16th February
23:48 GMT -5
"I'm glad I didn't have
plans this evening.
"
I note that the police who are loading the gang members into the van are highly experienced in applying straitjackets to uncooperative future-patients. I tried unmuzzling 'Alice' for a little while, but there are only so many insane rants a person can listen to.
Detective Foley nods sympathetically. "You got work tomorrow?"
"I make my own hours, and I don't have any meetings scheduled.
"
That earns me a smile which is significantly
less sympathetic. "Alright for
some."
"If you want an orange power ring, you're welcome to go through our training process. We've only driven seventeen people insane so far.
"
Dox's prognosis -or rather, the prognosis Dox passed on- was that most of them will recover. Shorn of contact with the orange light their minds should be able to return to equilibrium, though obviously it will never be safe to let them wield an orange ring again. I.. don't know exactly the 'drop out' rate I was expecting, but… Honestly, I'm a little surprised it's gone this well.
"They all singing 'New York New York' too?"
"Little more serious than that.
"
He looks away. "Yeah, I guessed. Think
I'd handle it better?"
I stare at him, my eyes flaring orange. Um. Gosh, how the heck did a well balanced individual end up on the Gotham police force? Strands of orange light within reasonable bounds, restrained by socialisation. There's no real
core to his identity, no one thing I can point to as his defining characteristic. More
green than average, but not exceptionally so. Probably a consequence of having a job that routinely involves confrontation. In the event of an orange light surge… Probably nothing worse than petty selfishness. But at the same time, he lacks the mechanisms to channel the orange light well.
I blink the glow away.
"Yes, probably. But not particularly well, without significant retraining.
"
He shrugs. "Probably couldn't get the time off work anyways."
"So, again, do you still need me..?
"
"The mayor's gunna want to thank you, but he can do that tomorrow. Far as I'm concerned you can go. We know how to get in touch if we've got any other questions."
I nod, wave my right hand and then raise it to my forehead. Alright, where's Selina?
"…quietly as you can."
I'm in a.. small room, an unconscious albino laying on the floor next to an open reinforced door. A mildly dishevelled
crowd is creeping out and down a corridor at Selina's urging. Recent abductees? Not a lot of Caucasian faces. Racial targeting or targets of opportunity amongst the unregistered immigrant community?
"Catwoman?"
She looks my way, for a
second going into a combat pose before recognising me and returning to her previous level of alertness.
"Can you get them out faster?"
Hm. My vision is being blocked, radio..
also being blocked.
"Where are we?"
The liberated prisoners stop, making way as Selina walks over to me.
"Underneath the Breed Building."
"And why are we being quiet?"
"Guards. One of them was a dog made of darkness. I think there's something magical going on."
I nod.
"Are you wearing the spell eater-?"
She nods, smiling.
"Never leave home without it."
"Quickest way out is for me to cut a tunnel through the ground. Lots of noise and collateral damage. Or I can fly us out the way you came in, which any competent wizard will have warded."
"How good are you at fighting ancient sorcerers?"
"Really good. The older the better, really; they're less likely to have kept themselves up to date."
I can see the patterns of activity as she thinks it over. While perfectly capable of acts of selflessness, Selina isn't a superhero. She doesn't have the burning need to shove her hands into fires that they… That
we do. Given the opportunity to do what she set out to -rescue these people- she's perfectly happy to leave the rest to a professional.
She turns to the crowd.
"Anyone up for running away really quickly?"
Several nods, a few of the braver ones even smile. I redon my armour, switching out a few of the anti-telepathy systems for the newer magic-baffles. With three rings' worth of power to draw on the cost of putting things like that in subspace is much less of a problem than it used to be, and something about Larfleeze's ring makes it easier still. Age, perhaps? Prolonged contact with the Ophidian? Don't know.
I generate a large and -due to the space requirements- somewhat flattened crumbler gauntlet construct. They don't usually make
much noise, but I'll add a suppressor anyway. And
up it goes, cutting a steep tunnel out through the Gotham… Soil, right, transmuting some supports to keep the tunnel intact. The braver prisoners are edging towards the construct-.
Selina smiles as she takes the lead.
"Let's not stick around while a Lantern fights an ancient sorcerer. I doubt digging a giant tunnel under a skyscraper made this place any safer."
And with her in the lead and a worried glance at the ceiling, they're on their way. I cancel the construct as it punches its way through the street outside the lobby. I sliced through some power cables, but this whole building is going to need to be mystically decontaminated
anyway…
"Huh. You took down
White Rabbit. I wonder if his feet are luckier than the rest of him?"
A
woman with white hair and wearing a black mask, tight-fitting black t-shirt and black cycle shorts walks through the door.
"I doubt it. He was taken down by Catwoman. Are you the hierophant of this little cult?
"
She blinks, confused. "Hierowhat?"
That sounds like a 'no'.
"Alright. Take me to your leader so I can beat him, her or it into a stupor and get on with my day.
"
"Yeah, no." Her body begins to disintegrate, the blackness around her taking on a new shape as it does so. "I-."
My world darkens as my photon cannon shoots her in the face-
"AAAIIIIIEEEEEE!"
-and she collapses to the ground, her shadow construct failing and her human body returning. Interesting. I knew there were other people who could draw power from the Shadowlands, but I hadn't specifically heard of this one before. I take a dimensional stabiliser out of subspace along with a set of manacles and start binding her.
Now, while I could
probably handle whoever's running the show myself, I suppose that it wouldn't hurt to have some expert advice.
Ring, phone John Quinn.
