa and curled up against the pillow to get comfortable.

He was asleep before the plane had even taken off.

N E W   Y O R K
Trump International Hotel & Tower

He sat up in a queen size bed, looking out over Central Park, and uncertain of what time zone he was in.

He didn't remember how he'd gotten here, but it was entirely possible that was because he'd been asleep the whole time from Gotham to New York. Children required ten hours of sleep, even the assassins, making Damian no exception to the physiological crash that came with odd hours, periods of high stress, and globe trotting.

The boy was in a two bedroom Park View suite, surprised to find himself in the guest room. His handler ought to have put him in the master suite. And she would have, which suggested that his handlers had switched off. Well, whoever this new babysitter was, they obviously thought quite highly of themselves -- putting themselves up in the master suite. And someone was clearly in there. He could hear the television from outside the room as he crept up to the door.

...the people of this city continue to live in fear as more sightings are reported of this so-called Spider-Man. Vigilante, Fox News says. Hero, CNN claims. Well, ol' G. Gordon Godfrey isn't afraid to call this spider menace what it is! Terrorism. Terrorism in America, and our own media condones it, ladies and...

The door was suddenly yanked away, a hand seizing hold of the front of the boy's shirt before he could even prepare a defense. Or even realized he was under attack, for that matter. The hotel interior swirled around in his vision, before he was body slammed against the top of the king size bed.

...which smelled like, perfume?

"Good morning, my love."

Looking up, the boy was stunned by the face was filled his vision. "Mother!" he chirped in surprise.

Whatever the League had planned for New York, it was big.

tags for this post

@Byrd Man @GreenGrenade

[Eddie Brock]

If you've never been shot at, it's hard to convey the sense of urgency it creates. Alright, so, you know when you find yourself in a 7-Eleven late at night and you spot the roller food and -- even though you know you shouldn't -- you decide to take a chance on it? And then sure enough, about an hour, hour and a half later, you get that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach? It's a bit like that if, say, your body was also on fire. Luckily, I have this nifty little Spider-Sense that warns me of impending danger. And what I've learned is that whenever it feels like it does now -- a bit like an angry woodpecker on my brain stem -- it's best to shut off my mind for a second and act on instinct. So before the lead starts flying, I dive for the nearest cover I can find: the support leg of a nearby shipping crane, a steel beam hardly wider than my torso. I clutch the briefcase of stolen painkillers to my chest, afraid to let my elbows stick out even an inch, as bullets clang loudly off the metal behind me.

For a moment, I dare to turn my head to my right to look for the girl in purple. Seems she had better luck than I did. She's crouched behind the corner of a shipping container, remaining as motionless as possible as stray shots spark off the exposed edge of the container. I nod in her direction, but her attention is firmly placed elsewhere, and not without good reason. Clearing my throat, I whistle, "Psst! Hey, hood girl!" She turns a masked face towards me. "Did you... call me an 'idiot?'"

"Yes! Because you are one!" she answers unequivocally. A bullet twangs loudly just inches from her head, and she ducks reflexively. Flattening a bit more against the shipping container, she continues, "These morons were going to lead me straight to the Cluemaster until you showed up!"

"Well, sorry! I didn't know you had called 'dibs' on this crime scene," I reply defensively. The gunfire behind us stops for a moment as the gangsters reload, and I dare to peek my head around to see what we're up against. The Cluemaster's goons have all taken up defensive positions behind their parked car, while the Enforcers have positioned themselves opposite me. Hammerhead's nowhere in sight, must've fled when the firefight started. Spider-Sense blares, and I get my head back behind the support beam not a moment too soon. The gangsters open fire again, and I turn back to the hooded girl. "Alright, look. You see the three circus rejects on your right? I've dealt with them before. I can handle them if you can distract your guys."

For a moment, she says and does nothing. Finally, I get a confirmatory nod. One hand on the briefcase, I hold up three fingers. Then two. As I get down to one, the girl reaches for her utility belt and produces a capsule. I lower my final finger and give another nod. The girl tosses the capsule behind the parked car, where it explodes with a blinding flash and a deafening bang. The Cluemaster's lackeys are disoriented, and the girl vaults the shipping container in a surprising display of dexterity. More importantly, she diverts the Enforcers' attention for just a moment, giving me the opening I need. I drop the briefcase and emerge from behind the steel column. Firing a web-line at one of the crane's horizontal beams, I propel myself into a swinging kick that finds the center of Ox's not-inconsiderable mass. He's thrown backwards as I dismount with a flourish. Fancy Dan brings his twin semi-automatic pistols to bear on me, and I quickly make my next leap.

Dodging bullets is always stressful. I twist and contort my body in mid-air, finding the open space between the shots. Spider-Sense helps, obviously, guiding my limbs exactly where they need to be to avoid getting shredded. Still, it's close. Uncomfortably close. I can actually feel the breeze coming off a few of the bullets as they whiz by. Landing on a single palm, I propel myself into another flip as I taunt, "Same aim as always, eh, Dan?" He continues to fire as fast as his pistols will allow, but I'm just a hair's breadth in front of the shots. As I land on the roof of an unattended vehicle, I turn a web-shooter and fire a thick glob of webbing at the nearest gun. It coats the barrel, rendering the gun inoperable, as I say, "Just keep practicing with tin cans in the backyard. You'll get it eventually." Fancy Dan wastes no time swinging the working pistol around, so I leapfrog away.

Unfortunately, Montana was watching closely and anticipated my next move. Before I can reach the peak of my jump, the business end of his whip finds the center of my chest, sending me sprawling. I tumble as soon as I hit the ground, knowing the Fancy Dan's shots can't be far behind. Sure enough, the asphalt pocks and craters as the bullets hit the spot a second too late. I scramble for the nearest cover. I can't keep this up forever; I've got to get that second pistol out of commission quickly, or my luck with dodging just might run out. Preparing to leap back into the fray, I am suddenly blindsided as the meaty mitt of Ox catches me from behind, hoisting me into the air by the scruff of my neck.

"Boys! So much attention. You make me feel like the prettiest spider at the prom!"

"Ox, move! You're blocking my shot on the little creep!" Fancy Dan barks. Like the obedient lapdog that he is, the lumbering Ox starts to turn to accommodate his teammate. Luckily, though he has me gripped tightly, my arms are free. Taking a guess at where Ox's big, dumb face is, I throw back a hand and spray a quick blast of webbing. My aim is true, and the web catches Ox in the eyes. He lets out an angry howl and thrashes violently, loosening his grip enough to let me slip free. I flip out of danger, finding another car to huddle behind before Fancy Dan can react. As I knew he would, he empties his clip hoping for a lucky shot. After a moment, he pulls the trigger: clickclickclick. "$#@%!"

The threat of taking a bullet between the eyes gone, I pop out from behind the car and fire a web-line at the gun. Giving it a yank, I admonish Fancy Dan, "Watch your language, sir! Didn't you see we have a lady present?" His pistol reaches my waiting hand, and I add, "Speaking of presents, I think I'll hold onto this. With aim like yours, you were liable to hurt someone. Not me, obviously, but someone."

While Fancy Dan fumes, Montana goes on the attack. Cracking his whip, he takes swing after swing at me, catching nothing but air. He grits his teeth, growling, "You think you're so clever, don't you, spider?"

"Well... yes. Certainly compared to you three bozos." He snaps the whip at my feet, and I effortlessly vault over the attack. With a quick spray of webbing, I pin his whip to the floor. Now defenseless, Montana is left off-balance long enough for me to run up and deliver a spinning kick. It connects hard enough to knock the cowboy hat from his head as falls to the ground. Spider-Sense goes off, and I quickly duck the wild flailing of a still-blinded Ox. He's throwing haymakers at the air, hoping to get lucky and connect on one. "Case in point." I hop up onto Ox's chest, delivering twin karate chops to his neck before back-flipping away. Like the dignified sequoia tree, Ox collapses with a resounding thud.

"Now, if my math is correct..." Sure enough, Fancy Dan throws himself at me. You see, in addition to his proficiency with those twin pistols, Fancy Dan is known as a judo expert. And while he's hopelessly outmatched in a one-on-one fight with me, he can still strike with surprising quickness. I'm forced to focus as I twist and turn away from the flurry of attacks. Each time Dan leaves himself exposed, I land a quick counter-attack of my own. Eventually, he starts to slow down. I duck underneath a high kick and sweep his balancing leg out from underneath him. Fancy Dan eats pavement in a way that I can only describe as "satisfying."

Just then, I hear labored cries coming from across the way. I turn to see the girl in purple, having dispatched one of her goons, fending off the other two with a telescoping staff. Her swings are wide and swooping. Sloppy, really. She manages to catch the guy in front of her with a downward slash, but the one behind manages to drive a shoulder into her back while she's unaware. As she stumbles forward, I feel the call to act. Let no one say that Spider-Man isn't a gentleman. Tapping my palm with one finger, I set my web-shooters to the impact nozzle and begin firing hardened, softball-sized web balls at one of the two goons. He's knocked backwards as the girl drives the other one back with her staff. I line up with her, back to back, as she challenges me, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" I answer, slightly annoyed. I feel a sharp ring at the base of my skull, and I grab the girl by the shoulder suddenly. I pull us both to the ground as the third Cluemaster lackey, the one who I thought was unconscious, raises a gun and fires. The bullet narrowly misses us both. The first shot is followed by two more in quick succession, and it's all I can do to get the girl and myself behind the corner of a shipping container. Once we're out of the open, she brushes my hand away angrily. "You're welcome for that save!"

"I didn't need a save!"

Our argument is cut short by the squealing of tires. Pushing me aside, the girl turns the corner and slumps her shoulders as she watches the Cluemaster's men slip away. I join her in surveying the scene, noting quickly that though the Enforcers' car is still here, the men themselves are nowhere to be found. The only evidence of their presence are Montana's discarded hat and the briefcase, thrown open and emptied on the spot where I dropped it. I put my hands on my hips and sigh. Not a banner night for the Wallcrawler.

Turning on her heel, the girl marches up to me and punches me in the arm. "Idiot!" She adds two more punches for good measure. "Why did you have to get involved? I had this situation under control!"

Beneath my mask, I arch an eyebrow. "This is your idea of control?"

She points a finger threateningly. "I'll have you know that my hunt for Cluemaster was going splendidly before tonight. If I'm lucky, your intervention will only have set me back a week. Maybe two."

"You've really got it in for this 'Cluemaster,' huh?" I ask as I fold my arms. "Who is he, anyway?"

"A new player in the New York underground. Part crime boss, part information broker. I guess he's trying to ride the coattails of your guy. Hammerhead."

"And that makes you... what, exactly?"

The girl turns her head beneath the oversized hood. Her face is a mystery, hidden behind a spandex mask with two big, white eyes. This must be kinda what it's like talking to me. "I'm Spoiler, because I'm gonna be the one to spoil the Cluemaster's big plan. If he thinks he's gonna be the next criminal mastermind like they've got in Gotham, then he's got another thing coming." As she finishes her thought, she clenches her fists.

"And what'd this Cluemaster do to get under your skin like this?" I ask.

She chuckles, a bitter sound more than a joyful one. "Sorry, Webhead. If you want another clue, you'll have to buy one." Shaking her head, she retracts her telescoping staff and stashes it on her belt. She turns to me and warns, "Don't follow me." Using a parked car as a launching pad, Spoiler leaps atop a shipping container and starts jogging back towards the heart of the city. Meanwhile, I'm left standing there, thinking about what she said. That last phrase -- "If you want another clue, you'll have to buy one" -- resonates with me, though I can't figure out why. Before long, my thoughts are interrupted by approaching sirens, so I fire a web-line at the top of the shipping crane and start to swing home.