Star City- Heroes of Tomorrow IC

As Time Goes By

The hard part about having an ancient piece of sentient alien technology embedded within your body, is that when you just want to talk to it, there is no easy way to do so. The options ranged from rather esoteric, to completely insane. Jaime went with esoteric and was trying to teach himself how to perform a kind of deep level lucid dreaming...

The body they shared lay connected to a hospital bed, hooked up to wires and hoses, monitoring all vital signs, brain-wave patterns, everything.

The mind of Jaime Reyes, was in some sort of simulacrum of Ancient Egypt.

San washed against the worn walls of the city, the people moving like ghosts through the wind and grit, going about their business as if they did not notice the reddish twilight they walked in. Jaime felt every grain of sand like a tiny silicate bullet. He walked along, shouting a name. "Khaji Da! Whhere arrre yoouu!?"

All he could hear was the storm, the sand and the wind, the ages of time swishing across one another. He felt the presence of the Scarab, but could not see or hear it.

"Khaji Da! I Call to You! Hear me!"

Jaime cupped his hands around his mouth to gain volume, shouting the call across the dunes and the haunted canyons of the long-dead city.

"Did you ever wonder, Jaime, why they chose the form of a Beetle in the first place?

The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn't Khaji. Jaime whipped around in a circle, seeing no one. The voice had been a whisper on the wind.

They could have made it into anything. A jewel. A coin. Some sort of obelisk. But they chose a scarab. Did you never wonder why?

Jaime calmed his beating heart and stood still, trying to focus on the feelings inside, the sense of energy and life that he could sometimes attain. He felt nothing.

"I always just assumed that they wanted something common enough to avoid notoriety, but interesting enough for a human to investigate it. Egypt was the dominant culture on Earth at the time. It made sense."

No. Egypt was a backwater dung heap remnant of a much larger and more advanced culture. The people who built Atlantis were more advanced than this. The Reach chose Egypt because it was vulnerable.

Jaime slowly walked in circles, trying to feel the source of the familiar, but strange voice. It sounded like a male, like a human man in fact. But how did he know that?

"Ok. So you tell me, why did The Reach choose to make Khaji Da into the shape of a beetle?"

What if they never chose the shape at all? What if they never chose to bring him here? What if something else did?

Jaime gasped awake in the hospital bed, pulling and tugging against the wires and hoses, flooded with a sense of urgency and confusion. Nurses rushed to his side, helping to keep him from yanking out his IVs and air hoses.

Once he was extracted and calmer, he sent a quick text to Felicity Smoak.

"Must research myths about Beetles and Scarabs. ALL known cultures in the galaxy. Oldest first."
 
"There are Places I Remember," by The Beatles. (Felicity/Rose/Vixen/Artemis)

Once he was extracted and calmer, he sent a quick text to Felicity Smoak.

"Must research myths about Beetles and Scarabs. ALL known cultures in the galaxy. Oldest first."

In the back of the Queen Consolidated limousine driving them back from the airport, Felicity glanced at her phone and made a slight noise.

She texted back: That's-- a little outside my sphere, Jaime. And-- that's not a thing I like admitting. According to Supergirl, her people had knowledge of 28 galaxies, including ours.

But that's not exactly a database I have access to. Honestly, I'd've thought your little friend would have more information on that topic than me. But if he doesn't...


Felicity squinted to herself, and then texted again: You need to talk to J'onn J'onzz.

Glancing up from her phone, Felicity took stock of the ladies with her in the limo.

Rose sat with a cat-carrier in her lap, Captain Jack protesting with low, yowly noises at his being imprisoned. She hugged the cat carrier close, and made apologetic noises.

Vixen grinned faintly, poked a finger at the crossbars of the cat carrier's door. "Listen to you, cussin' like a sailor. You clean your human with that mouth?" She paused, and then considered. "Then again, you clean your ass with that mouth-- that makes you literally a pottymouth."

MROW, Jack replied, unhappily.

"That's so gross," Artemis made a face. "Cats are so weird."

"In a world where a phone can turn you into a laundry list of superpeople," Rose laughed faintly, "a little feline hygiene's hardly the the weirdest thing."

"I suppose," Artemis harrumphed. "Cats may not be as weird as bug-themed superheroes, I'll give 'em that."

Six weeks, and her spiraling emotions regarding both The Blue Beetle and Venom were still... unresolved. It was like her coping mechanisms had gone on hiatus.

"The laundry list thing, though," Vixen murmured, glancing up at Rose. "Now that people know that you've had to go public, you might want to engage in a little brand identity. Have you considered giving yourself a core name, a superhero name of your own? Or-- here's a thought-- calling out the names of your Heroes when you turn into them? It'll help the hero-worshiping public keep track of which ones are you."

"Is that really necessary?" Rose wondered, a little stunned, a little shaken, and a tiny bit jet-lagged from the 600 mile flight on the QC corporate jet. "I hadn't even thought about that part. I was totally fine with people thinking all ten of them were completely different people."

"It's good marketing," Felicity admitted, as the limo drew up to The Brownstone's parking lot and came to a stop near the rear door, where the schoolbus had parked six weeks before. "I'm not saying you need to have your own line of action figures, but positive spin goes a long way to legitimizing yourself in this community-- and in its fandom."

Rose clambered out, her carry-on on one shoulder, Jack's carrier in the other hand, and she gazed up at The Brownstone. "All I wanted to do was make the world a better place. That's all I ever wanted. But the world's all different now."

Mari smiled gently at Rose as she stood beside the younger lady. "The world's always changing, girl. Always always. Doesn't mean we're not still uniquely positioned to make that change a good thing."

"Speak for yourself," Artemis hmphed as she strolled past Mari and Rose, still overburdened by thoughts of John Denvers and Jaime Reyes. "My world changes just as it wants, whether I like it or not. Best I can do is find the right thing to hit. And speaking of which... I'm gonna go hit something."

And she stalked off.

As the driver unloaded Rose's small suitcases from the trunk-- the rest of Rose's stuff would be shipped here shortly, but for now Rose had traveled light --Felicity walked up beside the native Keystonian and touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Would you like the tour? Or should we show you straight to your quarters?"

"Quarters sounds good," Rose admitted, as they moved to follow Artemis through the rear entrance. "I think-- I think I need to sleep."
 
Venom

He had finished another battery of tests, for whatever reason they kept prodding them he did not know. After his first piece of action, the severe rules had been relaxed a bit. He went out once a week, had a few beers, shot a few rounds of pool, cracked the skulls of a few petty criminals...you know, the usual night out.

Then just one week ago, the tests and reports started up again. Was he focused? Did he have nightmares? Did he endure any pain? Nightchills? Fever? Excessive sweating? It made him crazy, but if he wanted to be an active member, he would need to keep pandering to their needs.

He headed out of the small cubicle and moments later found himself in one of the training rooms. He shrugged out of his jacket, then removed his t-shirt as well. The pants was more part of the symbiote and even now the symbiote adjusted it to become more sweatpants than jeans. He did some light stretching and got onto the incline bench to do sit-ups, he needed the repititions and having the symbiote count for him, made it easier to keep track.
 
Stick and Move. (Artemis)

She did stretches in the elevator.

Her warm-up consisted of a fairly fierce jog down the hall.

She was already partway through the training room's door, chucking aside her suit jacket with one hand and loosening her black tie with the other--

--when she realized that John Denvers was already in there, shirtless, doing sit-ups.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Artemis glowered under her breath. "Of course."

But she wouldn't let him deter her.

Properly-directed violence counted as self-care for her, and she had sat through a funeral and a plane ride and a car ride with triggers running roughshod over her brainpan. Something hadda give.

She went straight for the Escrima sticks, Oliver's training weapon of choice, but by the third strike she'd taken off half the practice dummy's head and her left-hand stick was half-splintered in her grip.

Okay.

So.

Little worse off than usual, then.
 
Venom

John noticed Artemis enter, stripping out of her jacket and tie. Fixing him with THAT look and then went over to one corner. He ignored the look, but couldn't ignore the shattering of wood. He sat up and looked at Artemis...what was her name? He found that he couldn't remember, which meant he haven't yet heard it...six weeks and still he didn't know whom he fought with. He studied her and got up from the bench, using a towel to dry up the sweat in his short hair and on his face. He didn't immediately approach her,

Ask her to dance

'WHAT?!'

No need to shout, she needs an outlet. Spar with her

'Are you crazy? She'll kill me. You know she doesn't like me.'

Ignorance is bliss. She likes you, she hates me. Now ask her to dance.

He walked to the middle of the practise mats and cleared his throat to gain her attention. Pointing towards the mat he said, "Care for a new dance partner? I won't break that easly."
 
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"A quick temper will make a fool of you soon enough." (Artemis)

She had been staring sullenly, grimly at the busted practice dummy, reflecting on the killing blow she'd struck on this defenseless inanimate object-- would she always default to murder? Was she still really so deeply embedded in her nature and her nurture?

He walked to the middle of the practise mats and cleared his throat to gain her attention. Pointing towards the mat he said, "Care for a new dance partner? I won't break that easly."

Her gaze swung up to him, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Perhaps it was not such a good idea to take up arms against one object of her frustrations when she was already amped up and ramped up.

But he was right-- Little Wooden Boy had just come apart like a macaroni duck and she needed something bigger and tougher to take the punishment she needed to dish out. And here was a guy she'd seen take on Solomon Grundy like a month ago.

"Yeah," she harrumphed tersely. "You'll do."

Dropping the Escrima sticks with a dual clatter, she reached up and pulled open her suit shirt, buttons popping, unintentionally echoing Supergirl-- except instead of a Kryptonian crest underneath, she wore a black sports bra. Tossing the shirt aside in a bundled heap, she kicked off her dress shoes and strode onto the practice mat in that sports bra, black slacks, and black socks, pulling on a pair of black MMA fingerless boxing gloves as she went.

She took a jeet kune do stance, and, perhaps fittingly, gestured to Denvers with a let's do this handsign evocative of that martial art's creator, Bruce Lee.

"C'mere."
 
Venom

He had no misgivings, the size of the warrior wasn't what made you victorious, he rolled his head to crack his neck, rolled his shoulders and turned side-ways to Artemis, his knees slightly bent, his right hand just under his diaphragm, his left hand pointing towards her, his left foot pointed towards her while his right foot pointed more to his front as he rested in a balanced position. The classic Hapkido stance, he opened the sparring with a lighting quick low snap kick with his right foot, basically just testing her reflexes and getting a sense of what he was up against.

The symbiote fed his brain data, feeding him moves and counter-moves, other than that, he stayed out of the fight, leaving the two of them to fight it out. The Mirakuru in his system putting him on par with Artemis, but he was also not experienced in this kind of sparring and that gave her the definite advantage.

All of this shot through his brain as he followed the snap kick with a left jab and sprang backwards, watching her carefully.
 
"Water can flow, or it can crash. Be water, my friend." (Artemis)

When someone hears the name "Sportsmaster" in the context of being a supervillain codename, one could be entirely forgiven for snickering dismissively, derisively. "'Sportsmaster?'" one might guffaw, incredulous. "Out of all the threatening words in the English language, 'Sportsmaster' was the best they could come up with?"

But think about it.

Really think about it.

Consider the Batman, whose tireless lifelong devotion to his craft led to him mastering countless forms of martial arts and criminological disciplines and other aspects of crimefighting. What would happen if someone took that same level of drive and ambition and applied it to mastering and then weaponizing all known forms of athletics? What would happen if that someone had none of The Batman's compunctions against killing or torture?

Imagine getting clubbed by a man who could homer off of every Major League fastball ever. Imagine getting a grenade lobbed at you by a man who bowls a perfect game every time he steps up to a bowling lane, or who can effortlessly sink a swish from a full court away.

Imagine that man aiming a javelin at your heart. Or a fencing sword.

Imagine that man whirling a ball at the end of a chain like an Olympic hammer throw.

There would be few deadlier men in history, much less the world.

Now imagine that that man has had daughters with a woman as skilled and graceful and deadly a predator as the tigress from whom she gets her own name. Imagine that they have passed along their knowledge and attempted, by one method or another, to pass along that lack of compunctions.

Happily, the compunctions remain, clinging on by their fingernails, helped to strengthen their grip by the tutelage of Oliver Queen and the rest of his Team Arrow. But the training-- trained by a man at the peak of human athletic ability who can kill with every sport under the sun-- that was there too.

At some point in his career, Sportsmaster decided that the freeform jeet kune do had the perfect conceptual framework to tie together his various masteries of martial arts. That flowing from one system to another while beholden to none of them was perfect for his preferred modus operandi of cracking skulls.

And thus-- while Oliver had attempted, not entirely unsuccessfully, to temper and engentle Artemis' harder edges with softer arts like Bagua and t'ai chi and aikido --she generally defaulted to Bruce Lee's brainchild.

The snap kick came at her from a place of hapkido and she push-shuffled back and angled her body aside, watching the kick slide past her in a competent blur.

She momentarily registered and respected that the kick was low-- some interpretations suggested that Bruce Lee misliked high kicks, that kicking up for an opponent's head was awkwardly not unlike punching down to hit an opponent's foot. Which, hey, briefly, she considered that-- punching Denvers in the foot as his kick snapped out.

But no.

His jab came at her next, great speed, solid form. And now she acted, batting his strike aside with the back of her glove and powering in even as he jumped back, keeping with him, so she was close enough to explode a fist tight straight at him in a Wing Chun punch accompanied by the exhaled hiss of a silent kiai.
 
Venom

Oh she was fast, very fast.

For a split second John wanted to take the blow, to feel her power, to learn more of it from that, but the symbiote gave him a warning and instead he pushed his right hand forward, taking the blow in his palm. Not trying to grab her hand, no. He used her force and power as impetus and pushed himself further away from her. Landing lightly, he slipped out of the hapkido stance, which facilitated grappling, into a Muay Thai stance.

Fun fact: Muay Thai when studied as sport is a clean fighting technique. But in the roots it is not as clean-cut. Winning a fight by any means necessary, hitting hard and putting the opponent down quickly is what it aimed for.

Not that John wanted to put Artemis down, he wanted her to work off some of that frustration and anger. He would take her hits, he knew that it might even be good for him, to learn...OK so the symbiote was practically recording the fight, they were learning at the present. He advanced at her, leading with another jab.
 
"Absorb what is useful." (Artemis)

Muay Thai had a bloody historical reputation indeed, one whose surface had barely been scratched in such films as the Ong Bak and Kickboxer franchises.

Sportsmaster had waded knee-deep in that blood, and he'd used those knees on Artemis more than once.

Sufficient was Artemis' association with that sport's brutality that her eyes widened when Denvers switched stances and a trill of momentary trepidation accelerated throughout her vertebrae. As much as she adored the Supergirl punch, the rest of that shit was scary as Hell.

But her eyes narrowed again just as quickly, and she hunkered down.

His next jab flew at her like a horsehide clocking triple digit MPH and she caught it in the palms of both hands, braced together like a catcher with his mitt. Instantly she knew from the rattle in her back teeth that this was a dumb idea. She was tough as Hell for a tiny half-Vietnamese blonde but she was still tiny, still up against that damnable upper-body-strength disparity. She had to dodge duck dip dive and dodge to survive in this business, not attempt to do her best impression of Danny Brickwell.

But to her credit, she didn't let the impact rattle her for more than that instant.

Her hands flourishingly slid to grab his wrist, to pull him towards her to throw him off-balance and maximize combined momentum, and in the same fluid movement her own knee rocketed up towards his midsection-- let's see how you like the scary shit.
 
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She blocked his jab in practically the same way he had blocked her punch, just with both hands. Grappling with his arm, she pulled him close and brought up her knee. John used that momentum to move even faster towards her, taking the meatier thigh against his side and crashing into her with a controlled body-check.

Up close he realized that she may be all hard angles and biting temper, but she still was female. Luckily he had no difficulties with that, in the Armed Forces you had to grapple with anybody that steps up to you. So far she had proven that she can step up.

He brought his elbow up to her face in a vicious strike, knowing that if she didn't counter it, he would have to pull it back at that last nanosecond, no matter how tough she was, that blow could hurt her bad.
 
:::::Two Days After the Kidnapping:::::​

Shadows move through trees. Silent. Swift. Santa Prisca is a small island. Smaller than even the smallest of the United States, but it is a place of great danger. While small it is a nation that has never known peace. Since it broke free from Italy and became it's own nation it has been one war or another. The only constant, has been Pena Duro. Before the UN created The Gulag, this was the most feared prison in the world. A place where the atrocities were beyond inhumane.

For decades it was the source of UN debate, but given the unprecedented state of the nation, the constantly shifting political climate, no in roads were ever successful. Only in the last few years has the climate calmed. The government has become stable for the first time in a century. And this was accomplished by one man. Ra's Al Ghul. From the shadows he swept in. He placed his men in charge and took control of the nation. Not for it's power, but for access to Pena Duro.

Just as one man brought the nation to peace, one man has been carefully watching these secret wars unfold. The Batman. Having once been trained by Ra's himself, The Bat saw the tell-tale signs of the Leagues influence. For just over a decade, he has watched. He has seen the atrocities of the League in the past. He knew it was from this place that perhaps his greatest physical challenge arose. Bane. It took a lot to overcome the damage Bane inflicted. But he survived. And now it was time to strike back at the League. They had been secretly within the country for over a month. And things were not right.

"I still don't see why you didn't reach out to the Arrow and his team. We could have used the back up." The younger man moves up beside his mentor. Escrima sticks in hand. He gestures to the two guards standing above the entrance to the hole in the ground that is Pena Duro.

"Because I don't need a group of kids screwing this up. Bane was just the first. Why would Ra's want to take over a nation like this? Think about it Dick. He wanted Pena Duro. Access to a practically unlimited pool of murderers. And given the political history of other nations using this place to make enemies disappear ensures that the UN won't touch the place. The League is doing something. We need to find out what. Take the left." As he moves toward the right he stops as he sees he flash of red and green from the trees behind th guards. The zap of electricity drops both guards.

"All the talk bored me. Decided to flank around and take them out. Your welcome." The young girl smiles as she pulls the small darts from the guards chest. Taking care not to leave evidence. She quickly reloads her wrist mounts slingshot and smiles at the two men.

"Steph, I love the initiative, but if the body armor had been grounded, they would have torn you apart. These aren't just your typical mooks. These are trained assassins. Be careful. Stay with us, and no more rogue ops."

"You insisted on bringing her."

"Couldn't really leave her alone in Gotham. Tim's in SoCal, you sent Babs off, and I would rather keep an eye on her than leave her in that city with only Alfred to have her back."

"My back? Um, Hello? I just had your backs. I was just fine before you gave me the fancy duds. I don't need you guys treating me like a baby. I got this. Lets move."

"Reminds me of someone else I once trained." A rare smile briefly dances over The Batman's face as he looks at the bickering between Nightwing and his choice for the newest Robin.

With great stealth the trio moves to the hole. 200ft straight down. An opening barely big enough for a man to fit through leads to a drop that would kill any man that tried to make it. The huge dome cavern is 60ft across at the apex. The only means of entering this Hell is via the ropes that are used to lower the daily food rations. Or so most believed.

The trio quickly tie up the guards, gagging them, and lowering them half way down the whole. Out of the way. Quickly they move through the forest. Reaching Punto De Tiburon. They begin the climb down the near 1,000ft cliff. As the sun rises the trio reaches the bottom of the cliff. Finding the small hidden dock they move into the caves. The back entrance to Pena Duro.

"So far your friend's information was dead on. Let's hope the guard information is accurate."

"I get it. This place is practically inpenetrable. No one is getting out of that hole, but what is so hard about getting out of here. If we can just stroll in, what stops the prisoners from strolling out?"

"This isn't the actual prison. Not exactly. There is apparently a huge chasm that connects the two, about 75 feet across at the smallest gap. We came prepared. But it's pretty hard to jump that distance. Plus, automated turrets on this side. No human guards. Only the turrets, but what we want is in the chasm. At the bottom. Lets go."

The trio move through the darkness, the lenses in their cowls providing night vision. They come to the chasm after only a short hike. Within a few minutes they have deactivated the turrets, and are descending to the pit. None are expecting what they find.

The bottom of the pit is below sea level. They reach a small platform in the water and see that it is an elevator shaft. Technology that is far beyond what they League typically uses. Beyond what most of Humanity knows exist. They follow the shaft down and find what they came for. The lab is advanced, even given what Bruce is used to. Even he has trouble recognizing all of the tech. Some of which is supposedly only theoretical, but seems to be working just fine.

At one of the tables in the back of the lab sits a lone man. Chained, beaten, and clearly not a willing participant. He is going back and forth between one of these machines and a tablet on which he is typing furiously. A small orb phases through the wall and the trio quickly take cover. They watch as the man begins to address it.

"Look, I have taken this as far as I can here. Tell Ra's my debt was paid long ago. I got the Venom working. Every test I run tells me the same thing. It is impossible. I am familiar with the theory. I wrote it. But you can't do what you want. It is impossible! Ten years. Ten years and still no success. Enough!" The man smashes his tablet in rage.

"al'San'Awi, such outbursts get you no further. The debt you owed my father may be paid, but the debt you owe me, that is far from paid. You will find the missing link in your research. Or you will die here. Have the next batch of test serum ready by morning. The subjects will be waiting." The voice of Nyssa Al'Ghul comes from the orb. It then reverses and moves back through the wall.

The man screams in rage, swiping the contents of his work space onto the floor. As he buries his face in his hands The Batman gestures to his team to stay put. Stepping out of hiding he stands behind Ted.

"Glad to see you're not dead Ted. Time to go home."

The Batman flings forth a flurry of shuriken that sever the chains that held the man. "Let's move." As the chain is severed, the lighting in the room shifts to a crimson glow and an alarm begins to howl.

"The League is coming. Even you al'Modhlim Muharib cannot hope to fight your way out of here. Not with me injured."

"Hope isn't the issue. Ted, think. You were brilliant. Are brilliant. And I brought help. We just need to get to the docks. How many?"

"This is the stronghold for Nyssa Al'Ghul. She has left her father's side. She has made war. But her father, he has refused to strike her down. Sick curiousity, or fatherly love, either way, a lot of Nanda Parbat went with her. This island, the whole thing, is a sleeper cell for the league. We are deadmen."

"Look, Ted, Al'-whatever-she-said, Dead doesn't work for me. We are gonna get out of here. These two, they will find a way. Let's just move. Maybe we can get there first." As Robin finishes speaking there is a huge explosion and water begins pouring in the shaft.

"Flooding us out. Bats, we only have that option, no other exit. We're gonna have to fight." Nightwing's jaw is set so tight just looking at it hurts. His tension is palpable.

The scientist, Ted, looks about the lab and makes a dash, grabbing several canisters and other items. "We can get out. But it will take a hell of a blast, and a bit of luck. That wall, it leads to the open waters. They're shark infested, have raging tides, and probably going to get us killed, but its better than fighting through a couple hundred armed and trained assassins at minimum."

Batman nods. Seeing what the scientist is intending. Quickly they gather two piles of containers. The small red canisters are propane tanks, used to run the burners and other equipment in the lab. The other, they have piled into one of the giant lab refrigeration units. Air tight to prevent spread of virus or bacterial agents, they cram into the unit as the blast goes off. The water rushes in and soon the entire area is underwater. Within their glass and steel tomb they watch as the water equalizes.

Batman then initiates phase two. Several of the oxygen tanks are strapped to the outside of the unit, and as he detonates the minute charges on the heads of the tanks they act like miniature rockets, pushing the refrigeration unit into the open sea. But nearly immediately they begin to sink.

Robin is tapping away at a device on her wrist. And just as the unit begins to seep water and warp from the pressure there is a huge thud. Lights illuminate the area. There is a small submarine like vessel that has caught them. And slowly, they begin to rise. The overly rich oxygen in the unit is beginning to get to them, but they needed to create enough pressure to prevent the bends. As they reach a safe depth, they have to take another risk. They have to swim into the open water, sharks, undertow riptides and all to enter the wet dock of the vessel.

Making use of the Bat-Grapples they successfully make the switch. Though Nightwing does have to fend off a good sized shark in the process. With a quick jab of his escrima to the nerve cluster at the tip of it's nose it quickly retreats. And they all take a moment to gasp in the air when they are safely in the sub.

"Nightwing. Robin. I want you to meet an old friend. WE met in Nanda Parbat many years ago. This is who the League called The Alchemist. Or, al'San'Awi. Without the beard and bruises, you might recognize him as Ted Kord." Nightwing stares incredulously. Robin just looks confused.

"We went to his funeral. You told me he was an old partying friend. You never mentioned he was trained with you. Was he Robin before me?"

Ted Kord chuckles and rises to his feet. "Sorry, Red and Green were never really my colors. I worked a little. Though mostly gathering intel and creating gear for your boss. I had just finished setting up shop in Starling, I guess now they call it Star City. But things happened. Ras' Al'Ghul took me. And when he and Nyssa split, she took me. She claimed I owed her my life. It seems that another mutual acquaintance, he reached out to me from Corto Maltese, asked for a particular substance. Said it was for training his heir. I fell for it. He used it in a scheme to kill Nyssa's soul mate. Anyway, long story short, Ras and Nyssa claimed my actions were a betrayal of the oath and took me. I tried to fight, but was vastly out numbered. How did you know where to come? That I was there?"

"For years Ted, I was looking into Ras. We settled our terms. But I didn't trust him. When he became involved in Santa Prisca, and then that monster Bane showed up, I knew he was involved. Then a few months ago, a source of Nightwing's, she told him that she had heard that you, The Alchemist, was in Santa Prisca, working for Nyssa. Until then, Ras' believed you dead. When he heard, he let her deliver that message. I have some people your going to need to meet Ted. A lot has changed. And against the League, your going to need allies. Robin, set course for Star City. Time we head back to the Justice Society."


:::::While Oliver Entertains Senator Luthor, A Friend Waits In the Port:::::​

Cisco Ramon had been sitting on the boat for two days. He pretended to fish now and then from the yacht. But mostly just sat on the deck waiting for his signal. Finally, it came. He could feel the subtle vibration that rippled through the water, into the hull and through that structure, to him. He shifted slightly, reverberating the vibrations and sending a reply. While the submarine that was rising steadily beneath him needed specialized equipment to do this, all Cisco need was himself.

As he waited for the answer to his message he see the gull swoop down and grab the fish from the dock as the young boy is trying to kill it. As the gull swoops up to make off with it's prize he points his finger like a gun and makes a soft noise, "Pew, Pew, Pew"

The gull looses sense of direction for a brief moment due to the vibrational frequencies that Cisco used to manipulate it's sense of balance. As the gull angles down awkwardly, the fish drops back to the deck in front of the teary eyed young boy and his grandfather. They laugh as the gull hits the water not far away and comes up looking very perplexed before it flies off.

"Stupid fish thief. Even the birds are jerks in Star City. The Ghastly Gull. Heh. I like that."

"Seriously, Cisco, enough with the naming thing. And that one, was terrible. They here?" Barry grins and pats his friend on the arm.

Cisco frowns before laughing and hugging Barry. "Been too long. If you were free, why am I here?" As he finishes his sentence he gets his reply and before Barry can respond, he feels the small jolt of the two vessels joining.

Barry drops into one of the chairs and pulls a soda and a sandwich from Cisco's cooler. As he begins to talk, his mouth full of sandwich, Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and a freshly shaven Ted Kord arrive behind him on deck. "Seriously Cisco, I didn't want to do it alone. Bats is a freaky old dude. I mean, I feel like at any moment he might just lose it and go all dark side on us. I bet he has plans to take us all out. Completely freaks me out."

Cisco doesn't respond. His jaw just hangs open. Barry closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head. "He's behind me isn't he?"

Cisco nods.

"Of course he is, I.... I knew that all a long. Just a joke. Heh..heh. Oh crap." Barry stands up and turns to face the group.

Nightwing steps forward smiling. "Nothing we haven't said to him before Barry. Listen, its fine. Really. Let's get to the Brownstone huh? Get everyone filled in there?" He shakes hands with Barry. Soon the Gothamites have changed into civilian clothes, though still wearing disguises. Bruce has donned a beard and thick eyebrows as well as jeans and a t-shirt. Dick has opted for a similar get up though instead of thick eyebrows he has donned a blonde wig and a soul patch. Stephanie meanwhile has opted to skip the disguise. No one knows her. Unlike Bruce and Dick, psuedo-celebrities due to their fortune, she is no one special.

They get into the cars that Barry and Cisco arranged and ride in silence to teh Brownstone. As they pull up to the back Parking lot, Cisco squeals just a bit when he see Felicity walking in.

Rolling down the window he leans out as he pulls into a spot, "Felicity! OMG! TOO LONG!" As he throws the car into park he jumps out.
 
"Discard what is useless." (Artemis)

Artemis had snarked once not so long ago that everyone wanted to "play" with her. That it was a curse.

And sometimes it really did seem that way, that whatever it was that made Artemis Artemis was like catnip.

And oh, don't get her started on cats.

As much as bugs creeped her out-- The Caterpillar could go die in a fire --nothing irritated her more than cats.

Her mother-- with whom she'd somewhat reconciled recently, but still --had been The Tigress. And her sister. Her sister had been fascinated with The Cheshire Cat and his ability to fade away leaving nothing but a smile. And that, oh, that left a bitter taste in Artemis' own mouth. The way that Jade had taken so blithely and delightedly to carrying on the family business-- even, to extent, one of the family names-- it jangled in Artemis like broken glass.

And now Cheshire had her own family, of sorts. What a world.

In any case.

Catnip.

As mixed as Artemis' feelings were about her mysterious attractiveness... it wasn't like she was a nun. Sex was awesome, when she had time for it-- which wasn't often, these days.

And it just so happened that getting into intimate proximity with John Denvers, well, that reminded her-- yeah. His body liked her body. And her body didn't mind his body so much.

She blocked his jab in practically the same way he had blocked her punch, just with both hands. Grappling with his arm, she pulled him close and brought up her knee. John used that momentum to move even faster towards her, taking the meatier thigh against his side and crashing into her with a controlled body-check.

...and then his body hit her body, and she staggered back a step...

...and she remembered, in that step back, that right now they were being professionals and she needed to keep her head in the game, and not the kind of game that she had earlier snarked about.
 
"Add what is uniquely your own." (Artemis)

He brought his elbow up to her face in a vicious strike, knowing that if she didn't counter it, he would have to pull it back at that last nanosecond, no matter how tough she was, that blow could hurt her bad.

...she had barely recovered from that stutterstep backwards and his elbow was flying at her head, more of that scary-shit muay Thai, and with teeth gritted and nostrils flaring she threw her head back and away.

Like a Matrix bullet-dodge, she bent her whole body back, the elbow narrowly scraping through the air where her skull once had been.

But that back-bend didn't end with just a dodge, her hands planted on the mat and she kept that back-bend momentum going--

--a cross between a standing back handspring and a soccer bicycle kick, aiming that kick for his chin as her body flew back and her feet came up--

--this was well on its way to becoming her signature move.
 
Leave Me Be- Joe Purdy

There is a kind of loneliness that comes to those who are set apart. Even when standing amidst a crowd of people, even in the brightest sunshine there is a chill shadow, as if the cold of death follows you.

Jaime Reyes walked through the streets of Starling as if a ghost. People passed by him unaware, sliding aside to avoid crashing into him, but none of them saw him as anything other than a generic shape that filled a space in the throng. None of them knew that here, walking among them, was a man who carried an Alien Sentience inside his head. A brother from another star who shared his experiences and feelings completely. Another half of himself, separate, but part of the whole that made him what he was. Whatever that might be, or whatever it might become.

Jaime had been apart from all other human beings since he was sixteen years old. He had not been alone...never alone. But now, Khaji Da was not talking to him. The Scarab was still inside him, bonded to his body, wrapped throughout his nervous system and skeletal structure, attached to his brain and spine. Jaime could still access most of the basic functions of the Blue Beetle, the armor and weapons systems and sensory enhancements. But the higher functions were dormant.

Khaji Da was dormant. All that was left, was Jaime. All the decisions and analysis were up to him. It was terrifying and so very, very lonely. It left him feeling vulnerable and unsure of himself, hesitant to act lest he make a mistake, or take on more than he could handle alone. He could still easily bench-press a loaded Mack Truck, and fly across the city in moments, and shoot plasma bolts from his hands,

But for a guy who was used to being capable of wiping out a large city if he truly wanted or needed to, this was like being half-crippled. He couldn't phase out of time, or see temporal variance. He had only his own training and skills to draw on, instead of the vast stores of knowledge that the Scarab had been programmed with.

What terrified Jaime the most, was that soon he wouldn't have even the basic physical powers of the Beetle. Someday soon, some innocent person was going to be in danger, was going to rely on him to save them...and he would fail. He would reach for the power and it would be absent from him. He would be only, the very mortal, very flawed, very human, Jaime Reyes. Just a man. Not even a very impressive specimen of a human being. Helpless to effect anything.

What if it was forever? What if this was happening because some new age of magic was coming and the Scarab was dying? What if Jaime was destined to slowly decline into obscurity and die a broken joke who used to be a hero?

Jaime found himself back at the Brownstone, hurriedly walking through the lobby, avoiding eye contact, flashing his ID and heading for the little back rooms that had become his refuge from responsibility the last few weeks. His steeps carried him to the little Dojo where he had set up a sort of virtual office lately, trying to use the skills and education he had to profile the 'real badguy' behind all this.

He stopped, his enhanced hearing picking up the sounds of exertion from two people, one male, the other decidedly female. His nose picked up sensory cues that the human brain was no longer equipped to decipher and the instinctive, 'brain stem' part of the Scarab told him that the heady chemical mixture included male and female human mating pheromones. It also told him that the sweat and stink came from Artemis and John Denvers, A.K.A. Venom.

Jaime stopped dead still outside the door, cold flashing through him, feeling like he'd just been kicked in the gut by...well...Artemis, maybe. The grunting and panting sounds...the chemical mix...the sweat...

Jaime flushed bright red and slowly backed away from the door, unaware that his face held a horrified expression. He swallowed convulsively, a lump strangely forming in his esophagus. His fingertips tingled and he felt like someone had just shot his dog on his birthday. As he turned and quietly walked away, he reflected that this was really not such a surprise. He'd never had much luck with women.

Hell, he had never had much luck with people. Most of his relationships somehow seemed to last only so long as the other person needed him in some way, and then he was alone again. Denvers was more like what Artemis wanted and needed anyway. They were both highly trained warriors, skilled and gifted, at the peek of human physical perfection... Without the suit, Jaime was just...basically a highly specialized but inexperienced head-shrinker. People like Denvers and Artemis didn't respect or admire people like him, the resented them.

Jaime quashed his feelings of disappointment and rejection, resigning himself to continuing the search for answers about what was happening to Khaji and what the Scarab was trying to tell him in his dreams...he walked away.
 
Rolling with the Skullkickers

The elbow managed to get his arm free, but she fell further and he surmised that another knee was on its way and he glanced down. Her feet was whipping upwards with a speed and power which would have been dangerous to any norm. Though John wasn't normal, he wasn't invicible either. He tilted his head a fraction more downward, taking the kick on his forehead, allowing his head to snap upwards with the impact, rolling along with the move and not resisting it.

Smart move, stupid decision. The kick had one hell of a punch, staggered him backwards, scrambling his thoughts for a second. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he looked at Artemis and with a deligted grin, he advanced on her again.
 
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:::::Nanda Parbat. 6 Weeks after the Kidnapping.:::::​

Men and women moved in a flurry. Strikes and blows flitting through the air. Swords, axes, bows and more, a deadly, devastating dervish. In the middle of the seeming chaos stood two small figures. Male and female.

She moves with a fluid grace and beauty beyond what most can imagine. Parrying, ducking and weaving. Her partner, a young man, slight of frame, moves in a similar manner, though rather than taking the defensive as his ally, he strikes decisively and with devastation.

His hands drip in his own blood from batting aside blade strikes with his bare hands. In a fluid motion he seizes one of the axes just under the head, yanking the wielder into a leaping knee strike. Now armed he spins the axe end-over-end, using blade and hilt to deflect and strike alike.

The woman dances between the blows. Using their forms and force against them. Driving their blows into their own men. She twists here, weaving there, ducking and turning, gracefully ignoring the dance of death.

As the last of the men and women fall, the two stand and bow to one another.

"Your training is coming along nicely, al'Saqr."

The woman pulls a small bell from a concealed pocket and rings it. Servants appear and drag the bodies away. Slipping them into the pool that stands behind them.

"Thank you Ras', you honor me with this praise."

The woman's face changes as a slight, half smile turns it from a sternness to a caring expression. She reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. "One day, al'Saqr, your father will see the work, see the struggle you have been through, and he will know that you are his son. And in this, he too will take pride."

"Forgive me, Ra's but how can you know that?"

The woman chuckles, a soft, loving sound. One unfamiliar to the orphaned boys ears. "Because Conner, he is also my Brother. And he will love you as he loves me. Unconditionally. But it is important that before you meet him, you are ready. He is a wise and powerful man. A warrior. And he fears beyond all things, that those he loves come under attack. That we make him weak. But, soon he will know, we make him stronger than ever. Soon, it will be time to go home. To return to Star City."

Maseo steps into the room and bows with deference to his master, to Ra's al'ghul. "Thea, as you wanted, al'San'Awi has been liberated. He is just now arriving back in Star City. As you wished."

"Thank you Maseo. You honor me with your deeds. As you honored by brother before me. Time is approaching Maseo, time when forces unlike anything the league has been through will strike. I owe you for the life of my Brother. And in payment of that debt, I ask that you leave the League. Your oath is fulfilled. Take your family and go. Be safe. Be well. Be ready."

Maseo falters at the mention of his family. He struggled for a moment. Hope leapt in his heart. But could he every be the man he once was. Did he have the choice?

"Your word is my command. But... I swore a life debt to the League..."

"A debt that you paid. As Ra's al'Ghul, I hereby absolve you of this debt. Now, please, Maseo, you have been the only person I trusted here. You brought me my family. I ask that you think now of yours. Go. Please."

Without another word Maseo nods and leaves. Could he really be free. He had never had this feeling before. If not the Triads that ran his neighborhoods as a child, then it was Waller who had owned him. And then to protect himself from Waller, it was Ra's. Could he finally be free? And could he accept this freedom after he condemned Thea to a life as Ra's al'Ghul?

:::::Star City. 11 years ago.:::::​

Battle had raged for days. Ra's al'Ghul, The Arrow. The sums of their combined might, all pitted against one another. But it was Maseo that ended the madness. He had been sent to take Thea. But as he did, he found a chance for a solution.

Maseo had broken into the apartment about an hour before Thea came home from the club. He thought he had the advantage, but Malcolm and Oliver had trained her well. She fought with fury, with abandon. With a deathwish.

Finally as he subdued her she spoke the words that changed all.

"Fine, take me. About time the league got around to it. I tried to give Nyssa her sword, but she spared me. I did what I did and I deserve to die."

Maseo carried her into that warehouse. Dropping through the skylight. Both sides paused as he spoke. "Ra's, Oliver! Enough. I bring a compromise. I have found another, whom when faced with Death at the Will of Ra's al'Ghul, survived. Thea Queen killed Sara Lance. And you Ra's gave the order for her killer to die by the hand of your daughter, by your Hand. But Nyssa took up her sword and spared her. This, as much as Oliver's will, meets your prophecy. She sought death at the hands of Ra's al'Ghul and lived. She can take his place."

Oliver moved like lightning. Striking at Maseo. But he was too quick. He already had Thea, and in a heartbeat had a blade at her throat, forcing Oliver back.

I accept this. Maseo, you have spared a great deal of bloodshed this day." Ra's sheathed his sword and smiled.

"Never! She is never going with you. Over my dead body!"

Then she spoke. "No. Ollie. Please. Let me do this. I am already dead inside. What he, what Malcolm made me do, it took my soul with her life. I need this. Let me save you. And in doing so, save this city. Let my loss mean something. This is my choice Oliver. And I accept."

Oliver stood. Pleading. Begging. But she would hear none of it. And so she took her place. And so rose the new Demon's Head. Though the last decade would not be without controversy. Nyssa and her followers had created their own place in the world. Following the assassin's path created by her father. While Thea changed the League. Made them a source of wisdom, of justice, and of acceptance for the lost.
 
"One of Us," by Ivan Torrent ft. Julie Elven. (Felicity/Vixen/Rose)

As they pull up to the back Parking lot, Cisco squeals just a bit when he see Felicity walking in.

Felicity had just started punching the code in at the door when the towncars rolled in, and arched an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Is this that Senator from Kansas? Rex didn't text me he was running late. Or bringing an entourage--" she glanced down at her phone. "No, my scheduling app says he just left, then who--?"

Rolling down the window he leans out as he pulls into a spot, "Felicity! OMG! TOO LONG!" As he throws the car into park he jumps out.

Felicity lit up like all the neon in that aforediscussed Vegas, and proved herself glad she'd changed from heels into sensible shoes for the flight as she practically flew into Cisco's arms.

"Nobody says 'OMG' anymore, Retro Boy," she grinned at him after a massive hug. "Not even ironically. And frack yes it's been too long. I've been having to focus group names for things and our marketing department doesn't have your zing."

Rose kind of stood awkwardly holding Jack's carrier in both hands, her carry-on still on her shoulder, and she glanced worriedly at Mari. "Friends of ours?"

"Yeah," Vixen murmured, touching her Tantu Totem for a moment and going OSPREY, causing a feathery pattern to spread across her skin and her fingernails to resemble talons like she was part Shi'ar, as well as her eyes' becoming decidedly raptorial. Just as ospreys could see through the reflective surface of water, she could now see through the tinted windows of the car. She could see who was coming. "Sure. Friends. And 'it's complicateds.'"

"Oh," Rose mumbled, staring in awed wonder at Vixen's partial transformation, still not over that after the cheetah thing, "kay."

Then a man with a beard and a pair of eyebrows that would make Edward Cullen flinch climbed out of the car, and behind him two blonds, one a dude with a hipster soul patch and the other a girl that was cuter than most buttons one could mention.

Mari grinned at the two men. "Oh my God, that was the best you could do? I've been through enough hair and make-up in my life to see right through that, and I don't even need these birds-eyes enhancing my view."

She glanced up and down at the bearded man. "Seriously, not your best look. Are you still carrying around an ozone generator so people with accelerated senses can't pick up your scent? Classy."

And then she turned to face the blond fella with the soul patch, and she grinned at him wryly. "And you. Don't even get me started on you. What even is this, some sort of Billy Ray Cyrus thing?"

Felicity rolled her eyes at Mari. "Cut them some slack, okay? We can't all channel the mimic octopus." And then she turned the full brightness of her smile at Barry as he emerged. "Hey, you."

Mari didn't even look at Felicity as she grinned unrepentantly up at Soul Patch. She leaned up and kissed him on one cheek. "Glad to see you back in one piece, Birdbabe."

Rose, meanwhile, had stopped and stared at the man with the beard and the eyebrows. She had-- despite Virgil's kind, worried cautions --watched the digital reconstructions Sister Eye had provided of the footage of the moments preceding Robby's death. And thus she had seen the bizarre Open-Window Man, heard his cryptic dialogue.

And there was something about this man with the beard and the eyebrows. Something...

Rose wasn't even sure how she could see it. Like a part of her brain remembered being The Koan and was seeing this man through The Koan's eyes? But she felt-- she felt-- that whomever this man was, even if he wasn't a direct dimensional counterpart, he was a kindred spirit to The Draped Crusader.

In any case, his presence was powerful, and it was chilling. Indeed, even Jack's pitiful meyowling had subsided for a moment as if the little orange pirate was trying to determine if this man with the beard and eyebrows was friend to cats, or foe, if he even knew himself.

In that moment, however, Rose realized she was staring, and she instead approached the young blonde girl with a hesitancy. "Uh, hey. I'm-- Rose. This is Captain Jack. We're new."
 
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"To hell with circumstances; I create opportunities." (Artemis)

He tilted his head a fraction more downward, taking the kick on his forehead, allowing his head to snap upwards with the impact, rolling along with the move and not resisting it.

Smart move, stupid decision. The kick had one hell of a punch, staggered him backwards, scrambling his thoughts for a second.

Kicking Denvers in the head was like kicking a fire hydrant. The impact rang through her foot and shot up through the bones and muscles in her leg--

--but oh, was that ever satisfying. That look on his face as she bounced back a few paces on the balls of her sock-clad feet, walking off the shock of that hit, the momentary flash of punch-drunkenness.

Yes. Yes, good. This is what she fucking needed. Something-- someone who could take a goddamn hit.

Yeah. Yeah, she would hit that.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he looked at Artemis and with a deligted grin, he advanced on her again.

As he closed on her, she grinned right back at him, that grim sort of smile that said you ain't seen nothin' yet, and I hope I haven't either.

She swept into meet him, arms up, and as he closed within reach she uncorked a flurry at him, left right left right, jab jab jab jab-- then cross-- then elbow--

--so focused was she that even if Jaime had come in through the door, had made his presence known, she might not have seen him immediately. As it was, she remained utterly unaware of his angst, all she knew was the moment, The Moment, muscles expanding and contracting, fists firing off like synapses, whiffs and thuds, oh, those satisfying thuds.
 
Felicity had just started punching the code in at the door when the towncars rolled in, and arched an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Is this that Senator from Kansas? Rex didn't text me he was running late. Or bringing an entourage--" she glanced down at her phone. "No, my scheduling app says he just left, then who--?"

Felicity lit up like all the neon in that aforediscussed Vegas, and proved herself glad she'd changed from heels into sensible shoes for the flight as she practically flew into Cisco's arms.

"Nobody says 'OMG' anymore, Retro Boy," she grinned at him after a massive hug. "Not even ironically. And frack yes it's been too long. I've been having to focus group names for things and our marketing department doesn't have your zing."

Cisco grinned as wide as any man, well, any non-sociopathic, non-clown-themed-man, could. As they embraced he set into a peel of laughter. "My naming skills are at your disposal anytime Mrs. Q. Who or what we naming this time? New rogues? Are you finally.... ya know?!

Rose kind of stood awkwardly holding Jack's carrier in both hands, her carry-on still on her shoulder, and she glanced worriedly at Mari. "Friends of ours?"

"Yeah," Vixen murmured, touching her Tantu Totem for a moment and going OSPREY, causing a feathery pattern to spread across her skin and her fingernails to resemble talons like she was part Shi'ar, as well as her eyes' becoming decidedly raptorial. Just as ospreys could see through the reflective surface of water, she could now see through the tinted windows of the car. She could see who was coming. "Sure. Friends. And 'it's complicateds.'"

"Oh," Rose mumbled, staring in awed wonder at Vixen's partial transformation, still not over that after the cheetah thing, "kay."

Then a man with a beard and a pair of eyebrows that would make Edward Cullen flinch climbed out of the car, and behind him two blonds, one a dude with a hipster soul patch and the other a girl that was cuter than most buttons one could mention.

Mari grinned at the two men. "Oh my God, that was the best you could do? I've been through enough hair and make-up in my life to see right through that, and I don't even need these birds-eyes enhancing my view."

"You try doing this with Cisco's driving. It turned out okay. Good enough."

She glanced up and down at the bearded man. "Seriously, not your best look. Are you still carrying around an ozone generator so people with accelerated senses can't pick up your scent? Classy."

And then she turned to face the blond fella with the soul patch, and she grinned at him wryly. "And you. Don't even get me started on you. What even is this, some sort of Billy Ray Cyrus thing?"

"Yikes! My achy-breaky heart! I thought we were friends. At least...." Dick winked as he leaned in to hug her.

Felicity rolled her eyes at Mari. "Cut them some slack, okay? We can't all channel the mimic octopus." And then she turned the full brightness of her smile at Barry as he emerged. "Hey, you."

Mari didn't even look at Felicity as she grinned unrepentantly up at Soul Patch. She leaned up and kissed him on one cheek. "Glad to see you back in one piece, Birdbabe."

"Thanks Fel, least someone ain't a critic. Ollie still as grumpy as the unibomber here?"

Rose, meanwhile, had stopped and stared at the man with the beard and the eyebrows. She had-- despite Virgil's kind, worried cautions --watched the digital reconstructions Sister Eye had provided of the footage of the moments preceding Robby's death. And thus she had seen the bizarre Open-Window Man, heard his cryptic dialogue.

And there was something about this man with the beard and the eyebrows. Something...

Rose wasn't even sure how she could see it. Like a part of her brain remembered being The Koan and was seeing this man through The Koan's eyes? But she felt-- she felt-- that whomever this man was, even if he wasn't a direct dimensional counterpart, he was a kindred spirit to The Draped Crusader.

In any case, his presence was powerful, and it was chilling. Indeed, even Jack's pitiful meyowling had subsided for a moment as if the little orange pirate was trying to determine if this man with the beard and eyebrows was friend to cats, or foe, if he even knew himself.

"Nice to meet you young lady. I am sorry for what you went through. But these are good people." Bruce could sense the loss. It was a deep aching pain. One he had lived with for many years now. To lose one that means so much to you, who is the reason you believe in the world... it changes things. He wished he could turn back time and fix this pain for her. But he also knew... not all pain could be taken away. Some things stayed with you forever, and those things, they made you who you needed to be.

In that moment, however, Rose realized she was staring, and she instead approached the young blonde girl with a hesitancy. "Uh, hey. I'm-- Rose. This is Captain Jack. We're new."

Steph smiled. A girl her age that wasn't a member of the Bat-Family? Didn't already have a preconceived notion of who she was or what she would or wouldn't amount to? She couldn't help but smile. She had heard what this girl had been through. While she didn't have a simple life, she couldn't imagine what she was feeling. She couldn't help but hug her. To take her in her arms and let her know she was still here, and that she needed to focus on that.

She darted out, quick as quick can be, embracing her. Mindful not to let the cat carrier get jostled too badly. "Call me Steph. I'm kinda new too. Well, sort of. Anyway, compared to everyone else, I'm a rookie. We should go out some time. Maybe get a bite, something?"
 
John

She came at him like a dervish, he blocked, dodged, rolled and weaved, she was fast and strong, grace and power in each move and....he loved it. He counter attacked of course, but not in earnest, to know this you would have needed to be in his head, to see what he could see, to understand the ways he could counter...but he didn't. He took her fists, feet, elbows, knees and could almost feel the thrill she got out of scoring the hits.

One particular kick caught him unawares though, the first time during their session, it his him square on the heart and threw him backwards. He landed with a very ungraceful thud, his heart giving a little stutter at the sudden interruption of its natural rhythm. He lay there, gazing up at the ceiling, swallowing a few times and wondering if this could end him. But two heartbeats later, his sync was back and he could almost feel the juice rushing to his chest to fix him up.

Flipping his legs back, he rolled backwards and on to his feet, he nodded at Artemis, a nod that meant 'I'm fine, let's roll,'. This time he did what he knew she may not expect, as he came within range, he slipped into a Jeet Kune Do stance, not mirorring her, but drawing from memories of studies in his Army days.
 
"Vengeance"- Zack Hemsey

Jaime walked right out of the Brownstone, into the street, trying very hard not to feel his own emotions, trying not to think, trying not to BE. He wanted numb and he wanted blank, he wanted to just disappear. Unfortunately, this meant that he was not exactly paying a attention to where he was going, and he found himself walking through a very bad neighborhood, in the middle of the afternoon (I believe it is??) down a dirty alley. He heard a woman shout, which captured his attention.

Four street hoods had cornered an attractive young black woman and were harassing her, playing a game of keep-away with her purse. She was crying and yelling at the hoods, trying to catch her purse and get around them, but the young men kept jostling her and shoving her away, passing the small leather purse back and forth.

Jaime didn't think much, he just shouted; "Hey! Leave her alone, guys!"

The hoods turned and saw a rather normal looking latin man in jeans and a charcoal grey sweater, hands in his pockets. One of them stopped, holing the purse away from the woman and glared at Jaime.

"What da fuck you gon do bout it, bitch?"

Jaime sighed and kept walking closer to the men, taking his hands out of his pockets and speaking in a calm, measured, reasonable tone of voice.

"Look, man. I don't want to have to talk to the cops today, and I'm sure you don't need the hassle either, so just give the lady back her purse and walk away."

Another of the men, a skinny mexican just a little shorter than Jaime himself, took an aggressive step forward and drew a fixed blade knife from his coat pocket, brandishing it at Jaime. "You think we gon let you call the 5-O, essay?"

Jaime glanced at the knife and then examined the kid, seeing the gang tats and the hard, angry eyes. He held the knife like he was experienced. Jaime tried one last time to be kind to him; "¿De verdad quieres ir a la cárcel , hermano?"

The mexican shouted; "Vete a la mierda , coño!"

The girl chose this inopportune time to attempt to grab her purse from the black guy, who not only failed to drop it, he used his other hand to grab her wrist and toss her into the arms of one of the white dudes, who wrapped his forearm around her throat and held onto her. The black thug threw the bag to the other white guy and reached into his own coat pocket, drawing out a snub-nosed .38, which he started to bring up to aim at Jaime. Jaime felt heat flush through his body.

He took one, long, leaping step forward, right hand reaching out to grab the wrist of the black man with the pistol. He managed to wrap his hand around the wrist and halt the upward motion of the gun, just as Hombre charged in from the side, knife held low for a thrust into Jaime's left side.

Jaime, intercepted his right foot in between the black thugs legs and used his right arm to pull toward himself, turning his own body on his back-trailing left heel. Black guy lost his balance and fell into hombre, who turned the blade of his knife at the last second, managing not to skewer his buddy, even as he was knocked back a few steps. The black thug stumbled and his to use his comrades body to stay upright. They sort of held each other up, even as Jaime stepped back, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. "Please, just calm down, don't do this!"

The armor was trying to climb out of his back. Hot and cold washed up and down his body in bands, sweat bursting from every pore, pain licking at his nerves. But given his mood and everything that had been happening lately, Jaime was terrified to let the armor out. He would not kill these men!

The girl cried out again, the white guy holding her having jerked her arm behind her back painfully, grinning at the spectacle. Other white guy stood holding the purse, looking back and forth as if he had no idea what to do, where to turn.

Jaime was not going to let them hurt this girl and he refused to use the suits powers on low-lifes who couldn't really defend themselves against it. He had been an FBI agent for 18 months and he had taken the same training any agent had to.

He could do this as himself, without Khaji Da.

Black thug turned around and raised the pistol again, ready to kill Jaime after having been humiliated. Hombre reversed the grip on his knife, letting the blade rest along the inside of his wrist, like a prison inmate would a shank.
It was go time.

Jaime charged, trying for a grip on the pistol hand again. Black guy just jerked his gun-hand back and out of the way and took a step back. The mexican went low and slashed the knife, once again trying for Jaime's left side. Jaime used his left forearm to deflect the knife, blocking down to his left, twisting his torso as he did, maintaining a balanced horse stance. Hombre moved past and to his back, still on the left. Black guy raised the pistol again, but Jaime was already moving.

His right forearm crashed into the back of the gunman's , knocking the gun hand aside to the left. Jaime kept moving forward, using his now free left hand to come behind his right arm and grip the wrist of the gunman's right hand, his own wrists momentarily crossing over each other. Using the hold he now had on the gunman's right wrist with his left hand, Jaime pulled, bringing his own right fist up from under his left arm, smashing the side of his fist into the exposed throat of the gunman, putting all of the man's own forward momentum into the blow.

"Hhhoagghkkk!!!" Was the sound the black thug made as his knees gave way. Jaime released him to fall, grabbing for his crushed throat, the pistol slipping from nerveless fingers to clatter on the pavement. Jaime turned in the same movement.

His turn caught the mexican knife fighter in mid-back-hand-thrust at Jaimes right kidney from behind. Jaime pivoted on his left heel and executed a back-kick with his right leg. If he had been just a split second faster, it would have impacted with the thugs soft belly, the longer length of Jaime''s leg keeping the knife from sticking him. The thug would have collapsed, heaving. But Jaime, without the aid of powers, was no trained killer. He had been trained by the FBI to defend his own life against lethal force, long enough to draw his sidearm, or collapsible baton, or for backup to arrive. Jaime had no weapons that day, but for his own hands.

The knife fighter juked aside, just enough that Jaime's back-kick clipped him in the left hip, causing him to spin. Instead of the blade of his 5'' knife puncturing Jaime's right kidney, it slid into his lower abdomen, just in front of Jaime's right hip and just above his groin, slipping in at a right to left angle, and ripping itself out in a left to right downward cut, just missing the base of Jaime's penis, severing the right common iliac artery, slicing the right external iliac artery. The tip of the blade sliced through his large intestine and caused a huge fissure to erupt as it exited his body. Blood, and feces sprayed from the wound, some of it speckling Jaime's face.

The force of the spin causes hombre to smash into the brick wall of the alleyway, the knife blade snapping off with a spark, his head impacting hard enough to knock him back on his ass, stunned. The two white guys looked at him, looked at the Black guy, still on the ground, choking and trying to breathe, and then at Jaime.

Jaime did not remember falling to the filthy alley pavement. He didn't remember clutching his wound, trying to hold in his spilling guts. He felt the pain like nothing he had ever felt, or imagined, deep, deep inside him, spilling out like a wash of dragon flame. He felt how hot the blood was as it poured from him, covering his hands in red, staining his clothes crimson. Weakness suffused him instantly, as he felt his fingers and toes tingle, his skin grow cold and clammy all over.

The girl stared at him in total shock, eyes huge in her pretty, doll-like face. She started screaming, but Jaime couldn't hear her over the rushing, ringing sound in his ears. The two white guys panicked, throwing the girl bodily, so that she fell to her knees in the alley, too busy screaming and staring at Jaime to notice.

They grabbed their two friends and raced away...Jaime felt...distantly grateful they decided to flee, not to hurt the girl. He was sorry she was screaming and that her pretty silk stalkings were dirty. She had skinned her knees, too.

The pain swelled and swelled, becoming something too big to contain in his fragile, broken body. Hot tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cold, numb, cheeks. He lay back against the brick of the alley wall and sighed.

He had grown so tired. He'd been tired for a very long time. About 15 years or so. Some people were cut out to be heroes. Jaime never felt like he had been.

Hazy shadow shapes rose, the alley beginning to fade. Maybe it was better this way...maybe this was what he deserved. This way, maybe he would take Khaji Da with him and they could stop worrying that they might someday be used to destroy the Earth. Jaime missed his mom and dad. He missed Gram.

Jaime Reyes closed his eyes.

OOC: English Translations- Jaime: Do you REALLY want to go to jail, brother?
Mexican Thug: Fuck you, pussy
 
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"Icarus- Borne on Wings of Steel," by Kansas.

Cisco grinned as wide as any man, well, any non-sociopathic, non-clown-themed-man, could. As they embraced he set into a peel of laughter. "My naming skills are at your disposal anytime Mrs. Q. Who or what we naming this time? New rogues? Are you finally.... ya know?!

"Whatever we're naming me," Felicity informed Cisco with a wag of her finger, "it's not 'Mrs. Q.' And, yes, I may be dipping my toe into the codename pool. Better that than having one of you guys yell my name into your earpieces with civilians listening, it's only a matter of time. Also, 'Sister Eye' is taken."

...she hesitated, then, and that reminded her. Being the go-to infojock for The Justice Society, she'd just been asked a question she didn't have an answer to, she should follow that up. "Hold that thought."

Fingers tapping rapidly on her smartphone, she sent a quick e-mail to LindaLDanvers@DailyPlanet.com.

"Thanks Fel, least someone ain't a critic. Ollie still as grumpy as the unibomber here?"

"He," Felicity informed Soul Patch, "like all good men, is grumpy about the right things, and happy about the right things."

"But woe betide you if you screw up the recycling sorting,"
Mari quipped, cheerfully drawing back from her affectionate greeting with Soul Patch. "I thought I loved the environment as much as the next gal, but that man is serious about compost the way some people are serious about The Bible. Remind me never to go camping on a Hellish faraway island with him long enough to worry about sustainable gardening."

"Nice to meet you young lady. I am sorry for what you went through. But these are good people."

"I,"
Rose hesitated, "uh, yes, thank you."

In that moment, however, Rose realized she was staring, and she instead approached the young blonde girl with a hesitancy. "Uh, hey. I'm-- Rose. This is Captain Jack. We're new."

Steph smiled.

She darted out, quick as quick can be, embracing her. Mindful not to let the cat carrier get jostled too badly. "Call me Steph. I'm kinda new too. Well, sort of. Anyway, compared to everyone else, I'm a rookie. We should go out some time. Maybe get a bite, something?"

Rose was no doubt startled by the hug, and Captain Jack still let out a squeak of surprise, but Rose was so very very exhausted, she just sort of melted into the hug.

"Yes. Oh, I remember food. I need to sleep first. But-- yes. Steph. That would be-- awesome. Food would be awesome. Maybe you could give me a freshman orientation over crab rangoon pizza?"
 
Et Ducit Mundum Per Luce.

Hazy shadow shapes rose, the alley beginning to fade. Maybe it was better this way...maybe this was what he deserved. This way, maybe he would take Khaji Da with him and they could stop worrying that they might someday be used to destroy the Earth. Jaime missed his mom and dad. He missed Gram.

Jaime Reyes closed his eyes.

The lids on Jaime's eyes sank shut.

And then a bolt from the blue descended, thudding to the alley floor with sufficient speed and force that the concrete buckled ever-so-slightly beneath it.

Dark reds and dark blues swathed her body, and golden-brown hair spilled and flowed with the billow of her cape.

The poor, battered creature that Jaime had been trying to save stopped screaming, all of a sudden. Even as traumatized as she was, one look at this being-- this angelic creature-- caused her to stop for an instant-- and wonder that she might be saved.

Senses that could read a fortune cookie from orbit or hear two snowflakes smash together took one sweep of Jaime, and she made a noise of deep concern. She had only moments. Fortunately, working quickly was right in her job description.

Glancing up at the panicked woman, she nodded gently to her.

"Don't be afraid," she prompted, and she really did sound like an angel when she said that.

"I have to see to this man's injuries," she noted, "but help is on the way. I'll alert 911 from the air. Tell them what happened here."

Ordinarily, such words would be paltry assurances, as deeply horrified as the woman had felt.

But coming from her, from her, they were Gospel.

And she nodded, furtively, worriedly, biting her lip, but she did not scream again.

And thus The Supergirl, The Girl of Steel, did gather the red-stained Blue Beetle up in her arms and vanish with him in a skyward blur of blue and red and gold.

********​

Perhaps inexplicably, Jaime Reyes would find, not long after closing his eyes for what was indubitably the last time, that his eyes would open again.

And find himself in a place with white, crystalline walls, lit with pale, crystalline light. And perhaps understandably, he might wonder if this was Heaven.

But then the pain in his side might twinge, and, yeah, wasn't Heaven supposed to be mostly pain-free?

"Try not to move yet," Supergirl murmured from beside him with a wince, where a number of golden robots levitated around her performing various tasks, adjusting controls on ridiculously advanced displays, doing maintenance on machines that looked like something out of Oz. "I had to act quickly, and the Kryptonian regeneration matrix isn't really designed to work on humans, the robots and I had to adjust the settings as on the fly. You're probably going to be sore for awhile, but the scarring should be minimal."

She smiled a wry little smile in the corner of her mouth, crossed her arms over her stomach. "I, ah, heard you might be looking for me? Hell of a way to get my attention."
 
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"Whatever we're naming me," Felicity informed Cisco with a wag of her finger, "it's not 'Mrs. Q.' And, yes, I may be dipping my toe into the codename pool. Better that than having one of you guys yell my name into your earpieces with civilians listening, it's only a matter of time. Also, 'Sister Eye' is taken."

...she hesitated, then, and that reminded her. Being the go-to infojock for The Justice Society, she'd just been asked a question she didn't have an answer to, she should follow that up. "Hold that thought."

Fingers tapping rapidly on her smartphone, she sent a quick e-mail to LindaLDanvers@DailyPlanet.com.

"Oh! Ok... I thought maybe there was a little surprise brewing... ya know. But this works too! We will have to sit down and work on it. Maybe over some of the cookies Ma Hunkle makes? She still send those in with John? Or is Sara too old for a babysitter these days?"

"He," Felicity informed Soul Patch, "like all good men, is grumpy about the right things, and happy about the right things."

"Heh. Elderly Jesus here is just grumpy. Like someone pissed in his Metamucil." Dick grins widely. "But we uh... we brought an old friend. Think we should get him in before we make with the introductions though."

Bruce Wayne looks irritably at his younger friend. "I might be getting old, but my hearing is fine. Watch it." The anger quickly fades from his eyes and is replaced with a tenderness that is reserved for very few. "Besides, Metamucil always tastes like piss."


"But woe betide you if you screw up the recycling sorting,"
Mari quipped, cheerfully drawing back from her affectionate greeting with Soul Patch. "I thought I loved the environment as much as the next gal, but that man is serious about compost the way some people are serious about The Bible. Remind me never to go camping on a Hellish faraway island with him long enough to worry about sustainable gardening."

"You think he's bad, you should try spending the weekend camping with Mike Mitchell and Buddy Baker. Talk about crazy about the environment..."


"I,"
Rose hesitated, "uh, yes, thank you."

In that moment, however, Rose realized she was staring, and she instead approached the young blonde girl with a hesitancy. "Uh, hey. I'm-- Rose. This is Captain Jack. We're new."

Rose was no doubt startled by the hug, and Captain Jack still let out a squeak of surprise, but Rose was so very very exhausted, she just sort of melted into the hug.

"Yes. Oh, I remember food. I need to sleep first. But-- yes. Steph. That would be-- awesome. Food would be awesome. Maybe you could give me a freshman orientation over crab rangoon pizza?"


Steph let go of her and stepped back, crouching to get on eye level with the carrier. "Sorry Capt. Jack. Didn't mean to tussle you too bad. I don't tend to get on too well with cat, but I am sure you can be an exception." She stands and pulls a phone from her pocket. "Crab Rangoon Pizza... can't say I have ever had that. But hey, first time for everything. Text yourself, when you're ready, call me."

She hugs her again, leaning in close and whispering as softly as possible, while carefully turning her face toward Rose's neck so as to foil any would be lip readers. "I uh. I lost my dad a couple years ago. Turf war in Gotham. Ended up coming up on the wrong side of Penguin, tried to double cross him. It's how I got into... this. Anyway, I guess I am just trying to say, I have been in a place a lot like where you are now. The three of us have. And if you ever need to talk, I am here. Or if you ever just want to cause some trouble and take a spin in a certain flying-mammalian-themed vehicle... well that can be arranged." She steps back with a small smile and waits for her phone.
 
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