Star City- Heroes of Tomorrow IC

A sonic cannon morphed from the Blue Beetle's right arm, aiming at Black Adam/Chris Grant. A very specific vibrational frequency was unleashed in a sonic wave at the villain, disrupting any and all magical transformations, at the same time, broadcasting the New Genesis Life equation in vibrational tonal formula. What came out was much like A Blast of Pure Song, and it washed over Christopher Grant in a wave.

The wave of the Song rang clear and vibrated and bounced off of buildings and debris alike. Cap and Mary looked quickly at each other as they realized what it was that the Sound meant.

Cap dove and embraced Mary fiercely in a protective but no less loving embrace as the waves of sound and light spread in milliseconds to wash over them as well as their intended target. As valiant as Cap tried he was unable to stop the wave. And when it hit, it had some very unintended consequences.

As Mary and Cap were enveloped by the frequencies, they were forced back to their Earthly forms. And what's more, they were locked out of the powers of SHAZAM. Their bodies crumpled and lay holding one another among the chaos and the debris. With their transformation temporarily blocked Sara and Billy's souls were stuck in the Rock.

Two things happened in rapid succession.

First, just before the consciousness of Mary was ripped from the body of Sara Diggle, she uttered one word. The only word she knew to utter.

"SHAZAM!"

And as the children hit the ground, there was a rumble. Buildings trembled as The Wizard himself watched on in horror from the Rock of Eternity as another, much larger portal torn open beside the children. As scores of Parademons poured forth, driving into the heroes gathered, he saw what he was most afraid of. A large granite like hand reached from that place beyond, and in one massive hand, grasped an arm of each child and yanked them into the gaping maw of the portal. And in less than a blink, the Portal irised shut. But as it did, Lightning split the sky once more. A massive bolt shot through the sky and speared directly into the portal just as it closed.

The Parademons broke off almost immediately, flying straight up as another portal opens for a fraction of a second. And the Parademons pour back into the portal. And finally another portal burst into existence. A very large woman and a man in grimson gold and green step forth. She deftly lifts Light like a child, throwing him over a shoulder. The man nods at the gathered heroes as he drops a small blinking box on the ground.

"Your gonna want to take care of that. And the other 6 I left throughout this city. Sorry, but we have to take our... associate home now. " And with a quick bow, he follows the giant woman back into the portal.

The Arrow, Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin moved with a purpose. They checked the perimeter of the fallback position at which most of the GCPD were currently held up. Nightwing was in shock as he reconned the area.

GCPD officers on guard duty. Assisted by members of the Penguin and Joker's crews. Nightwing walked up to where Arrow and the two woman had met back up.

"I can't believe it but either this is one hell of a ruse or Cobblepot and Joker are actually assisting the GCPD. Even the guns half the Police are carrying are from Penguin's stash not police issue. Lets go check this out. Make sure it's legit. Just in case lets be ready. And Batgirl... what we are walking into... it could be bad. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to know. And as much as I hate that psycho and Cobblepot, if they really are helping... we gotta take what we can get. Many more trembles and this whole city is going to be destroyed. And whatever they are playing at, if Nyssa and her goons set all these devices off at once, we are really screwed. So we need to find them and take this done. If we have to accept their help for now to do it, then so be it. The city comes first." Barbara's eyes are fixed and there is a look of determination not unlike one both her father and Batman both possess. But then that look softens as she glances over to Robin. She thinks back to when they first were working together. It was just before Stephanie's dad died. Killed by the Penguin. And briefly she wondered if Steph would be okay. With no conscious thought her had reached out and settled lightly on her shoulder.

Stephanie didn't need to ask. She saw the softening look. Felt the soft but persistent touch and she knew what Barbara was thinking. Steph would love to put a batarang directly between Penguin's eyes. Rules or no rules. He deserved worse than she would ever be able to give him. But Robin needed to be above that. Robin needed to protect this city and if that meant letting the bastard that killed her father run his gang and help stop this nightmare, than that is what needed to happen. She reached up and put her hand over Barbara's and nodded.

"I know. You have believed in me. You too Nightwing. And even Bats, he took me in. You all became a second family. And as much as I want vengeance for what was taken.... I know that would mean losing the family I have left. And that is not something I am willing to let him take away. He's already taken more than he deserves. I won't let him take that too. I got this. Let's move."

The four of them holstered their weapons and began slowly approaching the gate. There were four officers and two members of Joker's Circus guarding the gate.

"Jesus Christ! Nightwing, am I glad to see you! How in the hell did you get here from Bludhaven?" The older of the Police officers stepped forward lowering the Mossberg combat style shotgun and looking over the foursome. "Shit, and you even brought The Arrow! We might get through this yet!"

The heavy set thug, a freak show "painted man" carrying a pair of uzi's and an improbably large hammer on his back laughed, "Oh good! The Goody Gang has finally come to save us! Too bad your big bad Bat ain't here, then they would probly blow a load in their uni's! Fucking pigs worship you assholes but its us that saved their ass when the bar got taken. Didn't even get a thanks I might add."

The Arrow stepped up. Not threateningly, but with grim determination. Locking eyes with the painted thug he spoke clearly, and louder than was needed. Thank you. We all need to let our pasts go right now. As far as I am concerned, you, your boss, all your Circus friends, you have in the past failed this city. But now is your chance. Your chance to rise up and save it. Your attitude though will only breed distrust and anger. A team divided WILL fall. So for now, until we save this city, I don't care what badge you wear. I don't care what crew you run with. If I see you failing this city, I WILL put an arrow in you. We either come together here and now, or go our seperate ways and hope it all works it self out, which it won't. Choose." And then he looks to the Police all of whom seem quite pleased he is digging into the Clown's men verbally. "Wipe the smirks off your face. You men are supposed to be above that. You make your choice too. Because like I said, if you can't work together with these men, then you need to go. It is too dangerous and too many lives are on the line. So all of you. Cops, Criminals, Psychos and Vigilante's, make your choice. Fail this city.... or Save it."

Before either man can respond there comes a soft, slow clapping from the shadows beyond the gate. The Penguin and Joker step forth. Penguin clapping softly.

"You know, for a second there, I closed my eyes, and you reminded me of an old, dear friend from the days when I was just coming up in this city. Such a dear friend. He literally saved my life. And we had such fun together. The Penguin reminisces as he shuffle-teeter-waddles into full view, the Joker grinning and slinking along beside him.

"Of course, then he did go all self righteous 'I'm a hero- blah-blah-blah' and threatened to kill you as I heard it Ozzy. What ever happened to him? Oh! That's right, Old Jimmy Boy became the Czar... I mean Commissioner of the GCPD! How times change."

The Penguin rolls his eyes at Joker, shaking his head he continues. "Thank you for the.... clarification. Anyway, as I was saying. Arrow, you are a man of great determination and grit. I must say I admire that greatly. You know, I hoped I would one day get to meet the man, the legend, that saved Star City. You certainly seem much more personable and reasonable than our local stock. No offense to present company of course."

"Ugh! Tell me about it! You know, there used to be this one Robin, so droll, dull, and inconsiderate, that he made me just want to... I don't know... Bash his freaking head in with a crowbar. Thankfully he didn't hang around long." Joker chuckles as he glowers at Nightwing. "Your welcome. I mean, if not for me giving in to those desires and crushing his skull and splattering him all over that warehouse floor, then blowing him up for good measure, I mean you never can be too careful when killing a sidekick, then we may never have gotten the pleasure of that last one. HE was much better. Still not as good as the original. But I certainly LOVE what this one has done with the costume. Any chance you might go back to the old short shorts? I think you would fill them out much better." Joker cackles as he luridly surveys Stephanie. "Sorry! Where are my manners? It is so uncouth to talk ill of the dearly departed. Forgive me. As The Arrow here said, it is rather vital we all work together to oust this rabble from our fair city."

Nightwing is seething as he tries hard to push down his anger. He knew Jason. Had spent time with him. He liked him. Granted, he was a little rough around the edges and had a chip on his shoulder, but he was a good kid at heart. A little rash at times, which is what lead to his death, but he deserved respect. And listening to Joker mock his death was about all he could take. He struggled to suppress the rage and the myriad of other emotions that were just bubbling below the surface. And then, he finally couldn't do so any longer. With near super-human quickness he lunged. Slipping a razor edged card from The Joker's own pocket he drives him hard into the wall beside the gate and presses the blade to his throat.

"If you ever mention him again in my company, I will cut your head off with your own card. I don't know why Batman let you live when he caught you. And it is taking all I have in me now to uphold the honor of Robin's sacrifice and not kill you where you stand. Shut the hell up or I may just go ahead and do it anyway."

It Stephanie that stepped forward. Her small hand wrapping around Nightwing's bicep. Gently pulling his arm back. "What did I just say. Are you deaf or did you forget everything we stand for. Yeah, this sick joke deserves to be put down. The messes he's made, he deserves worse than death, but that isn't who we are. Drop it and back down."

Nightwing looks at her. Seeing now it wasn't only the impressive physical and intellectual gifts that persuaded Bruce to take her in as the next Robin. He had seen an honor in her. An ability to set aside herself, just like he did, and do what he believed in. And clearly, they shared that belief. Maybe even more so than Dick did. He was slightly embarrassed that he let Joker get to him. That's exactly what he was after. And he gave it to him. He drops the card and steps back slowly moving away, but never taking his eyes off the Clown Prince.

"As for you, your not my type. And when we caught your partner there a few months ago, she said your facial muscles weren't the only thing that didn't work right." Robin winked as she made her insinuation and slinked back with Nightwing, maybe putting just a hint of sexuality in her motions.

Joker laughed as he stooped and picked up the card from the ground. "Your no fun Girly! The Blue Herring here and I were just starting to have fun."

"As that may be, can we stop trying to antagonize one another? I have worked to hard to get to the top in this city to let some... some crazy mad scientist ninjas come and ruin it. We need to talk. Inside. Where prying ears and eyes aren't involved."

The Arrow nodded and stepped forward to lead his team in. He wanted to get himself between Nightwing and Joker in case things got heated again.

As they walked through the building, a former firehouse that had been decommissioned about a year ago, the foursome saw that many of the people inside were civillians. It looked like the GCPD, with help from the two gangs, had been rounding up survivors and bringing them here for safety. The entire building was actually made from solid granite. It was a gift to the city by the Wayne Family several generations ago. It had been built to be a safe place for the city. It was built after Gotham had it's first massive earthquake many years ago. Half the city had been leveled. No one had a safe place to wait out the tremors and aftershocks, or to stay while things were rebuilt. This place was huge inside. Mostly open, but there was a second story and also a basement. And it appeared as they moved through that almost every space was filled. The injured were toward the back, in a makeshift field hospital.

It was here that Robin saw the only thing she truly wanted to see this night. Her mother. Her mother was crouching above a small child, no more than six, who clearly had a badly broken leg. She was bent down at the knees, soothing the child and explaining something, most likely the painful setting she would have to do to save that leg. Stephanie wanted so bad to run off, rip her mask off and hug her mother, but she knew she couldn't. And beside her, Barbara was having the same reaction as she was watching her dad and Uncle Harvey arguing on the balcony above.

Finally lead up the stairs to the balcony where they had created a situation room, they all met with Jim Gordon and his right hand man, Harvey Bullock.

"Nightwing, Ladies, thank god your here. I take it The Bat is still out of town? Please tell me he's on his way. Arrow, nice to meet you. I have heard some amazing things. Not just on the news. I met Lance at a National Police Association function a while back. He seems a good man. Thank you for coming."

"Your more than welcome. And yes, Lance is a good man. But unfortunately, I am here, with members of The JSA, because The Bat is stuck on an international assignment. He's halfway across the globe and that is where he needs to be. We actually had a bit of a... discussion about that fact before me and my team left to help. He badly wants to be here, and as soon as his other situation is cleared up he will be. For now where are we?"

"Where are we ya masked jerk? We're screwed is where we are! While your buddy with the cape and funny ears is off playing James Bond, this city is falling apart. I appreciate that you brought your people in here, but frankly, I don't trust capes, and I don't trust these two psychos and their crew either. And to top it off the government is trying to frickin black ball us. No military has shown up, no national guard, nothing."

"That is because the government is moving to have a seperation of Gotham from the US. Right now you are declared a No Man's Land. You haven't been officially cut off, but they are trying. Obviously, that is not something we want to see happen. I understand you don't like us Bullock, but frankly, I have put my life on the line protecting this city for years. I am not here for you. I am here to protect the city. You don't want my help, fine, but your going to get it regardless. So lets get over this and figure out what we need to do."

"Okay you two. Enough. We can all agree this is a difficult situation. But we need to focus on the plan. We need to find these devices and shut them down. Take out this League of Assassins and anyone else that is helping them. We need a way to track the devices down."

"We can do that. We have a device that can track the frequency of the vibrations. It should lead us to these devices. But we need to get communications back up so we can access what we need. We have a guy on that."

"Good. So if you can locate them, then we can mobilize and take them out. But I am sure that will be harder than it sounds. The sun comes up in about 2 hours. And god knows what that brings. Lets be ready."

"Aw. It warms my heart right down to the cockles to see our rag tag team of misfits pulling together. It's almost enough to make me want to go legit so we can do this team up thing more often. Then I remember how much I just LOVE the chaos of being a bad guy." Jokers laughs as he wraps an arm around Batgirl and Jim Gordon. "Whassamatter, bat got your tongue? This one must be the strong silent type. I respect that. You know, you look familiar... hm. Can't place it. Oh well! Team Gotham GO!!!!" Joker spins on his heels as he throws his arms in the air before strolling off and plopping into an old office chair.

"Wish You Were Here," by Pink Floyd. (Supergirl/J'onn/Chris/Rose)

Cannonblast vortexes yawned, and wherever they exploded into existence, darkness followed. Time and space distorted with the horror of the moment, and even beings that were ordinarily faster than a speeding bullet weren't... quite... fast... enough.

J'onn's roar of horror and rage at the sight of The Marvels being abducted into one of those teleportals was almost swallowed up by the swarm of parademons that crashed over him-- sacrificing many in their number against his powerful fists even in the mere instants it took before they split off from him again--

--they'd barely managed to drive him two or three steps away from the fallen Dr. Light, but it was gap enough.

They took back Light, quivering mass of phobia that he had become, and left behind a... souvenir.

Even the corpses of the dead parademons were washed away in the backdraft of those booming tubes.

All that were left behind-- a blinking box, ominous, with six brothers.

And Christopher King Grant.

J'onn sank to his knees, staring agonizedly at the place where Billy and Mary's forms had vanished, occupied by the minds of Captain and Mary Marvel, like watching his wife and daughter burn to death in pyrokinetic plague...

Supergirl, too, hesitated, wounded to the quick by such a devastating loss. Pure, bright hearts-- with power to rival even a Kryptonian's at the zenith of their solar power.

But the plot was not done thickening, and there was work to be done.

Supergirl's hand was on J'onn's shoulder, and not for nothing was she called The Girl of Steel.

"J'onn. We'll get them back. We will. We have to."

"But right now we need you."

J'onn narrowed his eyes, and nodded once. "I am here."

Supergirl nodded. "Evacuate the city best as you can-- emergency telepathic broadcasts, superspeed, phasing, get the wounded out of here-- I don't want another Gotham City on our hands."

She pointed at Jaime. "Blue. Good to see you back in the saddle, by the way. Scan the device, figure out what it does, find a way to counter it. But scan carefully-- a deep sweep might set it off, whatever it is, prematurely."

She bent her legs and then launched skyward, fist extended above her, jaw squared.

"I'm on aerial recon. My senses should be able to find the rest of these things so we can defuse them when Beetle tells us how."

J'onn stood up straight, and raised his hand to the sky, and placed his other hand on his brow, focusing his thoughts-- and sharing them with a city: People of Pittsburgh, hear my call...

And that left Chris Grant, huddled on the ground, staring with helpless, wide eyes at the afterimages where the teleportals once had been.

"...only I will remain," he mumbled, barely cogent, like an obsessive mantra. "...only I will remain."

He knew not why he had been left. Was it because he had failed again? Failed so deeply that even Granny Goodness did not find him worthwhile to torture and punish? Was it because The Life Equation had tainted him-- was he spoiled meat?

But before he could, with fractured consciousness, wonder about this too much more--

--Redwood surged up in front of him, grabbed him by the front of his black shirt, hauled him off of the ground with one hand, the other hand held ready to strike like a rattlesnake. "You."

"I just have three things to say t' ya, ya mass-murdering son of a bitch."

SNIKT.

One thorn-claw popped out from the back of her hand, bright red and hungry to fertilize itself on the entrails of her enemies.

"One. Those kids. I don't know alla what's goin' on here, or who's who t' who, but those kids were kids-- where th' Hell did they go?"

SNIKT.

A second claw popped beside the first.

"Two. What does that lil' blinkin' box do, an' how d'we stop it?"

SNIKT.

The third and final claw popped, and Redwood grinned a grim little grin.

"Three. I don't have another question. Just ya better talk quick-- 'fore I slice ya in half th' way ya ripped in twain th' brightest boy on this godforsaken planet."

Christopher Grant laughed brokenly at that, lolled his head back and hung limp in the mighty grip of his daughter's perhaps deadliest ectype.

"'My God, my God,'" he mumbled. "'Why hast Thou forsaken me?'"

Pardon the Interruption. (Sportsmaster)

Lunaramblings said:

Joker spins on his heels as he throws his arms in the air before strolling off and plopping into an old office chair.

Click to expand...

As the chair spun, Sportsmaster descended from the roof stairs, and stopped the chair from spinning with one hand.

Like he wasn't scared of The Joker.

Well, he probably wasn't.

Which might go to show you something about Sportsmaster.

"Bat-brats a-plenty, a whole benchful," Sportsmaster growled. "And well, well, well, if it isn't The Arrow."

He strode closer to Arrow, not quite in his grill but definitely encroaching personal space.

"One of these days, Coach Green, you and me are gonna have to have a double overtime talk about how you and your Little League have undermined my tireless, thankless efforts as a father."

ChasNicollette said:

"Bat-brats a-plenty, a whole benchful," Sportsmaster growled. "And well, well, well, if it isn't The Arrow."

He strode closer to Arrow, not quite in his grill but definitely encroaching personal space.

"One of these days, Coach Green, you and me are gonna have to have a double overtime talk about how you and your Little League have undermined my tireless, thankless efforts as a father."

Click to expand...

The Arrow didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Instead he smiled.

"Perhaps if your efforts had been sincere and not some sick game things would have ended differently. Any time you want to have a scrimmage, you just let me know. But for now, this city needs protection. And if you cared so much, maybe it should have been you and not you daughter that went to get your ex-wife. Just shows even you couldn't ruin her. You sure as hell tried. But she beat you at your own game. She has become so much more than you will ever be. You see, every life she saves, is another person that will tell stories of her greatness. Who's going to tell stories of you when your gone Crock? Fact is, when one day the life you chose catches up to you, you will be forgotten. Someone else will no doubt take up the mantle you created, and the world will move on and you will be nothing. Meanwhile, she will be remember. Loved." Arrow didn't budge. Not one inch. His glare cutting Crock down just as his words had.

"For someone obsessed with winning you sure lost big with the game of life. Either help out, or get lost. But I have no need to waste my time on you any further."

Friday Night Lights. (Sportsmaster)

Lunaramblings said:

The Arrow didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Instead he smiled.

"Perhaps if your efforts had been sincere and not some sick game things would have ended differently. Any time you want to have a scrimmage, you just let me know. But for now, this city needs protection. And if you cared so much, maybe it should have been you and not you daughter that went to get your ex-wife. Just shows even you couldn't ruin her. You sure as hell tried. But she beat you at your own game. She has become so much more than you will ever be. You see, every life she saves, is another person that will tell stories of her greatness. Who's going to tell stories of you when your gone Crock? Fact is, when one day the life you chose catches up to you, you will be forgotten. Someone else will no doubt take up the mantle you created, and the world will move on and you will be nothing. Meanwhile, she will be remember. Loved." Arrow didn't budge. Not one inch. His glare cutting Crock down just as his words had.

"For someone obsessed with winning you sure lost big with the game of life. Either help out, or get lost. But I have no need to waste my time on you any further."

Click to expand...

"This isn't just about Artemis, Green," Sportsmaster scoffed.

"Sure, she wears your team colors and runs interference for your corporate-sponsor cheerleader, but the season's not over yet. When she retires, her jersey'll be hanging from my rafters, not yours. All the pep talks and heelface turns in your playbook can't change who she really is, who she was born to be. But I wasn't really talking about her. Not yet."

He narrowed his eyes in his hockey mask's holes, squared his shoulders, and met Ollie's smile with a glower. "I'm talking about your previous second-stringer going free-agent and taking Cheshire with him. Eloping to Rheelasia without so much as bothering to ask her old man's permission? What the Hell kind of values are you instilling in your players? First Bertinelli went off the reservation, now this? A real leader would have kept Red in line, and instead of getting knocked up by a questionable breeding partner, Jade woulda gotten Raatko's Horseman draft-pick ahead of Cain's little girl."

He grunted dismissively. "Not that her making the cut for that team woulda been any great score specifically, but she woulda been in primo position for a backstab play, and that would've been one for the highlight reel."

Sportsmaster shook his head, pointed a thumb at his own chest. "I'm no chump, Coach Green. I'm not riding the bleachers while Al Ghul's also-ran daughter screwballs my hometown, and with it my rep. I'll be a ringer for you and Batsy's farm team so long as you're backing Gotham, but as soon as this is over, I'm trading back out-- and you an' me'll have our Pay-Per-View. Just you wait."

ChasNicollette said:

There was then a perhaps understandable moment of surprise for everyone involved.

"Not gonna say no, handsome," Artemis dropped to one knee and rolled her mom off of her shoulder, snapping her bow open, "but you better have some serious juice under that Versace."

Then Vixen finished healing from the fireblast and slapped The Tantu Totem grimly. "I've got the big guy." AFRICAN BULL ELEPHANT. ...and she leaped for Ace, who met her head-on with a mechanical roar.

Then Queen leveled her scepter at that unusual red car. "Ohhhh," she tutted. "It is not a good night to be a sexy ride in Gotham Heights." And unleashed a plasma blast straight for its windshield.

Then King swooped for this new stranger in the grey suit, sword glinting, angling to sweep his head clean off his shoulders. "Don't usually prefer to get my hands dirty. But expediency demands, and needs must."

Then Ten hurled bladed cards at Artemis, and Artemis shot them down like skeet, drawfiredrawfiredrawfire--

--then Jack's half-mask laser-eye slashed across the ground for Artemis' mother, and Artemis fired another arrow at his face, forcing him to blast the arrow instead, vaporize it to splinters in the air--

"Ahh!" he barked with surprise. "You could've put my eye out!"

"Put a big goddamn target on your face," Artemis growled, "see where that gets you."

Click to expand...

The car drives forward, seemingly unmanned, and gets between Jack and the woman lying on the ground.

"Get in the car, it will get you to safety." The door opens and revels the seats to be empty, but the voice did come from the car.

Leon dives out of the way. "Good job Belt-san, now its my turn." A red toy car drives itself through the air and lands in Leon's hand. [Insert transformation sequence here]

Venom

This was bad. He stared at the destruction inside room which obviously had held the replacement parts. Fucking ninja assholes. He had to take a deep breath before he could send his report.

"Venom. First target is FUBAR. Moving on to second target."

He sat down, snacking on a chocolate bar the suit had snagged from a vending machine.

'Now what?'

Sewers

'Yeah, but how do we get there?'

Lemme show you

Tossing the wrapper into a dustbin, he followed the suit's lead to a nearby wash basin. Then the weirdness started as his fingers started to stretch and almost seem to turn into an oozing rubber.

'What the...'

Relax, I did this before

Vaguely he got the impression of slipping through the cracks of a wooden wall and by then his arm was gone inside the drain receptacle. There was nothing more to really say as he felt himself melt away and slide down the drain.

ChasNicollette said:

"This isn't just about Artemis, Green," Sportsmaster scoffed.

"Sure, she wears your team colors and runs interference for your corporate-sponsor cheerleader, but the season's not over yet. When she retires, her jersey'll be hanging from my rafters, not yours. All the pep talks and heelface turns in your playbook can't change who she really is, who she was born to be. But I wasn't really talking about her. Not yet."

He narrowed his eyes in his hockey mask's holes, squared his shoulders, and met Ollie's smile with a glower. "I'm talking about your previous second-stringer going free-agent and taking Cheshire with him. Eloping to Rheelasia without so much as bothering to ask her old man's permission? What the Hell kind of values are you instilling in your players? First Bertinelli went off the reservation, now this? A real leader would have kept Red in line, and instead of getting knocked up by a questionable breeding partner, Jade woulda gotten Raatko's Horseman draft-pick ahead of Cain's little girl."

He grunted dismissively. "Not that her making the cut for that team woulda been any great score specifically, but she woulda been in primo position for a backstab play, and that would've been one for the highlight reel."

Sportsmaster shook his head, pointed a thumb at his own chest. "I'm no chump, Coach Green. I'm not riding the bleachers while Al Ghul's also-ran daughter screwballs my hometown, and with it my rep. I'll be a ringer for you and Batsy's farm team so long as you're backing Gotham, but as soon as this is over, I'm trading back out-- and you an' me'll have our Pay-Per-View. Just you wait."

Click to expand...

The Arrow listens in silence. While he has no love for the man before him. Or the life he put his children through, he has an understanding. Of sorts. It was the regimented training that saved Oliver Queen so many years ago. It was the training of The League that had saved Sara. And he knew that had he not taken Roy in so many years ago he was headed in a bad direction. This life.... it could be brutal. It could tear you up and leave you a mess. But it could also save you from the demons in your soul. It could make you who you were meant to be.

On some level he understood why a father would push his children to become something more like this. If he had a child would he have kept them in the dark? Would he have let them be vulnerable to the people that wanted to seek revenge? Or would he train them to protect themselves, and as he does, protect those that need it most. He didn't agree with the side that Crock chose. But he understood why he would want his children to be as skilled as he was. If only for their own well being. But the mind games. The way he did it, that he could not forgive or accept.

"What Roy does is his own business. I don't control him. I offer guidance where and when I can. But something you may want to learn is that you can't force them to be what you want. You can only set them on the path and hope they find their way. Unfortunately I haven't been able to reach Roy in a while. And for what it's worth, I owe you a thank you. Lian is a miracle. And without your daughter, Roy might still be wandering lost. She helped him. She pulled him from the edge and helped him find himself in a way that even I couldn't. And he has been doing the same for her whether you like it or not."

The Arrow rolls his shoulders and squares before Crock. "I do what I do not out of ego. Not because for me. It started that way. But it became more. You only care about yourself and your ego. You don't want your family to be happy. To have their own dreams. You just want them to be your good little minions and support you in yours. That's the difference. I bring them to their best. But I believe in them to be the good people they want to be. You just want to control them and force them into a life they never wanted. But one day Crock, if you really want to go toe to toe, I am not hard to find. It isn't the way I wanted this to be. But it is the way I knew it would, sooner or later. For now, lets do what we need to do to save this city."

Blue Beetle hovered near one of the devices as Supergirl shot off into the wild blue yonder. "Right, on it."

Um...Khasji, how are we flying without rockets or wings?

Electromagnetic fields.

Ah, right. You know that is the sort of explanation a vegas stage mage would give, right?

Silence, Human! You know nothing of advanced technology and I must concentrate.

Jaime shook his head silently to himself and slowly approached on of the hovering boxes, raising his hands delicately to either side of it, not willing to risk any active probing, but letting his extraordinary passive senses examine the box.

What they found, the shape inside, make him swallow a sudden lump in his throat.

"This is Blue, to Supergirl and Martian Manhunter. If you are approaching one of those boxes, stop where you are, right now!"

Jaime carefully lifted opened the box and revealed the egg-shaped object inside, elongated and with holes covering it's surface, angry orange light leaking from the holes, making the substance of the thing itself look like nothing so much as basal stone, charred and crusted.

"These things are much, much worse than any mere bomb. They are Apokalypse Tech. Hellspores. A single one of these could transform this entire planet into a wasteland."

"The Phoenix," by Fall Out Boy. (Artemis/Tigress/Vixen)

Zet_Cross said:

The car drives forward, seemingly unmanned, and gets between Jack and the woman lying on the ground.

"Get in the car, it will get you to safety." The door opens and revels the seats to be empty, but the voice did come from the car.

Leon dives out of the way. "Good job Belt-san, now its my turn." A red toy car drives itself through the air and lands in Leon's hand. [Insert transformation sequence here]

Click to expand...

The car's forward acceleration allowed it to deftly evade Queen's blast, much to her startled chagrin--

--and when Jack had regained his balance after damn near taking an arrow to the eye, he found his sightline blocked against the weakest-seeming target in the flock of white hats by the broad side of that fantastic automobile.

The car was a momentary obstacle, if that-- The Royal Flush Gang were airborne aboard their flying cards, after all.

But add to that the Japanese gentleman's sudden metamorphosis into an armored, almost insectoid-looking warrior--

"What in blazes--?" King sputtered, wheeling about on his flight deck, the fact that this newcomer had avoided his killing blow was vexing enough, but this nonsense?

--this was a pretty solid distraction.

Distraction enough for Artemis to gather her mom up in her arms and help her into the open car door. "I know this goes against everything you ever taught me about getting into cars with strangers-- especially weird-ass strangers that look like a Donnie Darko Power Ranger whose cars are straight ripped off of Knight Rider 2000--"

"Artemis," Paula alerted, "behind you!"

But Artemis quite literally had her arms full-- not that it mattered-- before she could so much as glance over her shoulder, Paula-- muscle memory like it was yesterday, nerves like steel struck by lightning-- had drawn Artemis' reserve crossbow, loaded it and fired--

--the arrow speared over Artemis' other shoulder just as Ten swooped overhead, hurling a card--

--arrow met card in mid-air right as it left Ten's hand, both were explosive--

--the combined force of the detonation knocked Ten ass-over-teakettle, right off of her flight deck, sent her tumbling to the road below. She didn't fall far, and she landed with professional skill on blind instinct, and her uniform protected her from the worst of the harm--

--but she landed heavy and landed hard and she didn't move again right away.

Artemis blinked, astonished. "Still got it, Mom."

Paula smiled wearily, and then glanced at Artemis askance. "'Knight Rider 2000?'"

Artemis grimaced, growled a reply through gritted teeth: "Fuckin' Cisco."

Then Jack swooped 'round overhead, casting a quick glance at Ten-- and then locking that red laser eye onto Artemis and her mother.

With a cry, Artemis kicked the car door shut, dove for her bow, came up firing, trying to keep Jack off-balance--

--but with grim zealotry (and perhaps a bionic HUD target-assist) Jack blasted arrow after arrow into splinters.


Ace's flight deck crashed to the ground and shattered, but both Ace and Vixen landed yards away from it with a cratering thwoom, wrestling, clinching, each struggling to get leverage on the other--

--Ace's elbow clipped the side of Vixen's head, knocking her off-balance, then a fist the size and consistency of an anvil crashed into her jaw, driving her skidding back fifteen feet and ringing her skull like a bell even through the ELEPHANT strength.

Vixen managed to recover almost immediately, but even in that instant, hatches opened in Ace's back and shoulders, unfolding laser cannons and missile launchers--

"Always with the upgrades," Mari harrumphed, slapped The Totem--

FLEA.

--and jumped almost 50 feet up as Ace's hardware turned the spot where she'd been standing into a firebomb light-show inferno.

Arcing down, Vixen clenched her teeth and leaned, aiming to land right on Ace, slapping The Totem once again--

ORCA.

--but even as she fell, Ace glanced up at her, and his boots flared to life, rocket boosters igniting--

--he launched to meet Vixen in the air, and the impact rattled Vixen right down to her bones--

"You can fly even without the card, you damn cheater?" Mari scoffed, ramming a knee into Ace's chestplate and managing to dent it a little. "Talk about stacking the deck!"


"And what, pray tell," King glowered, sword still bared, as he and Queen hovered side-by-side ten feet above and in front of the newcomer in red, "are you?"

"Can't be anyone who's anyone if we've never heard of him," Queen snarked, and aimed her scepter at the strange red creature's chest. "Not that it matters. Everything burns."

And she unleashed another storm of plasmic flame directly at the armored combatant.

"Set the Controls for The Heart of The Sun," by Pink Floyd.

(Supergirl/J'onn/Rose/Chris)

Nevyn_Black said:

"This is Blue, to Supergirl and Martian Manhunter. If you are approaching one of those boxes, stop where you are, right now!"

Click to expand...

Supergirl had achieved a high altitude and was sweeping Pittsburgh with her incredible senses, J'onn had been about to fly off and assist coordinating the evac-- but such was the horror and alarm in Jaime's tone that both stopped right where they were even though they weren't near any of the cubes.

Almost instinctively, J'onn telepathically looped Redwood into the intel-- even though he had never directly encountered this Rose before, and her methods were bloodthirsty, she was obviously on their side in this.

Redwood grimaced, prickling like a cactus at the presence in her head, but nevertheless tuning into what was happening, little blue bug guy had some chops if he'd taken down Daddy Dearest.

"We're listening," Supergirl replied, touching her earpiece even as X-ray eyes combed through structure after structure-- what if they were underground, in the sewer system, deep in the infrastructure? Old metals in the pipes and framework of the buildings, could be just as bad as lead for blocking her vision-- what if she couldn't find these things in time? Sweet Rao, what if she wasn't in time?

Nevyn_Black said:

Jaime carefully lifted opened the box and revealed the egg-shaped object inside, elongated and with holes covering it's surface, angry orange light leaking from the holes, making the substance of the thing itself look like nothing so much as basal stone, charred and crusted.

"These things are much, much worse than any mere bomb. They are Apokalypse Tech. Hellspores. A single one of these could transform this entire planet into a wasteland."

Click to expand...

"And there are seven of them," Supergirl clutched her head with one hand. "Of course there are."

"There are many prophecies on many worlds revolving around that number," J'onn closed his eyes, suppressed a shudder at the destructive potential. "More to the point: there is no minimum safe distance, then."

There was no point in evacuating the city if the whole planet could be consumed. J'onn switched to broadcasting peace and calm-- trust and worthiness-- trying to keep at least this city from panicking. If they must die in fire like the peoples of Mars, let them at least have some measure of courage afforded them in their final moments.

"Blue," Supergirl pressed. "There has to be a way to shut them down, there has to be, some kind of failsafe? I could freeze them to absolute zero with my Arctic breath, or fry their circuits with my heat vision?"

Redwood dropped the mumbling, useless Chris Grant to the ground like a sack of potatoes, flexing her knuckles, glancing around-- flaring her nostrils, seeing if she could catch the scent of one of these things, or even the man who'd planted the Hellspores in the first place, if she could track where he'd been she stood a chance of finding one or more of his little toys. "Yeah, 'Blue.' Skip to the end. How do we kill it?"

Outside the Lines. (Sportsmaster)

Lunaramblings said:

"What Roy does is his own business. I don't control him. I offer guidance where and when I can. But something you may want to learn is that you can't force them to be what you want. You can only set them on the path and hope they find their way. Unfortunately I haven't been able to reach Roy in a while. And for what it's worth, I owe you a thank you. Lian is a miracle. And without your daughter, Roy might still be wandering lost. She helped him. She pulled him from the edge and helped him find himself in a way that even I couldn't. And he has been doing the same for her whether you like it or not."

The Arrow rolls his shoulders and squares before Crock. "I do what I do not out of ego. Not because for me. It started that way. But it became more. You only care about yourself and your ego. You don't want your family to be happy. To have their own dreams. You just want them to be your good little minions and support you in yours. That's the difference. I bring them to their best. But I believe in them to be the good people they want to be. You just want to control them and force them into a life they never wanted. But one day Crock, if you really want to go toe to toe, I am not hard to find. It isn't the way I wanted this to be. But it is the way I knew it would, sooner or later. For now, lets do what we need to do to save this city."

Click to expand...

For a moment, Sportsmaster stood there, arms across his chest, just staring back at The Arrow with narrowed eyes, as if digesting the mass and the volume of what had just been set down in front of him.

But then he laughed. A grating, gravel-on-cutlery laugh, loud and long-- perhaps not Joker caliber, but substantial.

He shook his head, and turned away, shoulders still rising and falling from his aftershock chuckles. "Oh, man. The moralizing gets me every time. Nice to know you'll have a speech ready if you're ever up for that Arthur Ashe award."

Crusher glanced back at The Arrow, and you could hear the derisive grin in the scrape of his voice. "Do me a favor, Coach Green. Stick to your show-pony pro wrestling and your weak-ass Toronto Blue Jays. Leave playing hardball to the professionals."

"Now come on. Let's get this over with before I have to put myself on The DL for puking inside my mask."

With Arrow and Sportsmaster at least momentarily back on track, Nightwing addresses the Gothams gathered gladiators.

Ok. So what do we know? How did they get here? Anything suspicious? Any clues where they might be calling home?"

"I wish. No one knows much of anything. It's almost like these things just materialized."

"Not exactly Jim. My boys at the docks and the airfield have assured me that neither were used. They could have used helicopters, but someone would have seen that many of them. So what does that leave?"

"If they brought them in piece by piece and rebuilt them on site they could have gotten it in by car, truck, anything."

"Da-I mean... hrnhmf." Batgirl chokes as she almost calls Jim Dad in here excitement. "I remember when I first started training, the Bat, he would make me look over older files and compare what I thought with what had happened. There was a case where a guy, a John Doe, was never ID'ed but called himself The Agent Orange. He was allegedly a Vietnam Vet, went all Unibomber in the early 1990s. To get around the tight security on the port and the planes, he used the defunct railroad shipping routes to move his bombs into the city. He was one of the first cases that The Bat took down. Could they have done the same? I mean there isn't a lot of the tracks left anymore, but is there enough to get into Gotham and then move the devices by other means?"

Bullock slams his fist on the table. "Dammit! I bet that's it!" The city ripped up almost all of it a few years back, but there is still a section that runs into the rural part of Gotham and down through Slaughter Swamp where the old fishing villages used to be on the river. Used to be some mining and timber camps in that area too. I bet they used the tracks to get into the city, then split into smaller vehicles to deliver. We still haven't found one of the devices, so no idea how big or small they might be."

"Ok. So we need to look into that. If that's where they are holding up, there is only one place left out there. There is an old sanitarium. It had a railway station attached. Only real building left in Slaughter Swamp. So whats our play folks? We can't go in guns blazing. Even if they are there, that would be death."

"We need someone to confirm that the sanitarium is the target. Two at most. Everyone else needs to start trying to disable as many of the devices as we can."

End Run. (Sportsmaster)

Lunaramblings said:

"We need someone to confirm that the sanitarium is the target. Two at most. Everyone else needs to start trying to disable as many of the devices as we can."

Click to expand...

"This sanitarium-- you're thinking it could be their nerve center," Sportsmaster glowered. "The key to their whole operation. There's no way you're keeping me out of that action."

He grunted. "Hell, if it turns out to be a trick play and there's no-one out there-- a damn glorified recon run-- you'll need someone who can get back out of that swamp quick and get word. One of these kids is likely to get swallowed by that damn mire. You need a survivor, hard and efficient, and I'm your cross-country MVP."

ChasNicollette said:

"This sanitarium-- you're thinking it could be their nerve center," Sportsmaster glowered. "The key to their whole operation. There's no way you're keeping me out of that action."

He grunted. "Hell, if it turns out to be a trick play and there's no-one out there-- a damn glorified recon run-- you'll need someone who can get back out of that swamp quick and get word. One of these kids is likely to get swallowed by that damn mire. You need a survivor, hard and efficient, and I'm your cross-country MVP."

Click to expand...

Nightwing stood up from looking at one of the maps on the table. "You got this or do you want company?" Nightwing looked back at the map. Then spoke again, looking directly at Crock. "It's mostly out-buildings now. The main structure was damaged in a fire back awhile. Most of it collapsed. Batman helped but I was out of town. He never really talked about it."

"That would be at my Request Nightwing. But if you guys are going there you are going to need a rundown."

"Jimmy, they don't-"

"No. They do. We think we got all the traps, but if they are going in there to search the place I don't want any chances." The color drains from Jim Gordon's face as he stands. "23 years ago there was a serial killer. He went under the radar for a long time. Over a year. Because he was involved in the police. He was my son. He was only 18. He when we tracked him down he was using the main building of the sanitarium. He grew up around the station. He knew how the police worked and he set traps. Firebombs, bear traps, everything in between. Two of these were triggered by swat and started the fire. All hell broke loose. He was shot while trying to escape, and fell off the bridge over the river behind the sanitarium. We never found his body. Figured it washed into the swamp and was lost. We searched the grounds but there still may be more traps on the grounds." Gordon's eyes were misting over as he turned and stepped away from the table.

Batgirl had to fight the urge to cry and hug her father. He never talked about James. Barbara never knew him. She had only seen his picture once. It was a darkness that her father carried on his heart. One he couldn't let go.

Blue Beetle looked at Christopher Grant, and raised his voice so the broken man could hear him. "Hey, Pendejo! Look at me! If I take this thing up, out of the world, up into orbit, and try to diffuse it there, what happens if I mess up? Does it just kill me, or the whole world?"

Blue let the others in on the conversation by complicated means best left unexplored by those of us who are not experts in telecommunications.

"Christopher Grant! Talk to me, Amigo. How tricky is this Hellspore thing? If I take it into space, will the earth survive if I make a mistake?"

"Yet Another Movie," by Pink Floyd. (Chris/Rose/Kara/J'onn)

Nevyn_Black said:

Blue Beetle looked at Christopher Grant, and raised his voice so the broken man could hear him. "Hey, Pendejo! Look at me! If I take this thing up, out of the world, up into orbit, and try to diffuse it there, what happens if I mess up? Does it just kill me, or the whole world?"

Blue let the others in on the conversation by complicated means best left unexplored by those of us who are not experts in telecommunications.

"Christopher Grant! Talk to me, Amigo. How tricky is this Hellspore thing? If I take it into space, will the earth survive if I make a mistake?"

Click to expand...

Grant laughed, rolled onto his chest, started crawling to where his Dial had fallen on the ground, almost on autopilot, like Smeagol crawling for The One Ring.

"I was totally right, do you hear that? His Spanish is so much better than Patinkin's."

Redwood stepped between Grant and his Dial, glowered down at him with her primal ferocity barely fettered. Solemnly, she reached down to pick up his Dial, to curl it up in her fist... and she expanded that fist to swallow the Nokia from sight...

...then she hardened her fist to solid mahogany, encasing that Dial in a lidless seamless box, hardly unbreakable but certainly not get-at-able in a hurry.

Then she lopped off that wooden hand at the wrist with one swipe of a thorn-claw, letting the chunk of wood fall to the road-bed in front of Grant as a fresh hand immediately grew on her wrist in its place. "There. Now ya can't Dial up a getaway, sumbitch. Answer th' buzzy fella's question 'r you'll get burned t' death wi' th' rest'a th' flora an' fauna."

While this didn't get an obvious reaction out of Grant-- like he had been separated from his Dial by much worse than this, this was a minor setback-- it did give him pause.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, rolled back onto his back, gazed up at the sky where Beetle hovered. And he explained, in an eerie, detached way, like he was discussing the weather. "These Hellspores are enhanced with FatherBox technology. They're teknoactive-- shapechanging, predictive, enviro-sensitive-- if you try to take it out into space it'll just ignite the atmosphere on the way up, or it'll burrow into the zero-point web of the vacuum of space and inject the local hyperstring quanta with enough Qwardian anti-energy to create a second sun in low Earth orbit."

He sniffed, and rubbed at his nose, and squinted. "There is a way to shut them down, but it's certain doom for whomever tries it. Because they're FatherBox-compatible, they're digitally telepathic-- neuro-interactive. You can talk to them with your minds. Tell them to shut down. But in order to do that, you have to project your thoughts through a firewall composed of Apokoliptian base code-- which is itself composed of a much larger sample of The Anti-Life Equation than the mere snippet I carried inside me. It'll consume your neuropsychic net-- your soul-- subsume your identity, and replace it with subservience to The Master. All is One in Dark Side."

Kara closed her eyes, and remembered the message that Savitar!Grant had carved into The Bonneville Salt Flats. "'All is one,'" she breathed, and now she had the barest inkling of just how ominous that phrase was.

He paused, and considered. "There's the angstrom-slim possibility that you could deactivate one of those things and survive with your spirit some kind of intact. But certainly not seven. You would save your world and lose your soul. Can even heroes of your caliber countenance that kind of sacrifice? To live but without life? To Anti-Live? To be fingers in The Master's gloves, for him to wear and wiggle as he sees fit?"

"You would do well," J'onn rumbled, crimson-cinder eyes narrowing and blistering with power, "to not call into question our ability to sacrifice. I have seen worlds burn before-- Mars and Krypton-- lived countless lifetimes of Man-- and I would die a thousand undeaths and live a thousand anti-lives to save this world from the same fate!"

Chris Grant nodded quietly, detachedly, almost serenely, like he was having some kind of break with reality-- or he had convinced himself this was all some nightmare from which he was about to wake up-- or he had resigned himself to grisly scorching death, and was simply setting his mental house in order before the end. "Well, Martian... now's your chance."

Rome is Burning. (Sportsmaster)

Lunaramblings said:

Nightwing stood up from looking at one of the maps on the table. "You got this or do you want company?"

Click to expand...

Sportsmaster laughed, a short, sharp bray of a sound. "Let's be real, Pretty-Boy. Most all of the players here would just slow me down. But I'd be real surprised if any of you trusted me by myself in the dark without a fight."

Lunaramblings said:

Nightwing looked back at the map. Then spoke again, looking directly at Crock. "It's mostly out-buildings now. The main structure was damaged in a fire back awhile. Most of it collapsed. Batman helped but I was out of town. He never really talked about it."

"That would be at my Request Nightwing. But if you guys are going there you are going to need a rundown."

"Jimmy, they don't-"

"No. They do. We think we got all the traps, but if they are going in there to search the place I don't want any chances." The color drains from Jim Gordon's face as he stands. "23 years ago there was a serial killer. He went under the radar for a long time. Over a year. Because he was involved in the police. He was my son. He was only 18. He when we tracked him down he was using the main building of the sanitarium. He grew up around the station. He knew how the police worked and he set traps. Firebombs, bear traps, everything in between. Two of these were triggered by swat and started the fire. All hell broke loose. He was shot while trying to escape, and fell off the bridge over the river behind the sanitarium. We never found his body. Figured it washed into the swamp and was lost. We searched the grounds but there still may be more traps on the grounds." Gordon's eyes were misting over as he turned and stepped away from the table.

Batgirl had to fight the urge to cry and hug her father. He never talked about James. Barbara never knew him. She had only seen his picture once. It was a darkness that her father carried on his heart. One he couldn't let go.

Click to expand...

Throughout Jim Gordon Senior's revelations and illuminations of the past, Sportsmaster made a visible point of perusing and memorizing the map before him, ostensibly comparing it to his own memories of the region's topography. Of particular interest was that bridge and that river. If Sportsmaster had ever heard of these events, even if it was just from headlines during his own youth here in Gotham City, he betrayed about as much emotional reaction as a locker door.

But once Gordon turned away, overcome by decades' worth of feeling, Sportsmaster spoke up, half-glancing up at Gordon as he did so: "You know, Commish, there's plenty of dads who'd give their eye teeth to see their own kids display that kind of initiative. It's go-getters like your boy there that make a dynasty. You oughta be proud instead of cryin' into your Flutie Flakes."

He straightened a bit, then, and squinted. "All the same, there's that damn gnawing at your gut when you realize your kid ain't playing for the same team as you anymore, that they've burned your best playbook and walked straight out of bounds. Can't help but wonder where you went wrong."

...was that... sympathy? From the sociopathic mercenary? ...close as he'd ever get, blink and you'll miss it.

The moment passed, then, and Crock grunted, waved this away dismissively. "Slaughter Swamp. Hnh. Went to plenty of sports camps when I was a kid, had to sit around all these campfires listening to the same inane damn stories-- the legends say that once, long ago, witches from the lost colony of Roanoke made a pact with a devil in Slaughter Swamp. Some stories say it was The Spirit of The Goat, others say it was a demon bat-- others say it was some dark Faerie king without a throne-- but the point is-- nothing ever dies in Slaughter Swamp, not really, or anywhere in Gotham. It always comes crawling back in some twisted form or another. It always comes back."

He harrumphed. "Bullshit stories. Urban legends. Fairy tales. Stupid kids trying to psych each other out over s'mores and Gatorade. I never put any store in that superstitious shit, anymore than I believed it was a pair of lucky socks or taking a knee in the end zone that got me a win. I wouldn't spare it a second thought, old man."

As the portal closed, the Lightning arced wicked across the Hellscape of the Fire Pits of Apokolypse. Just as the kids landed in a heap, the Lightning zigged and zagged around the captors. Finally making contact with the children. Instantly the electricity coursed through Sara's limp figure, and as she lay crumpled on top of Billy the arc jumps to him as well. In an instant they are transformed again into the Mighty Marvels. However, the ordeal they have been through with the sudden shifts and part of their psyche and soul locked away in The Rock of Eternity, they are still exhausted and no where near peak.

Just as they get to their feet, they are met by the sadistic gaze of the pale skinned, brain-exposed master of mental manipulation. And he grins. "Psimon says: SURRENDER!" The rictus grin of a madman is the last sight the two see before they are again unconscious.

"Strange Magic," by Electric Light Orchestra. (Ceri)


This had been a long day in the morning, and now it was night.

Ceri Grant had promised her daughter she'd go looking for those lost and scattered Dials that Christopher had been trying to corrupt. And while she had the whole wide world to look in, under sea and under stone, she had decided to try closer to home. Here in the same state as Keystone-Central, just along the coast.

She drew the black minivan she'd rented up to the curb outside of the shopfront at #818 and peered inside. It was after midnight, but the lights were still on, the sign still flipped to "open." She'd dealt with more than a few antique dealers and shopkeepers in her day, and her contacts had told her-- if you need the really weird, and the really wonderful and, well, a fake that's so good it might as well be real, you talk to Cassandra Craft. And she never closes.

Ceri approached the door, pushed it open, and the little bell above her rang jing jing.

A black cat with decidedly bright yellow eyes jumped up onto a stack of books beside her, and miaowed a miaow that almost sounded... heiroglyphic.

"Oh, hey, you," Ceri smiled softly, and reached up easily to scritch the cat behind the ears. The cat took a moment to process this and decide if it was welcome, and then closed its eyes and leaned its head into her hand.

The beaded curtain to the back parted, and through this drifted with effortless grace a woman with platinum blonde hair, a slender, sylph-like figure, and eyes whited-over with blindness. She wore a belt of silver ovals, and around her neck there hung a silver round pendant on a brown leather cord-- a scrying pendant.

"Hello, who's there?" the blind woman wondered, and paused and... sniffed the air. "Snff. ...do I know you?"

Ceri smiled softly. "Not directly. I've been referred to yeh by friends, in particular Jack Staples of Patron Saint of Books. Ceri Grant, I'm with The Fairfax Museum in Keystone City. ...I like your cat, he has a nice face. My daughter has a cat but he's not nearly so friendly until he gets to know you."

"Cassandra Craft, pleased to meet you," she replied, smiling softly. "And his name is Prowley. I think he likes you, too, but if he shows up and pees all over your dreams, send him right home."

Ceri blinked, laughed a startled laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. And, ah, pleased to meet you, too."

Cassandra folded her hands in front of herself and chuckled. "Sorry, you'll-- have to forgive me for being a bit more off my kilter than usual, I'm worried about my cousin Frank-- what can I help you find today?"

Lowering her hand from Prowley, Ceri frowned in concentration, in focus. "I'm-- this may strike yeh as a bit daft-- I'm looking for dials."

Cassandra hesitated, but Ceri pressed: "It'd be phones, I think, old ones, new ones, landlines or mobiles, but they could be older, too, from any era in history-- at least, that's what I gather. Anything with a face and numbers, watches, compasses, sundials, clocks. Except it's not numbers, it's-- letters, letters that look like an alphabet, but a language no-one on Earth knows."

"That is daft," Cassandra promised, "but it's the sort of daft that's right up my alley." She turned to peruse her inventory, looking pensive, a little wrinkle forming on her angelic forehead as she concentrated. "I think last week someone dropped off an old golden alethiometer, part of a set with a knife and a spyglass-- was there something in particular you needed this for?"

Ceri took a breath. "Have yeh heard about-- on the news-- the attack on The Halo Corporation six weeks ago? I imagine that ordinarily it would get lost in the shuffle of other supervillain nonsense, but that arse Godfrey keeps bringing it up. Well, my daughter got all caught up in that-- and my husband was at the heart of it, bragging about a way to turn these magical 'Dials' evil all at once for some army. My daughter lost the love of her life that night, and in the very same heartbeat the dad she'd mourned as a good man her entire life turned out to be an actual supervillain. She was such a bright soul before-- there was such music in her heart-- but now--"

Cassandra stopped digging through a box of doodads and whatsits, and turned to gaze quietly, somberly, soberly at Ceri.

Ceri's shoulders rose and fell. "I just thought-- I just thought-- if I could save one or more of those Dials-- if I could show her that this man's dark quest might be in vain-- I might give her back the hope she's lost. What kind of mother am I, eh, if I can't do that?"

Gazing quietly at Ceri Grant, seeing her in those eerie mystical glowing blue outlines, the magickal "radar" that passed for her sight, Cassandra shook her head slightly, and tucked a lock of her pallid blonde hair back behind an ear.

"It's you, then. He said you might be coming."

Ceri blinked. "'He?' Who's 'he,' then, when 'he's' at home?"

"The Engineer," Cassandra answered, without really answering. She gestured to the beaded curtain. "He'll want to talk to you. He's in the back, in the workshop."

Ceri stared at her for a moment, and then moved forward through the little shop to that beaded curtain, parting it with the backs of both hands as she moved into the stockroom--

--there was a broken mirror here, and here an old magician's cabinet bound shut with POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape, and tables with mortars and pestles and Bunsens and beakers, and boxes of little silver rings, and a vast assortment of oddments all colors of the rainbow.

And in this room, amongst this bizarre bazaar, was a man--

"Hulloh?" Ceri greeted him, hesitant and bewildered.

Sitting at the back bench was a tall slender man. He wore neatly tailored clothing. Dress pants, a waistcoat of a vivid, yet older subdued green, and a white shirt. His hair not nearly as platinum as his partner, but rather a gold like hay on the death of the day. Like his suit it was neat. Perfectly so. As Ceri Grant spoke to him he gently set down whatever item he was working on at the bench and stood solemnly and turned to face her.

His features were strong. Yet... gentle. He carried in his posture a quiet power and dignity. Yet also a strong aura of ease and caring. As he turned and moved toward Ceri his movements were full of purpose, yet in no way threatening.

"Good evening. Welcome to my humble shop. Your early. Or I am late. Either way, all in due time. Come, sit? I think we have a conversation that must be had." While his words seemed to be nearly non-sense, they had strength. His deeply green eyes were almost penetrating. As if he looked not at you, or even quite through you, but rather most deeply into you.

As he spoke he gestured to the left and a short hallway that had been mostly obscured by the stacks of boxes and other items. Beyond which there was a small sitting room with two chairs and it appeared tea was set. He nodded gently and waved a hand indicating his clear desire that Ceri preceed him. Again, something in his demeanor was almost alluring. While in normal situations this would be strange at least and a man o such obvious physical power asking a beautiful woman to come deep into the back of a storeroom after midnight would set off alarms of all sorts, instead, he had an aura of trust, and acceptance, and welcoming.

"I believe tea is set, please, after you."

"Boy Blue," by Electric Light Orchestra. (Ceri)

Lunaramblings said:

"I believe tea is set, please, after you."

Click to expand...

Ceri Llewellyn Grant was not Sherlock Holmes. But one could not be an archaeologist without having an eye for details. She was not, as a rule, swayed by "auras," or by feelings-- she believed in such things, most assuredly, in faith hope and love (and the greatest of these is hope, though of course there were differing opinions on that score), she just made sure when she was making life decisions she was operating based off of facts.

Ceri Llewellyn Grant was not Lara Croft. But one could not go to such places as Mexico and Zandia and Peru and not be at least somewhat prepared to defend oneself.

Thus, she observed that this "Engineer," while taller than most men had any right to be, and possessed of undeniable physical power, and a complete stranger in a familiar space-- she observed that he moved with grace and kindness and tidiness and mindfulness.

And while she did not immediately trust him entirely, she observed that he was at least trustworthy enough to hear out-- and any woman who knew how to defend herself knew how to do so against the bigger and the stronger.

And therefore she followed his gesture, she sat at the table, though she wouldn't sip from the tea until and unless he poured into both cups and then sipped from his first.

"Yeh were expecting me. I heard rumors that Cassandra had more foresight and insight than most people with the use of their eyes, but this is a little ridiculous. Who are yeh?"

Long moments of silence had passed, since Chris Grants statements. At last, Blue Beetle spoke to his comrades.

"Listen, guys. I know that none of us wants to be the first to say it, and I also know we're all thinking that we will be the ones to make the sacrifice. So before anyone does anything stupid, might I propose an idea that gives us an edge?"

While not telepathic, the Reach Infiltrator had the option of tuning into the energy signature of strong psychic minds within it's vicinity. Jaime had Khaji recall the portion of New Genesis Life Equation that he now contained, and send it in a short burst as pure math, to J'onn Jonzz.

"J'onn, can you understand that? Can you share it with Kara? That way, we can all three spread out and start diffusing these things at the same time, as fast as we can."

"Astronomy Domine," by Pink Floyd. (Supergirl/J'onn/Chris/Rose)

Nevyn_Black said:

Long moments of silence had passed, since Chris Grants statements. At last, Blue Beetle spoke to his comrades.

"Listen, guys. I know that none of us wants to be the first to say it, and I also know we're all thinking that we will be the ones to make the sacrifice. So before anyone does anything stupid, might I propose an idea that gives us an edge?"

Click to expand...

"Still listening, Blue," Kara murmured. "I'm scanning seven of these things, like he said-- one at The University of Pittsburgh, and-- a hospital: UPMC Presbyterian-- there's the one in front of you, Blue, and the one by J'onn and Redwood that that psycho dropped off before bailing scot-free-- there's one at McKees Rocks Bridge, Pittsburgh International Airport-- and the last one's at the sewer treatment planet, the Allegheny County Sanitary Authority, in one of the interceptor pipes, I can barely see it-- if you can find us a way to take these ticking worldbreakers off the table, start talking."

Nevyn_Black said:

While not telepathic, the Reach Infiltrator had the option of tuning into the energy signature of strong psychic minds within it's vicinity. Jaime had Khaji recall the portion of New Genesis Life Equation that he now contained, and send it in a short burst as pure math, to J'onn Jonzz.

"J'onn, can you understand that? Can you share it with Kara? That way, we can all three spread out and start diffusing these things at the same time, as fast as we can."

Click to expand...

J'onn closed his eyes and listened carefully to the burst of code transmitted to him by Khaji Da's digital telepathy, and ran the numbers over in his mind. Indeed, while his speed was approximately equal to Supergirl's, his brain was more adaptive-- he could rearrange his cortices at will to approach problems from new angles. Indeed, given that his consciousness uniformly inhabited every molecule in his body-- enabling his auto-telekinetic shapeshifting, density-shifting, and invisibility --every living cell could act as a brain cell, billions and billions of processors working in parallel. The only living brain on this planet that could out-supercompute J'onn's was The Flash himself.

And thus he parsed the code, shuffled it, calculated it, and in the picoseconds between the ticks of a clock, he gazed at it in wonder. It was not unlike a prayer, a psalm, amen and selah. "Such purity. Such benevolence. Such possibility. Such complexity in its simplicity, and vice versa. I have only encountered its like once before, decades ago, in The Last Days of Krypton..."

He shook his head. "It is only a pity we do not have more of this. A single string of code, and we are to thread it through what sound like obsidian cliffs a mile thick."

"Where there's a will there's a way, J'onn," Kara insisted. "Hook me up."

J'onn almost smiled, at that. "Did you know The Manhunters of Mars once used that as their motto? Long ago. It is funny how concepts echo through time. ...prepare your frontal cortex." Then he touched his hand to his brow and gestured to where Kara hovered halfway up the sky... and shared the Source Code with her, embedded it in her subconscious the way he had done to himself.

Kara gasped softly, and clutched at her heart, half-curling on herself as she levitated high above Pittsburgh. Even such a tiny dash of The Light of Life, and she felt like she had just gotten baptized. "...okay, whoa."

Chris Grant laughed to himself on the ground, rolling his eyes. "Turning Pittsburgh into a pit. 'The Pitt.' So cliche. It's been done how many times, now?"

"Fifteen minutes of fame are over, Dad," Redwood growled. "Nobody's listenin' to ya anymore. All th' same-- don't be goin' nowhere."

And with that, she unfurled vines, grew them and shapeshifted them out of her body, thick, briar-laded vines which trussed up Grant from his shoulders to his ankles.

He lay there, tangled in that briar patch, and he kept laughing, softly.

Redwood bounded to J'onn's side.

"I want in. Whatever Hell's 'bout ta uncork in this burg, I want in on stopperin' it. There's seven o' these things, right? That means you Society mucky-mucks gotta take down two each, an' then one'a ya's gotta take down a third? Unless I take one. I'll get th' one at th' treatment plant, I'm good wi' navigatin' dank tunnels. Hit me up wi' th' brain-dive mojo."

J'onn gazed long and hard at Redwood.

And then his eyes widened in surprise.

"You already have it. Here and there, fragmented within your soul, a microdose of vaccination against this monstrous Anti-Life. How curious. I can add nothing to it-- but I can defragment it for you-- here."

He reached out and touched a paired index and middle finger to the center of Redwood's forehead-- her Third Eye chakra-- and for an instant Redwood felt the hyperstring quanta of the universe rush through her arboreal central nervous system--

--she staggered back a half-step. "Damn, son."

"Indeed," J'onn throomed.

Kara nodded, high in the sky. "Everyone go!"

And she blurred downwards, diving for the one at UPMC Presbyterian, the biggest hospital in Pittsburgh...

J'onn reached out and took firm, unshaking hold of the one before him.

And, utterly unaware that somewhere in Gotham, John "Venom" Denvers would be pulling almost exactly the same maneuver, Redwood sprinted to a storm-drain and slithered down into it in the form of vines, entering the 90 miles of interceptor pipes networked beneath Pittsburgh by ALCOSAN.

And Chris Grant lay there, gazing up at the sky, laughing softly, like he'd just been tickled by an old joke he'd heard a thousand times before.