Titans, Together: A DC Comics RP (RP Thread, Closed)

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There was a comment from another where he reported the loss of Stormalong's shirt in the permanent fashion and Jake just shrugged and went "Meh"...before he also heard the Adrien make this little comment...

"Imagine a demon caring about the world going to hell."

He'd been walking away, but Adrien would suddenly find Stormalong right in front of him. DAMN, that was fast! Not Flash-fast, but at least fast-fast. There'd been a gust of wind involved.

"Funny story. Wrong pantheon. Elemental storm demon and force of nature. Not consuming souls and dirty deals. Remember that."

This moment of education distracted him from the computer, in which he paused before heading back there because...he saw that girl with the tendril limbs there...not in the best of states as she looked up information on something. Ah, what was her name again? Couldn't remember if he'd paused five seconds to learn that. He went back to the computer and approached Felicia from the side.

"It's gonna be a hard time before anything's back to normal. You gonna be alright?"

"Jesus, you end up turning into an abomination, and people start thinking that you'll go all Hannibal Lector on them, especially if you have 'Doctor' in front of your name. I mean, you guys know that I'm not your enemy, right? That I'm here to help?"

This was an outburst from Cavanaugh all of a sudden, looking around. Jake decided to help out.

"Relax, doc. You've got my vote."

"Relax, doc. You've got my vote.".

Glancing over, Cavanaugh shrugged. "Well, I suppose that's something. Still, I..", he started, only to trail off as he gestured with one hand and saw that there was still blood on it.

Forcibly reminded of Warden, he suddenly felt guilty that he had nearly forgotten. Then he shook his head and set down his cup of coffee gently. "Ah, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to take care of something.", he said, striding over to the computer.

His gait was a little jerky, and the moment he got there he asked where the nearest bathroom was. The Good Doctor was thankful that Batman seemed to think of just about everything concerning it, because it showed him a basic map of the manor and indicated where he ought to go. Nodding once, he walked off in the right direction, thinking silently as he wound his way towards his destination.

Everything was happening too fast, he thought when he reached the bathroom and opened the door. The moment he did, he was greeted by a large, elegant mirror that shone brightly, and reflected his image back at him. He quickly stepped back and started to shake violently, his eyes wide with horror.

He had known what he looked like now for some time: But that didn't make it easier to bear looking at himself in a mirror.

Restraining himself from smashing it out of reflex, he closed his eyes and stepped inside, leaning forward over the sink and starting to wash his hands thoroughly. Even then he doubted he would forget the feeling of Wardens blood rushing over his hands to cover them. He wouldn't forget that she died in his arms, and that there was nothing he could do to save her. That she was left behind. And that he had to be so self-righteous towards her just before she did die.

Munching on a cookie, Sean wandered through the Batcave, taking in everything he could. "I wonder how they got all this stuff in..." he mused to himself.

He spotted one of the others, a young woman, sitting at the computer. It looked like she was crying, and Sean, against his better judgement, went up to her.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked softly.

"Jesus, you end up turning into an abomination, and people start thinking that you'll go all Hannibal Lector on them, especially if you have 'Doctor' in front of your name. I mean, you guys know that I'm not your enemy, right? That I'm here to help?

"Well seeing as you you do not possess a medical degree, having the title 'Doctor' in your name is already misleading. Most well-known 'doctors' are so because of their infamy, Lector and Frankenstein being among them."

Luke gave his rather frank opinion as he walked passed Cavanaugh, his 'abominable' appearance hardly phasing his him nor affecting his words.

"Also, I think nobody has a right to judge one based on their appearance. I can only say that you have done nothing that would seem to align yourself with our enemies, but that does not mean you are, for certain, our ally"

He shuffled his deck in his hands, before carrying on with his wander around the cave, making his way in the general direction of the spread of food. Taking a seat on one of the sofas there, he poured himself a drink from one of the coolers, before taking a sip. Grape juice, his favourite. He relaxed himself, this place seemed safe enough, Batman would have made sure of that, although he was confused as to how Zod wouldn't know their whereabouts.

Spreading himself out on the sofa a little bit more, he took off his hat, before throwing it across the table, on the other seat directly opposite. Taking his deck in his hands again, he riffled the cards against each other, widening the space between his palms, eventually the cards shuffling themselves telekinetically. He took a single card in his hand, and proceeded to flick them into the hat across the table, landing every shot with it's recess.

When Cavanaugh dried off his hands, he deliberately turned so he wouldn't have to look back in the mirror when he left, closing the door gently behind him before making his way back to the Batcave itself.

It didn't take long, and when he got back, he made a bee-line back to the food, specifically his coffee mug. The moment he got there, he grabbed it and took a deep gulp. Then he glanced back at Fortune. "You know, even scientists qualify for the title 'Doctor'. They use the title 'Professor' just as often, but not only medical doctors are able to have that title.", he pointed out as he sat down across from him.

"Besides, I'm at least learning to be a decent nurse or field medic. I want to help people, not harm them. That's why I became a geneticist in the first place. To do some good. Not that that worked out too well...", he added wryly, chuckling a little sadly.

Then the Good Doctor looked up and watched as Fortune flicked his cards into the hat in front of him with such precision and accuracy, he would have sworn that he was practically stacking the cards neatly by doing that. Blinking, he tilted his head and rubbed his chin with his free hand.

"Ok, that's pretty damn impressive. Is that connected to Lady Luck too, or are your cards magical or something?", he inquired.

Dr. McQuarry was finding it difficult to make himself at home here. There wasn't much for him, at least in the way of work. Sure there was no shortage of gadgetry for him to toy with, after all, no one had said not to, but his mind was stabilized on the predicament of formulating a heat-resistant material capable of withstanding a blast from Zod's heat vision, if only temporarily. The scientist was meandering through the Batcave, gnawing on the brass end of his pen until he found himself near what most surely was a quality smörgåsbord set neatly on a long table.

"Ooh, wha's this beaut laid afore me?" Johnathan muttered as he pocketed his pen and journal, eyeing the morsels on display. He picked up a rather large flat piece of bread along with a hefty round slab of cheese to top it. Taking a bite of both, he was giddy with delight to taste the long familiar tastes of the confection. "Crivvens, a real tattie scone 'n' Dunlop cheese! Pleasantly surprisin', ne'er woulda expected this..."

"Crivvens, a real tattie scone 'n' Dunlop cheese! Pleasantly surprisin', ne'er woulda expected this..."

"Well, I'm always delighted to have someone around who enjoys proper food."

The voice came from the staircase leading up to the manor, a figure most presumed to be the "Alfred" Nightwing was telling them about. He was dressed in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a black waistcoat over it. His face was thin and drawn, with a pencil mustache the same gray color as his thinning hair. Nonetheless he carried a distinguished, powerful air to him as he descended the steps, observing the folks he had gathered before him.

He had in his left hand the handle to a briefcase-sized box with a red cross on it.

"I was told that there may be injured; are any of you in need of assistance?"

"Funny story. Wrong pantheon. Elemental storm demon and force of nature. Not consuming souls and dirty deals. Remember that."

The demon-swordy-man popped up in front of Adrien, and he couldn't help but jump at the suddenness of his appearance.

"Well, that's just great, force of nature demon then, being struck by a stray bolt of lightning has always been my dream. Why can't anyone be normal anymore?"

As he wandered through the trophies and gadgets and hickamaroo, he heard a voice he thought he recognized.

"I was told that there may be injured; are any of you in need of assistance?"

"Eeeyup, right here, broken hand man coming through, whoops, sorry about that Mr.GoldGlasses, didn't mean anything by it. So, you got any super-fantastical-faster-than-light-broken-bone-mending-extraordinary gel in there or something?"

Glancing over as Alfred stepped in, Cavanaugh stood up and nodded. "I might be able to help. I know some basic first aid, and if nothing else, I can be an extra pair of hands.", he said, walking over before extending a hand.

"Dr. Cavanaugh Sutherland. Its a pleasure.", he said pleasantly, just before glancing over at Red Eye.

"So, you got any super-fantastical-faster-than-light-broken-bone-mending-extraordinary gel in there or something?".

"If he does, I'll be impressed. To be frank, I don't think anyone has developed something like that yet, otherwise I would have heard of it, and would be dying to get my hands on it and improve it.", he said flatly, just before pausing and glancing at Alfred.

"You don't have any special bone-mending gel, do you? Because considering how the day has been going, what with aliens, demons, and the fact that I'm a mutant... I'm just about ready to believe that anything and everything is possible.", he added in a soft murmur.

A figure cast a shadow along the table as it blocked Fortune's light. Luke turned to see the imposing figure, to find that it was 'Doctor' Cavanaugh, the man with the mutated lower jaw. He stared inquisitively as Luke flicked card after card into the fedora across the table, the rubbing of his chin unnerving as it drew attention to his monstrous maw.

"Ok, that's pretty damn impressive. Is that connected to Lady Luck too, or are your cards magical or something?"

Luke paused from his activity, he seemed genuinely conflicted as he focused on the question, his eyes squinted in confusion, before he offered his open palm, causing the number of cards inside the brim of the hat to rise out and fly into his hand, careful to not tarnish his garment.

"Thinking about it, I don't actually know. The answer to your question is both, but in regards to the actual activity at hand, I don't know if I'm subconsciously guiding them, making my own luck"

He offered the Good Doc a seat, offering him some of the refreshments from the generous spread that Alfred had laid before them.

"If you wish, we could find out, all I require is an opaque piece of cloth"

Luke noticed Cavanaugh manoeuvre away as Alfred introduced himself formally, offering medical attention, the doctor eager to disprove any notions that he did not know what he was doing.

"I was told that there may be injured; are any of you in need of assistance?"

"Alfred I presume? Could I trouble you for some bandages, or otherwise some other kind of dressing? It's not important, so feel free to decline"

"You don't have any special bone-mending gel, do you?"

"I've heard Pumpkin juice is good for that, can't quite recall where though" he replied to Cavanaugh

Cavanaugh glanced back at Fortune, who had impressed him earlier with his cards, both by stacking them neatly in his hat, but then shuffling them in mid-air as they flew back into his hand.

"I've heard Pumpkin juice is good for that, can't quite recall where though.".

He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, closed his mouth and stared at him, raising an eyebrow. After a short pause, he finally spoke. "I think that that might be an old-wives tale, but you know what? If I have the chance to and remember, I might just test that. Who knows? Stranger things have happened just today.", he said with an easy shrug.

"Anyway, I can help you out if you need bandages, there's some in the duffel bag right there, among a few other medical supplies.", he said, gesturing towards said bag, "Help yourself.".

Felicia looked back to friendly man who asked of her state. She closed up what she was doing and scratched her head.

"I'm... just hoping for something. Something that's probably not there anymore." Felicia said. She tried to look hopeful but the fact that an alien force had taken over most of the Earth didn't help. "I'm sorry I'm so gloomy. Do you need the computer? I don't need it anymore."

Felicia got up offering her seat.

Sean just shook his head. "Nah, I'm not sure what I'd do anyway." He thought about his own family, and hoped they were alright, feeling guilty for not thinking of them earlier.

"There's some food over there, you want something?"

"Well, I'm always delighted to have someone around who enjoys proper food."

Dr. McQuarry only nodded and smiled, unable to speak through the mouthfuls of food he was maintaining. He grew tired of standing though and decided to pile as many of the scones and cheese slices he could, then carried the towering stack of food to the lounge area. The scientist set the plate atop a coffee table before removing his hat and jacket, placing them neatly over the armrest of the sofa, then taking a seat. "Ahh, I'd be 'ere all day if I could. Aye."

"Eeeyup, right here, broken hand man coming through, whoops, sorry about that Mr.GoldGlasses, didn't mean anything by it. So, you got any super-fantastical-faster-than-light-broken-bone-mending-extraordinary gel in there or something?"

Alfred remained stoic as he set down his case of medical supplies by the lounge area he'd painstakingly crafted. "I'm afraid not." he replied, reaching into his pants pocket and coming up with a pair of sanitized gloves he slipped on. He beckoned Adrien to sit in the nearest sofa, and once he did flipped open the case to begin rummaging around for the proper supplies.

Cavanaugh's approach forced him to cease his search, and he stood up to greet him.

"Dr. Cavanaugh Sutherland. Its a pleasure."

"Likewise." the butler replied respectfully. It was somewhat paradoxically noticeable just how little he reacted to the man's admittedly monstrous appearance. "An extra pair of hands would be wonderful, Doctor. I'm going to try and immobilize his hand, so I'll need someone to secure the gauze while I do so."

"Alfred I presume? Could I trouble you for some bandages, or otherwise some other kind of dressing? It's not important, so feel free to decline"

"Hmm." the butler mused. He held up a finger to signal the need to wait just a couple of moments and returned to his case. He came up with a box of bandages, some gauze, and some liquid to cleanse any flesh wounds, handing them all to Cavanaugh. "On second thought, if it's all right take care of that man for me. I'd like to make everyone as comfortable as possible, as I fear Master Grayson won't be letting you relax for long."

"Afraid the man's right."

The last line came from the entrance to the cave, similar to the butler's entrance, though this time it was Nightwing himself. He has a towel loosely hung around his shoulders, and his dark wet hair dripped down halfway to his shoulders. His mask and costume were absent, replaced by a striped white button-up shirt and a pair of black jeans. He hopped over the railing, skipping the stairs and dropping straight to the platform by the computer, casually walking over.

"Everybody get settled in, grab some food and get your wounds treated. But after that we've gotta get some kind of plan."

"An extra pair of hands would be wonderful, Doctor. I'm going to try and immobilize his hand, so I'll need someone to secure the gauze while I do so.".

Nodding, he strode over to Adrien, only to pause and glance back at Alfred as he held up a finger. Then bandages, gauze, and a bottle of antiseptic wash was handed to him.

"On second thought, if it's all right take care of that man for me. I'd like to make everyone as comfortable as possible, as I fear Master Grayson won't be letting you relax for long."

"Oh, alright.", he said quietly, nodding once more before turning to Fortune and holding up the medical supplies he was handed, "So, where are you hurt?", he asked easily, striding over.

As he did, he noticed that Nightwing, or Dick Grayson, seeing as he was out of costume strode in, confirming that Alfred was right: He was planning on having them go straight back to the thick of things the moment they were healed and rested.

"Well, I for one would like some idea as to who and what the hell those two were. What, Zod and Lobo? Who were they, and why the hell didn't they just kill us outright? They could have, and easily. They seemed to want to catch us alive. Why?", he asked, his eyes narrowing on Dick as he waited for an answer.

Even then, he had an idea of what the reason may be: Capturing the only super-capable or noteworthy humans left on Earth to possibly study them. And he would be damned before he was someones lab specimen ever again.

"They seemed to want to catch us alive. Why?"

Dick hopped over the side of a couch, landing on his back and stretching out on it as he raised a hand, spinning it and calling everyone in the cave over so they'd be in earshot of him. He clearly didn't want to say this twice.

Still relaxing on the sofa, Dick began to wildly gesture with his hands as he tried to answer Cavanaugh's many questions.

"Zod and Lobo... well, I could go into a pretty wild speech about either one. I'll try and keep it short."

He pointed to his left, at some object only he could visualize. "Lobo, for starters. He's a Czarnian. Last one of his race, in fact. Works as a bounty hunter and a merc, has since the golden age of superheroes. Y'know, the JSA? Supes, back in the '40s? He tangled with them a couple times in Europe, taking out bounties on world leaders. Power limits are unknown, but I'd say it was pretty obvious he's stronger than any of us. Advanced weaponry and tech, but relatively low endurance compared to normal sluggers of his strength. He makes up for it with outrageous healing capabilities. So, yeah... hate to say it, but by now I doubt anything you did to him remains as more than a scratch."

He then pointed straight up, and his eyebrows went up as he visualized another figure.

"Zod?.. Zod is something else entirely. He's a Kryptonian, like Superman, but even older. Probably over a century by now. He hasn't been around yellow stars as much, so he isn't quite as strong or quick, but he's got a mind just as sharp, if not sharper. Normally I'd be pointing the finger at him for this invasion. But it's... bigger than him. He's been talking like there's somebody above him, that he's answering to."

Dick's face grew somber, and for a brief moment he looked just like his late father.

"And we have no idea who it is. Or how they got Zod and Lobo to work together, or why they're taking some and leaving others. We're not even sure it has to do with powers. They pretty clearly want Tim and I dead, but they took Huntress, Katana, and Spoiler with no complaints. And Wildcat... after he rocked Zod in a fight, the General dropped him off the side of a skyscraper." Dick frowned. "His heart got him before he hit the ground."

Slowly, Grayson sat up and looked around at those gathered. "That's the odds we're up against. That's how little we know. But if you're ready, we can strike back, and get working on driving them off this planet. Or at least, out of Gotham."

He stood and spun around to face them all. "I'd be lying if I said I had hope for your chances on your own, but you haven't been drafted. If you don't want to be a part of this, just say so."

It took Cavanaugh a few moments to digest exactly what Dick explained to him, and he sighed softly, sitting back on the nearest chair. "It sounds like if you pose enough of a threat, they don't hesitate: They kill you. That's what happened to the man who beat Lobo bloody, the poor guy. Otherwise, its either capture or ignore, right? That's prioritizing. That's calculation, and an underlying plan.", he said, thinking aloud.

Crossing his arms, he grimaced. "So, you're saying there's someone above Zod, someone bigger and badder that's behind all of this, the invasion, the massacres, the kidnappings. The chaos. That's not reassuring at all.", The good doctor added in an irritated murmur.

Then he stood and he tilted his head. "Well, it sounds as if you need all the help you can get. Count me in. I can't really say how much help I'll be, but I can at least be something of a field medic, especially if Alfred here shows me some pointers on proper wound treatment.", he added, gesturing towards the butler and nodding.

Then he turned back to Fortune and Red Eye. "So, who wants to be bandaged first?", he asked.

His hand splinted so that he at least mount his rifle on his hand again, Adrien listened to Nightwing's rundown of events.

"I'd be lying if I said I had hope for your chances on your own, but you haven't been drafted. If you don't want to be a part of this, just say so."

"Hell yeah I'm in, you think I'd turn down a chance to shoot some more of those alien bastards? The Bat and you are one of my reasons for being out there this morning to begin with."

He put his helmet back on, his face hidden from view once again.

"I put all of the stuff I was able to capture on the big-computer-of-all-that-is-awesome when I got in. Maybe that'll give some clue as to who thinks we're all a big snack to gobble-gobble? Oh! And a word of warning, if you see something like what you'll see on the first few minutes of it, DON'T get close to it, it likes to give hugs, and they hurt."

He put his uninjured hand up to his mask, idly scratching facial hair that wasn't there,"Of course, it probably hurt most because I fell off the roof with the thing...hmmm."

He shrugged his shoulders then, pulled the Redspotter out of its sheathe on his back and with his hand now in better condition, pulled it apart and stored the three parts in their stretchy compartments of hideyness. He then rummaged around in his jacket, pulling out six clips for the Redshot and eight for the Redspotter, not counting the ones already loaded in each.

"Hmmmm, think we can stop off at my safehouse or Young's Gunz? I need to get some...oh 1-2-3-4... around three boxes of ammo each for these things if I can do more than mildly annoy the Lobo-gray-man and Zeffy-beard-alien. Or...no, you probably don't have the stuff I need, so nevermind."

He put the rounds back into his jacket, each in their places, and more than a few empty spaces, that did more than annoy him a little.

"That's the odds we're up against. That's how little we know. But if you're ready, we can strike back, and get working on driving them off this planet. Or at least, out of Gotham."
"I'd be lying if I said I had hope for your chances on your own, but you haven't been drafted. If you don't want to be a part of this, just say so."

Sean swallowed hard, realizing he was way in over his head this time. But then he remembered his family and friends, and what might have happened to them. And with so much riding on their shoulders, how could they possibly say no?

"I'm in." He said, trying to sound brave. "So, what's our course of action, Mr. Nightwing, sir?"

"I'm... just hoping for something. Something that's probably not there anymore. I'm sorry I'm so gloomy. Do you need the computer? I don't need it anymore."

"Nah, the computer won't let me train in my condition. It's kind of a jerk."

He snickered slightly at this, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. With that, he headed on up to where the food was, suddenly realizing that he hadn't eaten in hours, and it may be longer before eating would happen again. Realizing that eating and/or getting a little medical attention was going to be hard all suited up, there was a whip of wind and thunder as Jake changed into his civilian get-up without the inconvenience of any possible nakedness...and a new shirt. From here, he began to get some food for himself while stuff went on. What? He didn't give a shit about secret identity.

"Many thanks for the meal. Alfred was it? Brilliant."

Here, it was announced by Nightwing that they would be getting a plan underway, and then...some explanations followed. Jake's jaw dropped when it was confirmed that Zod was a Kryptonian. He really really REALLY needed to get some fucking training done. But first, the main important things. He got food and drink, so now it was healing time. Just let's first point out where he stood on this.

"I can't say I like the fact that I now rate Zod's killing list, but somehow I don't feel as though whatever he was capturing people for is any better. Ergo, I'm in. Gimme a chance to heal up and we'll talk business. And uhh...any chance you've got more of that green stuff you spat at him?"

From here, he went over to Cavanaugh.

"Okay, I didn't get sliced open or anything, but that was a heavy pound and everything torso-wise is hurting. Dunno how serious, but if the computer revoked training privileges, I'd check the internals."

Glancing over as Stormalong went over to him, Cavanaugh quirked an eyebrow as he listened to exactly what was wrong.

"Okay, I didn't get sliced open or anything, but that was a heavy pound and everything torso-wise is hurting. Dunno how serious, but if the computer revoked training privileges, I'd check the internals.".

He paused, then grimaced as he shook his head. "Well, I can't really help you there. I'm no surgeon, and the only thing I could treat you with, my Sanare Serum... I'm all out. Not only that but... Ah, you're all human, biologically speaking, right? Because I wouldn't use that on you if you weren't. The side effects are really nasty, trust me. It usually involves painful, acidic blisters around the injection site, in my case at least.", he added, hoping the short, graphic explanation was enough to deter those who weren't fully human from encouraging him to experiment.

Then an idea popped into his head, causing him to glance over at Dick. "Grayson? Hate to interrupt, but can the Bat-Computer analyze DNA and chemical formulas with any detail?", he asked politely.

"I'll help... I've got nothing else and to be frank, I don't like standing in a cave while people out there are dying...no offense." Felicia said aloud, she was there but she felt removed. She couldn't believe that she said that to not only Nightwing but also to Red Robing as well and the Batcave of all places.

But still, Felicia yearned to do something rather than just mope around. Seeing all that death and destruction changed Felicia and she did try her hardest while the roofs collapsed around her while fire rained down from the skies. She tried to save as many people as possible during the opening stages of the invasion but she was only one person. She was not a coward, as she repeated so many times before. Felicia knew what the stakes were but she also knew that she didn't have long either. She wouldn't be Felicia forever with the parasite slowly assimilating her day by day.

"That's the odds we're up against. That's how little we know. But if you're ready, we can strike back, and get working on driving them off this planet. Or at least, out of Gotham."

Shadow grabbed a chocolate bar off the snake table and threw it up in the air a few times as he thought.

"End of the world not withstanding, this whole thing sounds pretty fun. I'd be happy to get back in the fight as soon as possible"

Shadow caught the bar in his hand and looked over at his bag on the floor.

"So...how exactly are we suppose to kick these things out of the city?"

Dr. McQuarry was absorbing all this information as he feasted, building a steady rythm of consumption as he mulled over Grayson's words in his head. Once the undisguised hero was wrapping up his speech, the scientist had pushed the now empty plate away from him, his hunger more than sated for the time being. He stood and cleared his throat before addressing something he knew would come up eventually. "'Scuse me, Mister Grayson. If I'm to be of any real use, I'm goin' to need to get to my laboratory. Certainly, with the vast array of transportation this lair of yours likely 'ouses, I can get there swiftly and safely. Besides, I've left something on and I'm terribly afraid of what might happen should it be left unattended for much longer."

"'Scuse me, Mister Grayson. If I'm to be of any real use, I'm goin' to need to get to my laboratory. Certainly, with the vast array of transportation this lair of yours likely 'ouses, I can get there swiftly and safely. Besides, I've left something on and I'm terribly afraid of what might happen should it be left unattended for much longer.".

Upon hearing that, Cavanaugh perked up and glanced over, his grin widening just slightly. "Actually, scratch that thought.", he said, just before striding over to Dr. Johnathan McQuarry.

If they were going to be part of some team, which is what the situation looked like it was leading to, he saw no reason not to try and make a scientific partnership with the only other scientist there, besides himself. Holding out a hand, he tilted his head just slightly. "Did I hear correctly that you have a personal lab? Just how extensive is it, and what kind of equipment do you have?", he asked eagerly before shaking his head and chuckling a little awkwardly.

"Ah, sorry about that. Its been awhile since I've even heard of a lab still working after the invasion. I'm Dr. Cavanaugh Sutherland. Since you seem to be a fellow scientist, maybe we can be of some help to one another.", he said politely.

Dick couldn't help but smile as everyone threw in their support. A few, however, were making clauses and conditions. Before Grayson could respond, Alfred stepped in to handle their requests.

"Hmmmm, think we can stop off at my safehouse or Young's Gunz? I need to get some...oh 1-2-3-4... around three boxes of ammo each for these things if I can do more than mildly annoy the Lobo-gray-man and Zeffy-beard-alien. Or...no, you probably don't have the stuff I need, so nevermind."

"...Besides, I've left something on and I'm terribly afraid of what might happen should it be left unattended for much longer."

"I suppose I may assist with that." the butler stated. "Oh, and, Mr. Cavanaugh--that would be the Chemical Compound Analyzer you're looking for, the station on the far right. Though I suspect you'll wish to be listening too."

He gestured the trio of them upstairs to the manor. "As I understand it, you wished to get back to your clinic, and the both of you are in need of supplies? As things currently stand, Master Tim is in too grave of condition to be joining in combat-centric missions. Though, dissuading a Robin from joining the fray is nigh impossible, I've learned. He'll be heading out shortly to do a sweep of the city to search for survivors, and to collect supplies. I'm sure if you came along, he'd be happy to make a few pit-stops. Just say the word and we'll head up to the manor's garage."

Dick, meanwhile, was addressing the remainder, who wished to know what the next course of action would be. He led them all over to the computer, and with a few deft keystrokes brought up a map of Gotham. It zoomed in and went into a skyline-style view, with one skeletal, code-built building red as opposed to the neutral blue of the others.

"This building right here is the Wayne-Fox-Powers Enterprises' HQ." Dick explained. "Hit within an hour of the invasion's start, and sealed up inside some kinda... bubble. I'm sure you've seen it."

Indeed, it was hard not to notice the corporate tower when traversing the ruins of downtown Gotham. One of the few buildings left standing, pristine in its glass bottle of a sort.

"You see, all the frigates going through the city seem to dock at the top levels of this building periodically. We think that whatever they're doing with the prisoners, it's happening here. Presumably, it's their base of operations, accounting for A.) no other notable ship activity in the vicinity of Gotham, and B.) the size of Zod's ego."

The camera panned away from the tower, and shot down to street level, looking straight-on at a manhole.

"I have a plan involving the subway system to get in the basement levels of the tower, where the shield isn't protecting it. But to do that, we'll have to restore power to the city. Most of it was shut off or blasted away when the invaders hit. Bru...Batman, had a contingency plan in case that ever happened, his own personal network of mini-generators scattered throughout the Gotham underground to be activated in an emergency. But on the run like we've been, I haven't been able to reach it. Now, we've got backup. We'll be splitting into two teams for this operation."

He straightened up, and prepared to assign groups when a cough from Alfred caught their attention.

"Erm, Master Dick? Would it not be prudent to at least learn your team's names before sending them off to doom?"

Dick's eye twitched almost imperceptibly as he sent a glare the butler's way. "Alfred, we don't have time for--"

"For manners, basic courtesy and humanity?" the butler cut in. "Well then, I suppose the world really IS ending, isn't it?"

Dick's mouth was stretched so wide, into the slightest of frowns, it looked nearly comical when he turned back to the others, including the trio meant to go with Tim. He vaguely pointing his own way.

"My name... urgh... is Dick Grayson-Wayne. I'm thirty years old, and I was Robin from the time I was seventeen to the time I was twenty-three. I've been Nightwing for the last seven years. I'm a master acrobat, expert-level hand-to-hand combatant, I have access to the majority of Batman's arsenal, I like long walks on the beach and serenades on a cool summer night, and not wanting kids is a deal breaker."

He sent one more angry stare Alfred's way before burying his eyes in his palm and telling the others "Just... just give your names, and your talents so I know where to assign you. We're low on time."

"I suppose I may assist with that. Oh, and, Mr. Cavanaugh--that would be the Chemical Compound Analyzer you're looking for, the station on the far right. Though I suspect you'll wish to be listening too.".

"Ah! Thank you. And its Doctor, actually.", he corrected politely as he did his best to smile back at Alfred.

The results were, unfortunately, questionable.

"As I understand it, you wished to get back to your clinic, and the both of you are in need of supplies? As things currently stand, Master Tim is in too grave of condition to be joining in combat-centric missions. Though, dissuading a Robin from joining the fray is nigh impossible, I've learned. He'll be heading out shortly to do a sweep of the city to search for survivors, and to collect supplies. I'm sure if you came along, he'd be happy to make a few pit-stops. Just say the word and we'll head up to the manor's garage.".

Cavanaugh listened closely, then nodded, giving Alfred another attempt at a grateful smile, and a thumbs-up for emphasis. Then he turned to listen as Nightwing gave the game plan. Overall, the plan itself was sound. Not that he knew much about strategic planning, however. When Alfred cut in just before they headed out, it elicited a light chuckle from the Good Doctor. Dicks response, however, made him laugh fully.

When Dick finished, Cavanaugh stood straighter and nodded once more. "Dr. Cavanaugh Sutherland, Geneticist, Chemist, makeshift Field Medic, and a decent brawler in a fight. I'm also a fair seamstress.", he added with an awkward shrug.

"I have access to the majority of Batman's arsenal, I like long walks on the beach and serenades on a cool summer night, and not wanting kids is a deal breaker."

"Well, this one's named,"He pointed a thumb and splinted hand as best he could at himself,"Adrien Young, I'm 21, and I've been jumping around the rooftops of Gotham for the past three years or so, expert marksman - if I do say so myself - and I've got access to some of the best hardware the military has allowed to private sectors and some public chains, most notably our own two stores here in Gotham. I've got one of your old wing-dings, and a batarang I've had since I was a kid...the beach isn't really my thing, serenades are ok, but I prefer cold,rainy nights, and kids are ok, but I'm not even anywhere near wanting to have anything to do with my own."

...the beach isn't really my thing, serenades are ok, but I prefer cold,rainy nights, and kids are ok, but I'm not even anywhere near wanting to have anything to do with my own."

Even in the threat of having the human race wiped out, the sense of humor for these guys where unphased. Shadow began thinking he was going to enjoy working with these guys.

"Right. Name's Shadowstar. I'm 15. My power lets me control...well, this stuff"

Shadow formed a small sphere of dark energy into his hand. He tossed it from one hand to the other, forming it into different shapes before throwing it over his shoulder and making a miniscule bang on the stone floor of the cave.

"And I'm a decent shot with pistols when apprehension proves to not be advantageous. Also I have a spear. Why? Because screw you it looked cool at the time"

"And I'm a decent shot with pistols when apprehension proves to not be advantageous. Also I have a spear. Why? Because screw you it looked cool at the time"

Mark's ears managed to pick up the tail end of Shadowstar's introduction, and the tuxedo-clad man found his way back to the rest of the group. The Batcave was many things; easy to navigate was not one of them.

"Hmm? Is this what we're doing now?"

The thief offered a grin to his new compatriots as he made his way towards them, a spring in his step and a gleam in his eyes. Not that you could see of the gleam, of course. Mask and all that. It seemed that Mark's time spent in Batman's sanctuary had not been fiddled away; somehow the man had managed to find somewhere/something to help him freshen up. His clothes, once ragged and wrinkled, had been fully repaired and revitalized, and his mask had apparently seen the same treatment. Even his hair seemed to have been cleaned, holding an impressively lustrous sheen considering the circumstances.

"Well, I suppose there's not really much point in trying to keep a low profile anymore, now is there?"

Clicking his heels together, Mark bent forward in a showy bow, extending his left arm as his right curled about his waist. "The illustrious and dashing Domino, chivalry incarnate and expert rogue, at your service! Need a safe cracked in ten seconds flat? Desire an impossible-to-acquire artifact? Or maybe just want some guards dealt with while you do whatever it is that needs doing? Look no further, I'm your man!"

Standing up straight, with a perfectly adjusted smile crossing his visage, the thief began to list off his various skills, counting them on his fingers as he spoke. "Quick and nimble as you need me to be, capable of cracking any system or security from here to Metropolis, and the most discreet expert treasure hunter you'll ever find.

"And, my personal favorite..." Pausing for a moment, Mark lifted his gauntlet-clad right arm skywards. However, the limb only managed to make it just past his shoulder before it shuddered to a halt, a pained grimace momentarily interrupting its owners smile. "Er, well," he continued, settling for just holding the arm out in front of him, "as I was saying: the only man with the skills and tools to change something's, or someone's, weight!"

Despite the humor of the hero, Felicia struggled to speak up even though she had no trouble voicing her concerns a few minutes ago. She had forgotten all about the right introductions or the proper way to present yourself to new people because the last few days of her life, she was focused on nothing but survival and that mean being curt. There was no time to be eloquent but only conciseness and not an ounce of hesitance allowed for survival. Now it was different and Felicia hesitated.

Instead she listened on to what her comrades were saying and addressing. Some came out honestly, and some with an alias which appealed to her because of the identity it creates. So she thought for a name and searched the inner most depths of her mind for something.

A few seconds didn't even pass by before Felicia thought back to her mother's greenhouse behind their actual house. Her mother wasn't a botanist but was an avid gardener and that dictated a creation of a greenhouse for the plants that couldn't be kept outside much to her father's dismay. The greenhouse always had a pungent smell, its own perfume that consisted of the scents of exotic plants. Felicia liked all the plants but the carnivorous ones she liked the best. The Venus flytrap was everyone's favorite but the Drosera was her own favorite. It's lethal quality wasn't as blunt as the Venus flytrap and it exhibited a beauty that almost defused any sort of thought that the Drosera was anything but lethal just like her.

"I am... Drosera." Felicia said aloud, stepping forward with a nervous confidence. "I'm pretty normal for the most part but also..."

In an instant her tendrils sprouted from her back and lifted her up off the ground. The strong tendrils reflected the light off its smooth surface. Her tendrils looked anything but normal right now and Felicia didn't feel ashamed of it. "I'm part alien. My tendrils are pretty strong and can lift heavy objects if you need me to."

Here Adrien was, helmet on and splinted hand, was still not exempt from the weird powers everyone and their brother seemed to have. Why couldn't it go back to the way it was before? Gangs running the streets, a few people running along the rooftops and alleyways beating,shooting,etc. the hell out of them. Then everything changed when the alien galactic nation menace thingy attacked. Suddenly all these powered freaks show up and start wrecking his entire world view. Well, the view he subscribed to, the other ones were peripheral to him.

And then this kid started throwing around some kind of dark energy, why'd that stuff have to come out.

"Why you guys gotta do this to us little people? All we do is run around beating baddies, and you guys open up the mystical-box-of-wonderfulness-and-super-powered-stick-of-the-great-and-amazing-Montezuma, and a whop-bam-boom! You've got powers."

He shook his head,"Nevermind,"He then stopped his head between his hands and looked around,"So Al here said something about going out looking for stuff a few of us needed? When we getting around to that?"

"Why you guys gotta do this to us little people? All we do is run around beating baddies, and you guys open up the mystical-box-of-wonderfulness-and-super-powered-stick-of-the-great-and-amazing-Montezuma, and a whop-bam-boom! You've got powers."

Glancing over at Adrien, Cavanaugh huffed and crossed his arms over his wide chest. "Well, in my case, it was a lab accident due to a mutagen I was helping develop, hopefully to enhance American soldiers on the battlefield. I got exposed to the unfinished mutagen, and after about a week of agonizing pain as I transformed, which, by the way, put me into a coma yet didn't prevent the experience from being burned into my memory, here I am. The mutant you see now. Adrien, sometimes powers aren't all they're made out to be.", he added more gently before patting the mans shoulder.

"Besides, you're pretty damn lucky being an otherwise ordinary human, like Nightwing and Robin here, kicking extra-ordinary ass. That should count for a lot.", the Good Doctor told him, looking over and once again trying unsuccessfully to look friendly.

He had the tone down, it was looking the part as well that gave him trouble.

With Cavanaugh really worrying over the effect of his medicines, Jake rolled his eyes, annoyed. He was even more-so when the guy insisted upon analysis just because he mentioned his demon works. They never interfered with anything in his life before! Why would they now? AFTER the chem analyzer was pointed out, Jake broke his silence.

"Look, doc, geez. I don't have weird reactions to medicines or tissue-rejections to human-substances. It's all an ancient sorcery thing. You don't have to worry."

This probably wasn't going to convince the man, and further it wasn't going to do any good to know that even before he went half-demon, there had been this peculiar resistence to the effect of thinks like tranquilizing and numbing agents. He'd need double doses. It was weird... Still, the whole thing continued with an important office building as our boy slowly began to recover on his own. Apparently, the aliens convened at this location for some reason and that Nightwing wanted to access it underground...but they couldn't do it without power. And then...Alfred suggested - rather amusingly - the common courtesy of introductions. Funny man. He waited for others to speak their peace, then...

"Mr. Stormalong, but I don't mind being Jake in normal company. I'm a storm demon, half...anyway. Elemental powers of fire, wind, and lightning. In...case this plan with the generators doesn't work according to spec, I've enough control at least to act as a temporary electrical source."

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