Justice League: The New Wave (IC)

Wondergirl arrives

Standing at the doorway as Hope drove off, Karan sighed and walked forwards. One step at a time as she pushed open the glass doors and walked inside. Looking and listening it seemed to be a version of Dante’s inferno and Freddy Krugers nightmare. With a splash of Jason Voorhee’s dreamy mother.


And maybe a psychopath was running the show.


Everything went silent as more and more people noticed her standing there, watching them. Wearing a pair of tight jeans, boots, and a Westbrook Warriors T-Shirt with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail she looked more like a collage cheerleader than a cop or superhero.


Maybe a cheerleaders girlfriend.


Smiling his friendliest smile a sergeant in a dark blue and freshly pressed uniform walked over. “How can I help you pretty lady?”


“Show me who’s in charge, and who I’m supposed to report to.”


“That depends on who you are..” he replied, “Miss..”


“You can call me.. Wonder Girl.” She said, getting a few snickers from the crowd behind him.


“Sorry, you don’t look like a superhero to me.”


“Looks are deceiving. Can I talk to your boss now?” She sighed. She so didn’t want to deal with this.


Walking out of an office in the back a well dressed figure in a suit caused silence to fill the room again.

A Prelude and a Nocturne. (Rose/M'gann)


She opened her eyes in The Library.

She never remembered it when she was awake.

But, as you do in dreams, she instantly accepted it as though she had always known it. Perhaps she had always known it.

The palatial ceilings. The shelves and shelves and shelves and shelves of books upon books that stretched out to long past where the horizon should have been.

Rubbing her eyes as she climbed down from the shelf where she'd found herself stretched out, she padded on bare feet, weaving through the stacks.

She was naked, at first, which was a tiny bit off-putting at first, but again-- everything seemed surrealistically natural in dreams. A few steps later, she was in peejays, and a few steps after that, she was in an evening look-- a little black dress, black pumps and a clutch.

A right turn, and she was walking out through the doors, down the steps between the lion statues-- Patience and Fortitude-- and out onto Fifth Avenue. A strange, dark, wet and misty Fifth Avenue, lit by streetlights and a moon that somehow penetrated the canopy of clouds overhead.

Out in the middle of the avenue, a white-clothed table with four chairs and place-settings.

Two of the seats were already taken.

At the head of the table, there sat a tall, pale man. So thin as to be almost gaunt, but with a power and an elegance about him. His hair was thick and dark, somehow not coming across as a mop of hair because it fell in exactly the right way around his eyes...

...skin as pale as moonlight's ghost, hair as dark as midnight in mourning...

...eyes that looked like night skies lit only by stars.

He wore a dim grey t-shirt and blue jeans, and sat in his seat at the table with slender shoulders hunched by concern... the weight of a world. He steepled his long, thin fingers before himself.

Across the table from Rose sat a beautiful woman, lightly green-skinned, with a smattering of freckles, reddish-brown hair, and reddish-brown eyes. She wore a black and yellow cheerleading uniform.

Rose had no idea who either of these people were-- except, because she was dreaming, she recognized them instantly.

The pale man was Dream of The Endless, called Morpheus.

The girl was M'gann M'orzz, who lived in Rose's heart, called Megan.

Rose smiled lightly at Megan, who smiled brightly back and waved lightly.

Rose nodded solemnly, respectfully to Morpheus, who inclined his head almost infinitesimally, to him an exuberant response.

"You are just on time for dinner. Though it seems we have a guest tonight." he intoned, his voice like distant thunder might sound in space, if you could hear in space. And then he gestured to the foot of the table.

And there sat a grey, craggy looking fellow dressed in purple, bony horns cropping out of his forehead. And he looked... startled... to be sitting at a dinner table in the middle of a vaguely nightmarish Fifth Avenue.

"Ah. Forgive me for... intruding." His voice reflected his stony appearance, it was gravelly-- but it was warm, all the same. "I did not realize that I would be... trespassing."

Morpheus pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Whenever a telepath speaks to a sleeping mind, they trespass under the dominion of Dream. But I will permit you to dine with us, and speak your proposal."

"Many thanks, my..." he hesitated. "...Lord?"

At this, a servant of Morpheus approached, a somewhat cartoonish looking fellow with a waiter's garb and a turban atop a large round head with an expressive mustache. Though the big gem on the turban and the colors of the waiter's jacket sort of reminded Rose of the comic book character Dr. Strange.

He approached Rose: "What will you have, Miss?"

She smiled gratefully at him. "I'll just have that thing I always remember eating as a five year old that was really tasty but the whole day was a blur and I'm still not sure what it was. Thank you, Taramis."

Taramis nodded. "Very good, Miss."

He looked across the table to Megan. "And you, Miss?"

Megan smiled brightly at him. "I would like your biggest platter of Oreos, please, and a glass of milk."

Taramis nodded easily. "A specialty of the house in recent years. I shall frost the glass just the way you like."

Megan beamed at him. "Thank you!"

Then Taramis turned to the grey, horned figure at the foot of the table. "And for our guest?"

He again hesitated, this whole scenario was so unexpected, he was very much on his back foot. "I would not seek to further infringe upon the hospitality of--"

"Nonsense," Morpheus dismissed. "I have much to do to prepare my realm and my self for coming events, and mislike that you should complicate a quiet dinner with these women of The Sol System, these two-in-one."

"It is a rule in human etiquette that a person should not eat in front of a person who is not eating unless that person is family. As I would like to eat dinner with my ward and my grandniece, I would not see them unduly required to breach etiquette. Eat."

The grey creature again hesitated, then nodded. "I would like... an Orange Julius, please. I have never gotten to eat at a shopping mall food court and have often wondered what it would be like."

"It shall be done, sir," Taramis nodded.

"An omelette, a light salad, and a glass of white wine for me, Taramis," Morpheus requested.

"As you will, My Lord," Taramis accommodated graciously.

And then he hurried off across the street and vanished into an alley between a couple of vaguely-defined buildings.

Morpheus scrutinized the grey creature. "I suppose an introduction is in order."

The grey creature nodded. "Of... course. I am Dubbilex, of The Cadmus Project."

"Your species is new to the memory of The Earth, is it not?" Morpheus considered.

"Yes, sir," Dubbilex nodded, appending the honorific almost instinctively. "I am unique, though I share traits with an array of gene-gnomes. Collectively, the term for my class of gene-gineered lifeforms is 'D.N.Alien.'"

Morpheus nodded slowly. "An acceptable portmanteau. How agile is the imagination of humanity, to bring undreamt-of creatures to life by plying the very building blocks from which they themselves evolved. Perhaps my brother Destruction was right about you: advancing so far so fast as to destroy yourselves in a bang or a whimper. We shall see."

Taramis brought the food out, assisted by a server who was, perfectly normally, a beautiful topless woman wearing an eyepatch. Everyone nodded gratefully to them, and he and she departed swiftly.

Morpheus sipped his white wine as Megan dipped a cookie in her milk and bit into it with a soft sigh of joy.

Rose's plate was covered with a squiggly, scribbly, half-remembered blur of colors and textures-- she had no idea what she had eaten that day as a child-- but when her fork carried it to her lips she found it tasted perfectly of that nostalgic mnemonic.

Dubbilex sipped hesitantly from his Julius, and found that it was, to his delight, quite refreshing, though a tad oversweet.

Morpheus set down his glass, pensively chewed his forkful of omelette, and again regarded Dubbilex. "So. 'Dubbilex.' What are your intentions towards this human and her Martian heart? They are... important to me. I would not see them... threatened."

Dubbilex hesitated. And then spoke: "Good sir, I come not with a threat. I was instructed by a prominent member of The Cadmus Project's Board of Directors to locate the powerful woman who helped quell a rampant alien threat in Metropolis two nights ago. I sought out her mind, and found it to be one of the most powerful in this hemisphere, if not the planet. My message is thus: Lex Luthor seeks her help in forming a New Justice League to replace the old one, and this should prove no small honor. It should be composed of many of the same warriors she fought alongside in the aforementioned clash."

Morpheus pursed his lips. Squinted his starfield eyes.

"I know of this Justice League. The Martian Manhunter was of immeasurable help to me in retrieving a lost artefact of great power. He remembered me by a very old name..."

Megan smiled brightly. "Oh! J'onn J'onzz of The Green Martians was a legend on my homeworld of Ma'aleca'andra! Even amongst The Pale Martians, his sense of honor and justice was without peer! ...a number of my people vehemently opposed his ideals, but my family held him in utmost esteem. Even the form that Rose and I take when we enter our Martian form is inspired by the uniform of a Manhunter! I wanted perhaps to meet him someday."

She trailed off, and sadness pooled in her eyes. "I hope that I have not missed that chance."

Rose reached across the table and gave the other woman's hand an encouraging squeeze. "I had no idea he meant so much to you. Maybe we should follow in his footsteps? Try to pay respect to him? A Martian Manhunt...ress? Maybe if he's imprisoned somewhere... maybe we can even save him!"

Megan brightened again at that, and nodded hurriedly. "Yes. Oh, that sounds lovely. It's funny-- I'm not used to being out-optimisted!"

Rose smirked faintly. "You're a bad influence on me."

Then Megan glanced at Morpheus. "Lord L'Zoril, it is said you know secrets that even cats and shadows cannot know. Do you know the fate of this world's guardians, The Justice League?"

Morpheus speared a leaf of his salad and forked it into his mouth. He chewed solemnly, and then replied, textbook enigmatic: "My responsibility is to this Universe, M'gann M'orzz."

Megan looked brokenhearted and crestfallen, but before she or Rose could inquire further, Morpheus indicated Dubbilex. "What say you, then, to this D.N.Alien's request? The dreams of Lex Luthor are fraught with conquest and empire, but it seems there is a void in the hierarchy of your world. It should soothe the troubled nightmares of humanity to feel protected once more."

Rose and Megan shared a contemplative look.

And then they glanced at Dubbilex, speaking as two become one. "We accept."

Dubbilex nodded solemnly. "Then be at this address, at this time, on this date. Great deeds lay before you, and though the hardships will likely be manifold, the world may long benefit from your service."

A location and a timestamp burned itself into Rose's mind, such that she would remember it with laser-sharp clarity even when waking turned this whole conversation to seasons of mists.

He set down his cup. "Thank you for hearing me out despite my intrusion. And thank you for the Julius."

"Well met, D.N.Alien," Morpheus inclined his head, and dismissed him from Rose's dream with a wave of his hand. "He will awake with a profound sense of accomplishment."

Rose finished her plate, and smiled quietly at Megan. "It's good to talk to you like this. It's good to remember that you're here with me. I wish I knew you existed after I wake up, it's all so confusing out there."

Megan popped an Oreo open and licked the cream out of the middle, beaming at Rose. "Just listen to your heart. I'll be there."

Morpheus glanced between them.

"Wake now, Rose Walker."

"We all have much to accomplish."

"And the days are nasty, brutish, and short."

She opened her eyes in her bedroom.

She remembered where she had to be, and when, even though she was awake.

Alix was quietly crying in the next room, Rose could feel her trying to be strong but with still so much to heal, and Rose went to make her coffee and console her.

The Ice Queen

Fourteen days she’d been up here, as the white water fell. She knew it was called snow. But it didn’t matter. To her it would always be the white water. Laying there in the white fluff, her skin as cold as the snow around her, she waited.

The sun touched one stick in front of her, it’s shadow finally caressing another. Shifting her head slightly to the right she looked through a cope, a sneer caressing her lips as a drone flew overhead. Even if it had heat scanning gear on board, she wouldn’t be seen. After fourteen days in the white water her skin and body were as cold as everything around her. Not that this was cold. It hadn’t been cold in centuries.

Focusing through the scope she watched as her target stepped from the flying vehicle, it’s blades slowing as he walked under them. A long slow breathe unseen escaped her lips as a finger caressed the trigger like a lover caressing a nipple.

A metal slug snapped forth, pinging of the slowly spinning chopper blade. Deflected downwards it struck the target in the top of the head, driving downwards into his heart.


*****

Three weeks later she was on a beach, sipping a margarita and watching the beach goers. But the happiness everyone else shared didn’t touch her lips or eyes. Those were as cold as ice.

With Hotline pledged to stand-in as his 'backup', Kaldur could take point in his face-to-face with the enigmatic figure, her presence adding an unexpected variable in their conference. In truth, there wasn't much either could do if they were walking into a ruse of Luthor's playmaking , as he'd suspected in some form. There was always a play with him. Matching wits with him could be their undoing, but they couldn't keep their eyes off the ball either. Luthor's machiavellian personality made him much harder to deal with than say the joker, whose plans while unpredictable were usually single-minded in execution. He'd proceed without showing too much in the way of emotion, one way or the other.

The entrance of Titan's Tower eventually came ajar and on the polar end, facing Luthor and Mercy had been the Atlantean and Dialer, standing with arms firmly crossed at his sides and a kind of "no nonsense" look about him. Kaldur'ahm addressed Luthor from their level vantage. "Well then...what business brings someone like you to a place like this?" His glance narrowing in doubt for whatever came next from the man's mouth.

There's a sign in the window that he struck you a crescendo. (Luthor/Hotline)

They didn't have long to wait.

Nubian_Legend said:

The entrance of Titan's Tower eventually came ajar and on the polar end, facing Luthor and Mercy had been the Atlantean and Dialer, standing with arms firmly crossed at his sides and a kind of "no nonsense" look about him. Kaldur'ahm addressed Luthor from their level vantage. "Well then...what business brings someone like you to a place like this?" His glance narrowing in doubt for whatever came next from the man's mouth.

Click to expand...

As Mercy and Hotline exchanged appraising glances, Lex inclined his head to the sea king's squire, a wry smirk adorning his lips.

"I know, I know. I'm quite out of my element."

He glanced around, indicating The East River.

"And quite surrounded by yours."

But then, far more casually than the stiff-backed Atlantean hybrid, Lex slid his hands into his trouser pockets.

"But that should not preclude diplomatic relations, should it? Aquaman and... Hotline... is it? This is my valet, Mercy Graves, though under these circumstances one might refer to her more as an attaché."

Hotline slung her arms across her stomach, casually defensive, and arched an eyebrow. "We get it, we get it, there's olive branches involved. Get to it, One Percent."

Mercy's cheek twitched ever-so-slightly. But she was otherwise sternly impassive. Not... unflinching, like Hope might have been... not implacable... but like a live wire scarcely fettered. Like a school of piranha barely contained by a net.

Lex chuckled, on the other hand, how droll was all this posturing? How quaint? "Very well. My rivalry with the so-called Man of Steel is a matter of much tabloid speculation. But I feel his absence... keenly. He and the rest of his Justice League, including your esteemed sovereign, had carved out a place for themselves in the hearts and minds of the public, the mere suggestion of them made innocents feel safer and criminals hesitate to engage in felonious acts."

"That safety is gone. That hesitation is gone. I seek to restore it."

"I'm financing a New Justice League, Aquaman. A new team to keep the peace and defend the populace in troubled times."

"And I want you at the head of the table."

Lamentations 3:22.

Varshanka said:

Walking out of an office in the back a well dressed figure in a suit caused silence to fill the room again.

Click to expand...

"Our boss, Mister Luthor," Mercy explained as she closed the door behind her, "is putting his finishing touches on his presentation at the same time as he's negotiating a hostile takeover of a Seattle-based energy-drink company. You're the first one here."

"As to the lack of recognition my coworkers have shown to an honored guest," Mercy squinted at the bustling workers in general and the sergeant in particular, "I suppose I can be... merciful. This place is still in beta testing. It was supposed to go live in a month. A week ago, Lex bumped that to a week. They haven't gotten a lot of sleep since then."

"Our boss, Mister Luthor," Mercy explained as she closed the door behind her, "is putting his finishing touches on his presentation at the same time as he's negotiating a hostile takeover of a Seattle-based energy-drink company. You're the first one here."

"As to the lack of recognition my coworkers have shown to an honored guest," Mercy squinted at the bustling workers in general and the sergeant in particular, "I suppose I can be... merciful. This place is still in beta testing. It was supposed to go live in a month. A week ago, Lex bumped that to a week. They haven't gotten a lot of sleep since then."

Click to expand...

“Would you like me to.. beta test these soldiers?” Karan asked, looking around at the room and people. The place looked like ass end of Hades neither regions, after Hepheasta’s forge exploded. “Or should I get a mop?”

“As for sleep, I haven’t slept since I had mountain fall on me and the Daughter of Aphrodite woke me up.” She added turning back to the female in the stiff suit. “And you are?”

When it comes to my sound which is the champion sound.

Varshanka said:

“Would you like me to.. beta test these soldiers?” Karan asked, looking around at the room and people. The place looked like ass end of Hades neither regions, after Hepheasta’s forge exploded. “Or should I get a mop?”

Click to expand...

Mercy grimaced, disliking that she was being put in a position to apologize for the failings of others, disliking that this sardonic superheroine was being so ungrateful... but no, but no, the lady with the W's on her chest hadn't heard the presentation yet, she didn't know what this place was, what it was meant to be.

She kept her irritation in check; she had gotten quite good at compartmentalizing. "Janitorial services and maintenance will be largely automated. Once we get the multidroids networked. But thank you."

They'd had to pay a pretty penny to Disney for the use of the term "droid," but Luthor wasn't stingy when it came to good branding.

Varshanka said:

“As for sleep, I haven’t slept since I had mountain fall on me and the Daughter of Aphrodite woke me up.”

Click to expand...

Mercy arched an eyebrow, and didn't pretend for an instant to understand that "Daughter of Aphrodite" reference, but neither did she interrupt.

Varshanka said:

She added turning back to the female in the stiff suit. “And you are?”

Click to expand...

She inclined her head. "Mercy Graves. I am Lex Luthor's valet, personal assistant, driver, personal trainer, and bodyguard. Well, one of his bodyguards. I believe you've already met my counterpart Hope on your way here."

"And you, I don't even need to assume, are Wonder Girl. The reason you were asked here early is because Mister Luthor suspected you might have more of an... adjustment to this environment, with culture shock and so forth. That, and he was hoping you would help the others come aboard when they got here. He said something about... you would be like the prophetess Cassandra, helping tell the others what's to come-- though hopefully you'd be better believed than she was."

Mercy paused, squinting. "He chuckled at that part. I'm not sure I get the joke."

Merci is for the Weak

She inclined her head. "Mercy Graves. I am Lex Luthor's valet, personal assistant, driver, personal trainer, and bodyguard. Well, one of his bodyguards. I believe you've already met my counterpart Hope on your way here."

"And you, I don't even need to assume, are Wonder Girl. The reason you were asked here early is because Mister Luthor suspected you might have more of an... adjustment to this environment, with culture shock and so forth. That, and he was hoping you would help the others come aboard when they got here. He said something about... you would be like the prophetess Cassandra, helping tell the others what's to come-- though hopefully you'd be better believed than she was."

Mercy paused, squinting. "He chuckled at that part. I'm not sure I get the joke."

Click to expand...

“Cassandra was cursed to foresee the future, and not be believe. Mortals condemned her as being insane. She prophesied the Fall of Troy and the Trojan horse. Both came true because she was not believed.”

Looking around, “Will we be.. living here? Or just working?” she asked as the front door screamed in protest, melting to a puddle of steel and glass as a large leather clad figure stepped through, glowing chains writhed and slithered like the snake in the garden of Eden, holding aloft three individuals. One of which held a vacant soul searing stare.

The other two had obviously defecated and urinated on themselves at some recent point, possibly just outside the door.

Outside stood a police officer, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, scorch marks evident on his face and hands. Slowly blinking he reached with shaking hands to remove the cigarette and toss it aside. “I..I..I..I…Qqqquuiittt..!” he stuttered before he tripped and fell as he tried to make his escape.

Walking up to the desk sergeants counter, the smoking leather armor intoned.. “Guilty!!” before dropping the ruffians on the counter.

Glancing over at Wonder Girl and Mercy Graves it spoke with the echoes of the grave and screeching of souls. “Misericordia enim est infirmus. Grave dat tantum de misericordia.”

“I’ll confess to anything you want, just don’t let that.. take us back there again.. Please for the love of God. Save us from it.” The older of the two conscious thugs said, even as his hair turned pale and white. “Fuck I’ll confess to killing Jesus Christ.

Snarling, the smoking Armor took a step towards the Ruffian, it’s booted feet igniting, and searing the floor with each step. “هكذا تكلموا وهكذا بمثابة أولئك الذين هم أن يحكم بموجب قانون الحرية. للحكم هو بلا رحمة لمن لم تظهر أي رحمة.“

Jumping forwards, Karan stood between the obviously very angry biker and the terrified criminal. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything particular or personal.. um.. sir.. madam..” she said, looking over at Mercy for etiquette lessons.

Brace yourself for all will pay. Help is on the way. (Luthor)

Varshanka said:

“Cassandra was cursed to foresee the future, and not be believe. Mortals condemned her as being insane. She prophesied the Fall of Troy and the Trojan horse. Both came true because she was not believed.”

Click to expand...

Mercy's lip twitched. Not quite a smile. "I can see how Mr. Luthor would appreciate her story."

Varshanka said:

Looking around, “Will we be.. living here? Or just working?” she asked as the front door screamed in protest, melting to a puddle of steel and glass as a large leather clad figure stepped through, glowing chains writhed and slithered like the snake in the garden of Eden, holding aloft three individuals. One of which held a vacant soul searing stare.

Click to expand...

Mercy had been fully prepared to answer Karan's question, but this-- roiling, blistering entrance-- was worthy of more immediate attention. Mercy stared, aghast. Like they didn't have enough technical difficulties, here, without mind-raped street-level goons leaking excrement all over the now-slagged entrance. Her hands clenched into fists.

Varshanka said:

Walking up to the desk sergeants counter, the smoking leather armor intoned.. “Guilty!!” before dropping the ruffians on the counter.

Glancing over at Wonder Girl and Mercy Graves it spoke with the echoes of the grave and screeching of souls. “Misericordia enim est infirmus. Grave dat tantum de misericordia.”

Click to expand...

"Sorry," Mercy snarked. "I don't speak dead languages. Nobody speaks dead languages."

Varshanka said:

“I’ll confess to anything you want, just don’t let that.. take us back there again.. Please for the love of God. Save us from it.” The older of the two conscious thugs said, even as his hair turned pale and white. “Fuck I’ll confess to killing Jesus Christ.

Snarling, the smoking Armor took a step towards the Ruffian, it’s booted feet igniting, and searing the floor with each step. “هكذا تكلموا وهكذا بمثابة أولئك الذين هم أن يحكم بموجب قانون الحرية. للحكم هو بلا رحمة لمن لم تظهر أي رحمة.“

Jumping forwards, Karan stood between the obviously very angry biker and the terrified criminal. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything particular or personal.. um.. sir.. madam..” she said, looking over at Mercy for etiquette lessons.

Click to expand...

Mercy looked very much on the verge of engaging. Of actually leaping into battle with The Rider... though what she could possibly do against this force of supernature, even what she could do that Karan couldn't? ...would be left up to speculation.

Because Alexander Joseph Luthor emerged from that office, sliding his hands into his pockets, and narrowing his eyes.

"The Book of James, said by some scholars to be a brother of Christ, Chapter 2, verses 12 and 13. 'Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful.' But I find it telling, Ghost Rider, that you left off the final phrase of verse 13. 'رحمة الانتصارات على الحكم.' 'Mercy triumphs over judgement.'"

He squared his shoulders, speaking to the desk sergeant without wavering his eyes from The Rider. "Sergeant. Please contact Dispatch to have these gentlemen escorted to an active precinct house for processing. Perhaps arrange for them to have access to prison chaplains and counseling once they are coherent and not... catatonic."

Without missing a beat, he again addressed The Rider. "Please remember, spirit, when dispensing your tongues of Pentecostal flame, that The Lord kept company with thieves and tax collectors and women of ill repute and did not, to my knowledge, dismember any of their psyches. Even a fit of pique regarding questionable currency conversions resulted in flipped tables and evicted vendors, not voided bladders or panicked sphincters. I admire your purity of purpose, but zealotry without discipline-- a spirit of discernment --results in inefficiency and diminishing returns. If you seek to be an effective agent of justice, you are most welcome here, but if you cannot exercise that justice judiciously, then you are the weakest link in your own otherwise formidable chain."

About time for anyone telling you off for all your deeds.

Varshanka said:

Three weeks later she was on a beach, sipping a margarita and watching the beach goers. But the happiness everyone else shared didn’t touch her lips or eyes. Those were as cold as ice.

Click to expand...

Not everyone was happy.

Which was ironic, but we'll get to that.

A man in bare feet trudged across the sand, grunting dismally. He wore a brown suit, neatly tailored, but he carried his socks and shoes in one hand.

He stopped to stand beside her, adjusting his glasses.

This was Sydney Happersen.

If you asked Lex Luthor what Happersen did for LexCorp, Luthor would praise him brightly.

'Every facet of LexCorp's daily business practices is concerned with corporate ethics,' he would say. 'But it is, unfortunately, a truth of doing business in this world that not every faction, individual, or organization holds themselves to so high a standard. In the regrettable instance that LexCorp comes to do business with perhaps unsavory elements, we utilize our redoubtable Discretionary Liaison Officer, whose task is to insulate the stockholders and employees and, indeed, the very public, from the depredations and sullying of such elements.'

What this meant, of course, this title of Discretionary Liaison Officer, was that Sydney Happersen did Lex Luthor's dirty work for him.

Under the handle of "Happy Syd," there's your irony, he would employ mercenaries to temporarily quell terrorist groups in Bialya, for example, or Corto Maltese, so that Luthor could land there safely to finalize a trade deal with the current regime. He would buy off organized criminal elements at home in Metropolis to ensure that certain shipments remained unmolested. He would contract rogue scientists under the table to perform unconventional research. That sort of thing.

Only a handful of nights ago, Sydney Happersen had waited uncomfortably on the roof of a building in Hell's Kitchen, NYC, with a custom-fabricated signal light... a "Nightwing Signal" --to negotiate a Justice League membership with the fearsome blackbird vigilante.

And now, singularly unhappy, "Happy Syd" stood on a beach, gazing at the... meta-creature... codenamed "Renegade."

"I loathe sand," he grumbled. "And this suit is Vivienne Westwood, I hope you're happy. Not that I don't appreciate your work in Bhutran, but I have a new assignment for you and briefing you would have been much easier for both of us if you hadn't ditched your comms."

Recovering the Satellites. (Luthor)


What had started in the 1970s with a handful of doctoral students inspired by a childhood reading about Watson & Crick, led to federally funded laboratories in the 1980s. As the Cold War progressed, and factions within The US government's paranoia about mutually assured destruction ran rampant, that funding only increased.

These boys had become men, and these men had become masters of the cloning process. And, The Pentagon reasoned, creating genetic super-soldiers who might survive indefinitely under the radioactive fallout of a cowardly Soviet attack was the only way to guarantee the survival of The American Dream. Guaranteeing the survival of that program under threat of a direct nuclear strike became paramount in their minds.

And so The Cadmus Project, named for a mythological figure who grew an army by sowing a dragon's teeth into the soil like seeds, set up shop in a secret bunker built within and beneath Mount Curtiss, just a few miles from Metropolis.

It was in these stainless metal walls that The Guardian of Metropolis found new life in the body of a super-soldier.

It was in these stainless metal walls that Dubbilex, first of The D.N.Aliens, was "born" floating in a cloning tank.

Even the small legion of boys who had founded The Cadmus Project all those decades ago, as they grew into old men, groomed their own young clones to carry on "the family business" when they were gone.

But money for scientific experiments, especially ones of this magnitude, must come from somewhere, and when the hysteria of The Cold War faded and before The War on Terror began, certain corporate interests saw fit to weave the strands of the military industrial complex into even this deeply-classified operation. And chief amongst those corporate interests was Lex Luthor himself.

Instead of a Congressional oversight committee, Cadmus now had a Board of Directors. And Lex positioned himself high on that board, such that the assets of Cadmus essentially came to be in his employ.

Thus, when Lex Luthor successfully privatized law enforcement in the six boroughs of Metropolis, he could reassign the golden Guardian from Cadmus security to The MetroPD Special Crimes Unit.

Thus, when a bewildered, frightened, furious Kryptonian descended on Metropolis to be put down by a desperate and motley band of superhumans, and he was sequestered in the metahuman maximum containment wing of Stryker's Island Penitentiary, Lex Luthor could just as easily reassign the aforementioned Dubbilex to that facility.

And that was where they were now. Not the secure bunker nestled in the bedrock of Mount Curtiss.

Stryker's Island, nestled in The West River south of New Troy and north of Queensland Park.

And they were gazing into video monitors that showed the Kryptonian sitting in the dark, sobbing helplessly and hopelessly to himself, and mumbling in his native tongue.

Recycled water and atmosphere and walls reinforced with lead and depleted promethium kept any ambient solar radiation from leaking into the large, spheroidal chamber. Red solar lamps provided ample, if ruddy-colored lighting-- and kept this Kryptonian at the relative power levels of a baseline human.

Even getting him into this facility had been a close call. Once they removed the Kryptonian's Kryptonite net, even without the sun in the sky, the strange visitor had managed to absorb enough yellow solar energy that his broken jaw and other injuries had healed without a trace.

Not that this had appeared to help his mind.

Once the catatonia of The Penance Stare had faded, he had continued to communicate only in short, panicky, furious sentences of Kryptonese.

Without Superman handy, there wasn't anyone else on Earth who could translate that language.

Save perhaps for the new Kryptonian woman who had helped stop this one's rampage-- but she was still an unknown quantity, there was no way that they would be able to vet her to enter a prison.

"Can you translate?" Lex wondered, standing with one arm across his abdomen and the other hand cupping his chin.

Dubbilex shook his head worriedly. "I am afraid not, sir."

Luthor arched an eyebrow. "I find that curious. I have seen you in action before, providing realtime metalinguistic translation via mindlink. Idiom, intention, all made clear as day."

Dubbilex seemed genuinely apologetic. "Under those circumstances, I had at least a cursory knowledge of both languages involved, and Kryptonese is a remarkably complex language. There is a surprising amount of highly advanced mathematics hardwired into their cognates. If, perhaps, Superman were here to provide a mnemonic foundation, then I might succeed. But this goes beyond a mere language barrier."

Lex lowered the hand from his chin and turned to look at the D.N.Alien directly. "Explain."

Dubbilex met Lex' gaze without flinching, which both surprised and annoyed the executive. "He appears to have layers and layers of psychic scarring throughout his mental framework... shards and splinters... as though he has been attacked with a brute-force telepathic assault of extraordinary power. His entire psyche appears to have been forcibly reduced to a state of systemic retrograde amnesia, leaving him with the relative developmental level roughly equivalent to a human of five years old."

Lex narrowed his eyes.

Dubbilex wondered what Luthor was thinking, but Luthor's mind had always proven elusive to him-- Luthor's intellect made him capable of maintaining so many lines of reasoning at once it was almost impossible to tell which was the truth and which was mere devil's advocacy.

But when Luthor spoke, he sounded... displeased. "The so-called 'Ghost Rider.' The biker-themed Atomic Skull copycat. It did something to his mind. Could that have caused this psychic trauma?"

With a shrug, Dubbilex shook his head. "It could not have helped the chaos and fractures. But I believe the initial effects of The Ghost Rider's attack have faded, leaving behind a pre-existing mental condition."

Lex processed this immediately. "Could you fix him? Repair the damage?"

Dubbilex hesitated. "I could... try. But I suspect that this would prove outside the capabilities of my psychic amplitude. You would require a far more powerful mind than my own, something on the order of The Martian Manhunter. But of course, he is beyond our access."

Luthor brooded on that for a moment, filed away this knowledge.

"Speaking of concurrent developments," he then replied, "I have another assignment for you."

I got shot but I guess I learned to dodge. (with apologies to Grant Morrison)

(Rose/M'gann)


Alix had recovered a little.

Both of her steely metal hands hung onto a coffee mug and trembled a little, but she managed to not shatter the mug and get the coffee everywhere. This was progress.

She smelled like fire, which worried Rose more than a little, but she didn't ask about that right away.

"I can't pay my rent," Alix murmured. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be completely on my own."

"You know you can stay here as long as you need," Rose promised her, sitting beside her on the couch with her legs criss-cross. "Maybe sublet your old place until you can get out of the lease?"

"Maybe," Alix nodded slowly, sipped her coffee. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't have work. I couldn't keep working with those autistic children... they... they thought I'd been replaced by a robot. Have you any idea what it's like explaining to people that you're not a robot?"

Rose reached up and gave Alix' shoulder an encouraging squeeze, but she wasn't sure Alix could even feel it through that smartskin.

Alix gave her a grateful, tiny smile, but whether she could feel that touch or not, whether it could get through her skin, that smile wasn't enough to get through the heavy weight that hung around her like a pall. "And then there was that stuff I found on Lance's computer. I wasn't even snooping, I only wanted to make sure his research didn't get lost. But finding out he had that secret life... did you know he even made us matching superhero costumes, all... red and white... they look like modernized fetishized versions of something he found from World War 2... this husband and wife duo, The Human Bullets... if he even meant to wear those with me... and not this online girlfriend, Sally Sonic..."

Rose looked pained. Maybe she should have told Alix what she'd read in Lance's mind. But how could she tell Alix that she was some kind of mindreading shapeshifting ghostwalking mind-over-mattering-- something? And it wasn't her place to tell. Lance should have done the right thing.

"I really wish he had come clean with you," she winced, honestly and sincerely.

Alix stared to nowhere, her eyes as silvery steel as the rest of her-- covered by that sheen-- no pupil or iris-- and bit her gleaming lip. "I have a confession to make, Rose. I think I tried to kill myself last night."

Rose's eyes went wide, and she went pale-- almost as pale as she did when she was in hero mode-- "Oh. Oh God. But... but something happened to change your mind?"

"I was just running, blind... overwhelmed..." Alix put a hand in her red red hair and shuddered. "I started running down a subway track. I'm so strong now, and I was running so fast... but I rounded a bend out into the open and found a little boy with a torn, bloody shirt..."

"There were fire trucks... there had been a train accident, a subway train off the rails, burning, the firemen couldn't get close enough... the little boy just said 'Help.' Just like that. Just... 'Help.'"

"And I waded into the fire even though the flames ate the clothes off of my impervious skin, I peeled open the train car... no pain... unstoppable... the people inside looked at me like I was this horror, like, 'what now?' 'we had to deal with a train derailment and a fire and we're going to die, now this?' But I just told them, I told them, loud: 'THIS WAY!'"

"And the look in their eyes just changed, just like that, just-- suddenly I wasn't this silver wraith anymore, I was an angel, and I carried an injured woman out and led the others to safety... the firemen quelled the flames and I was just kneeling there in the dirt covering myself with my arms because most of my clothes hadn't survived..."

"The woman was the little boy's mom and as they were hugging she said the-- she said the strangest thing."

"'I don't know how to thank you. I've never met a superhero before.'"

Alix shrugged. "I had... I had no idea how to process that. 'Superhero? Me?' I asked her, kneeling there like some topless T-1000. 'I'm not a superhero.'"

"But then a fireman gave me his coat to help me cover up. And he looked at me, right in the eyes. 'Well, you got super powers, right? And I know a hero when I see one. Think that makes you a superhero whether you like it or not.'"

Rose was quiet, stunned to silence. The fact that she'd slept through all of this...

...that Alix had been going through this alone...

...Rose must have been having some dream, to not wake up while this was happening. A dream where she'd woken up knowing she had to be somewhere at some exact time...

Alix murmured again after a moment or two. "I think I was just going to run and run and run until I ran into something hard enough to kill me."

Rose gently placed her hand on Alix'. "Maybe you ran into something that was meant to save your life."

Shaking her head, Alix looked so very terribly pensive. "Yeah. Maybe Lance was onto something. There must be a reason for all this, right?"

"God, I hope so," Rose sighed. "But even if there isn't. I know you can make one, Alix."

Alix laughed faintly. "A superhero. I guess I could get work as a bodyguard, right? That could go towards rent. But what would I call myself? 'The Human Bullet,' like that costume he made me?"

"No," Rose murmured. "There's a Silver Bullet already, a fast guy like The Flash. He, uh, he seems cool. But that could get too confusing, your names that close. I always liked The Rocketeer when I was little...?"

Alix considered this for a few heartbeats. "...The Bulleteer?"

Rose grinned. "Yeah. Yeah. The Bulleteer."

A few minutes later, when Alix had gotten in the shower to wash the last of the soot out of her hair, Rose found herself sitting alone on the couch.

And thinking.

Silver Bullet.

This place she had to be... this place and time...

...she was so sure, all of a sudden, that Silver Bullet should be there too. He had to be there, he was there at the beginning. He'd helped drop the scary naked guy with some kind of Supersonic Punch.

Holding her hand up, she levitated her smartphone to her waiting fingers. Dialed the number that she remembered Silver Bullet giving everyone as the dust was settling and those Metropolis super-cops were wheeling off the kayoed superguy.

Listened to it ring.

Conflagration confrontation

Without missing a beat, he again addressed The Rider. "Please remember, spirit, when dispensing your tongues of Pentecostal flame, that The Lord kept company with thieves and tax collectors and women of ill repute and did not, to my knowledge, dismember any of their psyches. Even a fit of pique regarding questionable currency conversions resulted in flipped tables and evicted vendors, not voided bladders or panicked sphincters. I admire your purity of purpose, but zealotry without discipline-- a spirit of discernment --results in inefficiency and diminishing returns. If you seek to be an effective agent of justice, you are most welcome here, but if you cannot exercise that justice judiciously, then you are the weakest link in your own otherwise formidable chain."

Click to expand...

Taking a step closer, The Rider spoke, shifting to English so that those that could understand would. And if they couldn’t.. the Rider didn’t give a flying fuck. “I am Not HE that I may dispense Justice as I choose. I have been Commanded and Must obey. Their Penance fits their crimes.” Flames rippled around it’s head, I am Vengeance. Discernment is not my.. pleasure.”

“As for mercy and Judgment, Mercy is not mine to give. Only Justice. I give them Penance, so that another may give them Mercy.” Another step closer and it clenched it’s leather fingers together, twin fists at it’s side. “Something.. about you.. Something wrong with you..”

And now, singularly unhappy, "Happy Syd" stood on a beach, gazing at the... meta-creature... codenamed "Renegade."

"I loathe sand," he grumbled. "And this suit is Vivienne Westwood, I hope you're happy. Not that I don't appreciate your work in Bhutran, but I have a new assignment for you and briefing you would have been much easier for both of us if you hadn't ditched your comms."

Click to expand...

“I don’t like having things stuff in my ear so I can’t hear anything except the buzzing hum of noise. Besides, it’s warm here. Pleasant. Hard to get anyplace that’s warm. Besides, I like the way the bikini looks. Unless you prefer I wore something more.. masculine?” She replied, slowly stretching long slim legs and standing up. “Not my fault you chose to trudge across this hot sand and get all sandy. If you’d have waited, I’d have called when I was ready. Probably tomorrow even. Starting to get bored again.”

Leaning back she stretched in ways no person not a gymnast could come close to doing. And some would be hard pressed. But it certainly did things to her shapely shape, and the glances in their direction became stares of desire and lust. Smiling she gave him a kiss on the cheek as she sashayed past and into the water.

Consecration confabulation. (Luthor)

Varshanka said:

Taking a step closer, The Rider spoke, shifting to English so that those that could understand would. And if they couldn’t.. the Rider didn’t give a flying fuck. “I am Not HE that I may dispense Justice as I choose. I have been Commanded and Must obey. Their Penance fits their crimes.” Flames rippled around it’s head, I am Vengeance. Discernment is not my.. pleasure.”

“As for mercy and Judgment, Mercy is not mine to give. Only Justice. I give them Penance, so that another may give them Mercy.”

Click to expand...

Mercy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snarking. She tasted blood.

She didn't like that this paranormal powerhouse kept using her name in vain.

But in Lex' company she instinctively deferred to him, and he was utterly unflapped.

"As an agnostic," Lex mused, "my interest in The Judeo-Christian Scriptures is purely academic, and speaking in that particular flavor of metaphor is only novel to a point. Suffice it to say that I have little patience for those who do not prove significantly more useful than they are inconvenient. If you threatened more sanity than you preserved-- including that of your potential colleagues, hello Wonder Girl, good to meet you-- then you would prove significantly less useful. So long as you strike that balance in the positive-- make yourself sufficiently useful-- then I shall find no need to rethink recruiting you as this organization's specialist in the so-called occult."

Varshanka said:

Another step closer and it clenched it’s leather fingers together, twin fists at it’s side. “Something.. about you.. Something wrong with you..”

Click to expand...

Lex Luthor inclined his head upwards, his green eyes meeting the blazing gaze of The Rider without the slightest flinch or trepidation. "If utilizing both logic and lateral thinking to keep ahead of every curve imaginable is a 'flaw,' then yes, there is something horribly wrong with me."

He brushed aside his tie, unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, and revealed, over his heart, an intricate tattoo in black ink, still healing.

"I loathe doing anything to modify this body; I've worked hard to hone it as close to perfection as I can attain, why would I want to mar that? But when you entered the picture, I had my people talk to an individual by the name of Wotan. I'm told this emblem is an effective ward against your particular brand of neuropsychic chicanery. Nice to see that that was money well spent."

He proceeded to refasten his shirt, straighten his tie. "Once I saw what you did to the Kryptonian who, in fear and frenzy, attacked this fair city, I knew I could not allow you the opportunity to do the same to me. I run a global corporation, oversee law and order in Metropolis, I'm a respected international troubleshooter, and that's not to mention my innumerable lines of scientific inquiry and venture capital financing. Catatonia, my dear, is just not an option. I don't do 'downtime.'"

Lex glanced around. Grimaced at the sorry state of affairs that this facility presented. "Speaking of which."

And strode purposefully over to where a few IT guys were worriedly working on a series of laptops, trying to overcome sprawling bugs in the program. Without ceremony or a hint of politeness, Lex plucked one of those laptops away from them, scrolled through walls of code... fingers all but blurring on the keys...

"Ah. Look, the VMS-derived systems algorithms were perfectly sound as they were, but see here-- you've inserted superficial, short-sighted workarounds that overcome cosmetic shortcomings at the cost of creating recursions on this line... and this... and here. If you instead work with the program as it was-- and incorporate holistic support mechanisms that work with the code rather than this line-item veto nonsense--"

Lights flickered. In the distance, electronic mechanisms whirred to life--

--and then a dozen or more humanoid robots marched into view, all of them sprouting tools like laser torches, drills, dataspikes, even whirring brushes that swept and polished the floor--

--it took three of them to clear away the slag that had been the door and swiftly install a replacement--

--even in thirty seconds, the place had gone from a pig-sty fixer-upper to a shiny work in progress.

Lex nodded assuredly to himself, and handed the laptop back to the IT fellow. "See that you make substantial improvements in your coding before your next evaluation."

He regarded Wonder Girl and The Rider. "Fascinating machines, are they not? They'll perform all the regular maintenance around here in a snap; fully functional, this place should be sufficiently automated that its live crew can devote the full measure of their attention to the business of keeping the peace. They're even equipped with security countermeasures should the facility ever come under assault. The proprietary term is 'synthoid,' but focus groups thought the term 'multidroid' resonated better with the current Zeitgeist..."

He paused. Squinted. "Ah. Monologuing. Old habit. Wonder Girl, Ghost Rider, Mercy, I suggest we proceed to The Round Table. The others should be along shortly, and I have no desire to repeat myself."

ChasNicollette said:

They didn't have long to wait.


As Mercy and Hotline exchanged appraising glances, Lex inclined his head to the sea king's squire, a wry smirk adorning his lips.

"I know, I know. I'm quite out of my element."

He glanced around, indicating The East River.

"And quite surrounded by yours."

But then, far more casually than the stiff-backed Atlantean hybrid, Lex slid his hands into his trouser pockets.

"But that should not preclude diplomatic relations, should it? Aquaman and... Hotline... is it? This is my valet, Mercy Graves, though under these circumstances one might refer to her more as an attaché."

Click to expand...

"Good Relations are built off a history of rapport and trust. You'd understand why myself and Hotline are doubting in whatever proposal you may avail us. Luthor, your history doesn't speak very kindly to your appeal to establish diplomatic ties with us in this space. "

Kaldur scowling in his appraisal of the well-reasoned antagonists plea."Nonetheless. I'll hear you out..."

Hotline slung her arms across her stomach, casually defensive, and arched an eyebrow. "We get it, we get it, there's olive branches involved. Get to it, One Percent."

Mercy's cheek twitched ever-so-slightly. But she was otherwise sternly impassive. Not... unflinching, like Hope might have been... not implacable... but like a live wire scarcely fettered. Like a school of piranha barely contained by a net.

Lex chuckled, on the other hand, how droll was all this posturing? How quaint? "Very well. My rivalry with the so-called Man of Steel is a matter of much tabloid speculation. But I feel his absence... keenly. He and the rest of his Justice League, including your esteemed sovereign, had carved out a place for themselves in the hearts and minds of the public, the mere suggestion of them made innocents feel safer and criminals hesitate to engage in felonious acts."

Click to expand...

Kaldur merely stood in his usually collected demeanor and listened to Luthor's rationale, there was nothing he could really contend against any of the points he raised. Luthor had been right in his evaluations about the world needing a constant League presence , but something nagged him. The ever-persistent question about what took place the night before "...Perhaps. About that Luthor, you wouldn't know anything about the incident involving the rampaging kryptonian? It would seem he went after YOUR facilities. Interesting how that plays out... "

"That safety is gone. That hesitation is gone. I seek to restore it."

"I'm financing a New Justice League, Aquaman. A new team to keep the peace and defend the populace in troubled times."

"And I want you at the head of the table."

Click to expand...

"Perhaps the world is in need of new governance, but we'll manage without your sponsorship. Luthor. If you want us to put faith in your strategy, you have to prove it through actions, then maybe we'll have that kind of relationship. As of now, any kind of association is unlikely to occur. If we're done here..."

And back in Metropolis, the weather is ridiculous. What's it all leading to?

(Luthor/Hotline)

Nubian_Legend said:

"Good Relations are built off a history of rapport and trust. You'd understand why myself and Hotline are doubting in whatever proposal you may avail us. Luthor, your history doesn't speak very kindly to your appeal to establish diplomatic ties with us in this space. "

Kaldur scowling in his appraisal of the well-reasoned antagonists plea."Nonetheless. I'll hear you out..."

Click to expand...

"Rapport, trust," Lex waved a hand see-saw in the air. "These things are ideal, but not strictly necessary. What really forges a treaty... is mutual benefit. To wit..."

And so he began.

Nubian_Legend said:

Kaldur merely stood in his usually collected demeanor and listened to Luthor's rationale, there was nothing he could really contend against any of the points he raised. Luthor had been right in his evaluations about the world needing a constant League presence , but something nagged him. The ever-persistent question about what took place the night before "...Perhaps. About that Luthor, you wouldn't know anything about the incident involving the rampaging kryptonian? It would seem he went after YOUR facilities. Interesting how that plays out... "

Click to expand...

Lex' eyes widened, as if this hadn't occurred to him. "I suppose before he went on his entirely random swath of destruction, he did crashland on the roof of LexCorp Tower only to be repulsed by a... protege of mine. Then again, as a flying man having apparently taken leave of his higher reasoning, perhaps it's not so improbable that he would first set down on the tallest edifice in the skyline. Like lightning, perhaps, taking the path of least resistance."

Then he reiterated the need to fill the void left by The League.

Nubian_Legend said:

"Perhaps the world is in need of new governance, but we'll manage without your sponsorship. Luthor. If you want us to put faith in your strategy, you have to prove it through actions, then maybe we'll have that kind of relationship. As of now, any kind of association is unlikely to occur. If we're done here..."

Click to expand...

"Of course, of course," Lex turned to go, stepped towards the car, and ever-attentive Mercy was opening the rear door for him.

But he stopped before he reached the rich Corinthian leather of the interior, and he turned to eye first Aquaman, then Hotline, and then Aquaman again.

"Crime in The City of Tomorrow is, with my resources and the strenuous efforts of The Metropolis Police Department, at almost as low a rate as when Superman first showed his 'S.' If that's insufficient action to establish good faith, if you insist on seeing shadowy machinations behind my attempts to foster law and order in the world, as The Big Blue Webelos Scout has always done--"

"--if you must absolutely positively regard me as this archon of Machiavellian shellgaming and wrongdoing, if you must suspect that my every noble step has a nefarious other shoe waiting to drop--"

"--then should you not want to keep as close an eye on me as superhumanly possible? I would much rather be your friend and patron, Aquaman, than your enemy. But if you must hold me in enmity, then should you not, as the pop-culture idiom goes, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' Better that, certainly, than letting me run around... unsupervised."

Wonderful pals are always hard to find.

Varshanka said:

“I don’t like having things stuff in my ear so I can’t hear anything except the buzzing hum of noise. Besides, it’s warm here. Pleasant. Hard to get anyplace that’s warm. Besides, I like the way the bikini looks. Unless you prefer I wore something more.. masculine?” She replied, slowly stretching long slim legs and standing up. “Not my fault you chose to trudge across this hot sand and get all sandy. If you’d have waited, I’d have called when I was ready. Probably tomorrow even. Starting to get bored again."

Leaning back she stretched in ways no person not a gymnast could come close to doing. And some would be hard pressed. But it certainly did things to her shapely shape, and the glances in their direction became stares of desire and lust. Smiling she gave him a kiss on the cheek as she sashayed past and into the water.

Click to expand...

A tangle of emotions sprawled and scrawled across Happersen's face.

Whether it was attraction or revulsion or a decided spectrum of both, he did not immediately reveal. But it definitely put him on his back foot, and he could not find words to reply immediately. At least, not until she began wading into the shallows.

He made to follow her, pausing just before the reach of the waves would lap against his toes-- sand was awful, but seawater was a bridge too far. He called after her as she sauntered deeper.

"Tomorrow would have been too late, Renegade!"

"We need you in Metropolis tomorrow. There's a plane waiting. Wheels up in 30. We need to leave now."

"The pay is... considerable! And I can promise you that it will not be... boring."

Make me an Offer..

A tangle of emotions sprawled and scrawled across Happersen's face.

Whether it was attraction or revulsion or a decided spectrum of both, he did not immediately reveal. But it definitely put him on his back foot, and he could not find words to reply immediately. At least, not until she began wading into the shallows.

He made to follow her, pausing just before the reach of the waves would lap against his toes-- sand was awful, but seawater was a bridge too far. He called after her as she sauntered deeper.

"Tomorrow would have been too late, Renegade!"

Click to expand...

“Why? I wanna spend another day in the bright sun and on a hot beach. Maybe even with a nice hot body or two or three in my bed. Or on the beach.”

"We need you in Metropolis tomorrow. There's a plane waiting. Wheels up in 30. We need to leave now."

Click to expand...

“Why didn’t you send me information last year? This is rather rushed for you and your.. employer.” Renegade replied, sauntering out of the water, her hips swaying like a wild cat stalking prey.

"The pay is... considerable! And I can promise you that it will not be... boring."

Click to expand...

Bending over she grabbed a towel and began drying off. Toweling long red hair she looked up, her eyes sparkling. “How much is considerable? Considerable for your boss, Bill Gates, Donald Trump, me, or someone average?”

Turning she collected her few things and walked across the sand to the hotel, her hips swaying with each stride. Most would claim she oozed sexual desire. Unless they were big game hunters or hard core military. Then they saw her stride as precision. Power. Confidence. And a lethality that was.. intimidating.

Leading the way she took him to her room, only then did she strip down and look at him. “Pay rate? Contract terms? And Gender?”

Contracting muscle.

Varshanka said:

“Why didn’t you send me information last year? This is rather rushed for you and your.. employer.” Renegade replied, sauntering out of the water, her hips swaying like a wild cat stalking prey.

Click to expand...

Happersen irritably cleaned salty spray off of his glasses.

"Yes, tell me about it. But in crime and politics, as they say, the situation is always... fluid."

"There was a plan. The plan changed. And in order to strike while the proverbial iron remains acutely hot, the plan had to change quickly."

Varshanka said:

Bending over she grabbed a towel and began drying off. Toweling long red hair she looked up, her eyes sparkling. “How much is considerable? Considerable for your boss, Bill Gates, Donald Trump, me, or someone average?”

Click to expand...

"Considerable for you," Happersen replied. "And considerably more than my employer has paid you in the past. A 'steady paycheck,' rather than the usual lump sum. Plus expenses. Even mileage, where applicable."

Varshanka said:

Turning she collected her few things and walked across the sand to the hotel, her hips swaying with each stride. Most would claim she oozed sexual desire. Unless they were big game hunters or hard core military. Then they saw her stride as precision. Power. Confidence. And a lethality that was.. intimidating.

Leading the way she took him to her room, only then did she strip down and look at him. “Pay rate? Contract terms? And Gender?”

Click to expand...

He managed to keep his eyes on her face, though he had to clear his throat and adjust his glasses.

Even if his sexual orientation, at the moment, were not more derived from bitterness and displeasure than her objectively enticing female form--

--Syd Happersen was a professional.

Mostly.

And he was quite aware of how easily she could kill him, if he did not represent the purse strings of the proverbial goose that laid golden eggs-- Luthor paid her handsomely, the only thing keeping him alive was the fact that that money would go away if she punched his ticket. And that didn't scare him or turn him on.

Mostly.

"I am authorized to negotiate. There are files aboard the private jet which I encourage you to peruse, full disclosure, so that you know what you are up against when you haggle."

"I believe the preferred gender is female, but your read of the situation may bear that out-- a judgement call on your part."

"Our mutual employer's main caveat is that you 'play hero.' You will remain licensed to kill if absolutely necessary, and marketing analysis suggests the need for a certain, edgy, femme fatale quotient. You will be asked to be the counterpart to a male colleague also with Assassin training, and to help him and another add competence and professional-grade experience to balance out colorful, unpredictable amateurs. But please keep the body count palatable. This is... higher profile... than your previous contracts. And, usual concerns about geopolitics aside, decidedly higher stakes."

A prelude to negotiations

"I am authorized to negotiate. There are files aboard the private jet which I encourage you to peruse, full disclosure, so that you know what you are up against when you haggle."

"I believe the preferred gender is female, but your read of the situation may bear that out-- a judgment call on your part."

Click to expand...

Looking over her shoulder at him she smiled. And bones began to creak as muscle and tendon shifted, pulling and contracting, shrinking and growing. Her form became larger and stronger, massive in the way that made women swoon and men envious. Hair shortened and darkened, skin becoming the color of a sun blessed hue achieved from years as a farmer, or a surfer.

Stronger and more durable, but slower and less agile. Bending down he grabbed the edge of the bed and lifted. And something that wasn’t supposed to move parted from the floor. Broken the week before it was an easy lift but still impressive. After all most people didn’t do this, not one handed, and definitely not without grunting.

Reaching underneath the base he grabbed a black satchel and pulled it out. It had no shine or marking, neither within nor without. No identifying marks of owner or purpose. Closing the bed back up he opened the bag and began removing clothing. His form shifting and molding again as he became she.

Masculine clothing was packed away as clothing more suitable for a smaller form was left on the bed. “I’ll take your word for the female part. Both are easy enough to play.”

"Our mutual employer's main caveat is that you 'play hero.' You will remain licensed to kill if absolutely necessary, and marketing analysis suggests the need for a certain, edgy, femme fatale quotient. You will be asked to be the counterpart to a male colleague also with Assassin training, and to help him and another add competence and professional-grade experience to balance out colorful, unpredictable amateurs. But please keep the body count palatable. This is... higher profile... than your previous contracts. And, usual concerns about geopolitics aside, decidedly higher stakes."

Click to expand...

“Shower on the plane I assume? Since it’s wheels up in eighteen minutes now?” She said looking at the sun, and ignoring the clocks, since the one in existence was facing the wall, and the one that should have been hanging on the wall was missing.

Conference Room

Sitting at the table Wondergirl kept glancing at the others in the room. Both standing, but on opposite sides of the room. The tension was so.. physical she was waiting for the catfight to break out. The one looked like a flaming knight in armor wrapped in chains and smelling of sulfur and brimstone.

The other wore black leather so tight she wasn’t wearing undergarments. They couldn’t fit. And the vibe was like a coiled spring, ready to snap and cause hurt. She could cause pain if she wanted to. Thank the Goddess she didn’t want to. Yet.

This was like a steak was stuck between Cerberus and Cerberus and she was the steak. A big juice steak.. slowly being eased closer to dinner time.

ChasNicollette said:

(Luthor/Hotline)



"Rapport, trust," Lex waved a hand see-saw in the air. "These things are ideal, but not strictly necessary. What really forges a treaty... is mutual benefit. To wit..."

And so he began.



Lex' eyes widened, as if this hadn't occurred to him. "I suppose before he went on his entirely random swath of destruction, he did crashland on the roof of LexCorp Tower only to be repulsed by a... protege of mine. Then again, as a flying man having apparently taken leave of his higher reasoning, perhaps it's not so improbable that he would first set down on the tallest edifice in the skyline. Like lightning, perhaps, taking the path of least resistance."

Then he reiterated the need to fill the void left by The League.



"Of course, of course," Lex turned to go, stepped towards the car, and ever-attentive Mercy was opening the rear door for him.

But he stopped before he reached the rich Corinthian leather of the interior, and he turned to eye first Aquaman, then Hotline, and then Aquaman again.

"Crime in The City of Tomorrow is, with my resources and the strenuous efforts of The Metropolis Police Department, at almost as low a rate as when Superman first showed his 'S.' If that's insufficient action to establish good faith, if you insist on seeing shadowy machinations behind my attempts to foster law and order in the world, as The Big Blue Webelos Scout has always done--"

"--if you must absolutely positively regard me as this archon of Machiavellian shellgaming and wrongdoing, if you must suspect that my every noble step has a nefarious other shoe waiting to drop--"

"--then should you not want to keep as close an eye on me as superhumanly possible? I would much rather be your friend and patron, Aquaman, than your enemy. But if you must hold me in enmity, then should you not, as the pop-culture idiom goes, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' Better that, certainly, than letting me run around... unsupervised."

Click to expand...

The Atlantean took a few steps in the direction of the audacious magnate. Up close, they were both equals in stature. Kaldur perhaps a few pounds leaner and more impressive overall, his unique Atlantean heritage giving him a certain edge that only few humans could replicate through a combination of intense training and special genetics, and yet he'd been of those. In a way, he was like the closest thing to Superman without there being a superman.

"I don't understand your motives Luthor, but perhaps there's more to your activism than what it seems. I'm willing to think about what you've proposed in this meeting. We'll keep an eye on you regardless and keep our lines open, but what you say and do will be monitored and all undertakings will come to the light in due time. Very well then, Luthor. I will not keep you from your other engagements. And then Kaldur without prompting took hold of Luthor's forearm in his own, pulling the mans wrist with more force than what could be considered necessary. An unconventional handshake.

Break bread wit' the enemy. (Luthor/Hotline)

Nubian_Legend said:

The Atlantean took a few steps in the direction of the audacious magnate. Up close, they were both equals in stature. Kaldur perhaps a few pounds leaner and more impressive overall, his unique Atlantean heritage giving him a certain edge that only few humans could replicate through a combination of intense training and special genetics, and yet he'd been of those. In a way, he was like the closest thing to Superman without there being a superman.

Click to expand...

Lex Luthor didn't have the benefit of a childhood in Shayeris or on Krypton.

But he had the intellect to more than back up his audacity.

It wasn't paranoia if they were really out to get you, some would say.

And it wasn't arrogance if you were really good enough to pull it off.

He might not be that damnable Superman. But he was, in his own way... a Man of Steel.

Nonetheless, Kaldur'ahm's physiology was... impressive. And Lex Luthor wasn't sporting any particularly advantageous mystical tattoos.

...at least, not yet.

Nubian_Legend said:

"I don't understand your motives Luthor, but perhaps there's more to your activism than what it seems. I'm willing to think about what you've proposed in this meeting. We'll keep an eye on you regardless and keep our lines open, but what you say and do will be monitored and all undertakings will come to the light in due time. Very well then, Luthor. I will not keep you from your other engagements. And then Kaldur without prompting took hold of Luthor's forearm in his own, pulling the mans wrist with more force than what could be considered necessary. An unconventional handshake.

Click to expand...

When Mercy made to lunge at that sudden movement, and Hotline grimaced, curling her own tattooed knuckles into fists, Lex held up his other hand to wave Mercy off. She stayed her violence, albeit reluctantly. And so, albeit reluctantly, did Ruby.

An Atlantean handshake. He'd done the reading. He too, in turn, gripped Kaldur's forearm at the elbow. And while he couldn't match the hybrid for sheer physical amplitude, neither did he flinch at the vise-tight pressure Kaldur's hand exerted.

"Symvíosi," he intoned, in Atlantean, his pronunciation perfect, because of course it was. "'Together.'"

He held on for as long as was necessary, and then released.

"Be at the corner of Bessolo and Sullivan in Metropolis exactly a week from now."

He checked his watch.

"Exactly a week. Right, as it turns out, to the minute."

He smirked. "Funny how that worked out perfectly for me."

And then he got in the limo.

Mercy shot both heroes a thin-lidded look, and got in the driver's seat, ready for the ferry to ferry them back to shore.

Having hung back to let the far more eloquent Aquaman do the talking, Hotline stepped forward, and glanced at him.

"So there wasn't enough money on Earth to buy off Superman. So instead he went wholesale and bought the whole damn Justice League. I don't envy you that gig, Kal."