Justice League: The New Wave (IC)

Rose's eyes widened.

Those all-red eyes.

And-- for all that she was perplexed about her orientation-- her identity--

--the sheer tenderness intent inherent in that thought sent shivers right down her pale endoskeletal spine.

Not like Lance Harrower's thoughts, all sticky and sweaty and stained, perverse and pervasive.

Gentle and sweet and passionate and longing but... respectful.

Rose hesitated.

And reached out and touched the back of Kara's hand. Offering to take that hand. For what that was worth.

<I can hear you,> she murmured, hesitantly, her mind to Karan's mind, and offered her a warm, hesitant, but-- game-to-try smile.

<You don't... need to whisper.>

Ruby watched the two of them with veiled interest, arched an eyebrow, but offered no comment aloud.



"I can carry people too," Rose noted, speaking up, encouraged by Karan's suggestion. "With my hands and my... and my mind."

Ruby nodded slowly. "That's apples in the short term, aces, thanks for that. But like Aquaman said, our lives are fraught with peril an' a bluddy large number of pitfalls. If you two can't be there, we need a ride."

Nightwing thought about it for a moment. "It'll take me awhile, but I should be able to get us something." he said. Batman had supplied the original League with a small fleet of Javelin class vessels, and he knew there where to find the last remaining ones that were in storage. It was just a matter of him acquiring one or all of them.
 
The Brave and The Bold.

Nightwing thought about it for a moment. "It'll take me awhile, but I should be able to get us something." he said. Batman had supplied the original League with a small fleet of Javelin class vessels, and he knew there where to find the last remaining ones that were in storage. It was just a matter of him acquiring one or all of them.

"Awesome!" Silver Bullet exulted, punching the sky.

"Gotta love a sweet ride, I used to have this great black car-- of course these days I run everywhere--"

He paused, and squinted, tilted his head, looked at the disguised Nightwing. "But, um, seriously. Who were you again?"
 
"Awesome!" Silver Bullet exulted, punching the sky.

"Gotta love a sweet ride, I used to have this great black car-- of course these days I run everywhere--"

He paused, and squinted, tilted his head, looked at the disguised Nightwing. "But, um, seriously. Who were you again?"

"I was the one that told you to get the people to safety." was Nightwing's response. He wondered if Dick had as many problems when he first took on the guise of Nightwing after so many years being Robin.
 
The Quick and The Deadly.

"I was the one that told you to get the people to safety." was Nightwing's response. He wondered if Dick had as many problems when he first took on the guise of Nightwing after so many years being Robin.

Hiro's eyes widened in the holes of his domino mask. "...oh!"

"Those were really good instructions! I sort of got a little electrocuted by a homeless-smelling man in a coat helping wake up Aquaman but other than that--"

He pointed at Nightwing's "Matches Malone"-type persona. "He had an even sweeter black ride than my old one was, and he had really good field tactics! We should make him the back up leader!"
 
Kiz and Mary hang out

New York, present day, evening...in a diner.

Kiz slurped on his second malt strawberry milk shake. He'd abstained from all other items on the menu. Mary picked at a plate of french fries; it was something to do as she was trying to process the situation. She hefted one of the fries to her mouth, took a small bite of the tip, and then set it back down amongst its kindred. She pushed the lump of fried potato around in her mouth.

"French fries." Kiz shook his head, gesturing for another shake.

"Hey sugar, another one?" The waitress was old, stooped, but alert. Her eyes and smile were quick.

"Yes ma'am, if it's not too much trouble." Kiz's lips pulled back into a ghost of a smile. He continued to take in all the sights of the diner. His attention fixated on the oddest things. He'd spent five minutes prodding the napkin dispenser and shaking his head. When the waitress had limped off, he shifted his attention to Mary.

Mary had turned her head to look out the large front window they sat by. Some blue flashing lights were coming from the very end of the block. It was hard to see the Powerball building from the angle and distance, but Mary bit her lip. Could they be coming for them? "So you'd said 26,978 years relative?"

Kiz took a deep breath, slurping up the last remnants at the bottom of his glass. "Yes. My question is that really made from a dog?"

"What?" Mary shook her head from the window and looked at Kiz's chiseled face, following his eyes to what a man was eating three tables over. "No, wait that wasn't my question."

Kiz shrugged. "Your turn anyway. I would be more judicious in your choice of words."

For the past ten minutes he'd been asking stupid questions like that. How does this napping dispenser work? What is a napkin made of? What is ketchup? Nothing that made sense. He'd answered all of her questions with as few words as possible. It would be frustrating, except for how numb she felt. She couldn't form proper questions to ask him. She should be asking more substantive things like who the fuck are you? Where did you come from? Why did you fuck with my life? Instead she'd asked equally stupid questions like where'd the women go? To which he answered, 'Nowhere.'

"Okay, so what's a Herald?"

Kiz looked up as the waitress came over with his third shake. "Thank you ma'am." He inclined his head and took the strawberry malt.

The waitress's smile was huge and all encompassing. "Ain't no thang, sugar."

"None the less," Kiz said, reaching into his fur coat and removed a single gold coin. It was as large as a silver dollar but twice as thick. "Would this cover our debt?"

The waitress frowned, coming forward and taking the coin. "Ya if it's real, but this ain't real gold. Can't be..." Her voice trailed off as she shot a glance at the counter. The short order cook was leaning out over the small counter that divided the kitchen from the serving area.

Mary perked up, turning from the blue lights flickering down the street. They were growing in strength. Maybe it'd doubled? "What's that?" She gestured for the coin.

The waitress stumbled backward. "He gave it to me." Her voice came in a hiss, and her eyes slit. She put the thick gold coin in between her breasts. "It's mine, it is!"

Kiz made a curt gesture. "Don't debase yourselves." He sighed and frowned. "You may leave us. We will depart soon."

The waitress turned and bolted back towards the side exit. The short order cook started swearing, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. Pots clinked and clattered.

"It is unnatural to pierce the Veil between dimensions." His voice was calm like he was describing how to repair a car. "The Earth resists such intrusions with great vigor. All who do arrive with signs and omens that announce our arrival." He paused and took a huge gulp of the shake. "One person personifies those and serves as a focal point. The common term for this role is the Herald. You were chosen because of your ability to broadcast to a large audience the key sign of my arrival." He shrugged, peering into the depths of his shake. It was close to the bottom. "I choose my absolute age. At the time it seemed like a convenient way to track such things. I have seen better choices, but it can not be changed."

He finished his shake and set it aside. "I have enjoyed our brief conversation, but it has come to an end. I would render my boon and part ways. Perhaps we will meet again, but such things are never certain."

"Wait what?" Mary leaned forward. She felt her stomach churn. Somehow she'd come to assume that she'd be tagging along with him. Maybe serve him somehow? He was obviously some sort of super hero. She'd be set attached to someone like that.

"Although not all chose to pay, I always service my debts. Your boon is payment for the inconvenience of being my Herald. It is not always a pleasant or advantageous position." He paused looking up into her face. "In truth, it often ends bad. Refusing the boon might be the safest option. No doubt many will be looking to gain leverage over me, having any tie will be a liability. As such, it is my stance to forgo any formal ties or obligations until I am settled."

She wet her lips and wiggled a little in her seat. She picked at her hair trying to straighten it a little. She should have gone to the bathroom to fix herself up right away, but no she still had the makeup from the number draw. She was looking good, she knew that. Then she remembered the woman-goddess that was so beautiful that all thought had been robbed from her. She felt that envy and guilt stab at her heart just thinking about the woman-goddess.

"I thought..." She trailed off, god she never needed to beg a man to take her with him. What the hell was happening to her? But what sort of career did she have now? She could maybe do a round of interviews or books if he became notable, but how long would that take? "I mean can't I go with you?"

Kiz shook his head. "As a rule, I don't take other mortals with me unless required to as they die too quick for my taste." His eyes never left her face. It was an intensity that Mary wasn't used to. "It is within my power and would meet the boundaries of a boon." His eyes moved around her face, but they didn't drop down to her chest like most men's eyes did. "Or I could give you a bag of gold. A magical item? A spell book? Several options exist to set you on your own path. A path that would give you better odds of a long life than tagging along as my servant."

"Servant?" Mary jerked. Well, what else could she offer him? If he could do the things he had said or hinted at, what could she be to him but a burden. No, he was right, take something that could maybe give her an edge in the world. She didn't want to be some man's little plaything. Money then? If that was some rare gold coin, a bag of them might be worth millions. Or they could be worth zilch too. "No, your right. I don't know what a spell book is...like wizard's and stuff?" She frowned, her exposure to the world of fantasy and science fiction started and ended with summer block buster movies...and the occasional news cast.

"Yes, I still have one or two apprentice Arcanum. They are tomes that can guide the reader towards one of the paths of the arcane. Not all are willing to make the appropriate commitments. There are trials to overcome." He held up his hand. "First is knowledge, which is the Arcanum. The second is humility, which comes in many forms none of them pleasant. The third is journey, where the novice seeks and finds something of great importance to themselves. The fourth is fear, where the novice dwells within their own nightmares and learns if their mind is strong or not. The fifth and final trial is sacrifice, in which the novice determines their power by the magnitude of their sacrifice."

"Huh, I think that blew my mind."

Kiz shrugged. "It's not for everyone, and many opt for shortcuts that result in much diminished capacity in return for easy access to a portion of the occult. I have several items already enchanted. You might find their powers amusing."

"Oh?" Mary bit her lip. She already felt either over her head or insane. Maybe both. Could this really be happening? She was a party girl, an actress, and sometimes someone's eye candy. Not Merlin or some super hero.

"Yes, a ring that lets you weigh as much as a feather. A sword that's quite sharp. Boots that allow you to run and leap treble." He paused, "Triple your normal ability." He peering up at the ceiling as if thinking something through, "And an amulet that makes your skin as hard as a tree." He frowned, "Maybe a few more, I'd have to dig through all my junk." He stopped again, "That's the proper word, right?"

"What? That sounds like priceless treasure. Stuff that could make someone into Batman."

He pounded the table. "I'll go get those items then."

"Wait," she said, "What if I don't want them?"

"Would you like the gold or the book?"

"Umm," She looked away, she didn't think she could handle the book. "The gold."
Kiz smiled for a moment. "They usually select the gold in the end." He rose and started walking back towards the bathroom.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To go get your items."

Mary frowned, looked outside at all the flickering lights, and then back towards Kiz. "In the bathroom?"

He laughed for real, a deep hearty thing. "No, don't be daft. I keep such things in my Sanctum." He turned and entered the men's restroom.
 
Virgil's Trials & Another Failure...

Virgil Hawkins stood in his laboratory in the small building that served as the Dakota City branch of S.T.A.R. Labs. Though he did not always agree with methods of the massive scientific research group he had to admit that they were generous with his funding. He had received a fully stocked and funded lab just over a year and a half before and he had managed to do wonders with those resources. Virgil leaned over and peered into a nearby microscope and scribbled down a series of notes on his notebook. He stood up and walked over to the cooler across the room and withdrew a series of vials and placed them into an agitator to mix the solutions thoroughly. He sighed and approached the duffel bag sitting in the large chair behind his paper covered desk. He withdrew the outfit that everyone in Dakota came to see as a symbol of hope, the blue, black and yellow outfit with its lightning bolt insignia has become a common sight streaking through the city’s sky.

“A lot’s changed in five years,” Virgil murmured to himself absentmindedly and placed the outfit aside.


---===5 Years Prior, Dakota City===---​

Paris Island was just a small swath of land on the south end of Dakota, the problem with it is it was at the heart of contested territory between several gangs. Virgil never meant to be on the island when it all happened but he was and when the gang shootout began and the subsequent police intervention happened, his fate was sealed. Virgil, dozens of gang members and police were exposed to a poisonous radioactive element known as quantum juice held within the tear gas deployed by the police. The gas caused most of the people at the incident to die but those who did not were mutated and given meta-human abilities. This event became known as the “Big Bang” and the mutated survivors became known as “Bang Babies.” Following the Big Bang, violence and destruction rained over Dakota as a result, that was the reason Virgil picked up the mantle of Static. His mutation allowed him the ability to create, manipulate, and absorb electromagnetic energy with which he’d spent the last five years using to take down his fellow “Bang Babies.” Though not everyone liked their mutations a great many of them justy wanted to go back to the way they were before and that was the primary driving force behind Virgil's search for the cure. Curing those afflicted would not only save Dakota from the havoc the Bang Babies were causing but free many of those less fortunate ones from their own personal hells...

---===|===---​


Virgil shook his head and returned to the present and withdrew a small disc from the bag and placed it on the table. The disc buzzed to life and floated a few inches off the table with a simple wave of his hand and a small hologram of a lightning bolt floated above the disc. A gargled ringing came from the disc following several more movements of Virgil’s hand and moments later a man’s face framed in a metal helmet floated above the disc.

“Ahh, Virgil. I was meaning to call you, i made this great little contrap-”

“Dr. Metcalf, as much as i do love seeing all your little contraptions time is of the essence, I have created another trial, so far it has worked. I simply must try it on a Bang Baby now.”

Though interrupted Dr. Metcalf seemed understanding as both Virgil and the doctor had poured the last year of their life into this attempt at a cure. The doctor more commonly known to the public as Hardware, the high tech armored hero, and it was because of him that Virgil had the ability to work on the cure.

"I can come by, look over the formula, run some simulations." The holographic face showed obvious concern.

"No, No. I know it will work. It has to." Virgil seemed distraught as he gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Virgil, It would be best to get a second opinion. Let me come by."

With that the agitator dinged, signalling the process complete. "No need Dr. Metcalf."

Virgil walked over to the agitator and opened it up before glancing over the vials and picked one out and placed a syringe into the mixture. Virgil withdrew a dose of the solution and approached the far wall of the laboratory, the wall was dominated by a large vault like door that creaked open with another motion of Virgil's hand. Behind the door stood a medical table and strapped to it was Adam Evans a.k.a. Rubberhand-Man. A volunteer for this endeavor, his ability to stretch his body to any length was the least dangerous ability to test the cure on. Virgil had learned from his mistakes.

“Hello Adam.” Virgil greeted him and stepped inside closing the door behind him.

Adam looked up and gave a weak smile as he eyed the syringe, “Static, we...umm...we ready?”

Virgil nodded, “Are you ready?” Adam answered with a nod and laid his head back to which Virgil pressed the needle into his arm and with a silent prayer pushed the plunger down.

Then the screams. The horrible screams.

“Another failure…”

Several long moments later Virgil emerged from the test chamber, just behind him through the vault door, Adam Evans body appeared to be a puddle on the ground, his body nearly completely motionless. It was clear the cure had only made things worse.

Virgil closed the test chamber and slammed his fist against the closed door…

“....Again…”

“....Another failure…”

“...Why won’t it work…”

“...Why…”

“...Why...”

“...Why...”
 
Hiro's eyes widened in the holes of his domino mask. "...oh!"

"Those were really good instructions! I sort of got a little electrocuted by a homeless-smelling man in a coat helping wake up Aquaman but other than that--"

He pointed at Nightwing's "Matches Malone"-type persona. "He had an even sweeter black ride than my old one was, and he had really good field tactics! We should make him the back up leader!"

"I see the logic in having an offical leader, especially since the League will require a voice. I also see the logic in a back up. How about a counter proposal... Instead of having just one or even two as leaders for this unit we have a triumvirate? Three people that would make the important choices. One person turn into a dicatorship, even though I'm sure that Aquaman would never do that. Two people could disagree on what to do which would lead to deadlock and inaction. However with three we would insure this would never happen." Nightwing suggested, and for the first time during the meeting it was something that actually sounded like a suggestion.
 
Kiz - New York, Present Day, Night to Morning

Kiz emerged from the restroom an hour later clutching a large hammer, a dark wooden amulet, a silver ring, and a pair of boots in one arm. With his other hand, he had a large sack tossed over his shoulder.

"My apologizes," he said, walking through the dark hallway that lead back to the seating area. "Those rooms are in disarray. I do not often frequent them, except to drop off some knickknack or other."

He stopped, looking around the empty diner. "Where did everyone go?" He crossed his arms, sighing. "Tanha to me."

In his mind, he heard a reply. >>I can not honor your request. The stewards of law have detained me, unless you would give me leave to hurt several of them?<<

Kiz frowned, looking out through the large bay window. There were several of the strange carriages outside of the diner similar to the ones he'd noticed down the street. He teleported outside and appeared on the curb. A man in a blue uniform bearing a belt outfitted for war was placing some sort of manacle around the wrists of Miss Beatrice, the lady who had been serving him the strawberry malts in the diner. The cook was already inside of another carriage, which was gaining speed as it drove down the road towards the building Kiz had arrived in.

The town of New Amsterdam had changed a great deal since the Dutch controlled it. He'd visited it when it was a small trading post. Back then, it had been the great nations of the native peoples of the Americas who he had come to help. Not many of the realms changed so fast. It had been several centuries, so he'd expected some differences. The Kingdom of Britannia had given him some indication of the pace of change when he'd come a few centuries later at the invitation of Queen Victoria, the Empress of India. Few cities in all the worlds were so crammed with humanity as this one at this point in time. He'd sought out a Time Lord in Zerox, but they could only do so much to prepare him for the culture shock.
He teleported back into the restaurant and ducked into his Sanctum, dropping all the junk at the entryway next to the fountain. At least it would be easier to retrieve when he found the Herald Mary. Then with two more hops through the Void, he was outside on the curb. The sky growled at him over head. He looked up and saw the darkness receding. The moon was even daring to peak out from her cloak. He could never figure out why the Pale Goddess detested his presence so, but she hid every time like he was some monstrous plague sent to ruin her lover. Kiz scowled up at her and projected back his own disposition on the matter.

"Excuse me, son," a deep voice asked.

Kiz looked down from the moon to a man in a blue uniform. An office of the law who carried a musket of some sort and a profusion of other gear around his waist. The man reminded him of the stories of cowboys riding the western deserts of the Americas. There hadn't been anything so romantic in the 1600s, and the 1800s in Brittany had lacked such men.

"Yes," Kiz said. He folded his arms. He didn't always get along with the law of men. It was at times convoluted and designed to mask the nightmares he hunted. Still, violence was ever his last resort. His prisoners took too much joy in slaughter for him to ever enjoy putting fist to face or sword to stomach.

"Son, we're looking for a man that matches your description." Kiz looked around at several other officers of the law who had approached as well. They formed a semi-circle around him. "Would you mind coming downtown with us to answer a few questions?"

Kiz considered the question. "I would be happy to answer one of your questions, if you would answer one of mine."

"Son that's not how this works. Now will you come peacefully?"

"I'm not in the habit of allowing myself to be taken anywhere without sufficient information as to what to expect and appropriate assurances. I will decline your offer. Thank you."

A few of the officers shambled closer, there hands were on the holsters of their muskets. Others were reaching for canisters on their belts. Kiz fixed his eye on the shadow of a tree halfway down the block, then pushed himself through the Void until he was next to that tree. He rested his hand on the trunk of the tree, considering his options. He hadn't asked many questions of the Time Lord about modern law in the Americas, as he'd assumed it wasn't much different than what he'd encountered in Britannia in the 1800s. The Americas were after all a descendent of that empire.

In front of the building with the giant red ball, a few men in plain clothes were talking. He was loathe to dismiss Tanha and recall her to him, it wasted energy and just pissed her off. For now, he let her remain where she was. He got a feeling from her that she was enjoying herself, whatever mischief she was up to. He could feel her general location several leagues as well, no they used miles here. Several miles away to the southeast.

>> What did you do?<<

>> Why do you always assume it's my fault? It's not fair. I'm a good slave. <<

>> You aren't a slave, Tanha, you are a prisoner. <<

>> But I could be your slave again, master. Oh, you could do whatever you wanted to me. Do you remember what you used to do to me? <<

Kiz rolled his eyes, looking at the plain clothed men. He noticed they had concealed muskets underneath their arm pits, and he'd caught sight of metal badges. He was beginning to feel that the word musket was wrong, but they weren't the death rattles used by the High Folk of Evermore nor anything of the esoteric implements of ranged combat he'd seen in the Dreaming.

Acclamation to a new environment was so distracting the first few weeks. It was when he was the most vulnerable. For example, would the officers treat him fairly? Was he really obligated to attend to their requests or was it more malleable?

He walked around the back of the building where he found a window. Peering inside gave him sufficient familiarity that he was able to teleport into that room. It was a place filled with rolling chairs and paper. There were large glass windows that emitted light and made letters and pictures. There were technomancers and other fringe sorcerers in Zerox, so those sorts of implements weren't foreign but neither were they familiar. It was becoming evident to Kiz that this world had embraced technology like Gemworld had magic. It's proliferation was astounding considering how little time had passed.

Kiz wandered the hallways of the building, but the place was abandoned. He found the room where he'd arrived but the entire place had been dismantled. There was an outline of a man on the floor, which was an odd decoration to leave behind by these officers. He retraced his steps and continued walking behind the building into an alley. Now that he knew what to look for, dodging the officer's carriages was easy. The night aided him in this task.

He left that area and went deeper into the city. He moved through the people observing their ways and their words. Even snippets of behavior and speech was useful in grounding himself in the ways of this world and its current culture.

He used the tug of Tanha's location as a general guide but took his time. He remembered what Sun Tsu had said to him about warfare on this world. 夫未战而庙算胜者,得算多也;未战而庙算不胜者,得算少也. It was applicable to most places he'd been. So Kiz took his time making appropriate calculations in the temple of his mind.

With a little prodding he found the closest library to where Tanha was being kept. It was a large, majestic building that he'd been asked to visit by the Time Lords anyway. At least he was prepared for what to expect within. He found a doorway a few blocks away in a deserted, trash strewn alley. There about three-fourths of the way down the alley was a door that was rusted shut. Kiz laid his hand upon the door frame, feeling it's connection to the room beyond. This would do.

He closed his eyes and focused on the potential within the door. It served as a conduit between one room inside and the outside. He grasped the doorway to his Sanctum and swapped the purpose of the door. Stepping back, Kiz could see the doorway had changed. The frame was inlaid with living vines and the door looked majestic and stylized. It was now carved from dark wood and inlaid with black sigils. In the center of it was the picture of a hand holding up a black circle surrounding a green tree that was his sign in the taro decks, the Left Hand of the Void. This all took enough time and effort that Kiz wasn't flippant in re-attaching his Sanctum to the world. He walked inside, kicking aside the junk he'd piled for his Herald.

He splashed his face and armpits with the water from the fountain, but he wasn't that dirty. He took a few sips. The water always tasted great at first. There were a few small apple trees growing around the fountain, and he plucked a red apple from one of them. The first bite was sweet and crisp. The second just a little less so. He plopped down into a hammock hung between two of the apple trees. He peered overhead through the skylight. Outside was eternal twilight, a mixture of steel grey clouds and purple-orange ambient light. The Nadeau were black specs weaving through the sky like ants crawling across a grey blanket. He'd spent thousands of nights in the same hammock staring up at the same sky. The only joy he derived from this place was when he brought a person in here for the first time. Maybe he'd let Mary tag along after all, if only to luxuriate in her awe of the mundane.

He passed the hours swinging back and forth on the hammock leafing through one of the tomes he'd bartered a vorpal sword for. He hated those things, and the Grand Arcanum Bureaucracy loved to protect the artifacts of other worlds. They were generous with their appreciation for such donations to their panoply. Kiz had gotten a random assortment of 20th century Earth books, two days with a Time Lord, a bag of random coins, and an unclaimed lot of minor magical junk. The junk was more annoyance to a true sorcerer, but Kiz had found them useful enough to barter with non-sorcerers from time to time. As to the Arcanum, he was contractually obligated to retain at least one and no more than four Arcanum whenever he left Zerox. The propagation of suitable magi was the prime directive of the Grand Arcanum Bureaucracy.

So several hours passed with Kiz flipping through a 1980s crime novel, the Bob Vila Plumbing Encyclopedia volume 4, an Indian house wife's cook book, and a Time Magazine from March 1999. He liked the last one the most, but it only took him thirty minutes to breeze through it.

The door to his Sanctum had a large port hole that when opened allowed him to see what was happening in the real world. When morning came, he rolled out of his hammock and left his Sanctum. He walked out the alley.

The city was a bee hive of activity. The press of humanity was overwhelming. People flowed round him when he stopped moving, only to envelop him in their masses when he resumed. It was like swimming in the ocean with the tides pulling and twisting at him. He'd been too busy places before in different realms, but you forget when it's been a few decades.
 
Lowell County, Kansas
Central Kansas A&M University

The class timer rings, noting the end of the lecture.

"Now remember, pages 231-250 and a quiz on Friday. I expect all of you to be there." All being a grand total of 10 but that is to be expected for a class called Xenology Studies.

The professor, one Milton Fines, gathers his materials and heads out.

The statistical probability of those 10 attending is 99.1%.

"Yes Lysl I realize this but as their teacher I still must tell them." Getting into his car he starts to drive towards Smallville. "What happened to heading home to relax?"

Repairs to the G.R.I.D. must be done to ensure we are ready for any possible attack.

Milton sigh. "Ever the paranoid matrix, aren't you. Fine I suppose. At lest I can relax my mind while you work on the armor." Pushing a button on the gear shift the side of a cliff blinks out revealing a hidden entrance for the car to drive through. The hologram re-engages as he passes through, a few seconds later the car stops at a large space ship. Parts of it look as though they are phased through the very rock.

"Well, home sweet away from home."
 
Satellite gave up the ghost too soon. (Hotline)

"I see the logic in having an offical leader, especially since the League will require a voice. I also see the logic in a back up. How about a counter proposal... Instead of having just one or even two as leaders for this unit we have a triumvirate? Three people that would make the important choices. One person turn into a dicatorship, even though I'm sure that Aquaman would never do that. Two people could disagree on what to do which would lead to deadlock and inaction. However with three we would insure this would never happen." Nightwing suggested, and for the first time during the meeting it was something that actually sounded like a suggestion.

Ruby tutted, mulling that over.

"Fair point, mate."

"But in the field, begging your pardon, if we stop to debate anything, that's life or death, hey? Things can turnabout on a nanosecond. We need a singular commanding voice in battle. When Batman was Chairman, he could disperse The League into battle with just the word go, they knew their role. When Wonder Chairwoman pointed her sword at the ranks of the enemy, nobody stopped to put it to a vote, Greeks inventing democracy or not. But behind the scenes, the Trinity embodied the unity and power of the original League-- that makes sense, the governing body within The New League, but in the heat of the moment we need clear direction, unquestioned and competent. If that voice falters or is silenced, we need the next voice in line to step into the breach without blinking. Having a backup for that backup is just as smart. But if we get into an argument while we're under fire... well, then we're cactus."
 
Dream a little dream of me...

Rose hesitated.

And reached out and touched the back of Kara's hand. Offering to take that hand. For what that was worth.

<I can hear you,> she murmured, hesitantly, her mind to Karan's mind, and offered her a warm, hesitant, but-- game-to-try smile.

<You don't... need to whisper.>[/QUOTE]

Shifting her hand slightly under the warm/cool touch of Rose’s fingers she moved her hand more under those blessed fingers. Wanting more touching. More mind whispers. Did she need to touch to mind whisper? Did more touching allow more/better mind whisper?

In her minds eye she leapt across the separating distance and pulled Rose into a kiss and a dance. But she didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t have permission to kiss, or dance. Goddess she longed to run her fingers through Helia blessed hair and press her lips against that silky smooth alabaster neck, her breath a whisper against those gorgeously adorably cute ears.

So she whispered what she could whisper <Will you have tea with me?> Tea. A simple thing. Often shared between friends in Themyscira. At the sharing of a meal. Watching the Games. Sometimes, often times, shared during a first date. Not that having tea was a date. But it was done.. sometimes.

Blushing Karan tried to not think in that line. That would be the wrong line. No matter if she wanted to date Rose, to hold her close and kiss those soft lips. To run her fingers through that long long red hair, to feel it’s silky texture. She couldn’t, not unless Rose said yes.

That first spontaneous kiss had been like a waterfall of cool water in the middle of a sun exploding, and it was the sun with the way it had made her feel. Hot. Cold. Burning inside and wanting more of it. She had been a glacier of ice melting for that storm. Had it had the same effect on Rose? Did Rose want another kiss.. maybe?
 
New York City, present day, morning after. At the Library

Linda took a deep breath, pausing at the threshold to her boss's door. He was staring into his iPAD, and she knew not to interrupt him. If she showed any hint of amusement at what he was doing, he'd be impossible to work with the whole day. So she pretended like she was rifling through some mail until he was done with his daily geeking out over forgotten 80s movie heroes.

When he was done, he looked up at her and smiled. "Yes?"

"Eh hem." She cleared her throat, trying really hard not to stare at the fedora on his head. It always made her smirk. "Chicago, there's a man to see you. I think he's the fugitive from the Internet, but you said to send him back if he came? Shall I ring the police?"

It should be terrifying or at least odd to be in such a position as to inquire if a man responsible for ruining the Powerball last night, who was directly or indirectly responsible for mass rioting throughout the city as a result, a man who was probably a super villain, should be let in. However, it was neither terrifying nor odd after ten years of being Dr. James Patrick "Chicago" Lee's personal assistant.

There's weren't many six figure personal assistant jobs for a middle aged, single mother of three. She wasn't about to rock the boat. If her boss wanted her to call him Chicago instead of his God given name, so be it. If he wanted her to escort a probable super villain, then she'd ask if the villain wanted a cup of coffee, a coke, or a bottle of water.

Chicago was up on his feet, pumping one of his arms into the air. "Now we're cooking with gas. Okay Lin make sure the man is comfortable, offer him food or what not, and tell him I'm finishing up something, send him back in five minutes."

"Sure." Linda closed the door and sighed. She took a deep breath to compose herself and then wandered back down the hall to her desk.

"Chicago needs to wrap something up, but I'll send you back in a few minutes. Is there anything I could do to make you more comfortable? Maybe get you a soda or a water?"

The man's name was Kiz, she'd gotten that much out of him. He was long in replying. He looked around the room like a kid in a candy store or maybe that was someone's grandpa in a old person's home. Linda notched her smile up a few pegs and waited.

"I have read that most soda is equivalent to acid and can be used to clean coins, is that true?"

Linda kept smiling but raised both of her eyebrows and took a deep breath. "Not sure Mr. Kiz, I know many people sure like the taste of it."

"In the December 1999 Time's Magazine, there was an article that intimated soda was a leading cause of diabetes in your country. Is that still true?"

Linda tried really hard to keep her pleasant expression, but the guy looked like he was a homeless biker...and was wanted by the police. "Yes, you might be correct. Would you prefer water then?"

"No, the soda please."

"But." Linda took a deep breath and bobbed her head. "Of course." She scuttled out of the room not looking back and went to the staff lounge down the hallway and grabbed the can of coke she'd brought in today for lunch. She got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with ice. When she returned, the man named Kiz was playing with the light switch, flicking it up and down in a slow, steady rhythm.

"All of your buildings use Edison's invention then?"

"What?" She stopped, hefting and the lowering the cup and coke. "Do you still want this or shall I put it aside?"

"Yes, it would be indecent to not drink the soda after you have gone to such efforts."

"Very good then." She set the cup with ice and the unopened can of coke on the little side table that was in-between the two leather chairs kept for guests. She retook her desk and mashed the button to Chicago's office. "Are you ready for Mr. Kiz?"

"Yes, send him in."

"If you'd follow me?" Linda said, standing up and walking towards the short hallway that lead to Chicago's office.

"These are cubes made of frozen water, are they not?" Kiz lifted one of them up in two sausage sized fingers, peering at the translucent cube. He sniffed it and then put a tentative tongue on one side. He didn't lick the cube, he just rested his tongue on it for a good ten seconds. Then he retracted his tongue and set the cube back into the cub. "They are quite cold. This is considered mundane by you, is it not?"

"Wait, what's what?" Linda said, raising her eyebrows up into her hairline. She worked on putting her smile back on her face. "Yes that's ice, dear, we American's like most things either really hot or really cold. Ah, does that answer your questions?"

Kiz peered at the pop-top to the can of coke. "I get the impression there is a great deal of pent up air inside of this can." He paused shaking it a bit, "But yet there does not sound like there is much air inside of the can."

"Oh for god's sake," Linda said, crossing the room back and taking the can from the man. "Here let me." She tapped the top a few times to settle the carbonation, flicked open the can, and poured out the coke into the cup. She kept the cup in her hand and waddled back to the hallway, tossing the can in the trash on the way. She didn't stop, instead she set the cup on Chicago's desk. Looking up, she said, "Mr. Kiz's drink."

"So it is!" Chicago said, flashing a huge grin. "God damn, so it is." He slapped his hands together once and made a loud noise in the process. "And there he is!"

Linda closed the door behind the pair and fled back to her. She logged out of her computer and left at 6:00am to get a coke and a smoke.

--- --- ---

"It really is you," Chicago Lee said. "That was you in Ra's tomb, wasn't it? Well, a picture of you unleashing some terrible black cloud." He shook his head. Before Kiz could respond, Chicago dove into the top drawer of his desk, pushing around various artifacts and trinkets. "It's in here somewhere. I know it it is. Damn it, I bet Linda moved it." He took a deep breath as his face went from normal color to flaming red. "She's always prying. I'll have to have a word..." He trailed off as his expression brightened, "No, my bad, here it is." A vase had fallen to the floor, along with an idol, and several other bits of ancient treasure. He withdrew a taro deck and held it up to Kiz. He dumped the cards onto his desk and pushed them around. "Ah ha, there you are, right?"

Kiz nodded, taking a slow sip at his coke. "It bubbles in my mouth." He cracked a small grin. "It is more refreshing than the article lead me to believe."

"Well?"

"Ah, but that is quite fun." Kiz took another sip before setting the cup down. "Yes. May I see your Arcanum?"

"What?" Chicago jerked. "Oh of course, it is you after all."

"The Time Lords wished for me to evaluate your progress." Kiz bent over and picked up the card that had his sign, a left hand holding a black circle with a tree rising up from the center of the black circle. He flicked the card between his fore and middle fingers. Tossing it into the air, where is spun like gravity had relinquished its hold. "You are an Initiate of Moonstone, but your progress is middling. I have seen many such as you."

"Wait a second there. I have Destination, Scry, Foredooming, Clairaudience, Prophecy, and Obsfucation."

"How long must you know a place? How familiar must you be with a thing? How damning can you be? How inaudible can you hear? How vague is the future? How difficult can you be?" Kiz took another sip of his coke and half-smiled again.

"Well, pretty good I'd say on all fronts."

Kiz shrugged, gesturing towards the card which ceased its aimless tumbling in the air and fell to the desk. It landed face up. The card was blank. "I disagree."

"Hey, you can't do that." Chicago lunged across his desk and picked up the empty taro card. He turned it forwards and backwards. "Where'd it go? This isn't fair. What did I do to you?"

"Hubris. Restart your journey with humility. Then you'll find my sigil again."

"But I was humiliated! Horribly as a child, you have no idea."

"I do not." Kiz kicked his feet up on the desk and nestled the cup between both of his hands. The cup looked like a thimble. "Now that I have discharged that duty, I would barter for aid."

"You banish a portion of my Arcanum, and now you want my help?" Chicago took a deep breath, "Okay, sure, what do you need?"

Kiz nodded. "Very good. I do not understand the laws of your culture. My Herald has been detained by enforcers of your laws. These same individuals sought the same fate for myself. I would set this situation right for both my Herald and myself."

"I thought that was your signs. So cool." He clapped his hands together three times. "Well, from what I could gather this morning, you are under suspicion of influencing government tax collection, which is a Section 1600 violation. Not good. A felony or worse. Inciting public rioting, if found guilty, would be another felony plus damages incurred to the city. I think there's already several civil suits that have been filed against you for ruining the Powerball. Then there is using extranormal powers to harm American interests. That's really not good. The Department of Extranormal Operations are going to great involved. If they do, well they do what it takes to get the job done. Which means they do anything they need to put you down. There might be more, but I'm not a lawyer."

"Lawyer, yes, I would retain the services of one." Kiz took another slow, tender sip of his coke. "How do I acquire one of great prowess?"

"Well, designation cases can be big ticket items, so might be some firm would take you on just because of that, but I don't think you want to rely on some looking to make a name for themselves. I might know one or two really good ones, but they are expensive."

"I do not comprehend all that you have said, but I do understand that I am in need of access to your currency. I believe your library would be interested in these books and you are affiliated with museums that would acquire this artifact?"

Kiz slid two pristine looking books and a stone knife across the table. One book was dark brown with gold worked corners on the cover. An intricate series of leather work was done all along the cover. The other book had bizarre illustrations of a man's face contorting in pain.

"Shut the front door!" Chicago hovered over the books. He brushed the covers. "Geographia Cosmographia! Is it really by Claudius Ptolemy? It looks too perfect to be an original." He let his fingers brush the engravings on the cover and his body shivered. "It was the first book to ever use engravings. A shitty preserved copy went for..." His voice trailed off as he turned to the other book.

"And William Blake's 'The First Book of Urizen!' The artwork on the cover is unreal. I can feel the energy seething from this thing." Chicago looked up at Kiz. "Was he really a diviner?"

"His powers of prophecy have proved quite accurate from what I can tell. He was a troubled man. He sacrificed his own fame to secure his powers, but later in life that sacrifice did not sit well with him."

"And this?" Chicago hefted an exquisite votive sword fashioned in Lizardite. The symbols carved into the sword, included a dragon head and grotesque face mask of the Taotie."

"That is one of the sword relics that Xiou Shang left behind when he made entreaties with the Yamasee people's who were a Muskogean tribe." He paused considering, "In the southern part of the Americas near the waters of the south."

"Gulf of Mexico?"

"That might be the appropriate name in this era." Kiz nodded after considering for a moment. "Yes."

Chicago licked his lips, "Well, it'd be hard to get the authenticity verified and a proper auction setup, but..." His voice trailed off as he caressed the three items, "I have several patrons that may pay much quicker."

"What danger is my Herald in?"

Chicago frowned. "That girl they picked up or the other one? The alien?"

Kiz turned his head, attuning himself to Tanha. "The human girl."

"Depends if she cooperates or not...and if you are found guilty."

"Is the danger immediate?"

"I doubt it. Let me send out some feelers to a few lawyers. And contact my patrons. Would you mind leaving these items here? It's probably best if you aren't around when my patrons come, all things considered."

Kiz rose. "You can provide me with a library card?"

"Ah, yeah, sure. Then I shall check out some books and withdraw to my refuge. I do not think I will stay in my Sanctum this evening, so you can find me at the end of the alley in the middle of 43rd and 2nd street."

"Alright, alright!" Chicago pumped his arm in the air. "Can do. Let me just scribble down that address, least I forget." He jotted down on a random piece of paper. "Give me two days."

"I must warn you that if you cross me, I will find you and exact suitable recompense."

"I have no doubt. None. Zero. Zilch." He put his right hand over his heart, "My hand to God, any God, every God, I won't take your stuff and run. It's all legit, legal, good, okay?"

"I doubt very much what you do is so, but in this matter it will be so."

Chicago reeled back as if slapped. "Ouch cold. What did I do to you?"

Kiz set down the cup and rose. "Not many would deal with an accused super villain."

"Oh right. That." Chicago pulled out a side draw and took out a card. "Here is a spare library card. It's a staff card, they won't look too hard. The girls down there love me. Let's go with this until. You know what, how about I just have Linda pull whatever books you want and deliver them. We'll set you up with a proper card when all this blows over."

Kiz nodded and rose. "Have her bring 100 books then." He glanced out of the window behind Chicago for a second and then disappeared.

"Wait. Damn it." Chicago whirled around, then walked several circles around his office. "What books? I have so many questions to ask you. So little time." He retrieved the blank taro card and put it back into his taro deck. This time he put the deck his leather satchel next to his bull whip. "Okay Chicago. It's go time."
 
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Connor ran swiftly over the rooftops in the area he had come to know as the Bottom of the hill, chasing the fleeing car. He had interrupted three men trying to mug a young woman in an alleyway five blocks back and now two of them were lying unconscious in that same alleyway, while the third was fleeing in the car he was pursuing.

He could not fault the man's reasoning behind running. He had gone a little overboard on one of the would be thieves. Well actually he was pretty sure they had more in mind than just robbing the lady. They had pretty much confirmed that when the one he assumed was their leader had tossed the purse she had timidly handed over to his buddy and then grabbed her top and ripped it open to her waist, exposing her bra clad breasts to their lecherous gazes, all the while holding a knife to her throat.

Connor could not stand such acts. He had a hard enough time accepting the fact of his fathers playboyish ways, but for someone to disrespect women so inflamed his sense of Justice. Maybe it was because his own mother had been left to raise him on her own, or maybe it was still some lingering guilt about how he had repaid her for doing just that, but this sort of thing always made his blood boil.

The first the men knew that things might not go to plan for them this night was when the leaders hand suddenly sprouted an arrow in it, forcing it away from the young ladies throat and causing him to instantly drop his knife as several tendons in his hand were sliced apart.

Connor had already shot the purse out of the other would be thieves hand,pinning it to the wall behind him and put an arrow in his foot pinning him to the ground. His last arrow had only grazed the third mans leg, probably leaving him with a nasty cut, as the second man jostled him at the last second.

Connor could have easily taken all three out quickly and silently with his stun arrows, but the situation called for more. These creeps needed a lesson. Placing his bow on his back he made his way quickly down the building's fire escape and taking his small fighting sticks out he approached them.

He looked cool and calm and indeed he was. He had entered his fighting mode and he noticed everything around him. He approached the leader first who still crouched behind their victim, trying to use her as a shield. looking at her instead of him he smiled. "Don't worry miss this will all be over soon. Just stay calm and you will be able to go home soon."

"Fuck you you green hoody wearing bastard," screamed the obviously distraught blonde man behind her. He was a good 6'2" tall and muscular but was now almost blubbering in fear. How could it all have turned to shit so fast. One second they had her money and been about to go to town on her ass, and now he had a fucking arrow, a ARROW in his hand, and his boys looked like they were down.

"Nah fuck you. Come one step closer and I will ice this bitch," he grinned as he moved his hand so that the arrow head was now at her throat. "Hah now what punk. You better step off."

Connor shook his head slowly. Why did they never realize they were outclassed. Looking at the fear in the woman's eyes he knew he had to act. He flipped one of his fighting sticks straight up and saw both of their eyes and heads start to move to follow it. Sprinting forward he grabbed the punks hand and twisted just as he began to react to the fact that he had moved.

He screamed in agony as more damage was done and Connor kicked his knee cap in, hearing the crunch as it shattered. The mans screams intensified until he finally fell silent as he slipped into unconsciousness. Turning he moved to the man he had pinned to the ground but he held his hands up in surrender. The third man was nowhere to be seen. Tying up both of the men in the alley he retrieved his arrows and his stick then handed the purse back to the woman.

"You should be safe now, but call 911 and have them pick up this trash. I will go and catch the other one so this does not happen again."

It did not take him long to pick up the trail of the third man and now here he was. As the car began to take a corner Connor scanned the area ahead. He had not taken a shot yet as the place was still to built up with residential buildings. He could not afford the slightest chance of the car plowing into someones house. Finally though they were now entering the docks area and as he took a corner and sped up, Connor took careful aim and shot out his front tyre.

Seconds later the rear tyre exploded as well. The car continued on but then began to swerve and finally jumped the curb and hit a lamppost. It only took seconds for him to make it to the crash site but the door was open and a blood trail led away.

Maybe some of his fathers other fancy arrows may not be so bad after all, he thought as he began to follow the trail. After all if he did not have to keep climbing up and down from roofs all the time, but had one of his fancy grappling arrows, this guy might not have gotten away. However that was a thought for another day. Right now he had a criminal to catch.
 
We may not be around in 20 years. But they're sure gonna know we were here.

(Rose/M'gann/Hotline)

In her minds eye she leapt across the separating distance and pulled Rose into a kiss and a dance. But she didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t have permission to kiss, or dance. Goddess she longed to run her fingers through Helia blessed hair and press her lips against that silky smooth alabaster neck, her breath a whisper against those gorgeously adorably cute ears.

So she whispered what she could whisper <Will you have tea with me?>

Blushing Karan tried to not think in that line.

The trouble with trying not to think a thing is that you inevitably remind yourself of the thing you shouldn't be thinking of and in the process... whoops... you've thought about it.

And the trouble with thinking things around telepaths, even neophyte ones like Rose, was that even if you're trying not to think about it you've thought about it and maybe just maybe they heard that thought.

Or saw that mental image.

Rose saw Karan kissing her in her mind and--

--her breath hitched in her throat, and she grinned a wobbly grin.

Her pallid cheeks turned a little pink, though whether this hybrid Pale Martian form actually had that sort of bloodflow response or whether it was simply an effect of shapeshifting, that wasn't immediately apparent.

<Tea. It's a date.>

<But you-- you're going to need to be patient with me. Okay? I'm new to... this. And I can't promise anything.>

<It's complicated. I don't have anything in my life that isn't complicated.>

<It's a date but I don't know if it can be more than that, okay?>

...meanwhile, Ruby, though not in the slightest bit telepathic, took one look at their facial expressions and their linked hands and quirked an eyebrow once more. There was a But That's None of My Business look on her face as she immediately busied herself looking elsewhere. And it wasn't, she reminded herself, any of her business.
 
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your madness grow?

New York, unknown cell, sometime after the incident.

Mary jerked as the man asked her the same questions again. How many times had they asked these same questions? The man in the black suit was new. Every time it was a nice man, never a women. The men were all middle aged, fit, clean shaven with sunglasses on. They didn't take the glasses off. There was a little white ear bud in their right ears and a slate black wrist watch on their right hand. They'd press their right forefinger to their right ear every other question, whispering something that she couldn't hear. They'd nod their head and then repeat the exact same question in the exact same manner. So it began again.

"Your name is Mary Alice Decker?"

"When can I talk to my lawyer?"

"Your name is Mary Alice Decker?"
"Yes," She sighed, slumping into her seat. Her head plopped against the metal table. The table legs were seamless pillars connecting the table top to the floor. The floor was the same dark grey material. In the movies there'd be a one-way mirror taking up a side of the room, but not in this room. This room was seamless. She wasn't sure if the door was hidden really well or somehow an opening melted in the wall and reformed when one of the men in black entered and exited.

"Your father is Jake Thomas Decker and your mother is Alice Rose Decker?"

She took a deep breath, raising her head a few inches off the table top and dropping it back down. She'd done this so many times she didn't even think about the responses anymore. It was like practicing her lines for a play. "Yes."

She was tired, but they didn't let her sleep. There was only a single beam of bright light that came on and shined in her face. That light disappeared when the man left, reappearing some indistinguishable time later when the next man in black arrived. However, as soon as she started to doze off, a man in black entered and the light came on. If she tried to sleep through it, loud random music would blare and cycle through different clips until she lifted her head up.

"How long have you worked at the New York Powerball?"

"Five years. I'm entitled to a lawyer. I've done nothing wrong." Mary picked her head up long enough to see if any of that registered. It hadn't.

"In those five years, have you ever been coerced into manipulating the results of a Powerball drawing?"

"Yes."

The man in black paused with his hand to his ear. He looked a little different, but she couldn't put her finger on what had changed. She'd gotten him. Must have. She'd remembered an old boy friend about two years in. Now they traveled into uncharted territory.

"By who and for what purpose?"

"Well I had this boyfriend two years into the job. He seemed really nice and handsome. He wanted me to put a device into the machine, but I told him they keep eight copies of the machines in eight separate vaults and they pull out a pair of machines at random. I'm recorded the whole time I'm on air and when I'm off, I'm not allowed within twenty feet of the machines. I told him it was a stupid idea. He dropped it. We broke up a few weeks later."

"And why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because it was a random conversation after having wild sex three years ago, I guess." She shrugged. "Took me awhile to remember it. Is that what you are looking for?"

"When else have you aided or abetted the manipulation of the results of a Powerball drawing?"

She took a deep breath and held it, hitting her head on the table a few more times. "The last time, but," she said, staring down at her bare feet, "Again, I didn't know. I didn't choose this. I don't even think he knew. It just happened." She shrugged. She must have shrugged too many times, because she felt her neck muscles pulling wrong. Pain crept up the back of her head and down the right side of her back.

"Is it true that you are a metahuman?"

"No." She caught herself, "I mean you've told me I am, but that doesn't make sense, I don't have any powers."

"Influencing the Powerball drawing would constitute as a very powerful manifestation of metahuman capabilities, wouldn't you agree?"

She rubbed at the pain in her neck and wondered why they didn't use her name. It was making her doubt if her name was Mary. Maybe they wouldn't release her. Was she going to spend her life in this dark grey cell? And why wasn't she hungry or thirsty? Why didn't she have to pee?

"Yeah, I guess."

"Isn't it possible that you influenced the Powerball and aren't aware of it?"

She'd had better answers to that question. They'd already gotten back on track to the usual line of questions. She couldn't remember what the really good one had been. There'd be a few decent answers. She felt like it was pointless to repeat any of those. So she went with the default answer. "Anything is possible."

"Yes or no."

"Yes."

"What is your affiliation with the alien Tanha?"

"None. Well," She lifted her head and banged it against the table a few more times. Were they trying to trick her? "I guess she's related to that guy. Ah what's his name and I'm his, uh, sayer or whatever that word is. You know. I told it to you before."

"What is the relationship between the alien Tanha and the man known as Kiz?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Her head came up, and she felt anger build in her belly. They were getting close to the end. The darkness would come soon, just long enough to taunt her.

"Does the alien Tanha serve you?"

"What? No. I wish." Mary sighed, shivering with envy. What would it be like to have a goddess serve her? No that didn't make sense. She pounded her head a few more times on the table until her thoughts dissolved into mush again.

He asked her more questions. Always the same. Maybe she was practicing for a play she didn't remember. Somewhere towards the end of the questions, she couldn't remember which one, she got up and ran head first into the nearest wall. Then she did get to sleep.
 
Jumpcut to the Chase. (with kizkiz)

New York.
The Powerball Incident.

********​

Agent Cameron Chase-- almost always just "Chase" --of The Department of Extranormal Operations was the government-appointed liaison officer for Lex Luthor's freshly-branded New Justice League.

But that wasn't all she was. She didn't just push papers and clean up after The Island of Misfit Superheroes. She was still a full-time DEO Agent.

And she had a partner.

For whom, at the moment, Chase was waiting rather impatiently, holding coffees.

kizkiz said:
Helen stood before a wall of monitors. She fingered her necklace, running over the symbol imprinted into its surface over and over.

"Well, Sky High?"

"Shhh," Helen said, raising a hand, then trailed off as her eyes scanned ten different news channels, seven different streams and renderings of what happened, and twelve different streams of agents notes. Most of the notes were from the NYPD's Special Crimes Unit, which had the statements from all witnesses and a few of the suspects. "I'm making structured cognitive leaps based upon long-range pattern recognition. Its like squeezing out a difficult turd. Give me some more time."

"We don't have any more goddamn time. Marx and the rest of the MIBs are going to shit all over this mess. They already are. I need to get jurisdiction."

Chase had seen some shit. They both had; you don't go a day in the life of a DEO Agent without seeing some shit.

But it still managed to weird her out when Agent Helen "Sky-High" Helligan went into her William S. Burroughs mode.

Weird her out... and impress her, though she'd be less likely to admit that she was impressed.

Chase was formidably trained. Even before going through the Quantico DEO Academy, her father had been a D-list but decidedly competent costumed vigilante named The Acro-Bat, and had raised her to go into the family business. She would tell anyone who would listen that her dad had once beat The Batman in a fistfight-- and that was who had taught Chase to fight, to stalk criminals, to seek justice.

When her father and his team The Justice Experience had been murdered wholesale on national television by a villain with a grudge, she had kind of gone off the whole superhero motif as a career path. Trained professionals were infinitely preferable to colorfully-dressed well-intentioned amateurs.

Especially trained professionals with low-level metagenes. But more on that later.

Helligan didn't have metahuman abilities, but she was borderline superintelligent, possibly a 91 Intelligence on the Palmer Metahuman Scale, so she was a damn bright bulb for a gal who sometimes said things like "turd" and "money shot."

Helligan saw things from the top down, what she called "the satellite view," she saw the all-encompassing big picture and yet somehow zeroed in on connective details that everyone else missed.

Chase was a machine at street level. Helligan was a one-woman conspiracy mill Wall of Weird.

They made a damn good team.

Helligan bit her lip. And nodded briskly to herself.

"Got it," she affirmed.

"About time," Chase handed Helligan her coffee-- six sugars, six creams, hazelmint flavoring and two turbo shots, Helligan was heading into her fifty-second straight hour awake-- as Helligan whipped out her phone and hit speed dial.

"I need Director Waller," Helligan declared in no uncertain tones as they moved from the room, walk and talk.

Chase slid on her sunglasses and sipped her own coffee-- LaBrea black, and utterly unsweetened. "I'm driving The GNX. No way Marx and his goon squad are going to give us the time of day if we show up in your yellow bug."
 
Pretty Maids all in a Row. (with kizkiz)

He asked her more questions. Always the same. Maybe she was practicing for a play she didn't remember. Somewhere towards the end of the questions, she couldn't remember which one, she got up and ran head first into the nearest wall. Then she did get to sleep.

When she stirred to waking--

Oh. Damn. Is it morning already?

--she heard arguing.

A blonde woman in a black suit was arguing with the man who had bombarded her with the incessant questions, her phone in his face.

A woman.

Huh.

Feels like forever since I've seen one.


"Read it and weep, Marx," the blonde woman grimaced to Peter "The Marksman" Meyer, "Marx" for short. "You can call offsides all you want, but this comes straight from The Wall herself. We're taking lead. You and Boyajian help the NYSCU with crowd control or something."

"You're going to regret this, Chase," Marx intoned, flaring his nostrils. "One more round in the chamber with us and she would have cracked like an egg."

"'Cracked,'" Chase scoffed. "Right. And how much valuable intel are you gonna debrief from her when she cracks her own skull open on the wall after listening to your Skrillex mixtape? You're lucky she's not dead from traumatic brain injury, or I'd feed you that earpiece."

"On-site meta-analysis suggests her manifestation includes metabolic enhancements that--"

"Get. OUT." Chase snapped.

And Marx scowled, tilted his neck so his cervical vertebrae popped, and stalked out.

Chase took a moment, took a breath. "Smells better in here already."

She glanced at Mary, who had been watching the whole thing with bleary-eyed surreal incredulity. "Ah. Hey. You're awake."

And Chase set a bottled water on the table in front of Mary, condensation glistening, it was ice cold. "Thirsty?"

"No," Mary admitted, though that was still bewildering to her.

"I wondered," Chase mused, sitting down across from her fellow twentysomething. "Have a drink anyway, it might help you feel better."

Still very much zoned out, Mary shook her head as though trying to clear it. "So you're. What. The good cop?"

Chase's lip twitched at the irony. "Not compared to my partner. But everything's relative. Let's just say I'm a better cop than the assholes who were just thumbscrewing you."

Mary shivered slightly, decompressing a little. "You're just being nice to me so that I'll talk to you about Kiz. But I don't know him, I really don't, he doesn't know me, we just sort of collided--"

"Yeah, it's okay," Chase promised. "You don't need to tell me about him. My partner's talking to his moll. I'm not a-- I'm not good at the sympathy thing. But you just sit here, take a breath, drink your water. In a minute, I'm going to go help my partner talk to this Tanha character. If you think of any details of your experience that you think might be helpful, you let me know. A medic might come through in a minute, double-check that you haven't hurt your head too bad, but you don't have to say another word to Agents Peter Meyer or David Boyajian. Okay?"

Mary stared at her for a long, long moment. And took a trembling sip of the cool, clear water. And burst into grateful, cathartic, exhausted tears; big crocodile tears and wracking sobs as the last 48 hours of weird bullshit just caught up to her.

Chase's shoulders rose and fell in a dismal sigh. Ah, Hell.

And she moved to the one-way glass to hit the intercom for a box of Kleenex.
 
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Sing Cuckolds All in a Row. (with kizkiz)

When Chase caught up with Helligan, Helligan was still getting a bitter sitrep from the aforementioned Agent Boyajian.

Cut from the same cloth as "Marx" Meyer, David Boyajian was almost functionally identical to his partner-- same build, height, weight-- like The DEO had recruited them both right out of a book of stereotypes.

"--only reason we didn't start putting her through the same techniques as Decker," Boyajian insisted, "was because we were waiting on our xenology expert to get back to us with a possible alien species and list of weaknesses based on her physical appearance."

And what an appearance it was. Skin as white as snow, literally, like something out of a fairy tale. Wearing nothing but flora, like something out of The Garden of Eden.

Chase wasn't gay, but-- she had to take a sec to remind herself.

"There's two problems with that strategy," Helligan pointed out impatiently, his ignorance was anathema to her. "One: she's not an alien. Two: that's not what she looks like."

Boyajian stared at Helligan like she'd sprouted a second head and the other one was Ambush Bug. "...what?"

Helligan ignored him, and fished a stick of chalk out of her pocket.

Why Hel had a stick of chalk on her, Chase had no idea, but she knew better than to be surprised by now.

"Obviously you haven't spent enough time renewing the files at Langley," Helligan shook her head. "If you can't keep up, then what is the point of you? Talk to the warden, find out if he has any cold iron, we need to line all the points of entry to that room with the stuff-- door, this mirrored glass-- the air-vent--"

Without missing a beat, Helligan handed Chase her phone. "Go through my contacts and call J.C., not the one from Texas, the one from Liverpool. Tell him to get here fast, and remind him that he owes me a favor from that time with The Marquis de Carabas."

"You got it, Sky-High," Chase promised, flicking through, as she smirked at the complete dumbfoundedness on Boyajian's stereotypical features...

...and as Helligan moved through to the interrogation room itself where Tanha sat.

Tanha blinked. "Well, you're a different sort than the twits who have been flirting so badly with me for two days. I can work with this. How do you swing?"

Helligan didn't look at her immediately, just drew a circle around the interrogation table, including around Tanha's chair but not the seat across the table, using the chalk. "I'm sorry, I'm married to my work."

Tanha couldn't help but be given pause by this. And after staring at her for a long moment, Tanha let out a bray of disbelieving laughter. "Holy shit. You're... you're pure of heart! I didn't think they made them like you anymore."

Helligan straightened and sat in the chair across from Tanha, expression surprised and dubious. "I don't think I'm all that pure of heart; I once mixed fish oil into my brother's favorite strawberry milkshake."

Tanha grinned lopsidedly. "Well, I don't know about your criteria but that sounds like a harmless prank to me. Hardly counts. I usually try and get under everyone's skin, but it would be an honor to corrupt you and do filthy, filthy things to you."

"You're Fae," Helligan replied, brushing off that "offer," such as it was. "Unseelie. And if you're one of those vampiric Fae, trust me, I've been bitten by worse, I've had my shots."

"Oh, relax," Tanha waved dismissively. "I'm not one of those unsanitary exsanguinating types. I feed more off of emotional responses-- especially lust."

She leaned over the tabletop, her Pallas-pallid bust grazing its surface, running her moonpale tongue over her moonpale lips. "Which, all that means is I could give you the ride of your life, honey, and trust me-- it would be good for both of us."

Helligan narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Because I know you're a Fae," she continued, as though Tanha hadn't spoken, "I know that you could be caused by pain by the touch of cold iron."

Something flickered behind Tanha's eyes. "That wouldn't be smart. You people have been spared my wrath by my master's prohibition against hurting the local stewards of law. If he feels through our attunement that you are hurting me, he will suspend that prohibition and my ability to defend myself will be unfettered."

Helligan ignored that, too-- it didn't matter if Tanha was bluffing or not, prevaricating.

"But we have no interest in torturing you. So we're going to get a mystic to scry your truename, and by this we can command you to tell us your master's agenda... and no-one has to get hurt."

Tanha's eyes widened in fear and fury. "You'll never succeed. My truename was carved on the heart of a seventh son of a seventh son and read backwards by a djinn of The Fifth Dimension--"

Behind the glass, Chase furrowed her brow as she spoke to the man on the phone. "...with the Marquis de Carabas."

"Bluddy 'ell," came the voice on the other end. "I might 'ave known 'elping 'er deal wiv that grinning cunt would bite me on the spottiest part of me arse. Fine. Fine. There in a tick."

No sooner had the call bleated its end in Chase's ear than the interrogation room door swung inward and a blond-haired man in a pale brown mackintosh stepped through it, still sticking his own mobile into his trouser pocket.

Chase scowled at the disorientation of it all.

"I hate magic," she grumbled to herself, watching this absurd new visitor through the glass.

But John Constantine seemed right at home. "'Ello, 'El," he greeted Helligan, bob of his head, smirk of his lip. "Been a bit. 'Ow's yehr sister?"

"Never you mind," Helligan waved this away. "She's getting married in a week. Nobody in the family likes the guy but he's still better material than you. More to the point?"

"Yeah, fine, all business wiv you," John nodded, and locked his gaze on Tanha. "Aaaaaand you. La Belle Dame Sans Merci."

Tanha... evaluated her situation.

This newcomer couldn't be much of a mystic. He had very little magical aura to speak of-- though he was positively dripping with lust, pride, wrath-- in fact, though she preferred to feed on the emotional energies of those particular deadly sins, she could tell that this bloke in the coat was a fan of all seven. And there was this cocksure arrogance about him-- no conjurer or invocationist worth his salt could be so lacking in humility, as Kiz had so recently reminded James Patrick "Chicago" Lee.

And yet.

And yet.

There was just something about this scruffy vagrant that just screamed silver alarm bells down her spine, and she fired a glance to her left-- >> Master? ...ah... I would just like to take this time to remind you that none of this is my fault. <<
 
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New York, morning, over the next couple of days.

"No, I have no idea why Doctor Lee wants another hundred books, Sharleen. What I do know is he'll be all sorts of pissed if we don't pick some better ones and get them loaded into the van. He's probably going on another dig. What do I look like, his mother?"

Sharleen snorted, rolling her eyes, and shook her head. "That man is going to ruin your life, if he already hasn't. Girlfriend how you gonna get a man with the likes of him getting you doing all sorts of crazy shit like this?"

Linda shrugged. "He pays, better than I can say about the Ex."

"Still no alimony?"

"You kidding right?" Linda was itching for another cigarette, but she shrugged instead. It'd be her third of the morning, and she'd promised her kids she'd quit. Those damn truth.com commercials didn't make her stop, but they put all kinds of fear into her babies.

Sharleen snorted and gave Linda a side-hug. "Alright so I'm figuring the last two years worth of Times, we got that as an anthology. Along with National Geographic. Three crime novels, two fantasy, and five science fiction. I had the intern pick the best ones. I ain't read anything but romance, and I don't think your man wants any of that."

Linda raised both of her eyes straight up into her forehead. "Oh no you ain't going there."

"Just playin girl, shoot."

The intern came in with anther box of books. "This all of them, Ms. Sharleen." She smiled a shy smile and scurried off.

"Where do they find them?" Sharleen asked, shaking her head and digging through the box.

"Well when you know who is finding them, where do you expect they be coming from? The university?" Both women broke out in laughter.

"Don't I know it." Sharleen smirked and started lifting up books. "Looks like we got more of those home repair, the Bob Vila ones, a third grade science textbook, and a university book on Finance. You think that covers the bases better?"

Linda jotted the list down, cross referencing and cataloging all the books. That was another requirement of Chicago's. This was the third trip, but no books had been returned yet. Chicago was adamant that the super villain was kept occupied with an unlimited smorgasbord of books and whatever else was requested. He'd even offered her a raise, and he'd been reimbursing everything in increments of hundred dollar bills. Chicago didn't even ask for receipts; in fact he didn't want receipts.

"Better shove off. Got a few more errands to run, but let's do lunch. God I could use some decent gossip." Linda pushed the box into the back of her minivan. Chicago didn't want her using any of the Library vehicles. She'd picked up a few cases of Strawberry Fanta after dropping her kids off at school this morning along with five bags of red delicious apples. She waved goodbye to her friend and drove down to the gas station. She filled up her car, why not when she could expense it now. She got another pack of smokes but felt like shit getting them.

The super villain had requested ten pounds of meat yesterday, which was the first time he'd asked for anything other than apples and soda. He'd also asked for another box of trash bags, a box of sidewalk chalk, and oddest of all a full black and decker tool set. So she spent the next three hours going from store to store until she got everything on the list.

The problem she was having now after getting all that crap was she couldn't find where the alley was. She kept driving down side streets, but she was having a hell of a time locating 43rd and 2nd street. Rather she could find both streets, she could even find where they intersected, but the buildings were all off. Maybe that wasn't the right way to think about, but she didn't know what the right way would be. Or maybe it was how there wasn't any parking where she needed, so she kept circling and finding a spot just down the street that was always taken when she got there. Or how she couldn't find the right alley in the block, even though she'd been there three times already. When she was about to give up and go back to the Library, she realized that she was parked right in front of the alley. Except, now the alley could somehow fit her van.

She wasn't sure how, because she remembered the alley being a narrow gap large enough for people to haul things but not for cars. As she turned into the alley it was big enough to drive two cars abreast easy. She also didn't need her headlights, even though she remembered the alley being gloomy and overcast from the building shadows before. Now the full light of the morning sun shone in like there were no buildings at all, which made no sense.

The alley was clean of most of the trash. It didn't smell bad anymore either. Maybe it had never smelled bad, what the hell did she know? She knew Chicago was paying her real good, so good she'd be able to put all her kids through college. That's all that mattered.

"Miss Linda," He said, looking up from where he was lounging on some enormous twelve foot, fur covered, bean bag sack. That's all she could think of. It looked really soft. His coat was gone, instead he was bare chested. His muscles looked chiseled into his body. The tattoos on his body looked almost alive. He had a pile of books and apple cores in front of him. He was reading a James Bond novel.

After she parked and got out, she found he was already at the trunk of her van waiting. He could lift an insane amount of weight, hefting four boxes of books at a time. Despite herself, she found herself admiring the ripple of muscles from ass to shoulder as he moved the boxes towards the back of the alley. The rest of the stuff followed suit in short order. He didn't break a sweat.

"I understand you are in Chicago's employ," Kiz said when they were done.

Linda stilled herself for another conversation with the man. If he didn't talk, she could convince herself he was the Statue of David. When he talked, he was anything but. "You know that-"

Kiz cut her off. "What are those terms?"

Chicago had said make the man feel welcome, but she had enough of these conversations with her kids. "It's a standard employment contract really. Everybody at the library signs one, I could get it for you."

"Are you loyal to him in a manner exceeding the standard terms?"

"Well, now, I never!" Linda crossed her arms. "What are you asking Mr. Kiz?"

"It is a simple question."

"Fine then yes, I suppose I am. I'm dealing with you aren't I? There's a reward for your whereabouts. I don't even talk about you to my best friend. Just tell her I'm delivering crates of books in preparation for one of Chicago's trips." She shrugged.

"You lie to your dearest companions for Chicago." Kiz frowned, taking one of the red delicious apples from its bag. He tore a huge chunk out of it and chewed. "I have found lies poison the soul. I would council against it."

"Okay, sure."

"I had considered asking you to spy on your boss, not something I often require. I do not think that a wise idea now."

Linda didn't know how to react to that doozy, but Chicago was being generous so she shrugged it off.

"I speak more truth than I sometimes should." He took another bite. "I apologize if it has offended you."

"It is what it is. Chicago told me to give you this last." It was a thick package with a wax seal over the flap.

Kiz took the package and inspected it. "His timing is excellent, if suspicious in its punctuality." He broke the seal and withdrew a thin, leather bound book. A smile broke out on Kiz's face. "Your master is amusing to construct such as this. He tries very hard."

Linda frowned not understanding why the man was so excited over what looked like one of Chicago's moleskin note books.

Kiz dropped back down into his massive, fur covered bean bag sack, which emitted the most terrifying sound she'd ever heard. Then a portion of it raised its head. It wasn't some weird, hippy outdoor furniture. It was a god damn cave bear. She'd been to the New York Zoo a hundred times with her kids. It was free and entertained them. She'd seen both a polar bear and a grizzly. They had a really nice exhibit for both species. This thing could eat both for lunch.

She screamed and bolted for her car, ripping her gears as she shoved her van into reverse and pealed out of the alley. A damn extinct cave bear! Oh lord what had Chicago gotten herself into now?
 
A day in the life of the universe's sexiest prison warden.

New York in an Alley. Still morning. Two days after arrival.

Kiz looked up from leafing through the Book of Endless Pages. He watched the terror wash over Linda's face as she fled. He elbowed Ulark. "Was such theatrics truly necessary?"

For a response, Ulark opened his mouth into a yawn. With his mouth stretched wide and right in front of Kiz's face, Ulark gave confirmation that if he wanted to he could rip off a man's face in a single bite.

"Oh come now," Kiz said, pushing Ulark's snout away from him. "Go get your meat, and maybe next time you will treat Linda with more respect."

Ulark bleated. His arm was long enough to snag the bag with the meat in it. His claws curled around the paper bag, drawing it closer to his reclined body. His muzzle lowered, and he snorted several times. He let out a low, sad song.

"I know you are sad you scared her off. I was going to ask her to bring more, but now I fear she will never return." Kiz sat cross legged, leafing through the Book of Endless Pages. Chicago had drawn a map to the Lawyer's office along with a description of the lawyer and the arrangements made. There was an explanation about the current situation, which since there hadn't been any other major calamity most attention was still focused on what had happened. Kiz had found several discarded newspapers walking around in the evening. The incidents surrounding his arrival were the subject of them all. They had artistic renderings of the different people, talked about the patrons at the diner, and employees of the Powerball. Editorial pages debated the impact on the Powerball itself. Mary, Tanha, and himself were compared to a rogues gallery of super villains. Very few cleaved to the view that this might be unintentional.

He grabbed another apple and watched Ulark ripping chunks from the ten pound slab of meat. He was considering his options, flipping through the various maps that Chicago had drawn in the book.

>> Master? ...ah... I would just like to take this time to remind you that none of this is my fault. <<

It was all but impossible to destroy one of his prisoners. If anyone ever managed that, Kiz would have to think long and hard about whether to reward that person. Her time spent embedded in the enemy's camp was invaluable at this stage of the game. The opening moves always require the most deliberation. In Weiqi, grandmasters spent hours deliberating each of the first fifteen moves upon the board.

>> Continue playing the role they wish you to play, Great Queen of the Unseelie. <<

>> As my master wishes, even if he doesn't like it. <<

>> Enjoy your time on parole, Great Queen of the Unseelie. You could be here with Ulark rubbing my feet. <<

>> With my lips, if my master so wishes. <<

Kiz yawned, dismissing the transmission of his thoughts. He was starting to feel the prolonged effects of sleep deprivation, despite the fact that his body refused to sleep. Ulark was napping again. Kiz glanced back at the cave bear and teleported onto the bear's back. Ulark grumbled but didn't stir. Kiz put both hands behind his head and watched large, fluffy white clouds meander across the azure blue sky. Soon he'd have to release a portion of Nadeau and wade through their dark appetites. He should have started scouting the city and his enemies days ago, but he found himself procrastinating.

"Just a few more hours," he said to himself. He gestured towards the Book of Endless Pages, and it leapt into the air. They were quite useful trinkets, but despite their names they weren't endless. They could only hold three million pages, so they were good for at least a decade depending on how bored he got. This one only had a few hundred pages worth of diagrams, notes, and maps.

"New page," Kiz said. "Are you simpatico?"

"Yes," the book wrote back in gorgeous, flowery calligraphy. "One other fashioned by my creator, Chicago Lee."

"Please dictate the following to your simpatico. 'Take the labor and materials out of what you owe me.'"

The book flipped to a new page and wrote the words down. Kiz chewed on another apple while he waited for a response, considering what game Chicago was playing with such a gift.

The response was written out on a new line in a thick, block capitalized script. 'Sure why not? But you like it?'"

Kiz dictated back, 'It lacks a few of the features I am accustomed to, but it is useable.' He gestured for the book to return to the ground, and it followed the motion of his hands until it settled back on to one of the boxes of books. He rolled over onto his side, staring at the boxes and supplies. He'd get to those in a little bit for now he felt like laying on Ulark in the sun. So he did.
 
Dreams Under Surveillance. (Hotline)

...meanwhile, Ruby, though not in the slightest bit telepathic, took one look at their facial expressions and their linked hands and quirked an eyebrow once more. There was a But That's None of My Business look on her face as she immediately busied herself looking elsewhere. And it wasn't, she reminded herself, any of her business.

...and then, Hiro's watch bleeped at him.

He made a panicky noise in his throat and silenced the alarm. "Well, I'm gonna be late for class if I'm not out of here in thirty seconds, so whatever you decide for leadership, a constitutional monarchy, a meritocracy, a triumvirate, a--" he hesitated "--what's the two-person equivalent of a triumvirate?"

"'Duumvirate,'" Ruby supplied without blinking, like she was crushing it at pub quiz night.

Hiro gawked at that, and guffawed. "...did you just say 'doomvirate?' Oh my God, how is that not the name of a supervillain? No, two supervillains?"

Ruby smirked softly. "Close enough."

"Anyway," Hiro blurred for a second, came back holding up one of those LexIcon watches that Luthor had mentioned, "everyone get a smartwatch, we gotta be able to Skype each other in times of world-ending calamity! See you guys at the next meeting! Justice League, uh-- join together! (Next meeting we can work on a battlecry.)"

And then WSSSSSSH, he was gone.
 
Intermission with Chicago and his patrons.

New York, three mornings after Kiz's arrival.

"See," Chicago said, poking at the pages of his Book of Endless Words. "I told you he trusts me."

The man in black robes said, "What features do the books lack?" He had his right hand in the elbow of his left arm, and his left thumb pressed against his lips.

"Hey, I'm sure it's through no fault of your own. He's legit. A great power. He's the Left Hand-"

"Yes, yes, you told me seven times already." Black Robes went quiet, studying the words dictated on the sheet of paper before him. "I am willing to reconsider your evidence. He should be less challenging then one of the Endless at least."

"What does..." Chicago frowned, glancing at Black Robes, "You know, ah," He pushed back his fedora and scratched at his forehead. "What did you think of letting me keep..." Chicago took a long swallow, "You know what, let's just settle up. I'm sure we don't want to cheat the man. That's not a great way to establish trust, right?"

Black Robe's face was just grey outlines and shadow beneath his hood. However, he'd switched from pressing his thumb in his lips to crossing his arms. A thick black vambrace was exposed on his right arm when the robe's sleeve slid back. It pulled in light around it. He made a circle with his right hand and intoned heavy words of magic. The area within the circle blackened to nothingness. He reached within and withdrew thick bundles of hundred dollar bills. It took twenty minutes to pull out a thousand bundles.

"I suppose on short notice this is fair." Chicago said, muttering under his breath, "For one of the items." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Okay, it's been a pleasure as always."

"And?"

Chicago looked at Black Robe, "Thank you for your continued patronage?"

Black Robe flicked a finger and the black hole disappeared. "We have a dig in the rainforest. You'll be there. It's another."

Chicago grinned. "Just as I predicted!" He pumped his arm in the air again. "Man I'm awesome at this." He put one of two suitcases that he'd brought onto the table and started loading up the cash. All the cash fit into just the one suitcase. "Welp, I'll be going then."

Chicago felt the weight of the Black Robe's gaze as he left, but he had learned to ignore the terrible despair it inflicted in his bowels. He stumbled the way down the long gravel walkway to the driveway. More dark grey gravel filled the driveway despite how much damage it did to his jeep, and Chicago was sure to everyone else's car that visited.

In the jeep, he used the Bluetooth to call the lawyer.

"Rathaway."

"I got the money. Expect the man soonish."

"We don't work charity cases Lee."

"Believe me, he's legit and I got the cash. Hundos. Just keep him safe from the DEO."

"Don't be a fool Chicago; I'm not in that line of work anymore. What I will deliver is the best legal defense available in New York."

Chicago sighed. "I guess that will have to do."

"Bye Chicago. I don't want to see your face, just leave the money at the front desk."

"Oh don't be like that Rathaway."

The phone clicked and then went silent. "Siri," Chicago called out like a stage magician, "Take me to Rathaway, Spectre, and Black; best damn attorneys in New York."

"Calling Grandma Shelly Block."
 
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A date...

(Rose/M'gann/Hotline)
<Tea. It's a date.>
<A Date? Like a date date? Or just a date where we get together and have..>
<But you-- you're going to need to be patient with me. Okay? I'm new to... this. And I can't promise anything.>
<No Promises. Gotcha. Agreed. Be Patient. Don’t ramble. Or squeellll>
<It's complicated. I don't have anything in my life that isn't complicated.>
<I’m not complicated. Well maybe I am. I tend to babble when I’m nervous. So It’s a date? Or a not date?>
<It's a date but I don't know if it can be more than that, okay?>
Concentrating hard Kara didn’t squeeze her hand in excitement, but she did have a rather goofy grin spread across her face like she had a supertabulatic secret and she wanted to tell EVERYONE. But she didn’t say anything.
...meanwhile, Ruby, though not in the slightest bit telepathic, took one look at their facial expressions and their linked hands and quirked an eyebrow once more. There was a But That's None of My Business look on her face as she immediately busied herself looking elsewhere. And it wasn't, she reminded herself, any of her business.
 
A Pocket Full of Posies. (with kizkiz)

>> Master? ...ah... I would just like to take this time to remind you that none of this is my fault. <<

>> Continue playing the role they wish you to play, Great Queen of the Unseelie. <<

>> As my master wishes, even if he doesn't like it. <<

>> Enjoy your time on parole, Great Queen of the Unseelie. You could be here with Ulark rubbing my feet. <<

>> With my lips, if my master so wishes. <<

"Oi, luv," John snapped his fingers to get Tanha's attention. "You all 'ere?"

Tanha snorted. "As much as a plonker like you warrants."

"Get you, pussycat," John cocked a brow. Adaptive slang? Faeries were tricksters on the molecular level. He wouldn't be surprised if this one could metamorph her conversational style to match any dialect...

"This is all nonsense anyway," Tanha dismissed. "I am a Queen of The Unseelie Court. My truename must be divulged to you, either by me or someone to whom I've already divulged it. It's not like a mere member of the human peasantry can just... pick it out of a hat!"

"I'll 'ave you know I'm descended from nobility," John informed her, with a chuckle. "Though that was a 'undred years or so gone. Meanwhile, that bit about drawing your name out of a 'at, that's not far off."

He put his hand into the pocket of his coat, and rummaged about. "A minute ago, ice queen Agent Chase reminded me of a case involving The Marquis de Carabas. Now that was a ridiculous affair, but I came away from it with a plus-- like the pockets of The Marquis' coat, mine are now bigger on the inside. Means I can carry a 'Ell of a lot of kit with me."

He took out a small pouch-- velveteen, tied with string --and set this on the table beside him. "Take this, for instance. It's a bag of Scrabble tiles enchanted by a daft berk 'oping to copy the family gimmick of one Giovanni Zatara an' 'is lovely daughter Zatanna. Spelling fhings out to manipulate reality. Didn't quite get the trick, but close enough for our purposes."

He untied the string, let the bag sit open loosely on the tabletop.

Then his other hand went into a different coat pocket. "And then there's this. I nicked it from a bloke named Chaim, shaved 'is 'ead while 'e was 'aving a kip, an' won't 'e be wroth when 'e catches up wiv me?"

John held up his hand, and show that he now wore a particular golden-glowing bauble upon one finger. "Taba'at Schlomo. The Ring of Solomon. Not supposed to work for sinners like meself, but I reckon I've got juuuuust long enough with that Wisdom of Solomon to do... this."

With his ring hand, he reached into the bag of tiles, took a fistful, and like he was casting lots or runes... he tossed the handful of tiles out onto the tabletop.

And they all landed, face up. Letters plainly displayed.

Exactly the right letters. In exactly the right order.

To spell Tanha's truename.

Tanha opened her mouth... and then shut it again.

"...okay, that's a little impressive."

John squinted at The Ring of Solomon as its glow immediately faded. "One-off. Now the ring'll not work again until next Yom Kippur. Chaim'll 'ave a word or two wiv me when 'is 'air grows back, that's for sure. Still. 'Ere we are, [truename redacted]."

He pronounced her truename flawlessly, because of course he did.

Tanha squinted at him. "What would you have me do?"

"Tell us about your Master. 'Is powers and intentions, 'is mefhod an' 'is madness."

Her Master had instructed her to play her part.

And the Hellblazer had called her by name and asked a question.

They wanted to know about Kiz, The Void Binder?

She told them.
 
All Fall Down. (with kizkiz)

When Tanha was finished talking, John's face was almost as pale as Tanha's was.

He sat in the other room, on the other side of the one-way glass, and his hands trembled as he lit his cigarette with his lighter-- it took him a few tries.

Not a lot of things could do that to "The" John Constantine.

"You really shouldn't smoke in a penitentiary," Chase scowled.

Constantine gave her a look that could sour milk. "If this one 'ad read me dossier, she'd know precisely 'ow penitent I'd be about lighting up be'ind bars."

"It's true," Helen admitted ruefully. "He once hypnotized an entire prison to riot so he could get a smoke."

"That seems like... overkill," Chase frowned.

"Hnnh," Constantine grunted. "Obviously yeh've never 'ad a nic fit."

"Not in this lifetime," Chase confirmed.

"More to the point," Helligan prompted, and she had to say it often enough to John that it basically became her catchphrase with him around.

"Yeah," John mumbled. And looked stricken.

"'E's a Void Binder. I've never encountered one meself, but-- I've read stories. 'Eard legends. An' they are serious mojo. Embed the very essence of supernatural entities into their souls, and into their skin. Now, I've 'ad me share of mystical tats, protections against possession an' scrying an' th' odd Khushu idol, but this is on a whole 'nuvver level. They entwine their very fate, their karma, wiv that of their void-bound menagerie. This ehn't somefhing undertaken lightly. If they just wanted to benefit from a supernatural creature, they'd just summon it vanilla-like. But this... this is a process that welds your will to theirs and your responsibility to their actions-- not the sort of thing you see a self-interested Dark Wizard ever doing. Only extremely driven warriors of light take this sort of risk, using creatures of the night against the night. Well, that or complete numbskulls."

He shook his head and took a drag, and managed to still his trembling somewhat as he exhaled chiaroscuro between his lips, then pointed emphatically at Chase with the two fingers that pinched the cigarette. "Facing this twat is going to be a special kind of mad. 'E's eivver been assigned by The Powers That Be or 'e's appointed 'imself a guardian of the strata of reality, an' 'e's amassed enough of a spiritual singularity about 'imself that 'e subconsciously deforms probability around 'is entry point when 'e pushes fhrough the layers of that strata into a new plane. I ehn't scared to fight 'im for yeh, I dun skive on me favors, but if 'e's 'ere, more'n likely 'e's 'ere to do some very deep an' cosmic business an' we'll only be gettin' in th' way of that. So. Agents Chase an' Helligan. Are you sure yeh want me poking this bear?"

John scoffed bitterly, took another pull on the smoke.

"That's not even a metaphor, 'e's got an actual bluddy Shardik on 'is back."

Helen and Chase looked at each other.

Helen looked perplexed, like she was grasping for her beloved perspective.

Chase looked grim. "We have an immensely powerful mystic-based unregistered metahuman who caused a massive disruption of local politics and economics just by showing up. At the very least, he's a Person of Interest in the biggest case of disturbing the peace that The City of New York has ever known. We bring him in for questioning. And if we don't like his answers, we find or build a box big enough to hold him."

John looked... injured. He glanced at Helligan.

Helligan looked almost... apologetic. "She's right. We can't just let this go. We have to do our due diligence, our due process."

"Right," John harrumphed, and stabbed out what was left of his cigarette on the table. And he rose to stand, looking very haunted but resigned. "I'll get my kit."
 
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