Justice League: The New Wave (IC)

[Varshanka]

"It's... bioluminesence," Rose grinned softly. "It's a shapeshifty thing. So... powers. I guess? I don't think I have magic."

“You have a lot of magic,” Karan replied stepping extra close. “Cause I think you cast a love spell on me.” Words she completed with a soft kiss. “You got powers too. Powers to make the world move, and make me shiver and shake.” Reaching up she ran her fingers through Rose’s hair, enjoying the feeling, and shivering as she held back from biting her girlfriends neck. She so wanted to cover her in kisses – and hickey’s.

“So, what are the plans for tonight?” she asked, teasing one of Rose’s earlobes with her lip.

 

[Varshanka]

He paused, "You want something to drink? Think I have some Pepsi here somewhere. Oh and yeah Thea offered to train me in hand-to-hand, but never got around to that either."

“Drink? Pepsi, sure. Not that you could poison me if you planned on it.” Looking him over, either she was assessing him for danger, or checking him out. “Whatever you got is fine, preferably cold. Very cold. As for teaching you hand to hand, yeah, I could definitely teach you a thing or twenty.”

“A few years ago I knew another Manimal.. though they were more of a werewolf/werebear type of individual. They had combat and shifting down to an art form. Could never do it myself, but I did learn a few tricks.”

 

[Wyldfire]

Natasha glanced up immediately-- "Climate Control: lights to 30 percent!"

And the room darkened considerably, lit by pale lights from the ceiling and the various glows of the experiments that dotted the room.



Serling smiled faintly, lowering the "tricorder" but keeping it scanning: "It's okay, Rebel. Cool out. Can you describe how you're feeling?"



"Didn't mean to bore you," Nat quipped worriedly.

She glanced at Serling. "Serl, she-- started saying the whackest things. Like talking about history that hasn't happened yet, it was so out of left field. Then she popped a blood vessel in her nasal region and dropped to the deck."

Serling frowned, adjusting her glasses. "Sounds like a long, strange trip. Rebel, you could have some sort of concussion or intercranial hemmoraging from the fight-- we don't know for sure the upper limits of your ultra invulnerability. In fact, there's a lot-- need I remind you --about your powers and your self that we don't know."

"With your permission, I'd like to bring you back to my lab and run some deeper scans, MRIs and so forth. Maybe work up a complete metagenetic profile, determine the nature of this 'ultra energy' that lets you reallocate your superhuman attributes at will? It's possible that your powers yourselves could be causing your retrograde amnesia-- one of the only kinds of retro I'm not chill with --and other, more deleterious side effects."

Through the pain in her head she remembered the abject terror she had felt on her orientation tour when they showed her the med lab. She had no idea why it scared her so much. "My head hurts something terrible, right behind mah eyes. An my skull feels to small fer mah brain. Weak as a kitten an so tired." She looked at the doctor.

"Yer lab scares me Doc. Don't know why, but it scares me like it's a torture chamber. I got my powers on penetra vision, c'n ya sedate me please? I can't go in there without any or I'll go crazy......" A tear started down her cheek.

 

[ChasNicollette]

The Storm Before The Lightning.

Activating the com-link she called it in. "This is Velocity in Keystone. I have a sighting of 3 Rogues and there may be more working in the area. Confirmed are Mirror Master, Blacksmith, and Girder. Assistance is required near the Flash Museum."

She hoped someone got that as that was all the time she could spare. Deciding a good defense was a good offense, she sped towards the two opponents she could see and launched a barrage of rocks. The ones she hurled at Girder were aimed at his legs and knees and hurled with the force of a category 5 hurricane. She knew his body was capable of withstanding blows from cyborg, but small objects hurled at enough force might pierce it, and at critical points could render him immobile or at least slow him down.

Force equals mass times acceleration. Which meant, even an object with near-infinitesimal mass could have the force to do ridiculous amounts of damage if it was flung with enough acceleration. And acceleration was what a speedster did best.

The stony fragments hit Girder with nearly the force of rail-gun rounds, shattering on impact and causing sparks to fly. The heavy hitter's rusting metal body creaked and groaned in protest, and he roared, slamming a fist into the ground at the pain. "HRRAAAAAGGHHH!"

The ones she threw at Mirror Master were much slower of course and were aimed at his gun more than him. Of course if a few did happen to hit his chest or stomach, well that was just his bad luck.

...no, what was bad luck was breaking a mirror. Seven years of it. An important number, seven.

And as those pebbles sped towards McCullough at impossible, well, velocity... McCullough shattered into a thousand thousand glassy shards.

And then he flickered back into existence a few steps away, grinning the devil's own grin, hands on his hips. "Och, me sweet summer bairn. Ye really thought it would be tha' easy tae do me in?"

And then Blacksmith herself stepped through the portal, grimly grinning, her body a far more elegant fusion of metal and flesh than was the misshapen Girder.

"As for your little distress call, my dear little pretender, I'm a mechanokinetic. Your commlink's not going to do you a bit of good unless I say so. You're quite on your own. And things are just. Going. To get. Worse."

"This isn't Saturday morning cartoons-- are you old enough to remember those? We're going to take you apart and your drawn-and-quartered body will be a long reminder to those who would test the patience of the regime of New Rogues."

She tilted her head. "Now, speaking of which... are those vestigial cyborg parts I hear? This is going to be so much fun."

"ROGUES! CONVERGE!"

Out of the sky dropped Magenta, looking grim and determined. She laid a cool, firm hand on Girder, exerted magnetic force... and the rust claiming his body withdrew, his damage repaired, and with a leering grin he stood again. "Thanks, Maggie."

"Of course," Magenta nodded.

Descending with Magenta came The Weather Wizard, grinning, twirling his wand, summoning the winds to his aid... and The Trickster, bounding down the skies on anti-gravity sneakers.

And before the portal shimmered closed, three more figures stepped through it.

Murmur, knife-wielding doctor gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Plunder, a cop from across the river in Keystone who had taken his skills from the gun-range to the dark web, a gun for hire almost on the level of Deadshot or Scorpion, if not Deathstroke or Renegade.

And... oozing and rippling and smirking... Lady Clayface... who had apparently found new allies after escaping the Kobra debacle.

"Gurrrrl," Trickster chortled. "Outrun this."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chains and Smokers.

Stepping forward he looked the guy in the eye. "Don't blame Zatanna for the call up, she only did it for me. Names Green Arrow although maybe the outfit gave it away. I need your help urgently. You seem like someone with your ear to the ground so I expect you know about the 'New JLA' team Lex is putting together. I am on it and a team mate of mine is the new Rider." He looked at the guy trying to gauge his reaction to the news but so far he hadn't really given him much to go on about why he needed him.

John's reaction was... less than stellar. He grimaced. Went pale.

Turned away. Lit a cigarette.

Shuddered.

"'New' Rider. If by 'New' yeh mean about two fhousand years uv menacing me an' me ancestors-- even The Holy Roman Emperor knew about that New Rider."

"As for your 'Justice League of Arsepains,'" he drawled, glaring at Arrow, "I was there the night that lot 'ad their first go-'round up against the starkers raving mad Superman. If it wasn't for me tapping that Silver Bullet tot for some speed lightning, Waterboy'd be deader'n a dodo's doornail. Yeh know the reason I didn't stick around? THAT. BLUDDY. RIDER."

"Anyway during a battle here she lost control, or allowed Xarathos to come forth in all his Daemonic glory. Last time she was able to get him under control. This time not so much. Before Xarothos disappeared he said one word, your name."

John squinted, and flicked away that astral projection of a cigarette, exhaling one last billow out of smoke out of his mouth and nostrils as he opined: "Bollocks."

Looking intently at him Connor pointed a finger towards him. "So this is what is going to happen. You are going to tell me why, and then you are going to help me put him back inside my friends body, or point me to somebody who can. Afterwards you can name your price."

"'Oo the bluddy 'Ell knows why," John flipped Green Arrow a British 'two-fingered salute,' "but I'll give yeh two guesses. Eivver she wants to Penance Stare me brain into oblivion an' leave me droolin' into a puddle the way I 'aven't since th' electroshock in Ravenscar, or she wants t' rip me soul out uv me body 'olesale, an' rip it into four equal pieces like some kind uv 'Ellish King Solomon."

"She's a wild card," Zatanna pointed out. "Even your morally ambiguous 'arse' knows we can't afford to let an entity like that running around the planes off its... well... chain. This is exactly the sort of thing you became The Hellblazer to fight. It's not like you to 'wee your trousers' and 'do a bunk.'"

"Strrrrreeeewwwfh," John snarled, hands in his hair. "One uv these days, I wish someone'd call Custer for gigs like this."

"This is my favor," Zatanna reiterated. "And I'm calling it in. No-one's owing anyone anything because this is squaring you with me, John. But you're doing this. For what it's worth, I'll help. I can bind her long enough to keep you alive. ...probably."

John went uncharacteristically silent for a long, long moment. And then muttered: "Fine."

Then he squinted at Connor again.

And grinned a slow, darksome grin: "Still, yeh look like yeh can make yehrself useful, eh? Remember kids, chi is key."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Go to Sickbay and Get Better, Bae.

Through the pain in her head she remembered the abject terror she had felt on her orientation tour when they showed her the med lab. She had no idea why it scared her so much. "My head hurts something terrible, right behind mah eyes. An my skull feels to small fer mah brain. Weak as a kitten an so tired." She looked at the doctor.

"Yer lab scares me Doc. Don't know why, but it scares me like it's a torture chamber. I got my powers on penetra vision, c'n ya sedate me please? I can't go in there without any or I'll go crazy......" A tear started down her cheek.

Nat and Serling shared a look, Nat looked panicked, Serl looked heartbroken.

But Serling nodded gently. "If it were not absolutely necessary, I wouldn't even ask. But if you're dying and something in that lab can save you..."

"I'm sorry for bitchin' at you about your technobabble," Nat apologized. "A girl's lab is her queendom, you know? But we're here. We're right here. We're gonna help you."

That was when a small handful of medically-equipped multidroids showed up from the medlab, summoned by Nat's earlier call-- Dr. Roquette had just been closer.

"Administer ivopropalyn," Serling requested the nearest droid, calculating the exact dose on the "tricorder," "via jet-injection. Then administer Thorazine--" she calculated this dose too "--and bring Miss Nash to the medlab."

The droid in question leaned down, pressed a palm against Jo's shoulder, even through her clothes-- and there came a hiss twice.

 

[Wyldfire]

Nat and Serling shared a look, Nat looked panicked, Serl looked heartbroken.

But Serling nodded gently. "If it were not absolutely necessary, I wouldn't even ask. But if you're dying and something in that lab can save you..."

"I'm sorry for bitchin' at you about your technobabble," Nat apologized. "A girl's lab is her queendom, you know? But we're here. We're right here. We're gonna help you."

That was when a small handful of medically-equipped multidroids showed up from the medlab, summoned by Nat's earlier call-- Dr. Roquette had just been closer.

"Administer ivopropalyn," Serling requested the nearest droid, calculating the exact dose on the "tricorder," "via jet-injection. Then administer Thorazine--" she calculated this dose too "--and bring Miss Nash to the medlab."

The droid in question leaned down, pressed a palm against Jo's shoulder, even through her clothes-- and there came a hiss twice.

Jo tried to smile but it didn't reach her eyes. She held her powers on penetra vision as she slid into the sedation. "Thanks y'all." She whispered as she slipped under.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Just Gals Being Valentines.

“You have a lot of magic,” Karan replied stepping extra close. “Cause I think you cast a love spell on me.” Words she completed with a soft kiss.

Rose kissed her back, grinning. "Oh, I didn't need to do a spell for that. Love is just magic all on its own. Some loves more than others."

“You got powers too. Powers to make the world move, and make me shiver and shake.” Reaching up she ran her fingers through Rose’s hair, enjoying the feeling, and shivering as she held back from biting her girlfriends neck. She so wanted to cover her in kisses – and hickey’s.

The best part about hickeying a shapeshifter is that they could immediately shapeshift the hickey away and you had the fun of doing it all over again. A shiver rolled through Rose's body in time with the roving sweep of those fingers.

"I can turn into a ghost and walk through walls, and you'd still be able to touch me better and deeper than anyone ever has," Rose promised.

“So, what are the plans for tonight?” she asked, teasing one of Rose’s earlobes with her lip.

Rose Walker had to-- recalibrate for a second after that. She smiled a wobbly smile, and grasped at Karan's upper arm.

"I, ah. I thought we could get a nice dinner. And... and then go for a carriage ride in Central Park. And-- and then hit a karaoke bar and blow some people's minds with our lungs... and then... home again? We've got the place to ourselves. Alix is on babysitting duty tonight for Mrs. Hall-- Lyta's finally going on a date, good for her!"

She hesitated, still beaming. "I thought about just us going to make out on The Moon, but I wanted you to see what Valentines Day was like in, you know, 'The Patriarchy.'"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Interlude: The Way of The Warrior.

Seattle.
Later.
********​

Jessica Cruz was a troubled young woman.

Even before John Stewart had shown up essentially on her literal doorstep with a scaled-back model of The Most Powerful Bauble in The Universe, she had been fighting demons no woman so young should have to face.

And now she had had essentially a literal demon in her mind, her body, taking control of her actions and using them to fight and try and kill good people... to threaten the city that she loved.

So she had-- unable to face her city, retreated to the one safe, confined place she could think of-- hidden away in her apartment.

Stayed there for days, barely bothering to eat or drink or charge her Ring.

And then--

And then there came a rapping on her window.

A knocking on her window five stories above the ground.

Trembling, weary, Ring on her white-knuckled finger, Jessica tugged the window open and then jumped back, whipping her Ring hand up defensively.

"Tsk," he said, "ya look like shit, recruit."

A man hovered there. Spiky red hair, Irish-white skin, with what looked like warpaint in bright primary colors. His legs were encased in dark-red rocket boosters that looked like they had... grown organically out of his skin?

"Ya took a little findin', but I ain't dumb. An' I can see I was right ta dig ya up. Look at this. Take it from Unca Warrior, kid-- The Ring don't work for ya unless ya've got the stuff, but even th' best'a us needs trainin'."

Jessica hesitated, her green eyes widening.

"Who... who are you?"

"I'm Guy Gardner, Warrior," he smirked.

"And, ya stoopid poozer-- I'm yer new drill sergeant."

"Clean yerself up. This is gonna take a lotta work."

 

[kizkiz]

Four Grimsbies and a Marx

Grim’s fingers blurred in the air in front of him. He didn’t need to move his fingers, but like a vestigial organ he found himself doing it out of habit. Techno music blared through thirty speakers and five subwoofers sprinkled around the loft. The drone hovered in the air before him. It wavered dipping its propeller towards him.

The sprite was resisting the over the air update. He narrowed his vision, zooming through the physical and into the resonance. His eyes flickered over the body of the sprite inhabiting the drone. He rotated the view, slicing through several layers of her operating system until he got to its kernel function. The language at its core was not the result of any human conception. It was a series of high order discrete mathematics. Visualized, it was like five mathematical equations intersecting in three dimensions.

He played with the mathematics with his fingers, twisting a few of the parameters around and knotting two of the equitations that weren’t intertwined before. He zoomed back out, watching the cascade out to the second and third tier of code. He recompiled a two of the support functions in the third tier and tossed a bevy of unit tests at the changes.

While he continued development on the sprite controlling the drone, a few of his proximity alarms went off. The Watcher, his third self, turned from watching his second self to review the footage.

“Well, Four your turn with the dickhead.”

“So be it.” Four sighed.

The Watcher feel downwards into the Resonance, following the path that Prime had taken when logging into Athos. The free goblins in the broken plains were growing insane and Prime’s party was busy cutting through the mobs.

Four lived in the watch, which meant he was a nonbiological intelligence. He was still Grimsby, sure, but sometimes he missed the messiness that the others got to experience. He wondered what that must feel like. He found himself analyzing the actions and speech patterns of the others and running simulations about how he’d respond. He told Watcher about some of his thoughts on the manner, and Prime still allowed the diversion to continue. One of the differences that Four did when interacting with Agent Marx was he didn’t fuck around.

The door to the apartment unlocked and swung open as Marx approached. The elevator opened and took him to the tenth floor. It closed behind Marx. The door at the end of the hallway swung open, and the techno died down to a faint background buzz.

“Yo,” Grim said.

“Here,” Marx said, handing over a data stick.

Grim reached out and took the stick, tossing it in the air a few times. He was all unnecessary but Marx was an old timer, one of those Dick Tracey types. Well without the talking watch. He had the talking watch. He was the talking watch. “Hmm.”

“What?” Marx

“That was for something else. Still analyzing your data.” Grim turned, pretending like he was grabbing a handful of something and he hurled it at a 90-inch monitor on the nearby wall. Graphs and data points blossomed into different dashboards. A replay of the shot was super imposed with several of the drones he had in the area. There was three telescopic lens, a multi-spectrum lens, and thirteen different environmental sensors in place around the ‘subject.’

Marx walked closer to the monitor, which was good. The man’s gaze was unnerving. He was tall and straight with impeccable posture. Grimsby pulled together his report. He had a few questions on the biological implications, which he farmed out to a few people he knew.

Grimsby shambled over to his stove while he wanted for a few final answers. He filled the pot with water and then threw it onto the burner. “You want any?” Marx never did.

“No.” Marx was watching the monitor, his lips compressed. Grimsby watched him via several of the cameras scattered through the room, including the drone #2 was working on. The man had single-minded focus down to a science.

The results came together after his ramen was done, which gave him plenty of time to let the noodles absorb the broth. He walked over with his bowl and chopsticks. “So,” he said, slurping up a mouthful of the noodles. “She’s running hot.”

“Hot?”

“Yeah, trees like the 69…”

Marx pinched the bridge of his nose and turned. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

“Point eight. Temperature that is not sexual positions.” He shrugged, slurping up some more noodles. He wiped some of the mess the ended up on his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. “Anyway, our girl runs at 98 and spiked to 100 when she got shot. Otherwise, it’s like the prior tests. Hardness is up around steel, and regeneration is way above baseline.” He shrugged. “But you can read the details,” he pointed with his chopsticks at the printer. Paper started spewing out with the print outs.

“Anything else stand out?”

Grimsby shrugged again. “Yeah maybe.” Grimsby pulled up the thermals again and did a side-by-side with some footage from the prison. He tweaked the footage and ran a few simulations. “You an see how morphologically the shape and dynamics of the tree fit with an elongated version of Mary’s body.” He walked back and put the empty bowl into the sink. “Specifically when she rammed her head into the wall. She isn’t straight. So yeah.”

“She’s not straight.” Marx nodded his head. “And the other thing?”

“Yeah, there’s enough to connect the dots. I hid the stuff that doesn’t fit. It’d hold up Sky-High for a day tops.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh and I threw up the flak around Seattle, so Sky-High is contained-ish. And leaked a few things about the Bridge that should help your case.”

Marx didn’t pick up the papers, so Grimsby rolled his eyes and stalked over to the printer. He picked them all up and handed them to Marx. Marx nodded and departed.

The techno music picked up. Grimsby dropped into one of the bean bag chairs and shook his head. The drone followed him. Four retreated back into the watch.

 

[Wyldfire]

Good intentions

Not done yet. NO! Bad Wyld.

 

[Wyldfire]

Good intentions

With everyone s spreading out with clean up no one had coordinated the milkshake run. When Lexcorp people had shown up the team had scattered. Thea was almost disappointed. She had herself teleported home and cut herself out of the over tight spandex. She traded that out with her longest loosest sun dress. It was still tight and short. Thea growled and it was a good one, deep and threatening. Shoes were out of the question anymore. So she grabbed her purse and was off. Food first. She hit one of her favorite dog carts and put down ten chilli cheese dogs and about five Soder colas. From there it was her fitness wear joint.

The ladies there lightened her mood a bit praising her physique and saying she would never want for anyone with that fur. They had to break into the gear the drag queens wore to get her gear that fit. They all agreed that Thea had out grown underwear and that that and no shoes made the change worth it. As Thea was leaving the lady that knew where the drag queen clothes had been slid her a card and said "They'll have clothes to fit you." Thea thanked her and caught a cab to the place the woman had suggested.

And at first wished she hadn't. It was bright and gaudy. The staff were loud and, if possible, more boisterous than Beast boy. They oohed and ahhed over her. They all but begged to touch her fur. Thea endured it until one of the few customers, a tall well built black "woman", intervened shooting the staff away from her. "Women can be such bitches," she said looking Thea up and down. "Too much black girl. Let's see what some color will do for you."

And they were off. Thea's new friend was "Dymond", with a "y" bitches. And she was amazing. Thea would have never tried on a tenth of the dresses she tried. And none of the pants. The tops were okay though.

She lost track of time playing Barbie doll for Dy. It got to be fun being pampered by the staff after Dy roped them in. The women actually did the alterations as shorts, capris, and a couple pairs of leggings had been settled on. The funniest part for Thea was when it came time to pay. Thea reached into her purse and Dy fussed pulling out a black credit card. She looked at Thea and Thea grinned pulling out her Lexcorp card. Dy's eyes went wide and she grinned, "Too rich for my blood." She laughed and put her card away. "But I buy dinner and our drinks. Think I didn't hear your stomach girl. Let's get fed so we can turn this place up tonight." And they were off.

 

[kizkiz]

Chicago under siege

The office was a shit hole collection of paper weights and garbage. Boyajian watched Chicago fidget, unable to meet his eyes. The man was hiding something. It didn’t help that Chicago’s gaze, when it was turned towards Boyajian’s face, was always looking at his left ear. It made Boyajian want to look behind, but he’d cleared the room upon entering. There was no one else in here. He had his sixth sense tuned up. The hairs on the back of his neck were extra sensitive to any sort of killing intent. It was as far as his powers dipped into the realm of psychic abilities; more like a gestalt sense if something was out of place. It only worked in places he’d been a few times, and he’d visited Chicago quite a few times over the past month.

“…Ice cubes. Could you believe it,” Chicago shook his head, lifting a glass of soda filled with ice. “He was so fascinated with them.”

Boyajian blinked, realizing he’d missed some of the man’s prattling. The appearance of being nonplussed and missing nothing was as important as never missing anything and never being plussed.

“Did you know,” Chicago said, chattering on. He turned leafing through a stack of papers for something. “You can be nonplussed, but you can’t be plussed?” Chicago gave a small laugh. “Weird, right? The negative exists but the positive never has.” He shook his head, handing a crumpled piece of paper to Boyajian.

Chicago did that, and Boyajian was more than certain that in some lights the man could read thoughts or anticipate sentences or lines of reasoning. So Boyajian fell to the well trodden road of reapplying leverage. “There are limitations to the immunity Kiz worked out for you. Particularly since, in his absence it is debatable how much he actually helped. He fled with the most powerful weapon in Kobra’s arsenal. And we are sure he was in contact with several of the Blood Mages. We know one of them is connected to Ms. Decker. Facial recognition has confirmed sightings of Ms. Goel. If the dots connect, your fucked.”

“Hey, hey, hey, there!” Chicago said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m positively thrilled we are on the same side here. Honest.” Chicago’s eyes were wider than usual. “Really.” His nose twitched. And his damn eyes were looking at Boyajian’s left ear again.

Boyajian burst forward, grabbing Chicago by his shirt front. “Listen asshole, your as slimy as pond scum. I could tie you to a dozen illegal digs and cultural misappropriation around the world. I got you anyway I want.”

Chicago gulped. “Yeah, sure...” He nodded his head, his eyes however looked at Boyajian’s left ear. “You got me.”

“So quit jerking me around.” Boyajian’s lips tightened. He calmed himself, releasing his hold on Chicago’s shirt. “Can you do it or not?”

“Yeah, sure. If it is a cherry tree, then getting the fruit would be great. Leaves or bark can do in a pinch.” Chicago shrugged. “Just roll it all up, and light it like a joint.” Chicago flourished his hands like a cheap stage magician, “And presto weako.”

Boyaijan nodded, tucking the crumpled piece of paper into his back pocket without looking at it. He sought out the man’s eyes and just stared for several awkward minutes.
Sweat started to bead on Chicago’s forehead and upper lip. He fidgeted again, moving a paper weight around form one stack to another. He picked up another book and flipped through it. He broke Boyaijan’s gaze by turning around and walking over to the window. “So…ah, did you need anything else?”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

Chicago jerked, dropping the book on the ground. He stooped down with a shriek and picked up it back up. “Wa-wa-hat?” Chicago licked his lip. “Well, no.” He shook his head, “I don’t think there is anything wrong with me.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Is it hot in here?” He looked around and grabbed is soda, slurping it down. “It's the ice cold with the bubbles that does it.”

“Your a moron, you know that right?” Boyajian shook his head. He wasn’t in the habit of turning is back to a CI, so he took a few steps backwards until his left hand touched the door handle. He left without a word. He surveyed the sitting area, but it was empty except for the secretary.

Outside he hailed a cab and took it to the Bear Claw Inn. Marx was already waiting at a table. Marx handed him a sheaf of papers when he sat down. “Coffee, black.” Boyajian said to the waitress when she approached. He leafed through the papers. “Well this confirms it, then.”

“Yes,” Marx said, sipping at his coffee. “And did your CI come through?”

Boyajian nodded, looking up from double checking a few things in the print outs. “Yes, and this is just like during the interview.” He grunted laying the two pictures side-by-side. “At least we know for sure it’s her.”

“And through her we can get Goel.”

“Just need to establish that link, but we need the requisition.”

“The otaku kicked off the campaign, so I can reach out.”

Boyajian paused, taking a drink of his coffee. “How much time does that buy us?”

“A day tops.” Marx shrugged. “We toppled Iran with less.”

Boyajian took another sip. “Sure did.” They both raised their mugs and shared a rare smile. “Sure did.”

Marx glanced at his watch. “Midnight then.”

“Roger that.”

Marx got up and left.

Boyajian waited until Marx had been gone for a few minutes before taking out the wadded up piece of paper. He stared at the weird writing on the paper, watching it crawl around as if alive. It made him frown.

 

[Varshanka]

"I, ah. I thought we could get a nice dinner. And... and then go for a carriage ride in Central Park. And-- and then hit a karaoke bar and blow some people's minds with our lungs... and then... home again? We've got the place to ourselves. Alix is on babysitting duty tonight for Mrs. Hall-- Lyta's finally going on a date, good for her!"

She hesitated, still beaming. "I thought about just us going to make out on The Moon, but I wanted you to see what Valentines Day was like in, you know, 'The Patriarchy.'"

Softly murmuring in that beautiful ear, “We gonna be able to wait that long?” Karan replied as her free hand began sliding along curves and lightly touching Rose’s spine. “But everything does sound absolutely lovely,” She whispered. soft kisses on Rose’s neck and ear punctuating her words. Goddess she loved this woman.

They had the place to themselves. That meant they could do things before they left. "When are the reservations?" she whisper/moaned to Rose.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Borrowing Kisses from The Future.

Softly murmuring in that beautiful ear, “We gonna be able to wait that long?” Karan replied as her free hand began sliding along curves and lightly touching Rose’s spine. “But everything does sound absolutely lovely,” She whispered. soft kisses on Rose’s neck and ear punctuating her words. Goddess she loved this woman.

They had the place to themselves. That meant they could do things before they left. "When are the reservations?" she whisper/moaned to Rose.

Rose's sigh in response came out in a syncopated rhythm, a number of sighs coming out at once and tumbling and stuttering all over each other instead of one long one. Her eyes were tight shut, and her teeth found her lower lip, and her heart leapt in joy and desire in her chest.

She managed, with quivering fingers, to touch Karan's wrist... to...

...stop it.

Rose hadn't yet-- to her complete knowledge --exerted physical strength on a par with a Kryptonian, of which Martians were technically capable, but right now, in this moment, she touched Karan firmly enough that Karan would feel it.

Feel the intensity of Rose's intent.

"They're-- they're soon. The reservations are soon."

She drew back and searched Karan's gaze, one yellow golden forelock falling out of Rose's red red hair between those eyes as she stared into Karan's wild-yonder blues.

"But if you can... be patient. I'll... I'll make it worth your while. Worth the wait."

 

[kizkiz]

When does this guy sleep...

It was weird for himself to have to think of himself — and sometimes with a bit of uncertainty — as Prime. The two neural lace sleeves over his brain and intestines were sometimes more than he was, comprised as they were by an integrated network of nanotechnology that was biomechanical even if it was entirely carbon-based. Like having diamond plated bones made you any less organic than if they were steel or some more esoteric inorganic substrate. Or in his case a carbon nanotube mesh network with quantum computational components that mimicked and throttled themselves so they were functionally equivalent to his original brain. Even the idea of what was him could induce vertigo if he let his mind dwell on it for too long. There was a completely digitalized version of himself living in a watch on his wrist.

He was often riddled with a fugue like miasma like he’d stayed up all night and then snuck in a three hour nap but now wasn’t quite sure if he was still skimming in the twilight where conscious thought gave way to the unconscious when he emerged from the Deep Resonance. Reality was just fucking boring, and he felt bad for his other selves being forced to operate in meat space. They all deserved to sail off into the singularity like Neuromancer had.

“He’s doing it again,” #2 said.

Watcher grunted, but was otherwise engaged with passive support of some downtime actions in Athos. The party of heroes was taking a break in the town of Nord, and Prime wanted to establish relations with one of the nobles of the Iron Baron’s court. It was a slow dance of unfolding politics. Plus there was the sensor array in Central Park. To a less extent, there was also the sensors in the apartment building and the army of sprites, mostly the gophers and moles, that also needed curating. Still, Watcher was born from the enteric nervous system and so was the best multi-tasker of them all.

“Let him enjoy himself,” Four said. “Your getting closer with the MB.”

“Yes, but we’ll still need Prime to unlock more of the source.” #2 paused before adding, “But I’ll be ready.”

“So,” Prime said, clutching his head and stumbling over towards the stove. He grabbed the pot from the sink, rinsed it off, and set another two cups to boil. “We’ll do a data dive with what Watcher has for us.”

“Still got time-“

“Yeah, but we all remember Helligan,” Prime said, cutting Four off.

“We should be covered on both sides,” #2 said, firing off the sitrep.

“Huh,” Prime said, “So only a 0.51067?” Prime dug through terabytes of data, the type of minutiae that Watcher thrived on, and found himself coming to the same sort of conclusion.

“I could…” Watcher began.

“Fuck no,” Prime said, “I’m good as is, just don’t screw up Lord Jillian’s banquet.”

“C’mon that’s not fair.”

“Actually, it is considering the shit storm at the Shrine of the Bell.”

“How was I supposed to know the Fey would do that?”

“It’s kinda obvious,” #2 said.

“Anyway,” Prime said, “Let me submerge for…”

“You could take up to 2 quadrillion cycles without compromising the campaign against Helligan,” Four said.

“Yeah, I think we need to be sure how to comply with the letter of the law…” Prime dropped the noddles into the water along with the seasoning. Then followed it up with an egg. He moved the whole thing around a few times with his chopsticks, before shambling back over to his Aeron Chair. “And the two of you already submerged?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

Prime shoved a mass of molten red colored noodles into his mouth, then he fished out a chunk of egg and added it. He chewed with his mouth open, kicking his feet up on one of the desks. The monitor closest to him started playing Kill Bill Volume 2. Prime spent a solid ten minutes enjoying his ramen and the action sequences. His ramen damn it. His.

When he was done, he immersed himself into a pool of augmented intelligent complements of the Little Gods until he lost his senses and just had the raw data. It was like [Into Nothingness] from the game. A dissolution into apparent nothingness yet still existing. That's what the sensation felt like.

Grimsby struggled for a second, to be just Grimsby the kid from Newcastle, but the panic and surprise passed. He settled back down into the data lake and floated as the streams of raw data pushed around him on currents and tides that he was just beginning to understand. There was so much to take in, and he felt tiny in comparison. A thousand news feeds streamed by, sprites doing their sentiment analysis and deep learning tricks to generate reports. Billions of social media feeds. There were millions of plans to consider, which were being fed from the huge tributaries vomited forth by the internet. There were trillions of data points, networks, and communication arrays. Sprites were in information and intrusion wars with several news networks as well as a myriad of personal networks. #2 dissembled root kernels into their basic machine code and reassembled understanding. Four was an army of hackers busy at work. Watcher had setup tactical simulations. Not hypothetical things, but Grimsby could watch fully realistic renderings of scenarios based upon different possibilities.

“Okay,” Prime said, emerging from the data lake. “Okay. Let’s setup that escrow with the Piper in case this goes tits up.” Prime stood and stretched. “Let’s begin.” The ramen was forgotten. He raised his hands like the maestro at an orchestra.

It started with a sub-thread on reddit about zombies in the Emerald City. He’d been having crazy dreams, when he dreamed. Plus there were some ticklers that wouldn’t quit tickling. Zombies seemed important and worthy of kicking off the whole campaign. A flurry of blurred cameras had sightings at several other cities. Money and directives were poured into several shell companies, which setup affiliance networks across Eastern Europe and into the Middle East. He worked at curating the clutter. Fake news had a way of going off in its own direction, seeking sensationalism that would fuel itself. It took only fifty thousand dollars to overwhelm Facebook for an hour with threads ranging from undeath to biological Armageddon. It was as overt as photoshopped images as it was encouraging calls to remake The Stand. Stephen King got a boost to book sales.

They let things simmer down on that front, stoking the flames here and there in obscure places on the web. A few reputable people’s twitter feeds were hacked and used to keep the rankings of stories where he wanted them at a slow burn. He watched the stock market squirm and after hours trading in some of the overseas markets.

In case he hadn’t gotten her attention, the zombies were tied back to the DEO. A sound bite from Helligan bragging about vampirism got repeated quite a lot.

And if you're one of those vampiric, trust me, I've been bitten by worse..."

That helped pick up the momentum on into the second act. There was archival footage to lean on as well. People had been shell-shocked. Tensions had already been running high after the riots and the clashes over the lottery results. Neighbors were still apologizing to neighbors. Some friendships would never be mended. Then fire and ice had raged and stormed all up and down this busy New York street... shadow-serpents and death knights and napalm-spewing chimerae...New Yorkers here were angry. But it was a cold, exhausted kind of angry. "Really? Now this? This too, on top of everything?"

He’d already had several select New Yorkers on payroll and their stories extracted by five different news agencies, some legitimate and others less so. There was a thirty minute black and white documentary by Michael Lessor about an old lady who had bought a lotto ticket, a winning one, before the arrival of the exteradimensional menace. Only to have her apartment building demolished in the aftermath of what many were considering “urban cleansing” by one of Lex Luthor’s less well known real estate holding companies. The lady was now homeless wandering the streets with whatever was left of her life clutched in shopping bags. That piece got actual play on the regional nightly news and a clip made it onto CNN.

Another clip with Constantine's eyes drooped. His face leaked blood from his broken nose. He made a horrible rasping sound like a comma patient on a ventilator from his broken ribs. His right arm spasmed. His knees buckled. Only one of Kiz's mammoth hands kept the man upright. In the background Kiz is heard saying, “No draws.” Grim even had the aerial footage from Anderson Cooper high above the CNN helicopter complements of Rathaway.

He even managed to squeeze out and boil several demographics around the historical plight of native peoples with some cut sequences. "What of the Rotinonsionni? The Anishinaabe? Others of the First Nation?" Kiz's eyes remained fixed on Constantine. "You are hypocrites."
Hesitantly, Helligan spoke up. "He's got a point, historically. Back in The Obsidian Age--"

And another clip with Agent Chase like a child fixated on something off screen, saying, "More friends of yours?" Constaintine saying,"Yeah. Well-played, yeh.". Then a cut to the Kobra ninjas. Agent Chase called out, "Having evaluated your case and the testimony of your associates, I am prepared to offer you a field deputization and immunity in exchange for your assistance… Interested?" Then more cuts to Kidz riding the back of a ninja.

There was some interviews with those “saved” after the Kobra incident. About lost loved ones sacrificed with the stadium. Sacrificed to become zombies? Were the blood mages still around? Was Kiz leading them? Some speculation pieces tying back to Chase or Helligan or the DEO. Plus again those prospectus about real estate the billions being made on “rebuilding America.”

From their Seattle was more conspiracy theory gravy. A huge chunk of the city in ruins. Was it really an invasion or a failed orbital command center from a secret cabal of oligarchs trying to take over the government. Run some reports about increased DEO budgets, promotions of Agent Chase, etc. Rumors about super soldiers…tie it back to those zombies. Bid back up attention on that key clip from Helligan about having been bit by a vampire and fuel the flames of the 99-percent and the down trodden natives. It’d probably end up making Lex Luthors populace platform more successful, even with the rumors of the real estate holdings, but Grim didn’t really care about politics.

It was all more abstract like playing a game.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Luke 19:40.

"Swing by NJLHQ in Metropolis when you're ready. No worries, no hurries."

And as she turned away from The Sandman, she saw that her phone was again in ready status, and she thought about the rockfella and--

--wondered what he'd say to that same question, after all.

Whether Braggock would want to be part of The New Justice League.

Her thumb dialed-- Dialed.

4. 3. 7. 6.

H-E-R-O.

SssshhCLICK!

"I am... GLORIANA!"

She stopped-- she was a she again this time --and looked down at herself.

Sculpted blonde, elven, beautiful perfection-- superhumanly gorgeous.

"Happy Valentine's Day to me," she muttered to herself, and that was definitely Ruby shining through-- as though the Meggan ectype were instinctively psychically attuning itself to and accommodating the other personality it detected in their shared matrix --but then she shook her head to focus.

She was Meggan. Otherworldly and a mutant.

Capable of immense elemental and energy manipulations, vast superhuman strength... omnimorphic adaptive shapeshifting... and empathy.

And this empath... had some talking to do.

Commanding the winds and the very geomagnetic energies of The Earth to ripple around her, Gloriana soared into the air and reached out with her empathic senses, reaching out for the mind and form of the one called Braggock.

And when he was done his work, his incredible metalwork sculpting with his powers and his devotion and his pathological hyperfocus, when her empathy suggested that he might be ready...

...she descended, and she smiled at him.

"Hello. I am Gloriana-- my friends call me Meggan. We met before, fighting The Extremists, but I was someone different then. I've been lots of people today."

"You have done good work. Stopped who needed to be stopped. Helped who needed to be helped."

"Would you like the chance to do that again?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Interlude: Adventures in Babysitting.

"Wobot?" Daniel Hall gazed up at the silvery red-haired woman who held him, a little understandably perplexed.

Alix got a pained look on her face, a knot in her stomach.

She'd worked with children on the autism spectrum, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

When she'd changed, when Lance had infected her with the smartskin, the kids on her caseload had thought she'd been replaced by a robot-- and she hadn't been able to convince them otherwise.

The stress had been too much, for them and for her, so she'd had to go try and find other work.

A superheroic bodyguard.

...superheroic babysitter wasn't so far removed, she supposed.

Gently, trying not to let the hurt seep into her voice, she corrected the little blond child. "I'm not a robot. I'm Rose's friend, Alix. Remember?"

Daniel appeared to consider that for a moment. "Wose."

And then he smiled softly, reached up and touched Alix' hair.

"Awwik."

And despite herself, despite everything... Alix caught herself smiling.

Cute kid.

"Yeah, that's right. Alix."

Alix' cell phone rang in her pocket, and she put the kid down gently on the floor. Absently, she dusted sand off of herself-- where had that come from? --and answered the call. "Hello?"

(Daniel sat there contentedly on the carpet, playing with a little silver string or something he'd found.)

"Alix. Hi." Helen. She sounded tired.

"Agent Helligan?" Alix frowned. "You okay?"

Helligan made a noise that was somehow simultaneously weary, frustrated, and dismissive. "Pfff. I'll be all right. Just... you don't have much of a social media presence, do you?"

"It's hard to take good selfies when you're as reflective as tinfoil," Alix pointed out.

"That's fair, I'm sorry," Helligan commiserated. "I've just got some stuff going on through work right now. For some reason I'm the subject of a character assassination attempt that's gone viral in record time, and I'm having to deal with that getting in the way of my work with Agent Chase. There might be an internal inquiry. Terribly time-consuming. I'm afraid I might not be able to help you look for that woman you asked about-- Sally? --at least not for a little longer yet."

Alix nodded quietly. "It's okay, Agent. I just wanna talk to her. It's nothing that can't wait."

She frowned, then, lowered her phone-- glancing around. She thought she'd heard some kind of... whistling? High-pitched enough to make her wince, even in the distance.

Alix glanced down at Daniel, still playing with that silver string.

"Hey. Danny Boy. Young people are supposed to hear better, right? D'you hear that?"

Daniel held up the silver string as though comparing it to Alix' skin. "Awwik."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

Then she put her phone back to her ear. "Sorry you're going through all that, though, seriously. For a lady who's worked so hard to help people... you don't deserve this crap."

"It's not about deserve," Helligan sounded like she was shrugging. "It's just a lot to sort through. I can get there. Sorting data is what I do."

"Anyway, I wanted to thank you again for your help on the day of my sister's wedding. I really truly could not have done that without you."

Alix nodded easily. "Yeah. Just glad we got there in time. Glad she ditched that guy. Bad enough he was a mobster, but a werewolf?"

"His being a werewolf doesn't bother me," Helligan pointed out. "But the fact that he wouldn't tell my sister about his condition before she married him-- what kind of full disclosure is that? The risks of lycanthropy exposure... that's the sort of thing should be talked about by consenting adults."

Alix closed her eyes... she felt so tired all of a sudden. And she could still hear that whistling, seriously, it was like someone was pulling a train cord half a block away. "Yeah. Consenting. You never know what you can catch from a loved one by accident. Honesty... honesty is key. Especially in marriage."

"Yeah, no kidding," Helen shook her head. "Listen, I gotta talk to some Seattle cops about an incident on Lake Washington over a year ago-- this boat party gone wrong. I promise I'll get to that Sally Sonic thing as soon as I can."

"Thanks Agent Hel," Alix replied, and meant it. She'd only been able to get so close to finding the object of her late husband's obsession, but her Google-fu was only so-so. With actual DEO resources, maybe she stood a chance-- just maybe.

"I'm going to put this tyke to bed," she smiled faintly. "Don't wanna risk ticking off his mother, she's the only one in this building stronger than I am."

(Of course, Alix didn't know about the Martian and the Kryptonian in the hallway a floor down. But Lyta Hall was damn strong.)

"Hey, good luck," Helligan wished her.

"Yeah, you too, with everything," Alix replied, and they hung up with each other.

Daniel was yawning as he sat there on the rug, and Alix scooped him up and carried him to the nursery.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get your adorable face some shut-eye."

"Awwik."

She sorted him out and tucked him in, and then she yawned an incredible yawn.

...God, she never got this tired this early. Not since she'd been changed. Her strength made it so she didn't need as much rest. But now she was barely strong enough to keep her eyelids up.

She lowered herself carefully to sit on the couch.

And glanced at the window.

What the Hell was that whistling?

 

[TertiusHuman]

“Drink? Pepsi, sure. Not that you could poison me if you planned on it.” Looking him over, either she was assessing him for danger, or checking him out. “Whatever you got is fine, preferably cold. Very cold. As for teaching you hand to hand, yeah, I could definitely teach you a thing or twenty.”

“A few years ago I knew another Manimal.. though they were more of a werewolf/werebear type of individual. They had combat and shifting down to an art form. Could never do it myself, but I did learn a few tricks.”

Garfield got to his feet and walked to their freezer.

"Why would I wanna kill you? You are a team mate and after all, you're the one who can kill me."

He pulled out the coldest can he could find and took it over to Renegade.

"Yeah well I am still struggling with finding answers. You said once that I am the whole animal kingdom, that one woman said I had The Red in me. I wonder if those remarks aren't linked. I mean it kind of make sense."

He plopped down on the couch again, switched on the television and the gaming console.

"Well since you want to kill something."

He tossed the second remote to Renegade, "Let's see how you fare against Black Ops Zombies."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Interlude: Sabbatical of The Cool.

This would take time...

"How much time are we talking about, here?" Chase frowned, arms crossed over her stomach, looking about as cold and stern as she'd ever looked, and that was saying something.

Dakota, Michigan.
Days After Seattle.
********​

They stood in the heart of the (mostly) rebuilt S.T.A.R.Labs Dakota, still recovering after the wreckage-- both self- and Kobra-inflicted --of two weeks ago.

And Static... Static had never felt more like a little kid. Not even when he met Black Lightning that time.

"Indefinite. Indefinite leave. I've got too much to focus on here. I've just run myself... ragged, y'know? I need to focus on the science. Now that we've retrieved all of the Bang Babies that escaped from our Pipeline--"

He hesitated. Winced.

"That is another subject entirely," Chase narrowed her eyes. "The unlicensed detainment of rogue metahumans in this woefully underprepared facility--"

Dharma chuckled, long and low, hands in his pockets where he leaned against Virgil's desk. "You say that like you people don't have blacksites."

"That's the CIA," Chase fired back.

"Or prisons run for profit forming the backbone of this country's penitentiaries on the broken backs of people of color," Dharma pressed. "At least here they're getting the medical care they need-- and maybe even a cure, for those that want it."

Chase paused. She wasn't a fan of privatized prisons either. But unlike Helligan she didn't spout agreement with a perp in front of people that might be recording for posterity. She glared at Dharma and then swung her gaze back to Static. "Hawkins. You took unnecessary risks by not looping us in. We could have helped. You say you've been so exhausted that you subconsciously drained the power from your own signal-watch to help stay awake?"

"S'why I didn't get the call," Virgil nodded with an ache on his face.

"And if you had gotten the call, how effective would you have been, running on that kind of fumes? How many lives would you have put at risk?" Chase demanded.

"Which is exactly why I need to go on leave," Static shrugged. "Like Aquaman did. So I can do this work right. And then come back to The League. If you'll still have me."

Chase's cheek twitched. "We'll talk."

"And in the meantime," Dharma drawled, "Shadow Cabinet'll be getting his back. And keeping an eye on your cue-ball boss-man."

"I take my orders from The US Government," Chase glowered. "Not Lex Luthor."

"Funny, I already can't tell the difference," Dharma smirked.

Chase harrumphed. "If you would just allow a trusted Agent of The DEO to liase with your team, Dharma, you would see that cooperation can only benefit all parties."

"I see the future, Chase," Dharma tapped a fingertip against his temple. "And that... is never going to happen."

Static unbuckled his watch, battery still dead, and smiled sadly at Chase. "It was good to be a Leaguer for five minutes once. Just like I was almost a Titan. Guess I'll always be a bridesmaid, huh?"

Chase took the watch, sighed grimly, soberly, processing the moment. "You have a lot of potential, Hawkins. Don't waste it. Stay wired in-- when you're ready to go mainstream, we'll be waiting."

"Yo," Static laughed softly, "mainstream better be ready to go me."

Chase almost smiled at that. Almost. "I suppose it had better at that."

She tucked the watch inside her suit jacket, and turned away. She half-nodded to Dharma. "Chawney."

"Agent," Dharma smirked.

And Chase walked away, speaking into her own watch. "One for teleport. I'm done here."

Blue-green flame claimed her, and she was gone.

 

[Varshanka]

Garfield got to his feet and walked to their freezer.

"Why would I wanna kill you? You are a team mate and after all, you're the one who can kill me."

“Everyone tries to kill someone for some reason sometime. Hell I had a virgin princess try and kill me.”

He pulled out the coldest can he could find and took it over to Renegade.

"Yeah well I am still struggling with finding answers. You said once that I am the whole animal kingdom, that one woman said I had The Red in me. I wonder if those remarks aren't linked. I mean it kind of make sense."

“I don’t know what the Red is. So I don’t know.”

He plopped down on the couch again, switched on the television and the gaming console.

"Well since you want to kill something."

He tossed the second remote to Renegade, "Let's see how you fare against Black Ops Zombies."

“Black Ops Zombies?” Renegade replied as the title screen played. “Video games? I could take you to parts of this world where you could kill anything you want, legally. Hone your skills on a pure adrenaline level of kill or die.”

 

[Varshanka]

Feel the intensity of Rose's intent.

"They're-- they're soon. The reservations are soon."

That was one of the things about Karan that Rose had yet to understand. Yeah she was Wondergirl and could take a freight train to the face and barely blink. But when it came to Rose.. well a butterfly would have exerted more pressure.

"But if you can... be patient. I'll... I'll make it worth your while. Worth the wait."

Smiling Karan leaned back in, her breathing still paused from that gaze. And with lips that brushed lighter than a butterfly on Rose’s neck she breathed. “Darling, I’ll wait A Thousand Years for you. And I’ll always be patient.”

Well as patient as mortal that could – though not necessarily did – move at speeds akin to a lightning strike or a speeding bullet.

 

[TertiusHuman]

“Black Ops Zombies?” Renegade replied as the title screen played. “Video games? I could take you to parts of this world where you could kill anything you want, legally. Hone your skills on a pure adrenaline level of kill or die.”

"I am starting to see why the virgin wanted to kill you."

He activated the game and as the load screen started, he turned to eye Renegade.

"Look it is like I told The Rider. I am NOT a killer. You obviously are. The common ground for us will be digital killing things that want to eat your brains. So either you activate that control, blow off some steam with me through a few relaxing rounds of zombie killing and then after a cat nap, we can hit a bar and you can teach me how to punch a guy, or you can put down the controller, take your Pepsi and weird light thing and teleport to where you can bludgeon people for real."

He took a breath, almost shocked by his, for him, vehement reaction. Not sure how Renegade would react to it.

 

[Wyldfire]

Airport security was never an issue for a woman like Hannah. Pumps came off oh so easily and when you wore just a tight short dress and a thong TSA was nothing. She shipped her work wardrobe to her hotel and it would arrive after she'd gotten sleep after the red eye flight. Her carry on bag had no make up and just a day or two of her "Good sister clothes." Well, as good as a woman like Hannah could get. Not that Hannah Nash and Savannah Belle dressed that far off really but she figured why advertise the two were the same person? She might be here in both of her "identities", and she smiled at that, identities like being a Super hero. It tickled her a bit. Super slut to the rescue? There could be a movie franchise in that.

Needless to say with her face "dressed down" no one knew who had been on that flight from L.A. Hannah went straight to the car rental Doug had reserved for her. A nice mid range sedan. Again nothing to attract attention, but not economy. Never something that drab. And she was off to her hotel. Again, nothing outrageous, but a nice room for her to spend the next week in. Doug had done well, making sure to not leave a direct paper trail to the Name Nash or Belle. It lead to a name, Myra Birch. One of her many alias' Doug had created for her. A single woman who sold something called Thirty-One. Some sort of work from home pyramid thing. She traveled a lot under that name. Conferences, trade shows, that sort of thing. She wondered if Doug wasn't making some sort of profit out of this. But that was for another day.

Hannah checked into her room and laid down to catch a few hours sleep before looking up her little sister Jo-Jo. A few hours before it was time to go to work. A few hours to steal from Papa again. Except this time she planned on more than just one theft.

 

[Varshanka]

"I am starting to see why the virgin wanted to kill you."

Lifting an eyebrow Renegade replied with a simple “Interesting.”

He activated the game and as the load screen started, he turned to eye Renegade.

"Look it is like I told The Rider. I am NOT a killer. You obviously are. The common ground for us will be digital killing things that want to eat your brains. So either you activate that control, blow off some steam with me through a few relaxing rounds of zombie killing and then after a cat nap, we can hit a bar and you can teach me how to punch a guy, or you can put down the controller, take your Pepsi and weird light thing and teleport to where you can bludgeon people for real."

He took a breath, almost shocked by his, for him, vehement reaction. Not sure how Renegade would react to it.

“There are other activities for blowing off steam. But if you wish to assassinate digital creatures to do so, then so be it. But I have little experience with.. these types of devices. My leisure time is usually used with other activities.” Reaching over she turned the light off. “So do you like boys or girls? Or both?”