The Ultimate DC RPG - Season III

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I roll out of bed, squinting in the enveloping darkness of my bedroom. It must be the middle of the night. I rarely sleep through the night anymore. Truth be told, I don't sleep much at all. I don't know if it's because I've altered my body's natural rhythms with all these late night patrols, or because I put myself through so much stress, or because I have too much adrenaline or testosterone or something. It hasn't really affected my ability to function, so I tend not to question it. After all, the time wasted on sleeping is time I could be spending training, preparing, or getting work done.

Groggily, I lumber across the expanse of blackness which leads from my bed to the bathroom. Once inside, I flip on the light and instantly regret it. A moment later, when my pupils have constricted and I can see once more, I look at myself in the mirror. I look a lot older than I really am. Being the Green Arrow has aged my face quite a bit. And my shirtless body exposes a number of bruises, scrapes, and scars. Each tells a story of the time Green Arrow was outnumbered or too slow or sloppy. For the most part, though, my physique has been protected against serious injuries. I suppose I have that to be thankful for.

Moments later, I hear shuffling footsteps approaching through the darkness. I give half a smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I apologize.

Adrien Rivers steps into the bathroom, rubbing her eyes and wearing nothing but lacy underwear and one of my button-down shirts. She looks up at me and gives me a tired smirk.

"I, uh... I hope that wasn't weird." She saunters past me, reaching out to run her fingertips across my back. It sends chills up my spine. It's been too long since I was with a woman. "What with me being your boss... and everything."

Adrien almost laughs before realizing she's still too tired for it. "I think I'll live."

I turn around and lean against the sink. My palms rest against the marble countertop. "Listen. Not that it wasn't great," I begin awkwardly, "but I really don't want to make things... uncomfortable between us."

This time, Adrien does laugh. "You don't have to say it, Ollie," she interrupts me. She looks at herself in the mirror, adjusting a few unruly strands of hair. "I knew your reputation when I took the job. Part of me always knew this would happen eventually." She turns and smirks at me. "I guess I'm glad we got it out of the way early."

I laugh. I'm glad she's able to be so relaxed about this whole... situation. "Well, I hope this won't negatively affect our professional relationship," I remark. "You've actually been a big help. I'd hate to have to fire you."

"That won't be necessary," she assures me. As she passes me again, she gives me a soft pat on the chest. "I'll let myself out in the morning. You won't even know I was here." After she disappears into the dark bedroom, I hear her call out, "Will that be all, Mr. Queen?"

* * *

To be honest, I've spent less time in my office at Queen Industries than I probably should have. When I'm not running around the rooftops of Star City, I usually take time to relax and be away from work. However, on this morning, I decided to drop in to do some research on Hackett, China White's financier.

His full name is Charles Thomas Hackett and, as Fyers told me, he's a British ex-national. He even served in the Royal Air Force for a time. Upon coming to the States, he established himself as a successful venture capitalist. Once he built a small fortune, he started making a name for himself as a philanthropist. He liaises through a number of nonprofits, charities, and trust funds. Someone moving that much money around would have no trouble covering the business expenses and profits of a criminal organization. Seems like China White and the Triads are Hackett's newest, most successful upstart.

Lucky for me, since Hackett bases himself in Star City, there are no shortage of opportunities for he and Ollie Queen to make an acquaintance. He's holding a gala next weekend to raise money for underprivileged children in the Pacific islands. Shouldn't be hard for Star City's wealthiest son to swing an invite. I leave Adrien a message telling her to get in touch with Hackett's people to make it happen. True to her word, I didn't see her this morning, but she did leave me coffee.

"Knock knock?"

I don't even bother to try hiding it when I roll my eyes.

"Oliver Queen making a rare guest appearance at the company he owns. Did you need GPS to find us here?"

"Connor Hawke." I try to remain civil and let the venom slip out of my voice. It's hard to do when you're facing the man who framed you, tried to steal your company from you, and ultimately hired an assassin to kill you in the middle of the night. But, hey, that's corporate America. "I thought I felt all the warmth leave the room."

Hawke smiles. "You always did have a sharp tongue, Ollie. I'll give you that." Inviting himself in, he steps into my office and approaches my desk. He picks up the nearest paper and pretends to take a look at it. "So I noticed you hired yourself an assistant? That's really the way to go. And such a pretty one, too."

I grit my teeth. "What can I say? She was the most qualified for the position."

"Are we talking resume or measurements?" He meets my gaze. I can see the contempt in his eyes, just as I know he can see it in mine. Yet we maintain appearances for this social chess game of ours. "So, is she in charge of your schedule?"

I respond with cold silence.

"I'm just wondering what she pencils in at night, when you're out... working your other job."

His implication stuns me, though not nearly as much as what comes next. Hawke reaches into his jacket and pulls out an arrowhead. I recognize it because it's mine. There's even a bit of broken shaft attached to it - enough to show a touch of green. And on the tip? Dried blood. As soon as I see it, I know whose blood it is. Onomatopoeia.

"Remember the day you were released from prison?" Hawke asks. All playfulness has dropped out of his tone. He twirls the arrowhead between his fingers. "You burst into the boardroom and announced your triumphant return. Then, you pulled me aside and told me that you knew everything." He tosses the arrowhead onto my desk.

"Well, Ollie, now I know everything, too."
 
MidNighter


“How are we going to find out who is running things on our end?”

“Good question, it seems that they have different groups to handle different things. Good new is they have all this information on a computer.”

“That’s real good. With the equipment you sent with you all you have to do is get within a certain distance and copy the data safely.”

“I already thought of that but from what I found out their security is too tight I’m going to have to do it in person.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because I’m reading the building securing and schematics as we speak, sending it your way now.”

I get up from my computer chair and walk over to the window to look at the beautiful view behind me. The main thing that sticks out is the Fujitsu building.

“Wait, is this right? This is for the Fujitsu Company.”

“That’s right.”

“But the presentation you have is also at the Fujitsu Company. I don’t know about this, we always said we shouldn’t involve our day lives with our night lives and this is pretty much breaking the line.”

“I know what I said Lonnie but this has to be done. I will be given access to the building and I’ll even be three floors below the main server room. If I go in as Midnighter as soon as I break into the building every thing will be locked down. These people need to be stopped Lonnie. I’m not just getting the information we need I’m getting it all.”

“You know what this means? The company you are trying to close the deal with works for the people we are trying to take down. You do realize that if you get caught…”

“You don’t have to finish that sentence. Just be ready to run me through everything. I don’t plan on getting caught.”

I know this is just one of the many companies these people our connected to. That’s why I have to obtain this information. My short term plans are to stop what they have going on in my neck of the woods. But the long term is to stop them in general. I can’t afford to get caught there is still so much I have left to do.

Good thing about today is so far everything is going in my favor. Out of ten people I was second to go with my presentation. So after excusing myself by stating I was having a stomach issue it was pretty easy to make it to this computer room. Only thing that is bothering me is I assumed this computer would be located in the sever room being that is what was displayed in the blueprints but instead it’s in an office, an office that doesn’t seem to have any security camera’s anywhere in sight or hidden. Something about that doesn’t sit well with me. Either they think no one would be stupid enough to break in or I’m missing something. God I hope it’s the right one.

I bring my right arm close to the computer and turn on my wrist computer. It’s a new device Lonnie came up with. Of all the things he has done he really out did himself with this. It has a range of ten meters which I can use to manipulate the environment remotely. The features are something special, can turn off lights and break glass using a ultrasonic sound wave. This is just some of the things it can do but the most important is its hacking abilities. I pretty much have access to nearly any computer I come by. So breaking into this computer right in front of me and downloading all its information is going to take no time at all.

While I’m hacking the Spider clan’s computer my comm link in my ear begins to beep meaning that Lonnie is trying to get in contact with me.

I activate my com link.“Kind of busy right now Lonnie.”

“Let me guess your hacking the computer right now right?”

“That I am.”

“Yeah about that, well it seems like they have a special virus that activates when someone tries hacking their system. While you download their information at the same time you’re downloading a virus that is meant to not only mess up your system but also trace your location. It’s a good thing that your wrist computer is link to my master computer here at base. I was able to stop it. Also I now have eyes and ears on the whole building.”

“Well that sounds good to me but if you don’t mind I kind of want to keep the radio silence.”

“I can respect that but the bad thing about all this is they are all on their way to you now. It’s another fail safe they have installed. All the members on the security team receive a text on their phones. Good thing is they only locked down the floor you are on also you won’t be able to leave the same way you came because that door is locked and I can’t crack the system to get it open.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll have to move to plan B.”

“Plan B? There is a plan B?”
 
Batgirl
3.5

Brown Residence

Stephanie walks down the stairwell after inspecting the upstairs. As she reaches the base, she looks up and down the hall - making sure we're alone. She soon walks outside onto the back porch, finding me sitting on one of the chairs. "Okay, we're clear. Now ... you wanna tell me just what the heck that was out there?"

"Not really," I tell her truthfully. "Anything I tell you at the point will either make me sound crazy or put you in danger and I don't particularly like either option."

"Well, look; I almost died out there today and I'm starting to think I'M nuts myself, so how about you just take a swing at it?"

She's right. I let out a long sigh as I rise to my feet. I grab the bottom of my shirt and lift it up to the neck to reveal my costume underneath. Her eyes widen as she stares upon the crest branded over my chest. "You're Batman!?" She exclaims. I quickly pull my shirt down and rush over to her, forcing my hand over her mouth.

"No!" I say, shaking my head. "And would you please keep your voice down? I'm Batgirl."
"You're a vigilante?" She says in shock. "Oh my gosh, do you know how dangerous that is?!"
"No, Steph, I thought the countless bullets I've dodged and criminals I've taken down was safe."

She takes a moment to process the information as she lets the awe of the new reality settle in. In the meantime, I simply stand there in the silence watching her every movement as I try to survey her response. I read more than I should into every detail of her facial expressions, her mannerisms and ticks. Anything out of the ordinary sets me off, and as the seconds pass, I become more paranoid.

At this point, I'd rather be fighting that Crocodile that's running around the sewers.

"You know, I guess this makes sense." She says, speaking finally. "All your injuries, you disappearing all the time. ... It certainly explains you sneaking out all the time."
"You noticed?"
"Doesn't take a detective," she grins.
"So ... what do- how do you feel about-" I stutter my sentences as I try to contrive the question I want to ask for the answers I need to know. As she watches my face, she smiles and steps up to me.

"Babs," she says softly, as she puts her hand on my shoulder. "I'm not gonna tell anyone."
"Really?"
"Of course not. You want to do this, right?" I nod. "Then I guess I can't stop you. No one can. You've wanted to fight crime as long as I've known you. I guess you just figured out a way to get a head start."

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"Thanks, Steph. You're a real friend."
"Yeah, I know."
"I gotta tell you, it kinda feels good to have someone else know. Someone who I can talk to about this and not just pretend having two lives is normal."

"Speaking of talking about things; that trip tomorrow, you're not really interested in Psychology are you?"
I laugh, "No. I'm doing an investigation. The guy I work with asked me to look into some weird things going on at Arkham Asylum."
"Was it the Batman?"

"No," I chuckle. "The guy I work with's not Batman. I mean, I've met Batman ... once or twice, but, they're two completely different personalities. The guy I work for is the Red Hood ... which reminds me, if you ever see a guy in a Red Helmet? Don't freak out - he's cool. ... Sort of. Come on, I'll show you the files he gave me."

As we walk inside, Steph turns back to me, "Hey, any chance you can show me some of those moves after this? It might come in handy in the future. Especially if you think me knowing your secret's gonna put me at a higher risk of danger."
"I don't know, Steph, it took me years to learn some of this stuff. I doubt you'll pick it up that quickly."

"Oh I doubt that. I'm a fast learner."
"Well, alright then. Why not?"

As we close the door behind us, I feel as if I'm entering a new chapter in my life. And, you know what they say about a closing door.
 
Batgirl
3.6

Arkham Asylum 6:30pm

Twenty minutes after gaining admission to the lobby and we’re finally getting the tour. Inside the halls of the sanitarium, I feel uneasy for the first time in months. The white washed walls trimmed with black molding give off an eerie brightness in the glow of the fluorescent lights. With every step we take I feel like I become a little more blind and disoriented. Somehow, I don’t think this environment is conducive to sanity.

There was a short orientation by the interim director Jonathan Crane. Apparently, Doctor Arkham went insane and nearly destroyed the place. I think I remember hearing about this on the news last year. In any event, Arkham left control of the establishment to the resident medical doctor. Aside from Crane’s generally creepy demeanor and essence, the whole situation screams of something strange.

“And this is the rec room for our patients,” the tour guide says happily. “Here, our patients can unwind for a few hours a week to take their minds off their problems and conditions. We still keep a strict orderly staff on call to maintain safety for everyone. Now, if you’ll follow me down this way-“

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The group follows her and I trail behind. The tour guide’s a resident Psychiatrist herself. Wasn’t able to get much from her profile except that she’s been here a few years and has an extensive education in the field. Harleen Quinzel; she’s a little perky for my taste, but I’m sure Arkham’s worn her down. You can’t stay cheery in this place for too long without it wearing on you.

She leads the tour outside into the courtyard as we pass to the next facility. The dark night sky is lit only by the moon at the far end of the island. The dim lights that line the cobblestone roads are nearly negated by the moon’s light. All the buildings seem to cast an endless shadow across the grassy hills that go on for at least a mile to the island’s coast.

As I take a closer look, I see what looks like an army of rocks and stones oriented nearly in rows behind a gated metal fence. “Doctor Quinzel?” I call out, catching her attention. “What’s over there?”

“That is the graveyard of the entire Arkham family. Every doctor and director in the asylum’s history has been buried on these grounds.”

No, that's completely normal and acceptable.

“Seems a little dangerous, doesn’t it?”
“How so?”
“Having a symbol of death lying around in plain view for the patients to see? I’d guess it would put your patients in a bad frame of mind to have a constant reminder of frailty and mortality.”
“Oh, the patient’s quarters don’t line up to this side of the island. And our most volatile patients are housed far from here on the other side of these buildings.”
“Quarantine. Too dangerous to keep in the general pop?”

Her face squints. I’ve hit a nerve.
“The patients in maximum security are there for their own safety, little girl. Our resident doctors are able to keep a more close watch on them and maintain a more intimate relationship to ensure the highest probability for their recovery.”
“So the doctors live here with the inmates? Do you guys have slumber parties?”

By this time, the whole class is staring at me, giving me dirty looks. I kinda hate to seem like such a jerk, but it’s the only way I’ll be able to extract the information I couldn’t just readily ask for.

“The doctors live in separate housing on the east end. They’re treated much like ER doctors; constantly on call. This policy was implemented in 2004 and our studies have shown a much higher recovery rate among our patients. I, in fact, act as one of our maximum security psychiatrists.” She stares at me intently with a bitter gaze. “I can assure you we do not take our jobs lightly.”

“Of course, Doctor Quinzel,” I say in a more respectful tone. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend.” A small smile comes up her face as she adjusts her footing to a less defensive one.

“No harm done. A little information can go a long way.”
“Oh, believe me,” I grin. “I know. If you don’t mind me asking, where exactly are the higher risk patients kept exactly?”
“On the north end. The building faces the harbor. Unfortunately, our tour won’t consist of that facility. It’s best to not treat those patients as animals in a zoo.”

“Doctor Quinzel?” A student says as he raises his hand, drawing her attention. I take the opportunity to sneak back. “Going back to the graveyard, what’s that pole doing in the middle of the plot?”
“That used to be a scarecrow. Oddly enough, none of the staff can explain its disappearance. I’ve inquired of it myself. Strange things do happen here, kids. But, it’s all worth it. Keeps us on our toes. Now, if you’ll follow me into the next part of our tour.”

As the group wanders off to the right, I skulk off to the left. Following the gray cobbled road, I make my way to the northern end of the island. On my way, a small nook in the side of a building shrouded in darkness catches my eye. I take the opportunity to duck into it and make a slight change in wardrobe.

Minutes later, I emerge from the darkness in my batgirl uniform. While Barbara Gordon getting lost on the tour may be a better excuse, a better cover would be an identity which obscures my face from the cameras all together. Besides, the objective is not to get caught anyway.

“Now it’s time to take a tour of my own.”

I reach the building at the northern tip. The road here was empty with no other structures lining the path. I’m sure this was done on purpose to keep better watch over the facility. I run as fast as I can to the door and hide myself behind a corner. I peer over the side to see the keypad; it’s buttons illuminated in red. “Hmm. Modernization.” I tap my fingers across the pad like lightning. The keys suddenly turn green, and the door hisses open. “Good thing Jason gave me all the passwords in his casefile.” I gently push the door as I step inside.

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As I shut the door behind me, I roll up the sleeve on my arm to see my watch. “Seven. The tour ends in forty-five minutes and we meet back at the lobby about fifteen minutes before that. Thirty minutes should be plenty of time.” I pull out my lightweight infrared binoculars and grip them tightly between my fingers. “Cue the dramatic music, maestro – it’s time for a background stalking track.”
 
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Previously

IC: Captain Cold

Alex's Diner
Central City, MO
3:12 AM


I sat in the corner booth with my head down, a Chiefs ballcap trying to cover my face from any passersby. After abandoning my sister's car, I high-tailed it to a payphone and called Johnny Jordan, my old fence when I was boosting stereos and TVs from houses. Told Johnny I was in need of some muscle, so he set up a meeting with some specialist.

The bell on the diner's front door clanged as the door opened. I glanced towards the door and saw a thin, red-headed man in a stocking cap and trenchcoat. He watched as he began to walk towards me, his boots stomping on the linoleum floor. My hands were clenched underneath the table, steam rising off the chilled knuckles. He came to a stop in front of me, a smirk on his face.

"You Snart?" The man asked in an Australian accent. "Johnny sent me..."

"That's me," I said slowly, eying him up.

He broke out into a grin and flopped down on the seat across the table from me. "Good to meetcha, mate."

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"Name's Digger," he said, holding out his hand. I eyed the hand before shaking my head. "Right," he said, retracting his hand. "Don't wanna catch frostbite in me hand."

"Johnny said you were a specialist. What kind of specialist?"

"Do a bit of this, bit of that. Robbery is usually m' favorite of the bunch. Takin' off armored cars, that kinda thing."

"And I was told you're like me... in a way."

"Right," Digger said with a smirk."I am, my son, the bloody best boomerang tosser in the world."

"That's it?" I asked in disbelief. "All you can do is throw a ****ing kid's toy? What, was Yo-Yo Man sick?!" I spat, my skepticism giving way to rage.

"Calm down, mate," he said, holding his hand up. "Didn't mean to gobsmack ya with that bit of info. It may sound silly, but Johnny says you're in need of a bit of distraction, yeah?"

"Yes. I need some people looking one way, while I do something the other way."

"Well, that's what I do best. I'm loud and destructive. I'll run those drongos ragged while you do what needs to be done."

"Fine," I said with a slight shrug. "But all I'm asking for is five minutes."

"Five, ten, fifteen. Whatever. What's the target?"

"Iron Heights," I said. Digger's smile suddenly dried up on his face, becoming a mixed look of confusion and fear. "The best part? You'll be knocking on their goddamn door."


Iron Heights Federal Penitentiary
Outskirts of Central City, MO


An prison bus pulled to the gates of the prison. Inside the vehicle, a dozen future inmates were shackled by their wrists and ankles. The guard escorting the bus stepped out and walked towards the two guards guarding the gate.

"Sam, Phil," he said with a nod. "Buncha rejects headed for the cell blocks."

The guards nodded and began to signal to open the gate. They stopped when a whistling sound began to fill the air. A blue boomerang sailed through the air and stuck into the side of the bus.

"The hell is that?" The bus guard said with a confused look.

BOOOM!

A concussive blast knocked the bus on its side and threw the guards down to the ground. Moans and shouts were coming from the bus, right tires ablaze. One of the guards picked himself up and looked around dazed.

"G'day," a man said as he walked towards the guard.

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"Which one 'a you bloody drongos wants to bite it first?"



Supermax Metahuman Ward
Cell Block Delta



The delta block of Iron Heights' Supermax ward is for a select few group of troublesome prisoners, prisoners who don't get the concept of staying in prison. It's at the heart of Iron Heights, designed to make escape impossible. Guards patrol the block every two minutes, there are cameras in every location, every blind spot is covered, and every cell is reinforced with hardened steel. Cell block delta is truly escape-proof.

But, as with most so-called genius prison designs, the design that is perfect to hold prisoners in, offers very little resistance for someone looking to break in.

The entrance to the cell block was slung open, the steel door being ripped off its hinges. The heavy door clanged to the floor, icicles covering it. Captain Cold walked over the door and started down the cell block. While Harkness was outside, creating hell and chaos with the guards, Snart had managed to freeze his way through the walls of the prison, all the way through to the Supermax section and then here. The manifest on the wall showed there were only three prisoners inside D Block. M. Mardon, M. Rory, and E. McCulloch.

A guard came around the corner, a look of surprise came on his face as Snart blasted him with ice. He was frozen solid as Cold walked past. The three cells holding his cohorts were all grouped together. A sign was hanging up that read "WARNING: No mirrored surfaces of any kind beyond this point."

In one cell, Mark Mardon aka Weather Wizard, sat on a cot, looking up at the ceiling.

"Wakey wakey," Snart said as he froze the bars with his touch. He moved on to the cell where Evan McCulloch, the Mirror Master, was waiting with a smile.

"There he is," McCulloch said. He was holding on his bars, but pulled away as the bars begin to freeze over. Snart moved over to the last cell. The tall, dark-haired woman that was waiting for him was Michelle Rory, better known as Heatwave. Her black hair was pulled back, showing the scar tissue that ran along her hairline, and down the left side of her face.

"Len...," she said with a smile.

"Hey, babe," he said as the ice covered the bars of her cell. Behind him, both Mardon and McCulloch were kicking the frozen bars to pieces. Once the cell door was frozen, Snart punched it and shattered the bars. Now free, Heatwave jumped into Cold's arms, kissing him passionately.

"Alright, alright,"Weather Wizard said to the two lovers. "Break it up, you two. We gotta get out of here. What's the plan, Snart?"

"This is the plan," Cold said with Rory still in his arms. He pulled away from her and laid down a line of ice on the floor. "Brand new, shiny ice. Plenty of reflection. We go through the mirrored ice, you three get your gear, we pick up Harkness, and then we scram."

"Who's Harkness?"

"You'll see soon enough."

"Then what do we do, go back to work for Dillon?"

"To hell with Dillon," Snart said, putting Heatwave down. "To hell with what he has planned for us. We're striking out on our own."

"Together?"
Mirror Master asked with an arced eyebrow. "No can do, I work alone."

"And look where that's gotten you in the past. In jail, time and time again. Apart, we're nothing but stick-up men, purse snatchers, and small-timers. Together, we're much more. We're a threat, a threat capable of taking down the Flash. You saw what we did a few weeks ago to that son of a *****. That was just a taste of what we're capable of."

"Why should we listen to you?" Mardon asked, crossing his arms.

"Because the alternative is being back in a cell. Dillon and his boss laid that terrorist crap on our doors, and that's a smudge that ain't coming off. It's something we're used to. We're all freaks, outcasts, unwanted. We're used to taking a different route. So, we'll do that as one. It's simple, Mardon. Work together or fail alone. The choice is yours."

"What about the pay?"

"Equal pay on every job we pull, even shares among the six of us."

"Six?"

"Us four, Harkness, and someone we're going to go pick up. Are you with me, or not?"

"You know I am."

"Long as we get paid."

"What the hell?"

"Good. Let's go, McCulloch."

Mirror Master took Mardon by the hand, who took Rory's hand, who took Snart's. McCulloch leapt into the reflection of the ice, disappearing into the mirrored surface with the other three following him.


******

Fox Building

Central City, MO


Inside the penthouse at the top of the Fox Building, Roscoe Dillon was watching Axel Walker, the Trickster, as he attempted to hack into a database.

BBBBZT!

Sighing, Dillon pulled his cellphone from his jacket pocket and stared down at the blocked number.

"Hello?"

"How's it going?"

"Snart," Dillon said with a chuckle. "You're still alive. How very good for you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"


"We're done with you. Done with you and whatever the Octopus had planned for us. We're no longer working for you."

"Is this your idea of a protest, Lenny? Going rogue?"

"Going rogue? No, I'm not going rogue, I've been a rogue for years now. So have the rest of us, in our own ways. Call us rogues if it makes you feel better."

"That's cute. Real cute. Let me explain to you how this is going to really go. You and your friends will be hunted down like the dogs that you are until each and everyone of you is dead. By my hand. So go ahead and start your little club, it sure as hell won't save you from the bullet I will put in your head. So run and hide, Snart. Run and hide."

"Actually, I'm going the other way with that."

Dillon heard a whistling noise, slight at first, but growing louder. The penthouse's skylight crashed open, and a boomerang twirled through the air before sticking into the coffee table in front of Dillon.

BOOOOM!


A small explosion knocked both Dillon and Walker out their chairs and on to the floor. Slight debris rained all around them as the five costumed people walked through the open hole. Snart walked in the lead, his hands flaked with ice. He was flanked by Rory on his left, heat pistols in her hands. Harkness was to Snart's right, a boomerang in his hands. Behind Snart was McCulloch and Mardon.

"Don't think we need to worry about hiding anymore," Snart said as he loomed over the fallen Dillon. "This is our town now."

"I'll kill you for this, Snart! I'll kill you, and the Octopus?" Dillon asked with a laugh. "Killing you will be the last thing he does. This is the worst mistake of your life, you dumb son of a bi-"

Dillon was cut short as Snart blasted him with frozen energy. Dillon screamed and fought against it, trashing wildly as his body frozen. A few moments later, he was encased in solid ice, a look of panic and shock frozen on his face.

"That's enough of that," Snart said before turning his attention to the confused and frightened Trickster. "Walker," Cold said, holding his icy right hand out towards the young man. Walker watched Snart's hand, sweat dripping from his face. "...You want a job?"

"Y-y-y-yes," Walker managed to stutter.

"Go get your gear, then. We're leaving."

Walker picked himself up and sighed in relief. McCulloch walked up and patted him in the back. "Hey, you got a job," Mirror master said with a laugh.

Snart walked towards the frozen Dillon, squatting down to make eye contact.

"I know you can hear me in there," Snart said as he took off his parak hood and glasses. "This is a message, a warning, a proclamation. It's a brand new day here in Central City. It's our day. If you want a war, then so be it. I know how it'll end. You dying and us winning. Not you and the Octopus winning, not the Flash taking all of us to jail, but us winning."

Snart stood, looking down at Dillon as the rest of his new team flanked him.

"We're the Rogues. And this town is now ours."

 
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Oswald watched as each car pulled up to his estate from his bedroom window.

He begins to make his way down the stairs and says to his Butler, "Chives remember once the last one is in the house you are to leave the estate grounds at once."

Chives replies, "Yes Mr. Cobblepot and I have already made sure that the rest of the staff has left the grounds as you requested and called the others and told them all not to come in for the next two day per your orders."


Oswald says, "Good work my dear man. Good work Send them all out to the Aviary through the back door path way."


Chives nods as Oswald makes his way to the Aviary. When he reaches the Aviary he presses a button on a remote which activates a fine mist along the walk way.

About ten minutes later they are all gathered and Oswald closes the door behind them. They all take seats around tables that are set up except for Oswald.

He says, "When we began working together some years ago I've only ever had two rules for us to follow. One loyalty to me and two to trust me and my plans and never deviate from them."


Oswald turns and says, "Now I know I'm not as young as I used to be, and sometimes my memory has a tendency to fluctuate but if I recall, and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but the night before the Lounge was hit I said zero body count concerning my staff did I not?"


Tom Hartman stands up and says, "It was an accident Oswald. Collateral Damage. These things happen. You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs."

Oswald motions for him to sit down and he doesn't. Oswald then snaps his fingers and a dozen well-armed men appear seemingly from nowhere.

Everyone looks around and Oswald says to Hartman, "Don't make me say it, because I won't. The next thing I'll say is open fire on all of them."


They all look at Hartman and he sits and Oswald says, "Wise choice. I cannot believe you had the gall to say what you just said."


Oswald recomposes himself and says, "Now if there is no further interruptions I will continue. I gave you all heart-beat sensors to give your men to ensure this would not happen. You obviously didn't give it to them, because once they saw my manager in the parking lot they should've not even opened fire."

Hartman again says, "Look we are taking all the risks here Cobblepot not you! We ...."

A couple of him look at him and he says, "What? It's about time we spoke up! We're the ones risking our associates, we're giving him a war, and wasting time when we could be taking over the other territories, and for what? So Ozzie here can settle a grudge against Wayne! What do we get when we're done with this Ozzie? A heaping bowl of jack-crap is what we'll end up getting while he sits on the throne of Gotham City!"


Oswald should be raging but he restrains himself and says to Hartman, "Ozzie? My my Thomas where did you get this sudden streak of bravery? Or is it stupidity?"

Oswald returns to addressing the group, "Who do you think is supplying you all with the weapons and munitions for this for a signficant discount? When I get Wayne Enterprises who is going to make sure you all get a 15% cut of the gross profits and allow you to use my connections? Do you all have any clue what so ever how many times you all should've been thrown in Stonegate? I've used connections throughout the legal system to keep you all, or your family members, out of jail!"

He glares at Hartman and says, "So don't give me that what's in it for me rubbish! You lost that right when I pulled several strings to keep your son going to jail on a Cocaine Possession charge last August."


Hartman stares at him for a moment and Oswald says, "Did you think your lawyer was that good? Wrong!"

Oswald then goes back to addressing the group and says, "So now let's see there was the assault on the hospital which I did not authorize. Baron's treachery I am sure many of you knew about and figured if I was out of the way you would divide the city amongst yourselves, and now it is obvious you all do not trust me at all. I can see it on your faces. That's three strikes ladies and gentlemen."

Oswald snaps his fingers and his men leave.

Oswald says, "Very well if you're not for me you're against me. Our partnership is at an end."


Oswald leaves the Aviary, but when does he presses a button on a remote that locks the door.

Oswald walks back to the door and tries to jiggle the lock and says, "Oh dear something seems to be wrong with my security system."

Everyone begins to look at one another and Oswald says, "That fine mist you felt it was composed of a rare Hummingbird nectar."

He presses another button and suddenly there are several dozen Hummingbirds filling the Aviary and Oswald says, "That nectar drives this particular breed just wild. Oh did I forget to warn you that their beaks are poisoned tipped, and don't try to use your cell-phones when the security system activated it also activated a cell-phone dampener."

Everyone is frantically trying to escape as Oswald watches with a look of hatred and satisfaction.

He says to one of his men giving him the remote, "In about 30 minutes press the yellow button that will draw the birds back into their bird-house and it'll close up. After that come and get me. I feel the need to work in the green-house for now."
 
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Without being able to kick my thought processes or typing speed into high gear, putting together the day's biggest story feels like it's taking an eternity, but at the same time the clock is counting down to my deadline far too quickly for my comfort. I guess that I just never thought about how much I use my powers in my everyday life before now, even out of costume. So many otherwise trivial details that I'm not accustomed to, plus it simply feels wrong that I can't keep the back of my mind attuned to listen for cries of help in the city, or any other signs of crimes being committed.

At the very least, however, I still know how to put together a story. With STAR Labs' cooperation, we've found that the janitor who was horribly disfigured and mutated today went by the name of Rudy Jones. It got more interesting still as we dug further and discovered that Jones was really an alias and he was actually formerly known as Max Jensen, an old leg breaker for some loan sharks in Suicide Slum who got tired of the business and reinvented himself, but is still wanted under that name for questioning in regards to several cases of homicide. Described by coworkers as mostly keeping to himself and not especially good at forming new friendships, he was apparently a well meaning individual nevertheless, ironically enough. Jones/Jensen has no known relatives or acquaintances, and by all accounts he was honestly trying to put a decent new life together and distance himself from his criminal past as much as possible before today's transformation.

Assuming that Lois has been able to keep track of Jones' activities since acquiring my powers, even on top of his own, my biographical info should compliment her current events and make for a decent headliner for the newest supervillain to hit town.

*Click* SEND *Click*

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I suppose it was only a matter of time before the public found out that Superman has been put out of action, as per our obligation to report the truth and make people aware of the danger being posed to them. I only wish that there was something more that I could do.

~You'll be back and right as rain soon enough, Supey.~

With a sudden jerk that nearly flings me out of my own chair, I spin around in search of the voice that had just spoken to me. What the hell was that? It sounded like a very thick British accent, spoken by someone who knows I'm Superman, but... he was... whoever it was, was he speaking telepathically, inside my mind? His words had a similar ring to them as J'onn's psychic 'voice,' but that knowledge doesn't help to calm me down.

Picking up my coat from off the back of my chair and finishing what's left of my mug of cold coffee, I make my way for the elevator. I need to pay a visit to John Henry Irons.
It's not something that I ever imagined I would do any time soon, but I reassure myself that I would not have nominated Dr. Irons for membership in the Justice League if I didn't trust him with my life and the greater good.

I'm going to tell him that Clark Kent is Superman.

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As I step out of the taxi and into the glowing lights emanating from John Henry's Ironworks facility here in Suicide Slum, I have to take a deep breath. I only found out yesterday that Jimmy knows that I'm Superman, and I'm already deciding on sharing that secret with one more person. The last two days have just been full of surprises.

Walking through the front door and into the lobby, I'm greeted with the sight of what looks like a business in complete disarray. Irons' work has been incredibly well funded by government contracts, and he's been pouring most of his profits into either more of his work, or into efforts to improve the community. Whenever I've come here as Superman, I've always found a polished work environment and a receptionist at the front desk, so seeing piles of unsorted paperwork scattered around and no one at the desk makes me more than a little concerned.

"Hello? Dr. Irons? ...Anybody?"

"HiCanIhelpyou?" A teenage girl suddenly springs out from behind the receptionist's desk, having apparently been picking up so dropped paperwork and startling me to no end.

"GAH!" I push my glasses back up and try to regain my composure. I am definitely not used to people being able to catch me by surprise like that, mostly because I'm accustomed to hearing a person coming from a mile away.

"Wow, sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you. Maybe try switching to decaf?" That might actually be a good idea, now that I think about it. "Anyway, sorry about the mess. We're kind of in an all-hands-on-deck mode around here. Have you heard that that Parasite thing robbed a bank? The guy literally just walked right in and took everything."

Actually, I had indeed heard about that. And that was only the first bank that Jones had robbed today. Since that time, he's hit two more locations, but news of those incidents might not have reached this girl yet, considering how busy she's apparently been around here. Still, I at least take some measure of solace in the fact that the Parasite hasn't killed anyone else yet. No one --not even the police-- has been able to even slow Jones down so far, so he hasn't needed to resort to using lethal force to get what he wants yet, thank God. Still, considering the casual nature with which he seems to view the notion of killing someone, as he did with Hellgrammite, I imagine that it's only a matter of time until the bodycount starts rising.

"That's actually what I'm here for. I have to talk to Dr. Irons immediately. It's urgent news regarding the Parasite and Superman."

The girl takes a quick look at the computer monitor at her desk. "Uncle John's barricaded himself in his lab to try to come up with a solution to the Parasite problem." Okay, so she's John Henry's niece. He's mentioned her before, describing her as taking after him pretty strongly and wanting to walk in his footsteps.

"He hasn't considered fighting the Parasite himself?"

"Not without a plan, no. Sure, his armor's tough, but that freak can still probably tear right through it."

"Well, I think that I might be able to help with that. Or at least provide some insight."

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The Ritz Star City is, like most Ritz hotels, not a stranger to black tie affairs. Hardly a weekend goes by that some debutant isn't celebrating something - whether it be a birthday, an album release, a holiday, what-have-you. I know because Ollie Queen used to top the guest list. I was eighteen years old, but I used to walk in like I owned the place. And the sycophants certainly reinforced my ego. Since getting out of prison, I've turned away from the party scene. However, tonight's affair is low-risk, and it may actually serve to strengthen my public image.

Charles Hackett - British ex-national, venture capitalist, philanthropist, and financier to the Triads - is hosting a black tie gala to raise awareness for his issue of the month. This time, it's underprivileged children living on one of the countless islands of the South Pacific. It's the perfect opportunity for people with too much money to pretend like they care about issues by writing big checks and pledging their support. Don't get me wrong: I have nothing against charity. It's the insincerity which leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

But then, why should I have room to talk? I'm glad my money tonight will go to a good cause - assuming it isn't rerouted to fund the Triads - but my true purpose for tonight isn't charitable, either. I'm here to meet Hackett, leave an impression, and hopefully garner his trust. This is a much simpler, less bloody way to infiltrate the Triads, and it gives Ollie Queen an excuse to be seen.

I'm hanging around the gala for over an hour before the guest-of-honor arrives. In that time, I'm approached by nearly everyone at the party. They talk to me about any number of things: their sadness at my imprisonment, their inspiration at my recovery, their pride in seeing Oliver Queen leading Queen Industries and Star City towards a brighter future. As I said, these people are full of hot air, so I take their compliments with a huge grain of salt. It's not totally fruitless, though, as I walk away with the phone numbers of several prospective ladies - each of whom I have every intention of giving a call. You can take the man out of the playboy...

When the crowd begins to encircle a certain point, I know that Hackett must have made his first appearance. Glass of champagne in hand, I casually work my way over to the center of attention. Just as I predicted, the man who matches the pictures is standing there, looking debonair as always in his pinstriped suit and glossy bowtie. He's entertaining the guests, sharing stories and jokes, all with a milky English accent which could charm the pants off any girl in here.

When he sees me, I see the recognition light up on his face. "Oliver Queen," he smiles. "They told me that you were coming. Good to see you." He extends, and I shake with my free hand, taking a sip of champagne with the other.

"Charles Hackett. You throw a Hell of a party," I remark. "I'm sorry I missed them in the past."

"Don't worry about that, friend," he replies. Interesting. I'm his "friend," now? "So long as the world needs our help, there will always be parties." He leans in closer, whispering in my air. "Much easier to pry these people away from their money once you've got a few glasses of liquor in them, eh?"

We both laugh. "How does the world need our help this month?"

Hackett smiles. "I'm so glad you asked. Have you ever been to the Pacific Islands, Oliver?"

"Can't say I have."

"It's dreadful," he assures me. "Sure, if you visit some of the larger islands, some of the bigger tourist draws, you'll see everything you expect. White sand beaches, lush jungles and forests, the whole lot. But find yourself off the beaten path?" His tone grows grim. "These people live in abject poverty. Most troubling of all? They fall victim to those with the means to take advantage of them."

I contain my smile. If China White is as bad as people say, I have no doubt that she's one of the people victimizing these islanders somewhere.

"At best, they live in indentured servitude. At worst?" He allows his thought to trail off for dramatic effect. "What we're doing here is trying to provide these people with the beginning of industrialization. Running water, some electricity, advanced farming tools. Anything to improve their quality of life. If they can produce wealth, they can protect themselves from the vultures."

Vultures like you? I want to say, but I instead I smile congenially. "You don't have to sell me, Charles." I reach into my pocket, taking out a check that I wrote before the night began. "I'm all for saving the world."
 
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"I'd like a word with you, Savage," said Professor Ivo in an impatient tone as he barged into the immortal's quarters on board the Legion's secret mobile headquarters.

"Another time, Ivo," Savage answered testily, "I'm attempting to contact Luthor. He has to know how displeased I am after Beijing."

"With all due respect," Ivo said, spitting the last word out with an indication that he had no such thing, "Maybe you should take notice of the fact that your own ranks are unhappy first."

Savage gave the scrawny little man a deadly glare, one from which Ivo did not back down. Clearly, something had been on the man's not inconsiderable mind for some time now.

"Go on."

"You roped us in with promises, Savage, promises we expect to be kept!" the scientist said. "Cheetah's getting impatient waiting for her chance to hunt Wonder Woman. Atomic Skull is still waiting on an attack on the White House as part of some 'New American Revolution,' or whatever tripe you fed him. Even Solomon Grundy is tired of waiting on your promise to find a way to kill him! We've been playing along with your game because we expect results, and you are not delivering!"

As Ivo sputtered indignantly, Savage sneered.

"But it isn't what they want that has you so angry," he said calmly. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

"You know exactly what I want, Savage," he said levelly. "I want my prize creation back. I want my child, my prodigy. I want Amazo!"

The lights aboard the headquarters flickered, then went out, replaced by the dull red of the backup lighting.

"And until you bring him to me, I'm locking this place down."

Vandal Savage leapt towards Ivo like a prodded tiger, bashing the scrawny man's face with his elbow. Ivo crumpled in front of him as the warlord drew a dagger from his coat.

"You think you can threaten me, little man?" he growled. "You think you can make demands of me?!"

Ivo spit a wad of blood from his mouth, then straightened his bow tie.

"Yes. I can," he said, an air of haughty confidence in his voice. "You've been taking advantage of my technology since you hired me--my teleportation devices, my robots, my spy networks, all to fund this war of yours. The army you're training downstairs? All equipped with weapons and armor designed by me. All of which is tied directly to my command. All of which I've disabled. And there isn't a mind on the planet that can match my technological mastery. Not Morrow, not Sivana, not even Luthor himself, I'll wager."

Savage pressed the edge of the dagger against the scientist's throat, but Ivo didn't even flinch.

"My demand is simple, Savage," he said. "Find me Amazo and bring him to me, and you'll get your war. Until then, you won't get so much as a pocket calculator from me."

The immortal glared at the scrawny man with vicious intent, then laughed heartily.

"You're made of sterner stuff than I'd guessed!" he chuckled. "Very well. I'll get you your robot. But on one condition: once Amazo is found, your robot is first in line to fight the Justice League."

Ivo grinned with satisfaction.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."





MEANWHILE.........


"I believe the press conference went exceedingly well," said Lex Luthor, an arrogant swagger in his walk as he strode down the halls of the LexCorp Tower to his private elevator.

"Agreed, sir," said Mercy Graves, his latest personal assistant. "The press is responding with conflicting reactions, but our investors aren't conflicted at all. LexCorp's stock is up by nearly 1200 points, 73 percent better than projected estimate."

"Action, mercy, it's about taking action," he said. "The public and the press may not like the idea of the Collector Pods for quarantining cities, but when a crisis the scale of the Legion of Doom hits, the people will always flock to the man who takes bold and decisive actions."

"Then this is less about countering the Legion of Doom, and more about turning public opinion away from the Justice League and towards the Society," Mercy concluded as they stepped into the elevator.

"The people need their eyes opened," Lex said, neither confirming nor denying Mercy's conclusion. "They need to see that the solution to super-powered violence isn't more super-powered violence. They need to see that real power isn't the ability to fly at hypersonic speed or bench press continents. The world's problems will be solved by brains, not brawn."

A few short seconds later, the elevator doors slid open, revealing a darkened chamber, lit only by the otherworldly green glow of alien circuitry that lined the floor and walls.

"I believe my colleague would agree," Luthor said as he gestured to the figure in the center of the room.

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"Correct, Luthor," said the alien AI in a cold artificial voice, before shifting its eyes almost imperceptibly. "Anomaly detected: fluctuations in air pressure indicate the presence of an unidentified organic life form in the room. Tracking....."

"That won't be necessary," Luthor said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You see, Mercy? This is a lesson in humility: even I can be wrong from time to time. I had thought that if the Justice League were to send a spy after me, it would have been Batman. You can come out now, Miss.....Atom, isn't it?"
 
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MEANWHILE.........

"I believe the press conference went exceedingly well,"

Oh yeah Lex I'll give you credit on that one. You had them eating of the palm of your hands all-right, but sooner or later it'll all come down and when it does God Help you.

"The press is responding with conflicting reactions, but our investors aren't conflicted at all. LexCorp's stock is up by nearly 1200 points, 73 percent better than projected estimate."

Well as long as your bottom line is safe! The guy can give lessons to Trump on ego!

"Action, mercy, it's about taking action," "The public and the press may not like the idea of the Collector Pods for quarantining cities, but when a crisis the scale of the Legion of Doom hits, the people will always flock to the man who takes bold and decisive actions."

Or the one who knows how to play the game better than the average person. Preying upon fears and paranoia...I think I may be sick.

"Then this is less about countering the Legion of Doom, and more about turning public opinion away from the Justice League and towards the Society,"

Society? What the? Oh no! The Legion of Doom is the distraction! This society or whatever is the power behind the throne! This is worse than we thought. It's almost like a hostile takeover, except this is taking over the whole planet.

"The people need their eyes opened," "They need to see that the solution to super-powered violence isn't more super-powered violence. They need to see that real power isn't the ability to fly at hypersonic speed or bench press continents. The world's problems will be solved by brains, not brawn."

Or in this case The Golden Rule. He who has the gold makes the rules, and you got more than all of us don't you baldy! My kingdom right now to be alone in a parking lot with you for two minutes and an alibi! I need evidence.

She follows Lex and Mercy and is still focused in on them until....

"I believe my colleague would agree," Luthor said as he gestured to the figure in the center of the room.

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Atom sees Brainiac for the first time, and is completely stunned.

"Correct, Luthor,"

What in the.....he can't be local! This is the real power behind Luthor's throne this is worse than any of us could've imagined. I gotta get out of here and warn the others. This is going from bad to worse. If nothing else get word to Pete Ross or even.....

"Anomaly detected: fluctuations in air pressure indicate the presence of an unidentified organic life form in the room. Tracking....."

Uh-Oh I just got busted!

"That won't be necessary," "You see, Mercy? This is a lesson in humility: even I can be wrong from time to time. I had thought that if the Justice League were to send a spy after me, it would have been Batman. You can come out now, Miss.....Atom, isn't it?"

No use in playing hide and seek. Luthor's android has spotted me and Lex knows it's me. I could play dumb but since I'm down here Lex has to know that I'm onto him. Suddenly all those dreams where I'm walking throught Higj-School naked aren't so bad.

The Atom grows to 6 inches, just out the reach of Lex and Mercy.

She floats and says, "Wow! Lex Luthor knows me! I was flattered when Wonder Woman knew who I was this is just wow! Actually it's our annual fund drive I'm collecting donations. Just seeing if you, your chaffuer or whatever she is, and your family member in the center of the room would care donate. I figure you two have got to be related. You both share so many simularities."

She floats a little higher close to a nearby air-vent and says, "Yeah both of you are cold and very calculating, almost mechanical in your views of humanity, both of you are the real power behind a larger group. Luthor and the society are the power behind the Legion Of Doom, your..." She gestures to Brainiac, "cousin is the power behind the society, and of course you're both bald."

Atom knows that it's only a matter of time before she is in over her head, and one thought keeps going through her mind.

J'onn if you can hear me now...now would be a really good time to send in some back-up!

Just then she spots something near the vent that could aid her.

A sprinkler head...bust the gel on that and if nothing else it'll get the Metro Fire Department down here and I can get out in the confusion. Need to play it cool and sell it to them

She floats closer to the vent...
 
The Atom grows to 6 inches, just out the reach of Lex and Mercy.

She floats and says, "Wow! Lex Luthor knows me! I was flattered when Wonder Woman knew who I was this is just wow! Actually it's our annual fund drive I'm collecting donations. Just seeing if you, your chaffuer or whatever she is, and your family member in the center of the room would care donate. I figure you two have got to be related. You both share so many simularities."

She floats a little higher close to a nearby air-vent and says, "Yeah both of you are cold and very calculating, almost mechanical in your views of humanity, both of you are the real power behind a larger group. Luthor and the society are the power behind the Legion Of Doom, your..." She gestures to Brainiac, "cousin is the power behind the society, and of course you're both bald."

Atom knows that it's only a matter of time before she is in over her head, and one thought keeps going through her mind.

J'onn if you can hear me now...now would be a really good time to send in some back-up!

Just then she spots something near the vent that could aid her.

A sprinkler head...bust the gel on that and if nothing else it'll get the Metro Fire Department down here and I can get out in the confusion. Need to play it cool and sell it to them

She floats closer to the vent...


"Interesting imagination you've got," Luthor said in a mocking tone. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that your ability to jump to conclusions might be a new super-power of yours. Mercy, if you wouldn't mind?"

Mercy Graves tapped a few commands into her computer tablet, and the air vent the Atom was approaching snapped shut.

"Since you're not going anywhere," Lex said with the amusement of a cat toying with a mouse, "perhaps I can correct a few of the glaring errors in your judgment."

Luthor glared at the Atom, while Brainiac examined her with lifeless, unblinking eyes.

"I'd love to know, for instance, where you get this notion that I'm behind the actions of a group of inhuman terrorists," he said, an indignant growl in his voice. "The Legion of Doom has cost the Society an astronomical amount of resources--not to mention lives--in their attacks, and we've committed the full span of our power and influence into stopping them. Something which, I might add, you and rest of the Justice League have thus far utterly failed to do. The fact that we're taking the public's trust away from you by acting while you don't is certainly a nice benefit, though."

The condescension in his smile very thinly veiled his contempt.

"Secondly, accusing me of associating with terrorists is a very serious claim, one that I wouldn't make if I were you," he said. "Especially considering there's no evidence backing up your accusations other than the fact that you think I'm a 'bad guy.' Although I suppose among the massive list of crimes the Justice League has committed--public endangerment, destruction of private and public property, assault and battery, countless airspace violations, and we'll go ahead and add trespassing while you're here-- slander and defamation of character are paltry stuff."

"I have analyzed the intruder's capabilities," Brainiac announced. "Her mass-altering ability bears similar properties to those of the Collector Pods, although localized and far more crude in nature. She is of no use to us, and her threat level is negligible."

"Thank you," Luthor said with a nod before gesturing to him. "This is Brainiac, by the way, an eons-old extraterrestrial AI, and quite possibly the most powerful mind in the known universe. He's my guest and consultant at the moment, as you may have learned if you hadn't insulted him without saying so much as a hello first."

"I am here to collect and preserve all relevant data this planet holds," Brainiac explained. "In return, I offer my technology and strategic input to aid the Society. I have no interest in their agenda beyond mutual benefaction."

"There you have it, straight from the interstellar supercomputer's mouth," said Luthor. "I know it must be confusing, since the Justice League follows the lead of an alien, but when it comes to deciding the fate of the world, the 'power behind the Society' is still very much a human being, namely me."

"Mister Luthor?" Mercy chimed in. "I've just received notice from the front desk. The police have arrived."

"Thank you, Mercy," he said graciously. "Since I've given you an explanation, now it's your turn to explain yourself to the authorities, as to why you've broken into a private place of business and started making threats and accusations. I'm sure they'll be as amused as I am. Brainiac, if you would?"

"Understood. Complying," the alien intelligence said, opening a hatch above him and raising his frame up into the ceiling. The glowing green circuitry faded, ridding the room of any hint that the AI had ever been there at all.
 
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Now that I've established contact with Hackett, it's time to take the next step towards infiltrating the Triads' operation. However, there's a small housekeeping matter which demands my attention first. Two weeks ago, Connor Hawke barged into my office and revealed that he has knowledge of my dual identity. It shouldn't have surprised me. He did send an assassin to kill me, and that assassin failed because of my skill with a crossbow. Even a dimwit like Hawke could put two and two together. It was the abruptness and the timing of the announcement which caught me off-guard, which was surely Hawke's plan.

Ignoring the bleating of Hawke's secretary, I march right into his office. He looks up from his computer with a smile, which only makes me hate him more. "Wow. Twice in a month," he remarks smugly. "If you're not careful, people might start to think you actually work on this job."

"Save it, Hawke," I answer sharply. I'm in no mood to exchange barbs in our usual fashion. He's pushed me too far this time. "So you know the truth about me. Big deal. What's your proof? An arrowhead?" I take it out of my pocket and throw it on his desk, just as he did to me. "Good luck explaining how you came to possess that."

Hawke stares at the arrowhead. He knows I'm right. The only link between myself and the arrowhead is Onomatopoeia, the assassin Hawke hired. But, of course, Hawke can't confess to hiring an assassin to kill Oliver Queen, which means his knowledge of my identity is pure hearsay in the eyes of the law. Enough to give me unwanted attention, but little more than that.

Then, he smirks, and my blood runs cold. "You know, I did consider that," he begins. "Trying to convince the world that Oliver Queen was waging a one-man war against crime in Star City. Then I realized... it's not really a one-man war, is it?"

I furrow my brow. What are you getting at, Hawke?

"Green Arrow has no shortage of toys, I've noticed. You can't just walk into a store and buy specialty arrows like that. So I realized that you must have someone making it for you," Hawke explains. I keep up my poker face. No need to tell him he's on to something. "From there, well, it wasn't very difficult."

"I started with Queen Industries employees, past and present," he continues, "but I didn't hold out much hope. I mean, you couldn't really be dumb enough to pick someone who could be traced back to you so easily?" He meets my gaze.

He knows.

Hawke leans back in his chair, triumphant. "I noticed that one of our engineers has been showing up to work driving a Lexus convertible. I wasn't aware that R&D paid that well these days." He arches an eyebrow. "So what was it? Early Christmas bonus for a job well done?"

Floyd. Floyd Finley. When I began my crusade, I made Floyd my go-to guy for specialized equipment. I'll be the first to admit: I was sloppy. I shouldn't have picked someone associated with Queen Industries. I wasn't thinking. "I can't imagine Green Arrow's tech guy would turn on him," I respond plainly, trying to hide my panic.

Hawke laughs. "Everyone has a price, Ollie. Don't you know that by now?"

"You're lying."

"Oh, please. Would I tell you all this if I wasn't confident Mr. Finley would come through when I need him?" Hawke asks. "Make him all the promises you like, try to buy his loyalty, but he'll never help you because he fears me."

For what it's worth, I believe Hawke. He had me imprisoned and he tried to kill me. I have no doubt that he can concoct some threat great enough to scare Floyd into submission. I can try to convince Floyd that he need not fear Hawke, but I doubt that will work. Hell, Hawke's not going to be stupid enough to let me get near Floyd again. So what now?

"Don't get yourself down, Ollie. I've been playing this game longer than you have."
 
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ELSEWHERE​

"Get the hell off'a me! You got any idea who you're messin' with?! Do you?!"

Nathan Gambol's angered protests echoed throughout the vacant halls of the abandoned Gotham City Reservoir, located on the edge of Narrows Island. With a thick burlap sack obstructing his vision, however, the most that Gambol knew of where he had been abducted and brought to was that the place smelled of mold and dirtied, rusted pipes - overpowering the distant, but distinct smell of fertilization and fresh leaves. The men that dragged him backwards across the floors held him firmly down, both dressed from head to toe in black military outfits and stronger than anyone Gambol had ever put under his employ. All he knew was that they didn't carry weapons. They didn't need them. These two men had just tore through a whole batallion of Gambol's personal security with nothing more than their bare hands.

Even still, he struggled the entire way through the compound, even though the gesture seemed increasingly useless. Unlike what many of the other heads of the city's crime families claimed, Gambol was the rare breed of criminal that actually had seen the uglier sides of life - and better yet, ended up rising above it through sheer determination, unintimidated by the many obstacles that life had thrown his way. He'd have been damned if he was going to let a couple of metahuman freaks with a deathwish get to him.

"Whoever you're workin' for, they better be ready to fight an army! I got friends in places higher than you could ever dream of! People that'd make Falcone look like shi..."

Abruptly, the mobster felt his body shift forwards, tossed onto the hard pavement ahead. Rolling onto his stomach in anguish, Gambol immediately clawed at his face until he could get a proper grasp of the sack covering his head, becoming increasingly irritated by the silence that inhabited his surroundings. The entire car ride over, the two clowns that had killed some of his best men right infront of him hadn't said a word. The sounds of their breathing was scarce, even potentially non-existent. For awhile, Gambol was even convinced that he might have been alone, stuck in the back of a dark van as it travelled all the way from Robinson Park to The Narrows.

"Hey! You listenin' to me, freaks?! You picked the wrong time to mess with..."

Finally peeling the sack away, Gambol scrambled to his feet and squinted ahead, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that illuminated the area. The air around him was unnaturally humid, and looking around, he immediately knew why. Gigantic green plants, vivid flowers, inhouse trees, fresh fruits, and even an overlay of vines sprouting across the walls all covered the entirety of the interior chamber, like a grossly unorganized garden in the cusp of it's prime. He was just about to chew out the men behind him, who stood rigid and silent at the entrance, but he was stopped as he noticed something fall onto the shoulder of his jacket. A droplet of a dark subtance, and one that he recognized all too well.

Glancing upward, the man that had seen more death than most could imagine was rendered horrified, seeing that three lifeless individuals were danging from the ceiling, entrapped in large caccoons. A shifting series of vines and thorns secreting out of their skin, tearing through the corpses and moving freely through open gashes in the chests and skullbones. Only one was still bleeding out, evidently having just been subjected to the process. The others were hollowed.

"Holy..."

"No. There's nothing holy about it."

The woman's voice came from behind two large taro leaves, which parted in unison upon a wave of her hand. Gambol locked eyes with the individual, whose perfectly sculpted body was covered in a black bodysuit that was only the lining for segmented pieces of thick vegetation, swirling in place in an odd pattern that only further distracted the mobster.

"Purity? Perhaps. Perfection? Definitely. But I am burdened by no allusions of holiness. What you're seeing is an absolute desecration to what your species misinterprets as life."

Her ruby red lips curled into a wicked smile. "But then again, none of you have seen the other side of the spectrum."

Gambol grit his teeth, flashing an accusatory glare at the mystery woman.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. You're behind this?! I just got ambushed by a chick?!"

"How very typical,"

From beneath the dirtied tiles lining the floor, Gambol was knocked off of his feet by a series of rapidly growing liana stems, which wrapped themselves tightly around the mobster's ankles like a group of ravenous snakes. He tried to yell out in pain as they dug large thorns into his skin, but he was violently yanked ahead before he could make a sound, brought closer to the woman as she stood from her bed of fresh roses and violets.

"I should have hardly expected more from one of the city's bottomfeeders, but I suppose such is the manner of The Syndicate's unique brand of idiocy."

Risen from the ground, Gambol's hardened demeanor was immediately shattered, as he visibly began to panic from the woman's clear level of control over the abudant plantlife. The gears in his head almost couldn't help themselves but to turn, connecting the gruesome way in which Mario Falcone had died with what was happening now.

"Oh, Jesus. You're the one to offed Falcone's kid?"

"Hardly. If you look at it any number of ways, he doomed himself long ago to a bitter end. Infact, thinking about it, you all did. I merely had the pleasure of bringing about the circumstance."

Plucking one of the pedals from a flower protruding from her outfit, she watched as it twisted itself in her palm into a shape reminiscent of a caterpillar. Then looked up at Gambol and smiled, approaching him while the lianas directed his body to the right, bringing him level to where she was standing - specifically, bringing her closer to his left ear.

"Now relax. This shouldn't hurt, at least at first. The discomfort will only begin to set in once your body tries to reject the spores tucked away in this lovely little number."

Sweat began to bead down Gambol's forehead, as he felt her stick it into his ear canal. He didn't know for sure, but he could swear that he felt the pedal wrigling itself into his body. And that thought, in turn, made him want to be sick.

"What.. what'd you just..."

"It's a tool, Gambol. For extraction."

She placed her hand ontop of his cheek and grinned, the inhuman blackness of her eyes becoming evident as she leaned in closer. Gambol was nearly ready to scream even before the immense pain would hit him.

"Once the spores take over, your mind going to relent, and you'll tell me everything that you've ever known about The Syndicate."

Darkness overwhelmed Gambol's periphial vision, as he began to momentarily black out.

"And in time, you'll be the first to help me annihilate them."

"Take me back to the beginning."

Catwoman takes a sip of her coffee once I hand it to her, raising an eyebrow at the request. We've been going over potential suspects for the last fifteen minutes, and neither of us are any closer to discerning who really killed The Roman's brat. From the way she made it sound, Falcone mistook her breaking and entering into his penthouse suite as a sign that she was somehow involved, given that she chose to do it while the funeral was being held. By design, I assume, since she likely snuck in to swipe something that wasn't her's - but careful timing doesn't make her a killer. Just a really bad opprotunist.

"What more is there to say?", she asks, while I go to work on combing through the GCPD's criminal files. "The old man caught me off guard, sicked his dogs on me, I defended myself and ran. I've told you whatever could be relevant, and even I know that it won't get us anywhere."

I keep her story in mind - and I'm convinced that's what it is, a story - while I cross-reference all of Falcone's known assailants of the past few months. Reported incidents, suspect watchlists, confessionals, whatever could be tied to the man that he'd choose to report to the police. Unfortunately for us, the mob likes to keep their personal quarrels between themselves and their enemies. The mentality is that old eye for an eye logic, begruding their deep connections for hired guns to make things messy and send a message in the process.

Seems like somebody tried to send one back. But for all I know, this could be different. I'm keeping my options open.

"What about Falcone's men? The ones that attacked? You said they were your run-of-the-mill bruisers. How'd you fare against them?"

Resisting the urge to ask me how the hell that could possibly have anything to do with this, she shrugs. "Incredibly well, all things considered. I'm not dead, if that's what you're asking."

"Clearly. But what about their body types? Large? Intimidating?"

"Average, I guess? They were barely any taller than me. Why do you ask?"

"Checking in on a hunch."

Glancing over my shoulder at the computer screen, she crosses her arms.

"Must be a hell of a hunch. You stopped typing a minute ago."

"What about Falcone himself? Did he seem irregular to you?"

Growing irritated in her tone, she nevertheless answers.

"Other than the fact that he was acting like a grief-stricken parent? I wouldn't know. Never met the man before tonight."

I look back. "Must've made an impression."

"Hardly. He's actually more frail than I expected. Starting to show his age."

"So then, what was it?"

She's silent, contemplating what I just asked.

"What was what?"

"The thing that set it off."

Looking off, Catwoman ignores the implication. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"The fear."

Turning around, I fully face her with a deadly serious expression. "Whenever I came upon you when you were being chased, you were looking past me, like you were a world away. If I had to guess, paranoia had set in. You were terrified about something, but you wouldn't say what it was."

At first, she gets angry. But something else crosses her mind. Trying to cover.

"Look, you caught me off guard. It happens, so don't mistake that for anything other than what it was. Or do I need to remind you that I nearly crushed your windpipe? Which, by the way, if you keep talking to me like that..."

"Oh, spare me the indignation. You think I can't see the signs? I've been reading people for years. You were afraid. You just won't let yourself see it."

I was trained as a psychologist. In the technical term of the profession, it's my job to be able to see past the lies that the minds of other people create in order to tell themselves that there's nothing wrong. I have to be able to discern what's hidden beneath a layer of bull**** so thick that it honestly convinces my patients of a truth that never existed in the first place. And what's happening now is a prime example.

She's too scared to admit that she was scared.

"So just save us both the trouble and cut to the chase. What really happened back there?"

Catwoman remains silent, biting her lip to prevent herself from talking. "What are you holding back?"

A moment passes, and for the longest time, I'm convinced that I'm going to have to abandon the case altogether. If she's unwilling to cooperate and accept my help, then we're done. I could be hunting down an escaped killer right now, and I chose to protect a thief. I already hated myself enough for it as it is.

"He showed me the body."

Then she admits the last thing I expected for her to admit, and I'm suddenly back in the fold. "Whenever I fought back the first time, his goons overpowered me. They tried to beat me into submission, but Falcone called them off before I could black out."

To listen to the timber of her voice change so quickly, it's like I'm actually there with her. And I gotta be honest - I'm not sure I like being there.

"He was just - I don't know how else to describe it. Possessed by the idea that I had killed the guy. I guess he just needed to be able to rationalize it in his mind, that some woman in a cat costume killed his son just to pawn a few jewels. If I had known this was what I was getting into, I'd have never gone."

She places her hands together. "That was when he decided I need a closer look - at my handiwork, as he called it - to be able to admit that I had done whatever it is that I had done. So he had the idiots drag me into the other room, where a bodybag was lying on the table. And when he unzipped it, I saw..."

With a momentary pause, she shakes her head.

"You're not going to believe me. But this is where it just... this is where it got strange."

"I'm sure I've heard worse."

"I don't know about that."

I lean in, intrigued.

"Whenever he unzipped the bag, shouting that I needed to see what had become of the son I had 'murdered'... all I saw were a bunch of vines. There was the shape of a man inside of them, I could tell, but the vines had completely overtaken the body. Like they had been growing out of him, wrapping themselves tightly around the remains."

My eyes widen, as I slowly begin to realize something. She mistakes this new thought as skepticism, prompting her to stand up. "Hey, I told you what I saw. You got what you wanted out of me. If all you're gonna do is sit there and give me that look, I can leave right now. I don't need this."

"Catwoman..."

I stand up to face her. "I believe you."

She looks back, surprised. "What?"

Walking past her, I move back from the criminal database to begin a new search entry. One of an incident from about four years ago, back when Bruce first appeared on the scene as Batman. I remember it because it's the first time that the press got wind of his exploits after those initial sightings - and it's also the first time that he failed to save a number of lives.

"I believe you because it's happened before."

"You're kidding. To who?"

Beginning to look up the story in the Gotham Globe archives, I run through the details I can remember in my head. Dammit. If what I'm thinking of is accurate, this'll be the second time in years that Gotham's seen such a bizarre wave of death.

"It was a chemical-based terrorist attack on the Gotham Reservoir. That guy from a few years ago, Doctor Death. Six workers were found, covered in vines from head to toe and strangled from the inside. Five of them male, all dead..."

My blood runs cold at the thought. "And one survivor. A female."

"Now, then. Doesn't that feel so much better?"

An hour after the relentless screaming and suffering, a bloodied Gambol looked up at the woman before him, his pupils diluted and his expression emotionless. Whatever she had put in his body hadn't just hurt him - it had changed him in a way that nothing else seemed capable of doing. Silently, he stood up, his bones cracking ontop of eachother as his body reacted beyond his will.

"That's it. Come to me. Tell me your secrets..."

Placing her arms around his neck, Gambol was unable to fight as she leaned in, her lips pressing softly against his.

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"Tell me everything."

In due time, the criminal underworld of Gotham City would come to know it's true matriarch. Unlike many foolishly believed, it wasn't Falcone, or the police, and it certainly wasn't The Syndicate.

Like a seed, her influence would soon grow into a blossoming wave of chaos. And at it's end, when everyone had been turned into an extension of her children - a metamorphisis just like Gambol had just experienced - she would take her rightful place as the source of all that made Gotham perservere.

Pleasure. Addiction. Torment. And pain.

All would soon come to recognize them as one name.

Poison Ivy.
 
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"Interesting imagination you've got," Luthor said in a mocking tone. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that your ability to jump to conclusions might be a new super-power of yours. Mercy, if you wouldn't mind?"

Mercy Graves tapped a few commands into her computer tablet, and the air vent the Atom was approaching snapped shut.

"Since you're not going anywhere," Lex said with the amusement of a cat toying with a mouse, "perhaps I can correct a few of the glaring errors in your judgment."

Luthor glared at the Atom, while Brainiac examined her with lifeless, unblinking eyes.

"I'd love to know, for instance, where you get this notion that I'm behind the actions of a group of inhuman terrorists," he said, an indignant growl in his voice. "The Legion of Doom has cost the Society an astronomical amount of resources--not to mention lives--in their attacks, and we've committed the full span of our power and influence into stopping them. Something which, I might add, you and rest of the Justice League have thus far utterly failed to do. The fact that we're taking the public's trust away from you by acting while you don't is certainly a nice benefit, though."

The condescension in his smile very thinly veiled his contempt.

"Secondly, accusing me of associating with terrorists is a very serious claim, one that I wouldn't make if I were you," he said. "Especially considering there's no evidence backing up your accusations other than the fact that you think I'm a 'bad guy.' Although I suppose among the massive list of crimes the Justice League has committed--public endangerment, destruction of private and public property, assault and battery, countless airspace violations, and we'll go ahead and add trespassing while you're here-- slander and defamation of character are paltry stuff."

"I have analyzed the intruder's capabilities," Brainiac announced. "Her mass-altering ability bears similar properties to those of the Collector Pods, although localized and far more crude in nature. She is of no use to us, and her threat level is negligible."

"Thank you," Luthor said with a nod before gesturing to him. "This is Brainiac, by the way, an eons-old extraterrestrial AI, and quite possibly the most powerful mind in the known universe. He's my guest and consultant at the moment, as you may have learned if you hadn't insulted him without saying so much as a hello first."

"I am here to collect and preserve all relevant data this planet holds," Brainiac explained. "In return, I offer my technology and strategic input to aid the Society. I have no interest in their agenda beyond mutual benefaction."

"There you have it, straight from the interstellar supercomputer's mouth," said Luthor. "I know it must be confusing, since the Justice League follows the lead of an alien, but when it comes to deciding the fate of the world, the 'power behind the Society' is still very much a human being, namely me."

"Mister Luthor?" Mercy chimed in. "I've just received notice from the front desk. The police have arrived."

"Thank you, Mercy," he said graciously. "Since I've given you an explanation, now it's your turn to explain yourself to the authorities, as to why you've broken into a private place of business and started making threats and accusations. I'm sure they'll be as amused as I am. Brainiac, if you would?"

"Understood. Complying," the alien intelligence said, opening a hatch above him and raising his frame up into the ceiling. The glowing green circuitry faded, ridding the room of any hint that the AI had ever been there at all.

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Atom listened to Luthor very closely. While he did make some good points most of the time she tried very hard not to roll her eyes at him.

Great double talk, rationalization, and spin-doctoring. Hate to think if he ever gets into politics.

When Brainiac disappears Atom says, "Aww is he little shy? If you're so open up the Society's willingness to help humanity then why not let the planet see Brainiac? I'm shocked you missed out on a chance to market him and slap him on a lunch box."

She floats a little closer to Lex, but just out of reach still, and says, "In terms of threats and accusations I haven't made them in a public forum. As you noted this is a private place of business not a public meeting place. Be careful of Brainiac though Lex. He spouts off the nice technobable, but in the end he's parasite. Open your eyes."

The Atom floats a little higher and says, "Hey Mercy great job on the L-Pad controls. Is there an app for that. I'm dying to get one that'll start my coffee maker in the morning."

She looks back at Lex and says, "You got all the plates spinning just right, but sooner or later one won't spin just right and then it'll be a nice domino effect. Someone from the Legion doesn't like playing ball with you, a business partner decides they've had enough, or Brainiac uses his logic and sees your flaws."

Atom floats to the closed vent and looks at it and says, "Closed. Oh darn. However if you think that's gonna keep me in here Steve Jobs was right about you in that Forbes interview. You're right though I may not have any hard and fast evidence, yet, but you're dirty ace and I'm patient. Tell Brainiac nice meeting him if the whole world preserving thing doesn't work out I hear there's a reboot of 'RoboCop' coming up his voice would be perfect. Keep smiling."

With that she shrinks to microscopic size and manages to fit into the sprinkler head of the roof sprinkler and ride the current out into the city. She uses a pay-phone and gets back to Happy Harbor.

That was too close. The League has to know about this. Luthor has got his armor on pretty tight, but even the Titanic was thought to be unsinakble.

The Atom then catalogs everything she learned about her scouting trip to LexCorp.

Once she is done she goes back to her apartment and transforms back into Rhiannon Palmer. She gets a shower and slips into a comfortable pair of sweats.

Just then there is a knock at the door. She answers and sees Kent Nelson standing there.

She kisses him and says, "Hey you glad you're back."

Kent replies, "Good to be back. Wanna play catch-up over dinner?"

Rhiannon replies, "Only if we can order it. I need to talk...."
 
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"Okay, Titans, you know what to do," I say, huddled with my four squad-mates in the center of a large spartan chamber. "Whatever comes through that door, we stick to the plan. Trust yourselves, trust your teammates, and trust me, and we'll all be okay. Ready?"

I glance around to see the looks on everyone's faces. Nerves are steeled, some are anxious, some are eager. But everyone's ready. Throughout the room, warning lights start flashing red.

"Then let's do this," I say, as the massive double doors in front of us slide open, and out into the room charge a line of soldiers, armed with assault rifles and tactical armor.

I leap towards them in a high arc as they open fire, flinging a pair of flash-bombs into their ranks. I tuck into a roll and close my eyes as the bombs go off, disorienting them, then pull my collapsible staff from my utility belt and go to work, quickly bashing in the nose of one and fluidly spinning to sweep the legs out from another.

A third raises his rifle at me and aims, drawing a bead before I can react....but gets blasted from behind by a bolt of green energy.

"Our victory today will be glorious!" says Starfire, hurling her star-bolts into the crowd of soldiers.

Star has really taken to our training courses, adapting quickly to handle all kinds of scenarios. Between her extreme agility in the air, her precision with energy projectiles, and her exceptional strength in close combat, it was really a no-brainer selecting her as my right-hand in the field.

As Starfire focuses on cleaning up the foot-soldiers, a long metallic cable shoots out and grabs her. Out from behind the doors comes what appears to be an enormous robotic spider, firing cables as its 'webs.' I should have known the second wave would be more difficult.

"Dur'ra Kelaneith Vo'kaa!!!"

Black claws of otherworldly energy lash out, slashing the cables tying Starfire up and ripping into the hull of the robotic spider, as Raven chants her incantation. I can't help but smile.

Rachel's gotten so much better at controlling and focusing her abilities in such a short time. On the other hand, she's spending all of her free time now locked away in her quarters, studying her spellbook, as well as any additional scrolls and manuscripts that are provided. I guess I thought she'd be happier here, but like always, it's hard to tell with her.

While Raven deals with one of the spiders, two more step into the chamber, flanked by more soldiers. While Starfire and I deal with the troops, one of our new teammates deals with the robots.

"I got this," says Cyborg flatly, as he calmly walks towards one of the robots. Putting his hand out, he fires a pair of cables from his palm into the nearest one, freezing it in place. He stares at it with cold concentration, and after a few seconds, the robot collapses in a heap.

I haven't been able to get too much information out of Cyborg, to be honest. He keeps to himself a lot, and doesn't seem particularly comfortable as part of a team. Every once in a while he says things that make it sound like he's not all there, like he's being controlled from a distance. Still, I can't deny his effectiveness in a fight, especially when it comes to neutralizing enemy tech.

The final spider targets Cyborg, only to be knocked to the side by a charging green rhinoceros. As it adjusts to the new threat, the rhino shrinks out of its targeting sites, becoming a fly which buzzes back and forth above the robot, before suddenly transforming into a whale that falls onto the spider and crushes it.

"Did you see that?! Tell me you guys saw that!" it says, turning into an excitable green-skinned boy.

That's Changeling, the youngest member of the team. From what he's told us, he was some kind of genetic experiment, who fled from his captors and came here willingly. Out of everyone, he enjoys being here the most.

"Good work, team," I say as the warning lights stop flashing.

[blackout]"Good work indeed, Titan Squad,"[/blackout] says the voice of Queen Bee over the loudspeaker. [blackout]"You've set a new record for this course. I'll have to start you on the advanced curriculum soon if you keep this up."[/blackout]

"This is excellent news!" says Starfire joyfully, flitting through the air. "We must celebrate!"

"You guys saw me, right?" Changeling continues energetically, trying to get Raven's attention. "That robot almost had us, but then I was all like BWOOOOOOOSH! and--"

"You're a hero among men," Raven says, rolling her eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go study."

"You sure you don't want to celebrate with us?" I say to Rachel as Starfire happily swoops down and puts her arms around me. "We could take the evening off, watch some movies in the rec room, or--"

"No thanks. I'm good," she says curtly, quickly giving Kori a cold look before walking off.

Cyborg doesn't say anything as he heads out of the training room. Then again, he rarely does. As he leaves, though, he crosses paths with another group of five.

"Are you chumps done with the training room yet?" says their ring-leader, a red-haired jerk about my age and build, with a compound bow strapped to his back.

"Yeah, we're done, Arsenal," I say to him with a sneer. "Just set a new record, in fact. Good luck beating it."

"Hmph. Don't need luck when I've got skill," he says, making a point to bump into my shoulder as he passes me by.

Arsenal's a jerk, but he's good, and so's the rest of his team. There's Bumblebee, a smart-mouthed inner city girl who can fly and change size. There's Icicle, an obnoxious but talented skinny kid who can freeze objects solid with just his touch. There's Skitter, an insectoid metahuman. And then there's Artemis, a red-headed super-strong girl who's just about the most ferocious fighter I've ever seen.

Together they're Cerberus Squad, and they've made it a point to be as much of a pain in Titan Squad's collective butt as possible.

Changeling bristles as them, but I pat him on the back to get his attention.

"Just ignore them," I say. "C'mon, let's find a movie to watch."

"Oh yes!" Starfire says excitedly. "I would very much like to see the next part in the series of the Star Wars, and the Striking Back of the Empire!"

"We'll see if they've got it," I say as we make our way through the halls of the HIVE compound. On the one hand, I'd really like to find out what exactly is bugging Rachel so much. And I'd also like to find out what it is that Cyborg is doing when he's not training with us.

On the other hand, after the last few days of intense combat training, I could really use some R&R. And the fact that I get to watch one of my favorite movies with the most beautiful girl I've ever met certainly doesn't hurt.



**********


"Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father....."

"He told me enough!.....He told me you killed him!"

"No, Luke........I am your father."


"*gasp!* No! How can this be so?!?!"

Starfire stares wide-eyed at the screen, floored by the earth-shattering revelation. The more I'm around her, the more I'm reminded just how many things you take for granted in your own culture. Kori can talk rings around me when it comes to aerial combat tactics, or interstellar politics, or the countless customs and traditions of her home world, but is completely unaware of so many things I always assumed everyone knew. Like the most famous twist ending in movie history.

"Oh, man, this is great!" Changeling says, apparently also having never seen the movie before. "Hey, is anyone else hungry? Because I'm hungry. I'm gonna go get some snacks."

He hops up from the couch, leaving Starfire and I alone to watch the last few scenes of the film.

"Your people's 'movies' are so captivating," she says, eyes fixed on the screen as she scoots closer to me. "We do not have such things on my world. There are the songs of Glorgnotz, yes, and the psionic ballet and the festival of Sizz'mar, but it is hardly the same."

"I, um, I wouldn't know," I say, noticing that my arm is stretched across the back of the chair, and that she's now sitting well within reach, and should I put my arm around her or pull it back? Or--

"Robin," she says tentatively. "While Changeling is tending to the getting of snacks, there is something I wish to tell you."

"Really? Well, um, okay, what is it?"

"I have been watching you since we first met," she says, turning towards me, her eyes glittering like polished green jewels. "You have shown such selfless devotion to your friends, to Raven and myself, and to our new teammates. You've given us encouragement when we were in doubt, and inspiration to improve ourselves. You are a brave warrior when you need to be, a courageous leader, and a caring friend."

"Well, I, y'know....I do what I can," I say sheepishly, not sure of what to say.

"And.......and I would very much like to make love with you."

With that, my brain comes to a screeching halt. I blink uncontrollably, and hear myself sputtering, trying in vain to form words.

"Wha.....you.....I.....but....what?" is all I can manage.

Starfire's eyes go wide with realization.

"Oh! I am sorry!" she says, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I must have said something incorrect. I still have trouble with the way your people speak. Forgive me if I have caused some kind of confusion."

"It's....it's okay," I say, taking a deep breath of relief.

"What I meant to say," she says, carefully picking her words this time, "is that I would very much like to engage in sexual intercourse with you."

And my brain seizes up again.

"But.....you....I mean, we just--....I--"

"I do not mean to be improper," she says, shrinking from my reaction. "On my world, the act of physical love is a sign of great affection and intimacy. I had been led to believe that your people view it a similar way, yes?"

"Well, um, yeah, kind of," I stammer. "But, I mean....you and me, we're...."

"I have done my research, and found that Tamaranians and Earthlings are anatomically compatible," she says matter-of-factly. "So that will not be a concern. Nor is procreation, since my species has evolved so that we reproduce as a solely voluntary action."

"Well, that's, um, interesting," I say, practically trembling as she leans closer. "It's just that, I've never.....y'know....never done it before."

"Neither have I," she says. "But I am soon approaching the age where I may select a mate, and I wish that person to be you."

The look in her eyes is one of pure sincerity as she waits for my response. I'm all but lost in those eyes, the smell of jasmine in her flowing red hair, the pouting curve of her lips.......

"Star.....oh my God...." I say, short of breath. "I......I..........I can't."

There is a moment of confused silence as she stares at me.

"You......you cannot?" she asks. "You do not want to be with me? I am....undesirable to you?"

"It's not like that," I say shamefully.

"Then you have an injury or deformity that has rendered you incapable of mating?"

"No, I'm fine, but--"

"Then what prevents you from wishing to share your love with me?" she says, perplexed and frustrated.

"I.......I don't know," I admit, full of guilt. And I honestly don't know why not. My God, she's the prettiest girl you've ever met and she's flat-out saying she wants to be with you, and you say you can't?! What the heck is wrong with you, Dick?!

There's a long silence between us--at least, there would be if it weren't for the movie--before she speaks again.

"You wish to be with Raven," she says.

This has me just as dumbstruck as before.

"Well, I mean.....we're good friends, and....and I like her a lot," I say, my face turning bright red at the thought, "But.....I mean...."

"I understand," Starfire says. "Raven is a good friend, and a good heart, despite her brooding. And she is beautiful in her own way."

After another long pause, her eyes brighten again.

"Oh! I have an idea!" she says happily. "Perhaps together, the three of us could--"

"Oh goodness, look at the time, I've gotta go study!" I say, leaping from the couch and making for the door, blushing so hard I'm worried I might burst a blood vessel in my face.

I nearly plow over Changeling, his arms full with bags of chips and popcorn.

"....so, did I miss something?" I hear him say as I make a bee-line for my room.
 
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**********


I spend an hour or so lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, alone with my thoughts, and all of my questions.

What am I doing here? It feels like I've been here for weeks now, when I said I would just check the place out and then head back to Gotham. But every time I start to leave, I talk myself out of it. I think of something Queen Bee said earlier, and then all thoughts of leaving just seem....unreasonable.

What are they training us for here at the HIVE? They said they wanted to help us make the world a better place, but so much of our training is just about combat. Come to think of it, all of our training, in the field and in the classroom, has been combat. What exactly do Queen Bee and her followers expect us to do?

What's happening back home? I left with Mister Wayne in the hospital, unsure if he'd ever come out of his coma. Is he okay? Is Gotham City falling apart without him? Who, if anyone, is carrying on without Batman?

Can I really stay here on the other side of the world while the city is in danger? Can I really run away and leave my friends here? Who, if any of them, can I trust in all of this?

*KNOCK KNOCK*

I jolt up and out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.

"Hey," says Rachel, looking nervously up and down the hallway.

"Hey," I answer, opening the door to let her in. "I thought you said you were studying tonight."

"I was," she says, closing the door behind her and folding her arms across her chest, "Until Starfire knocked on my door wanting to talk to me. She seemed pretty upset."

"She did?" I say, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Yeah. She said she was surprised by the ending of Star Wars," Raven says, rolling her eyes. "Apparently she thought I could relate, since I'm descended from the personification of evil, too."

"Oh, um.....yeah, heh," I say with a weak laugh.

"Oh, and that she said she wanted to have sex with you and you said no. She was a little more upset about that."

"....right, well...." I say, my cheeks going red again and sweat beading around my forehead. "Well, I mean, that's not word-for-word what happened, but--"

"She was worried that it was either because she was ugly by human standards, or because you were racist against aliens," Rachel says coolly.

"No! I mean, neither of those are true, it's because--"

Rachel shuts me up by putting a hand gently on my shoulder, and leaning in as she looks me in the eye.

"I know, Dick," she says, allowing a meaningful pause between us before she continues. "I told her the truth...........it's because you're an idiot."

I stand there flustering for a second, while she walks over and sits on my bed, the corner of her mouth curling upward just a little bit, where one just might mistake it for a grin.

"Hey, I....it's not--"

"I mean, seriously," she says, enjoying watching me squirm, "You turned down Starfire? Have you seen her? I mean, I'm not even that way, and I'm pretty sure I'd say yes to her."

"Heh," I laugh nervously, "It's funny you should mention that...."

Raven shoots me a dirty look.

"I'll, um, I'll shut up now," I say, putting a definitive end to that line of thought.

"So.....really," she says, her tone a little more serious. "Why did you turn her down?"

"Honestly?" I say with a sigh as I lean against the wall, and sink down to the floor. "I'm just......not ready for that. I mean, even without all of this other stuff going on, dealing with Titan Squad and worrying about the HIVE and whether I can get home, I just.....I don't think I can really....be with someone like that right now."

"I know what you mean," she says, nodding. "This isn't exactly the most romantic way to live, is it?"

"And even if I did, y'know, want to....do that," I say tentatively, "I mean, Starfire's great and she's really pretty and all, but.....I dunno, that's somewhere I've never really gone. And if I'm going to, to....go there.....I want it to be with someone who really means something to me."

"Ah," Rachel says, awkwardly looking away.

"Anyway, that's....that's why I couldn't do it," I say. Despite everything else, all of the turmoil in Gotham, all of the crazy cultists and super-human freakouts, she's the only one I can really let my heart out to. When we're not teammates, or Titans, when we're not Robin and Raven. When we're just Dick and Rachel.

"Well, whoever it is," she says, "if you're shooting down Starfire, then she must really be something special."

"Yeah," I say with a weak smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

For a few moments, we sit there in silence, trying as hard as we can to avoid making eye contact with each other.

"You're still an idiot," she finally says as she stands up and heads for the door.

".....yeah," I say as I watch her leave, then let out another long sigh.

I pull myself up, just to flop back down onto my bed. Even as tired as I am, I'm pretty sure it's going to be a while before I'm able to go to sleep.
 
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Keystone City, KS


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Energy crackles off my body as I weave through traffic on the interstate. My quarry today is a jewel thief. Some two-bit burglar who swooped in and out of Hartz Jewels and took the whole store. He's nowhere near as fast as me, but he has one advantage: His mode of transport.

I watch as he jumps from portal to portal, leaping into black holes he creates and popping out hundreds of feet ahead. "Alright, Pongo," I shout as I gain ground. "Do us both a favor and stop. We both know how this is going to end."

I'm almost on him when he turns and jumps at me.


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We both fall into one of his black holes and disappear down in the darkness...

"What's--"
 
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Despite how much I'd like to address this Connor Hawke situation, the Triad druglord named China White demands my attention. So long as she continues to pump opiates and heroin into Star City, I cannot afford to focus on personal problems and feuds. Hawke is blackmailing me, which means my secret is safe until I make my move against him. That gives me leeway to continue operating. However, for the time being, Oliver Queen is serving me better than Green Arrow, and I've got a new friend to exploit.

Charles Hackett lives in a highrise, lakeview apartment tower just to the west of Hyde Park. In this section of the city, it's hard to picture all of the underprivileged living in the Triangle or the Glades, struggling just to get by without falling victim to drugs or crime. Here, everything is pristine and shiny. Hackett lives in his ivory tower - literally - while helping China White pollute Star City. I can only shake my head and put my "game face" on.

"Oliver Queen!" Hackett announces joyfully as he greets me at the elevator. He's wearing nothing but swim trunks with a white towel around his shoulders. "I must say, when I heard you were coming, I was terribly thrilled."

I smile politely, trying my best to subdue my disgust at the man. "Well, I thought to myself: any man who can throw a party like that must surely know how to have a good time." I step forward and shake his hand vigorously.

"Come! Let me fix you a drink." He puts his arm over my shoulder and begins guiding me through the penthouse. It's not unlike mine. A little more modern, perhaps. Everything looks as though it's made of white plastic and glass. There are splashes of color here and there: a bright red rug, some kind of modern art which looks like blue and green paint splashed on a canvas, leopard print couches.

"You have... unique tastes," I remark.

Hackett smiles. "When I see something I like, I simply have to have it. I trust that you, as another man of power, can understand that." He waves around at all he's created. "It served me well in the markets."

Hackett leads me out to the balcony area, which is situated around a bean-shaped swimming pool. The view of the Pacific Ocean and the Star City skyline is simply breathtaking up here. Three vaguely European-looking women are sunbathing on some of the lounge chairs. One has just emerged from the pool, and she dries her hair. We may disagree on interior design, but Hackett's taste in women isn't suspect.

Noticing my gaze, Hackett asks, "Would you like to meet one?" He points to the one drying her hair. "Sansa is exquisite. And she's educated, too, so she can actually hold a conversation."

"Maybe some other time," I suggest. "I'm actually here on business."

Hackett looks surprised. "Business?" he repeats. He motions for me to have a seat by one of the chairs under a nearby umbrella. "Very well. But I never do business with a man without having a drink first." Hackett snaps his fingers, and Sansa wanders over. "Whiskey neat and...?"

"Vodka gimlet."

Sansa bows her head and slinks off to the bar as Hackett takes his seat. "So, tell me, Oliver. What kind of business could distract you from these beautiful women?"

"Your kind of business," I answer.

Hackett furrows his brow. "I'm afraid I don't catch your meaning." Sansa returns and hands Hackett his drink.

I accept my drink with a polite smile. I even allow myself to watch Sansa waltz back to her chair, and I start to wonder if maybe I shouldn't have let myself meet the girls before getting to business. Turning my attention back to Hackett, I explain, "Well, I felt great about helping at the event, and I was hoping I could help some more."

Hackett beams from ear to ear. "You know, I love hearing that. So many people don't know how liberating it can feel to contribute to a cause."

"I was hoping we might be able to collaborate on a more... domestic cause this time."

"People in the States need help just like everyone else," he agrees. "Did you have something in mind?"

I take a sip of my drink. Expertly prepared. Good trait to find in a woman. "As I understand it, there's been a recent... Chinese expansion into Star City," I reply, making sure to emphasize the innuendo.

Hackett leans back and downs his drink in one gulp. "I don't know what you mean, Oliver. Perhaps if you were a little more specific."

"You don't need to play the game with me, Chuck," I say. I lean forward, holding my drink in my hands. "I know. Don't forget: I was once an up-and-coming name in... imports, myself. I know who the major players are, and I still get information coming through the wire."

Hackett contemplates his empty glass. He never once looks up at me. "Then you know the power my employer holds." His voice is quieter, more serious.

"Why do you think I want in?" I ask. "I want to get back into the business. I was just a kid when I tried my hand at it. I was... well... I was an idiot. I tried to do it all myself." I take another sip of my cocktail. "But then I see you, and you're a role model."

At this, Hackett looks up.

"First of all, you've allied yourself with an organization. That was my first mistake way back when. Second, you don't get your hands dirty. I've learned that my place is behind closed doors, and I'm ready to make an... investment in your employer's enterprise."

"If I agree to this," Hackett begins, "that's all you'll be: an investor."

"I understand."

"And I don't need to tell you, of all people, that discretion is paramount."

I shake my head.

"Good." Hackett stands. "Then let's have another drink. I'll introduce you to Sansa, and we'll arrange a time to meet again for business reasons later."
 
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Oswald looked out over his estate grounds as the police and medical personel began taking the bodies out of the aviary.

He answered their questions and gave them a plausable story concering "the accident" which caused the release of the birds that killed the people in the aviary.

Regardless of what happened Oswald was now in charge of several crime families in Gotham. Granted they were not the upper-tier familiy like the Falcone's or the Maroni's or even his own secret criminal empire, but all of them combined now with his he would be a major force in the criminal landscape.

The question Oswald had to deal with now...did he want to run something like that?

Running something like that would leave him as a marked man. The law enforcement agencies would have questions for him, and the other families would love nothing more than to see the up and coming Oswald Cobblepot get take down a peg or two...or even out of the picture.

Oswald takes out his L-Phone and calls his lawyer.

Oswald says, "Yes a tragic accident to say the least. Make sure that the families are taken care of 5 million each."

His lawyer says, "Right away Mr. Cobblepot. Anything else?"

Oswald asks, "No not at this time. Been a rough few days to say the least between the Iceberg Lounge and now this. Very rough."

His lawyer says, "Indeed. Perhpas you should take sometime away."

Oswald replies, "No this city needs to see that in the face of adversity I don't run away."

His lawyer replies, "Understood sir. If you need anything else call me."

Oswald says, "Thanks Samuel. I'll talk to you later."

Oswald hangs up his phone and heads to the house.
 
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Rhiannon tells Kent everything that she saw at LexCorp as they finish the last of an order of Beef Lo-Mein.

Kent says, "So let me see if I got this straight. You're saying that one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world is proping up the Legion Of Doom with a secret society with the help of some alien-android."

Rhiannon says, "I know it sounds crazy Kent, but I..."

Kent takes her hand from across the table and says, "Relax Rhiannon you sold me."

Rhiannon looks at him for a second and says, "As Dr. Fate I've developed a sense of being able to read people and know who they are really and Lex Luthor is evil to the core. He does all these good deeds but it's for show, he is out for himself, and would sell his mother to the gypsies if it would net him a profit, and sadly much like you I've got no proof."

Rhiannon says, "Well at least I'm not crazy."

Kent says, "No but you played a very dangerous game with your eyes closed against a snake and nearly got bit."

Rhiannon says, "I know but I got tired of not being able to do anything, and I took matters into my own hands. I have no idea what's happened to the other League members and figured it was time to act."

Kent says, "I know you have this great power and you're able to do all sorts of things and work with the most powerful group of heroes ever assembled, and think everything should go just so."

Rhiannon nods and Kent says, "Wake up Rhiannon the world isn't black and white it's shades of gray like it or not. The heroes don't always win and we don't get to pick and choose the rules, but we do what we can and hold the line as best as we can and live to fight another day."

Rhiannon looks out at the window at the skyline and says, "I've been stuck at 6 inches tall, captured with countless number of tweezrs, stuck in boxes, orbs, lived in a glorified doll house, taken on CADMUS, lived and died in another universe, and met my son who is now my age in this universe."

She turns to Kent and says, "I finally got tired of having things happen to me and tried to make them happen on my terms. Not exactly my wisest move."

Kent crosses over to her and says, "No not really. I'm no lawyer but I don't think he's got you on Breaking and Entering. However if he wanted to pursue criminal trespass charges that could be an issue. It would be a matter of risk vs gain. Would he risk losing control of the spinning plates to go after you, or just think you're not worth the effort and could distract him and Brainiac from their goal? I doubt he comes after you."

Rhiannon says, "You're probably right. I like to think I'm worth some effort."

Kent takes her in his arms and says, "Oh you're worth every effort to me."

The two kiss and as they break Rhiannon asks, "How much did you miss me?"

Kent says, "You have no idea. How about I show, and then I'll take you out for breakfast in the morning?"

Rhiannon says, "Sounds great to me."

They kiss again...
 
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After a night with the lovely, fragrant Sansa Demeer - one of Charles Hackett's beautiful hang-arounds - I'm spending tonight with a much different crowd entirely. The crowd of the Full House Bar's loyal frequenters, to be exact. They're an... imperfect bunch. Criminals, junkies, crooked cops, the rich, the privileged, all those with something to hide. They come here and celebrate their vices under the watchful eye of Veronica Sinclair, a woman who calls herself Roulette who is no doubt implicated in any numberof crimes. She may not break the law, but she certainly encourages the perpetrators. I'd take her down, but someone else would simply take her place. Besides, I have use for the Full House's... amenities.

As with everywhere I go, my arrival is not unnoticed - least of all here, where Roulette's eyes are everywhere. I've been to the Full House twice: once as Green Arrow and once as Oliver Queen. The first time, I hospitalized a group of lowlifes mixed with Roulette's security detail. The second time, I got a personalized tour of the facility - including the underground fighting pits where the rich bet money on bare-knuckle brawls. Neither experience was pleasant.

I've made it no more than two steps in the door before I'm greeted by a member of Roulette's personal security. "Mr. Queen," he says devoid of any emotion. I notice the earpiece he wears, no doubt receiving his orders from Roulette directly. "Ms. Sinclair wishes to see you."

"Have I done something wrong?" I joke, but the security guard's absence of emotion does little to assuage my fear. Without another word, he begins leading me through the crowd. I can't help but let my eyes wander, taking in all the illicit activities around me. Gambling - both of the legal and illegal varieties - drinking, dancing, soliciting. And that's only what's open to the public. I know about the fighting pits, but what else is Roulette hiding underneath this place?

The security guard leads me to the foot of the balcony, where two more guards are waiting. Noticing him, they step aside and clear the path to the carpeted staircase. At the top of the staircase, Roulette sits overlooking her domain. She's flanked by two more guards, who remind me a bit of the Buckingham Palace Guards by the way they simply stand there. When she sees me, she smiles. "Mr. Queen. It took you a while, but you came back," she remarks.

"Been busy," I answer. "Why the summons?"

Roulette stands. "I always like to give my esteemed guests a personal welcome," she explains. "If you've come for the pits, I regret to report that Mia isn't fighting tonight. But we have many other fighters who--"

"I'm not here about the pits," I interrupt. Though I would very much like to speak to Mia again. She's a troubled soul, but she's not beyond saving. When I look at her, I see a version of myself, and I'd like to help her break this destructive cycle if possible. But that's not tonight's business.

Roulette smiles, and I almost feel disarmed by it. I have to remind myself that I'm in the lion's den, and this is the chief lioness. As innocent as she may seem, she's in control around here, and I would do best to not let her control me. "Might I inquire whether business or pleasure has brought you here tonight?"

I smile back. "Business, I'm afraid."

Roulette jokingly frowns. "I'm sorry to hear that. Any way I can help you, regardless?"

"Actually," I begin, "you can help me. You see, I'm looking for someone who's good with money. But it must be... discrete."

"Of course," Roulette half-purrs. "Discreteness is our specialty." She turns back to the balcony and looks out over the crowd. "Actually, you're in luck. I know just the man you need, and he's here tonight." She whispers something to one of her guards. "I hope that when business is over, you'll find time for some fun, Mr. Queen."

The guard whom Roulette whispered to approaches me. "Mr. Queen. I'll take you to Mr. Coyne."

I'm ushered back downstairs and across the dance floor. I'm given a few come-hither looks from half-dressed women, which are difficult to ignore, but I press on. The guard leads me to the seating booths and points me in a direction. When I get there, I find an Italian man sitting by himself, spinning a penny on the table.

"Mr. Coyne?" I ask.

The man looks up. He has the ugliest little mustache I've ever seen. I can hardly take my eyes off it.

"I'm--"

"I know who you are," he interrupts. "So does half of Star City, so I'd suggest you have a seat before you're seen talking to someone like me."

Heeding his wise advice, I slide into the booth and sit across from him. "And what, exactly, is a man like you, Mr. Coyne?"

"Just an intermediary," he replies. "I move pennies and dimes around for people."

"People like me?"

He looks up. "If you pay my retainer fee."

I smirk. Of course the money launderer wants to talk payment up front. Having anticipated this, I came prepared. I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a stack of twenties. I slide it across the table where Mr. Coyne's waiting hand takes it. "I need you to set up an account and make it look like money is being transferred from it."

"You really shouldn't lie about giving dangerous people money, Mr. Queen."

I narrow my eyes. He's sharp. But, then, this is his business, I suppose. "I'm pretty dangerous myself," I respond. "I just need it to hold up for a couple of weeks. Enough to look convincing."

"I think I can handle something like that..."

* * *

"I hear that you've been talking with Oliver Queen," China White announces.

"Very briefly," Hackett replies. "I ran into him at a fundraiser, and then he came to my penthouse. He wanted to talk business."

"Our business."

Hackett averts his eyes. "He doesn't know anything that he couldn't have found out on the street," he assures his employer. "And, for now, he's just another benefactor."

"A complicit benefactor," China White corrects him. She sneers. "And one with a criminal record."

"He's Star City's richest man..."

"Exactly," she says sharply. "He's too high profile. Too many eyes watching him... watching his money. And he's already been caught once before." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Get rid of him."

"But..."

"I want this problem taken care of."

Hackett bows his head. "Of course."
 
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Oswald sits in the conservatory of his estate and plays Chopin on the piano.

Taking inventory of one's life in light of so much is never an easy thing to do. Especially looking back over what has happened recently. I now control a large section of the underworld in Gotham. I am on the verge of possibly taking over one of the greatest companies in the world, and I have blood on my hands.

He stops for a moment and begins smoking a cigar that he lit earlier, and looks at his estate grounds.

Now comes a moment of truth. Do I embrace my criminal activities wholeheartedly or do I continue the humanitarian charade?

He looks at the picture of his father and just stares at it. Oswald then goes back to his piano and begins playing again.

Maybe I can walk the line a little longer...just a little longer.
 
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Rhiannon slips on a teri-cloth robe and goes to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.

Once she is done she sits down and enjoys her tea while contemplating what she has learned today.

Kent joins her and says, "Are you okay?"

Rhiannon replies, "Just got a lot on my mind right now. I used to think that all these people like The Question who bought into the conspiracy theories were nuts. Now I if I start shouting out what I know..."

Kent sits down and says, "Look Rhiannon. You think you're the only with suspicions about Lex? Probably not. The thing you need to do is to remember what you've learned and hold onto it. You're a scientist you know when it's time to add elements and how to make it work. You need to be patient Lex is slick like you said, and sooner or later he's gonna screw up and you'll know when to strike."

Rhiannon replies, "I know, but Kent what if I wait too long and miss my chance? If Lex gets away with this because I waited too long humanity will pay the price."

Kent says, "It's not all on you. You're a member of a team. A great team. Use that to your advantage. Trust your teammates will back you up."

Rhiannon sisp her tea and says, "Yeah you're right. Thanks lover."

Kent says, "You got it beautiful. Now let's say you finish off that tea, and since we're both wide-awake let's see what happens behind closed doors."

Rhiannon walks over to the sink and dumps the tea into the sink.

She says, "Oops all out of tea."

Kent crosses over scoops her up into his arms and carries her to back to her room.
 
Batgirl
3.7

I stick closely to the walls as I make my way down the hallway toward the two large double doors at the edge of the hallway. I find another keypad and quickly input the next code I memorized. The door opens, and I slip in between the crack.

On the otherside, walls of panned glass line the perimeter. Behind each square sheet of what I surmise is bullet proof glass is a patient; one of Doctor Quinn's so called "special" inmates.

I take each step carefully as I walk through the hall. I feel like a tourist at a zoo; viewing each member as an animal inside their native mental habitat. To my surprise, each patient wears not a jumpsuit, but their costumes or trappings; a strange contrast to the bland emptiness of their cells. Only their colorful and eccentric garbs stand out from the cold, gray walls boxing them within.

The further I go down the hall, the more aware the inmates become to my presence. Some are too drugged to notice, but others make their way to the glass with unsettling amusement. They begin to whistle and call at me as they press their faces up against the windows to get a look.

"Hello, girl," a voice from behind hisses. I turn in a flash to see a face I'd forgotten.

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"Come to gloatttt?" He asks, his voice mimicking the clicking of a cicada. "Or have you finally decided to join our menagerie of insanitttty?"
"Killer moth ... I see you've changed your style. The bright green and yellow stripes not doing it for you anymore?"
He chuckles. "They put me in here because they thought I was insane. A formerly... ridiciciciciculous diagnosis. I was just a criminal looking for a shtick to get my fame. But, after a few months in here, reality starts to wane and you realize how much simpler it is if you jusssstt ... let it go." He grins, his teeth glistening beneath the moth head mask. "Besides, I wouldn't want to make the staff here lookikikik like liarssss."

"And the let you play dress up why exactly?"
"The doctors are afraid iffff I didn't wear my costume, I might fracture my mind and lose my sanity.

"Well, we wouldn't want you to lose that. What would you have left?"
"My aggression. Towardsssss you."

As he smiles at me, I feel a chill run down my spine. He steps closer to the glass, and I step backward until my back is pressed against the cell behind me. I feel a vibration through the panes accompanied by a loud bang. As I scream, I roll forward and pivot myself to face the threat behind me. Once more, I'm greeted by another familiar face.

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"So, the bats do feel fear," Zebra Man says as the stripes on his face contort into a twisted grin. "Where's your blood stained hooded friend?"
"Hnn," I smirk. "Still sore?"
"At least your undeserved sense of pride remains intact. I can't say the same for your poker face. You're sweating."

He's right. It's getting surprisingly hot in here. I thought it was just the climate of the building, but now I'm wondering if my nerves are getting to me. I blot the single bead of sweat from my cheek, shrugging it off as nothing as I try to save face with the villain horde.

"What's the matter? Paranoia setting in?"
"Please. Why would you freaks worry me in the slightest?"
"Perhaps the last encounter's resolution?" Another voice calls out. I look over my shoulder to see the Polka dot man staring at me from the corner of his cell. "If I remember correctly, I nearly turned you into guano."
"Then your friend got involved," Zebra man grunts, catching my attention once more. "And he saved your little batty butt."

"Oh, it's not just the Red Hood, Jakakakakacob. She had a shape shifter help her the last time she faced me. It seems the girl needs her backup."
"A shame she's all alone now, isn't it?"

As they taunt me, my suit begins to stick to my skin. It gets tighter by the second, and my body begins to boil. I wipe my brow as my hair begins to mat under my mask. My vision starts to blur, and I feel my feet grow lighter.

"You guys don't get it," I say, trying to bluff. "Even if you weren't in your cages, I'd still take you down. I've learned more than a few tricks since the last time we met."
"Has your shrill voice become a weapon?"
"Going to deafen us with your poor retorts and less than amusing banter?"

"What hope do you have of stopping me? Let alone the resttttt of ussss?"
I turn to him, pulling out my batarang and spinning it between my fingers. The sharp bladed edges catch the lighting, and reflect the light in a series of flashes. I stare him down with intensity as I try to regain my composure.

"How about I break that glass to pieces and show you?" I snarl, letting my rage get the best of me.
"Someone's getting tesssssttttyyy."
"Loosing your cocky attitude?"

Killer Moth charges the glass as hard as he can, ramming his skull into the center of the pane. It cracks, sending small fragments into the air around me. As the fracture lines spread, he runs at the glass again, slowing breaking through. "I'll tell you whatttt. I'll come out there-"

"And we'll all show you-"
"How much of a joke you really are!"

All three of the villains charge their glass, breaking the translucent structure bit by bit. My heart begins to pound and my head throbs. I grit my teeth and ball my fists, preparing for the fight of my life.

"We'll break you-"
"Tear you-"
"And rip your wings from your bony litititittle body!"

"Do it then!" I scream, sweat dripping from my body. "I'll take you ALL on! I'm not scared of you! I'm not scared of ANYTHING!"

A hand grabs my shoulder tightly, spinning me around forcefully. Suddenly, I come face to face with a ghoul only seen in nightmares.

"Really? I'd like to test that theory."

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I have been crippled. If not for the miracles of modern medicine, what little remains of Bruce Wayne would have been thrown to the wolves as a useless waste of space, not worth the effort to keep alive. Now, with all of the care and comfort that money can buy, he is afforded the best treatment available. Standing over his comatose body now, I could kill him as easily as I breathe, but murdering a helpless man lying in the hospital is now how Wayne should meet his end.

The Batman should be on his knees, bloody and beaten, forced to bow to his superior and made to acknowledge his crimes against me.

Dying safe in his bed would be too good for him, yet simultaneously not how I imagine he would prefer to meet his end either. Only the petty minded would be content to see Wayne die here and now. He and I would both like to see him go out fighting, I would think. So I have reached an impasse. I do not have the satisfaction of his death on my hands, and I can't kill him in his present condition. It is infuriating.

"Are you family?" The voice of the nurse brings me back to reality as I catch sight of her over my shoulder, entering the room. "You look kind of the same. Big guy, broad shoulders, dark hair..."

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"No. We are not related. I am simply a... friend of the family."

"Huh Not many of those. In fact, I think you might be the first. I see plenty of men and women in suits come and go. I even saw a couple movie stars, actually. Still, they were all in and out of here real fast. Probably just long enough to pay lip service."

I see the woman put the bedpan down on the nearby counter as she speaks, and I cringe inwardly at what's become of my once-glorious opponent before questioning whether he deserves this humiliation or not.

"I saw you come into this room, what? An hour ago? Bruce Wayne must be a good friend. Only one other guy stays around here, visiting Mr. Wayne for that kind of time."

My head jerks when I hear the woman's words. I have crossed oceans and conquered cities, slaughtering men and women, all so that I might take everything that Bruce Wayne owns for myself. But this is the first time the thought has occurred to me that, for as much as I hate him, Bruce Wayne knows me better than anyone alive. While it is true that Ra's Al Ghul and Talia know me as a weapon, I wonder if that is the man who I have become since I first came to Gotham City? As far as people who truly understand me for who I really am, Bruce Wayne is probably the closest thing I have to a true friend in this world.

And yet I would snap his neck right here and now if he weren't a helpless invalid.

"Excuse me. I am keeping you from your work," I say to the nurse as I start for the doorway. "I will take my leave."
 

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