These Masks We Wear
Orphanage of St. Clair, Collinsville – Illinois, January 8th 2017
At approximately 4500 meters away and as the Bio-ship rocketed across the treeline, the building finally came into view. Four stories tall with an old country-style design, formed of warm red brick and strong wooden arches holding aloft a newly refurbished shingle tiled roof and accompanying spire. Then encompassing it all, a massive glittering dome of transparent solid ice.
Narrowing his eyes at the sight of the anomaly, Dick zoomed in and enlarged the visual they had on the building. Immediately, they spotted Superman already at the scene, swooping in and out and landing blow after blow against the dome's lightly gleaming shell. Noticing their approach, he slowed for a moment and gestured towards a large clearing near a smattering of cars and trucks at the side of the road, police lights flashing as news crews scrambled to get their reporters in gear.
Acknowledging the space for what it was, Dick moved set the ship down, circling above the clearing first before beginning the descent. He didn't bother with the camouflage, assuming that awareness of the Team's existence was now more or less public knowledge, after the events with the Reach. Which was both a good thing and a not so good thing, depending on how you saw it.
It was convenient that it they no longer needed to hide their activities, but at the cost of no longer being as free, regarding the range of their operations. Now, they had to abide under the joint-international laws regarding superheroism and metahuman accountability, just like the rest of the League. Thankfully, they were currently considered to be in at least marginally good standing thanks to their major contributions in revealing the Reach's true intention towards Earth and the alien race's subsequent attempt at destroying it. Only marginally, of course.
Feeling the ship touch down, Dick unstrapped himself from his seat and opened a port at the base of the hull. Exiting through the opening alongside the rest of Alpha team, he found Superman already waiting for them near the bow of the ship, brows furrowed and breathing warm air into his palms. Watching their approach, the man of steel nodded towards them, shaking out his hands as he addressed them all.
"Nightwing. Wondergirl. Kid Flash." He smiled softly. "Good to see you."
"Right back at you, big guy." Dick responded, returning the man's smile with one of his own. "Alpha team was nearby when we heard about the dome coming up. What's the situation? Any progress getting through?"
Clark shook his head. "No, nothing yet." He responded tiredly, his tone hinting at just the slightest touch of frustration. "I'm thinking it might be magical. Heat vision didn't work, and neither did force as I'm sure you already saw me trying. Density shifting might be possible, but we'd need one of the Martians here to try it. It's also ridiculously cold."
"Have you tried going under? Bypass the dome with a tunnel underground?" Bart suggested, slipping his goggles down onto place. "Back in the future-past, we used to build tons of underground passages to avoid Reach patrols that were trying to mode us, maybe it could work here?"
Not for the first time, Dick saw concern flicker across the faces of everyone present. Really, as much of a big ball of sunshine he was most of time, there was no denying that the latest addition to the speedster family had more than a few issues. Not that that was particularly surprising considering his history, but it was still tragic nonetheless. Like seriously, "Scavenger Rights"? Dick didn't need to have grown up in Gotham to know exactly what that phrase entailed. Really, he just hoped Bart would feel comfortable enough sooner or later to talk about those issues with someone he could trust like Barry or Jaime.
Well, on second thought, maybe not Jaime. That kid did vicarious guilt almost as well as a Bruce, so probably not the best idea for his best friend to tell him how much of a living hell his life happened to be back in the future all of a sudden.
After a moment, Clark shook his head. "Sorry Kid Flash, X-ray vision shows that the entire building is surrounded by ice, foundations and basement levels included. It's actually more of a sphere than a dome. As for any civilians trapped inside, most of them seem to hiding away somewhere inside the building. Hopefully safe, but I'd rather not take any chances. We need into that dome as fast as possible."
Taking in the information, Dick nodded and then turned towards Cassie. "Wondergirl, you have the most experience with magic out of all us here, do you think you can check out the dome with Kid Flash to see if it actually is sorcery based and if so, what sort of magic it might be made out of?"
"I can handle that." Cassie smiled. "I might not be able to find out exactly what magic it might be, but I can definitely see if it's magic or not. And if it is, I think it might be better to call in Zee for help Nightwing. She's definitely a way better sorcery expert than I am, and if anyone knows magic it's her."
"Alright, I'll be sure to notify her then the moment you guys find something. As for you Kid Flash, I want you to run a full diagnostic scan of the orphanage and its perimeter. See if you can get a signal from any of the people that happen to be stuck inside, so we can determine their situation. Also, under no circumstances, are you to touch the ice. Judging from Superman's report, it's probably far beyond Antarctic level temperatures and I don't want to have to explain to the Flash why his partner all of a sudden has a few less fingers than he used to. Understand?"
"Loud and clear, Mon Capitan!" Bart saluted, features coy, yet his eyes - focused.
"Alright. Then we'll meet back here in twenty. While you two are off, Superman and I will be heading back into the Bio-ship to see if we can't get into contact with any more Leaguers that might be able to lend us a hand. I'll also be looking into the Orphanage's history and city files to see if there might be a lead as to why the Orphanage in particular might have been attacked."
"Sounds like a plan." Bart replied, sending a nod towards both Dick and Clark both before nudging Cassie to follow. The two quickly taking off at the sound of Bart's jeering. "Beat you there, slow poke!"
Turning back, Dick and Clark headed to the Bio-ship, leaping up into the craft through the opening in the hull and heading to work on their respective duties. Within moments, Clark had a feed going with the Watchtower while Dick himself began combing through the web for information on St. Clair's. Then only a few minutes into the search, the ship released a notification. Someone was approaching the ship from down the driveway. Rising from his seat, Dick made his way towards the porthole, before dropping his head through the opening. "Hello officer." He smiled.
With a less than manly shriek, the sheriff jumped, hand shooting towards his gun, before heaving a sigh at the sight of him. With a withering look, the officer straightened his back and extended his hand. "Sheriff Tolmy. Ehhh Nightwing? Yes?"
Flipping down out of the ship, Dick nodded, taking the offered hand. He smiled. "That's right. May I help you Sheriff?"
The other man sighed then, features quickly growing stern. "Why yes you can son. That, right there? I want it gone." He stated, cocking his head towards the dome. "And the people inside – safe, as soon as possible. The damn reporters are already doing their god-awful best at scaring the townsfolk, and the longer that dome is here, the worse it'll get. Do you think you can do that for me?"
Brows furrowing, Dick replied. "Already on it Sheriff. We have two other members running reconnaissance around the area, and we're calling in a few more hands even as we speak. We will get those people out of there."
The sheriff nodded in response, posture relaxing just the smallest of fractions. "Thank you kindly. Now, if there's anything at all you uh, heroes need please don't hesitate to ask us. We officers may not have the same Meta-human expertise as you all, but we're here to help in any way we can. So for now, we'll just be down the road, keeping those nosy reporters at bay. I swear their like rabid -."
"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BASTARD!"
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Interior
With a gentle pull, Takeshi slipped Kintoki from the body of yet another Tainted, the child igniting in a burst of soulless white as the little boy fell, a heap of shrieks and screams spasming at his feet. Stepping over the poor child, the swordsman took a breath, feeling his emotions fighting within him as he rapidly moved to dodge a knife to his back. This time, it was a girl, younger than the boy that he had just slain, covered in blood and jagged white cracks that lined her skin. The tell-tale signs of a rudimentary Tainted.
Without pause, he swung up his blade and sliced clean through her throat, not bothering to watch her crumple as he marched down the hall, the sound of screams filling his ears, both human and those no longer. Reaching the first door, he immediately brought Kintoki down across the Tainted staff member attempting to rush him, before pushing past the woman and into the room.
Rapidly processing the scene before him, he delivered a swift kick to the Tainted strangling a fellow boy at the center of the chamber. Knocking the corrupted child away, he ducked down quickly to ensure the other child's uncorrupt status before raising a hand and sending a pulse of Rain flames out into the air. Three quick thuds quickly followed suit, the hearts of all three Tainted, whom had all emerged like insects all across the room upon his arrival, slowed to a halt in the passing of a second, their bodies writhing and twitching sporadically like bugs knocked unto their backs.
Pressing a finger to his comm, and kneeling down to place a hand on the now unconscious boy, Takeshi spoke. "I have another one. 2nd floor, boys section, room 201. Status: Injured, but no trace of corruption. Trace of Flame signature also detected. Deploying Mosca for transfer."
"Acknowledged." Spanner quickly replied. "Go ahead Yamamoto, we're ready on our end."
Digging into his breast pocket, Takeshi pulled forth a pill. Siphoning a small portion of his Flame reserves into the capsule, he then tossed the tablet across the room watching absently as it exploded in a haze of blue and revealing a newly activated mosca. Without preamble, the machine scoped up the unconscious child, placing him within it's open body cavity before closing it's form and marching towards Tsuna's location.
Silently, he gritted his teeth. That was only the fourth non-Tainted he'd found so far, and the eighth they'd had found in total since arriving, out of the total 78 children and workers inhabiting the orphanage. It ate at him to know that if they had only managed to arrive just a little bit sooner they likely would have been able to save so many more.
Still, eight was better than none and hopefully there would be more to find. He just had to act quickly. With a thinning of his lips, Takeshi strode from the room. Combing through the rest of the boy's section of the orphanage, Takeshi was able to locate three more untainted by the time he had cleared the area. Two of them, both barely 7 hidden inside a closet that they had both shared, and another older boy into his adolescence, standing traumatized within his locked room after having killed his corrupted roommate.
As he descended the stairs, there was a buzz on his comm. "Yamamoto." Hayato began. "We have three Tainted making a break for the Tenth's barrier outside, all with higher concentrations of corruption flame within them. Intercept and eliminate all of them before they make contact, otherwise they'll melt right through the field and begin infecting outsiders."
Frowning beneath his mask, Takeshi frowned. "Got it. I'm heading out now."
With a burst of speed, Takeshi raced towards the entrance, throwing open the large double doors and extending an arm. With a pulse of rain flames, all three Tainted crumpled to the ground, two dead in an instant as the blood in their bodies ceased their circulation. The third, still crawled onward, tears streaming down the sides of her face, arms reaching out towards the edge of the dome and the young heroes that stood beyond it. And unlike himself, they were unable to see the cracks the lined her skin.
With desperation clear upon their features, Kid Flash and Wondergirl, of which he had been informed, struck furiously and futilely against the outer side of the barrier, frost already crawling along the sides of their arms and legs and bodies. Watching as the Heroes continued to beat against the ice, Takeshi observed as the one known as Kid Flash, Bart Allen, finally pulled back, his features clearly pained and his fingers unmoving. Looks like even Speedsters could get frostbite it seemed, nor phase through Tsuna's Dying Will Ice, if all the vibrating the boy had been doing earlier was any indication.
Walking forward, and easily ignoring the heroes' muted screams, Takeshi readied his Kintoki, thinking then, just for the briefest of moments, about just how terrifyingly used to all of this he had become. He didn't particularly relish in the act of killing, in fact, much like Tsuna and the rest of their Famiglia, he abhorred it. But he also knew, just like the rest of them, that it was a necessary evil, and that in many cases, there was simply no other way to end the conflict.
This, tragically, was simply another such circumstance. All Tainted, regardless of gender, status, race or age, needed to be put down. Contained, else the corruption that consumed them would ensnare more of the weak-willed and vulnerable. They were Castello's living plague, sentient, capable of thought yet mindless in their inability to seek anything more than to expand their ranks and to complete their oppressor's will.
Re-establishing his resolve, Takeshi gazed upon the struggling Tainted. His stomach turning at the energy he felt wafting from her form, at the monstrosity he could feel just below the surface. And yet still, from deep within his chest, his heart ached at the sight of what was once, clearly, a beautiful little girl.
He raised his blade.
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Exterior
Her arms were numb, caked with frost. Her hands locked into fists, stinging horribly from the cold, and yet none of that mattered as she struck again and again in a desperate single-minded bid to break through the barrier between her and those children. She didn't even realize she was screaming, her cries of rage and desperation intermingling with those of Bart's at her side, their gazes fixed upon the terrified and tear-stained expression of the struggling little girl and her would-be killer standing above her.
It had all happened so fast.
She had been examining the ice, letting her fingers slowly trace along it's shell to get a sense of it's composition. All forms of magics had a particular feel to them, she knew, given her lessons regarding the better part of sorcery with Wonder Woman. Themysciran, Dark, Light, Egyptian, Haitian, Celtic even just standard witchcraft all had a signature with which they could be identified. But this barrier had none that she was familiar with. It felt like magic, and yet not, unnatural and also like it perfectly belonged. She had no idea what to make of it.
And then Bart had started up, his cries directing her to the sight of three wounded children fleeing from the central building of the orphanage, their clothes torn and bodies lined with cuts and bruises. They were screaming towards her, towards the two of them, racing forward as quickly as they could, features pleading, begging for help.
Cassie's heart had squeezed at the sight of them, and then promptly stopped as a look of sheer terror overtook their features after a quick glance back, their motions now suddenly moving in earnest as another figure emerged from the building's wide double doors.
A Mobster? She had initially thought at first, taking in the sight of his plain suit and tie, the only hint of colour, the light blue trim that lined the edges. The Mob was behind this?
But before she could even think of another thought further, she watched as the man he raised his arm, and all three children tumbled to the dirt. Immediately, Cassie was autopilot. Her body moving of it's own accord to strike against the ice, seeking no longer to identify it's what it was, but rather to smash her way through it. Almost simultaneously, Bart joined in on her assault on the dome, features now hard and body vibrating wildly in an attempt to phase his way through.
She watched in growing desperation as the mobster slowly began his approach, noting the katana he held at his side and his eyes fixed solely on the last and still breathing, brave little girl.
"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BASTARD!" she roared, putting in all the force that she could muster into slamming her shoulder against the side of the dome, again and again and again.
Gracing their efforts with just the barest of acknowledgments, the swordsman brought up his blade. Tall and lean and swathed in black, the mobster wasted no time in delivering the killing blow, driving the sword right through the little girl's back and into her heart.
Almost as if the sword had struck her as well, Cassie reared back after the deed had been done. The child reaching out for them one final time, before the mobster twisted his blade, and the girl fell still with a silent thud.
Stunned, Cassie watched in silence as the man gently withdrew his sword from the final cadaver, finally turning then to provide the heroes his undisputed attention, head cocking to the side and allowing them full vision of his weeping venetian mask, it's dark blue tears caked with blood.
Already aware of Nightwing's presence behind her, Cassie forced herself to calm, willing her throat to swallow and her lungs to breath. She turned towards him then, her features pale from cold and shock, but now also lined with rage fierce determination. "We need backup, now."
Without a word, Nightwing grabbed the still clammy Bart, and raced back towards the Bio-ship, an officer of some sort right on his heels. Then with a crash like thunder, she knew Superman was back into the fray, moving so fast it was almost impossible to see as he once again began his assault on the dome. His actions, no doubt fueled by the righteous fury that she now had strengthening her own after such a horrifying display.
Taking a few steps back, she too, readied her form and charged once again, feeling the cold snap at her skin. They had to get in there. There was no question about it now. There was no time to lose. They needed in. The wall had to come down, and when it did, she was going PULVERIZE that piece of shit mobster…
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Interior: Spire
It was an exercise in futility. They would never get through.
Tsuna's Dying Will ice was unlike anything these people, these Heroes, had ever and will ever encounter for the rest of their days. A wall of solid energy, formed not of molecules or atoms or mystical power, but rather the very essence of existence itself, from the firm and unchanging nature of the Tri-ni-sette policy. It could not be broken. It could not be melted. No external, or even internal force could affect the ice, beyond the very powers that formed it.
Only Dying Will, could shatter Dying Will, and these Heroes had no such ability.
He leant back against the window frame, stroking Leon absently as he observed the mighty Justice League converge en masse around the dome that stood before them. Reborn let out a scoff. Try as they might, greater numbers would do them no good, though he could certainly applaud them for their effort. It was most definitely quite the sight to see; the dazzling array of lights, colours and heavy weaponry being thrown against the dome forming a stunning and beautiful cascade fit for any museum.
Still, they could not to let this one instance of victory cloud their perceptions. There would be consequences for an act this overt, necessary as it may have been. The League was not to be underestimated. After all, they wouldn't always have an impenetrable wall of 'pseudo' ice standing between them. The Vongola would need to be prepared.
Thus it was fortunate, that due to Byakuran and his vast experience dealing with the matters of other parallel worlds, they already had the overwhelming advantage in terms of information. They were well aware of the secret identities, powers and histories of all the Heroes and Villains of whom they considered the most troublesome of opponents.
Bruce Wayne, with his massive fortune, supposedly supreme intelligence, pathological paranoia and, according to Byakuran, the simple fact that he was "The Batman" (as if that could possibly be relevant in any plausible way whatsoever), was identified to be the first and foremost threat to their operations. With an astounding technical and mechanical track record, proficiency in nearly every plausible, non-emotional skill and with enough semi-illegal spyware scattered across both local and international waters to give him eyes and ears in almost every country across the globe (and Verde had checked. Twice.), this traumatized little orphan was clearly not to be underestimated.
Correction, him and the rest of his personal orphan brood. For despite his so called lone wolf persona, Reborn couldn't help but snort, the "caped crusader" rarely ever worked alone. Thus, there were the rest of his annoying capable associates that also had to be taken into account: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake and even his bloody butler, Pennyworth. All of them would also require watching, in addition to some the more notable members of their rogues gallery: Bane, Catwoman, The Court of Owls, Ra's Al Ghul, Lex Luthor and especially, the Joker.
If there was one thing Reborn hated more in the world, it was a Wild Card. Particularly one he himself wasn't holding. Particularly one as mad as this one.
Following them, would be the Speedsters: Barry Allen, Bart Allen, Wally West, Eobard Thawne; all for their ability to essentially subvert the laws of physics by simply existing. They would be incredibly difficult to handle for most Vongola members with the exception of Rain and Mist users alone, given their utterly ridiculous, faster than light, speeds of motion.
Then came the mages and mystics: Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Felix Faust, The Amazons, whose powers all worked in ways the Family had still yet to properly understand. They had only managed a marginal amount of testing thus far concerning the varied interactions their flame abilities had with the mystical arts, and while they may have managed a few important breakthroughs, there was still much to learn and prepare for. The dark arts and spiritual magics being a particular focus for their concern.
Still, it should be manageable. So long as they kept their heads about them. Besides, they had yet to find anything in this world, magical, natural or otherwise that Storm flames could not eat through in seconds. Nor Rain slow and Sky petrify, so hopefully the same would apply to any other magical conjurations they would happen to encounter.
As for the rest of the superhumans, statistically speaking, most should be non-issues. The majority could be handled like any other opponent they had faced before, but with the added bonus of being completely susceptible to the full brunt of their flame powers. Additionally, due to either their biology, psychology or powers in general, a fairly large number of supers had clear and obvious weaknesses that could be easily exploited, either on the go, or with just a decent modicum of effective preparation.
The Martians for example, he thought absently, catching sight of the famed Martian Manhunter attempting to shift through the dome. And the Kryptonians, he added, watching then as Mr. Kent, his cousin and his younger clone came crashing down in a united dive attack into the top of the barrier. Though countering them would probably be trickier than most.
There was a buzz in his comm. "Reborn speaking. All upper faculty levels cleared of Tainted, only three survivors found." He casually reported, sharp eyes already noticing movement in his periphery.
"Understood." Gokudera responded. "But I'm afraid we have a situation. The remaining Tainted have given up fighting inside the orphanage. The increased presence of the Leaguers outside seems to have shifted their priorities. They're all making a break for the barrier outside." The request was clear.
Leon already shifting within his grasp, Reborn took position atop the open window. Bringing the sniper's scope up to his eye, he took aim. "Done."
"Yamamoto will handle those escaping towards the front, please handle the sides and rear."
Reborn started firing without preamble, shooting three down in less than a second. He shifted aim; then down went a fourth, a fifth, and then just because he could and because he wouldn't be him if he didn't, he fired a shot just inches past one younger of the Heroes' heads. Beetle, he believed. He smirked slightly.
"Whoops," he said aloud, feeling just the slightest bit sadistic. "Spooked them."
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Exterior
Without even thinking, Bart raced forward, diving straight into Jaime's side just as the bullet blasted past, streaked in yellow and exploding on impact against the tree that stood behind them. Silence followed, the shock of the sudden realization causing all within the area to pause and re-evaluate the situation.
The shot had slipped past the ice. The enemy could reach them, but not the other way around.
"SNIPER! EVERYONE WATCH YOURSELF!" Canary roared, her powers amplifying the distance of her cry. With a huff, Bart quickly pulled Jaime to his feet, and the two raced to put some distance between themselves and the dome.
"Wait! No! I have an idea!" The Atom suddenly cried. "Look for an exit hole! If the bullet came from the inside there should be an opening, we could slip through if we shrink!"
"He's right!" Bumblebee agreed. "Quickly, we need to find it!"
As the surrounding metas moved to scan the barrier, Bart stopped for a moment to let Jaime catch his breath. He stared, petrified at the sight that lay before him, hands clenching and unclenching as they hung loosely at his sides. It was a massacre. Children and caretakers cut down left and right, others falling one after another, shots planted square between their brows, their features frozen in fear and in pain. He could feel the helplessness gripping at his chest.
And the memories came without relent. The insectoid ships darkening the skies, the Reach patrols tearing apart friends and families, a blue-clad tyrant and death all around him. Without his knowledge, his hands had reached up to grasp at his neck, at the collar he suddenly felt coiled around his throat, stealing his breath away.
He was helpless. They all were. Unable to do a thing now just as they unable to then. As the monsters from space beat them and whipped them for not working hard enough. Not moving fast enough. Having their way with anyone they saw fit. Killing all they deemed expendable, or too tedious to leave alive.
"Bart?" A voice spoke. "Hermano? Are you okay?"
Almost instantly, he spun his heels, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the massive Blue Beetle looming above him. But before he could so much as react, the gargantuan brute shed his mask, and placed a hand atop his shoulder.
A pause, and he could breath again.
Jaime was looking worried, his eyes darting from the fighting to Bart himself, clearly unsure of what he should do. Taking a few deep breaths, Bart gave his best friend (not enemy) a shaky nod.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course." He said, still trying settle his nerves. He tried for a smile. "No worries Hermano, everything's totally crash haha."
Dropping his arm, Jaime hummed disbelieving, but let the excuse slide. For now, clearly. Bart could already see the vicarious guilt and concern written all over the other teen's face. Whelp, that'll be fun, he thought grimly. Nothing he'd rather do, than talk about issues after a mission gone wrong, especially his own.
Fervently, he shook his head. No! No! Now was not the time to be wallowing in his traumas. He could deal with those later (or never, his brain corrected. Yeah, never sounded good). Right now, he had to focus. Lives were at stake, and unlike in the future-past, he wasn't helpless. Not here. Not anymore.
Immediately, he took stock the situation. From what he could see, the Atom and the others had not been able to locate the opening for the initial shot, and were now seemingly rotating between attacking the barrier itself and trying to provoke the unseen sniper into making another shot.
Moments later, the shooter obliged, shot rocketing out from the top of the orphanage spire and aimed directly at the feet of the Atom himself. Bart reacted immediately, racing forward just the as the bullet slipped through the dome. Parting ways with Jaime, he gently swiped the already shrinking Atom mid-leap to Bumblebee's palm and sprinted right towards the spot from the bullet had emerged.
The hole was already halfway-closed, the ice from within having already sealed any chance of entry. Bart cursed, he would have to be faster next time..
He reached for his comm. "Everyone, try and bait another shot. We nearly got through the last. We need just one more."
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Interior
"Reborn, could you please stop antagonizing the heroes please? They nearly got in again with that last shot, and I really would rather not have to deal with corrupted metas again any time soon." Tsuna groused, stepping out from the orphanage, mosca in tow. According to Jaeger, they wouldn't be able to transfer the untainted back to base from within the building. The heavy concentration of corruption flames on the inside would interfere with the Vindice's flame of Night too much to make travelling safe.
The young Don received a childish "Tch.", in response over his comm.
"Besides, we're done here now. We have all the uncorrupted children and workers we could find, we'll finish off the stragglers all at once before we leave. Takeshi, Hayato, Reborn, rendezvous at the building's front entrance."
"Understood Tenth!"
"Be right over Tsuna!"
"…Hn."
Dropping his hand from the communicator, Tsuna let out a sigh, subconsciously reinforcing the barrier so that no remaining tainted could try and melt through. He frowned. In addition to the countless lives lost and taken here today, they had also lost another piece to the reformed Tri-ni-sette. Now, Castello needed only two more pieces to complete Mare set of Seven, the Mare pendants of Sun and Cloud, both of which were in the Vongola's possession.
That meant that he would be moving onto the newly chosen Arcobaleno very soon, because, knowing him, he would probably aim to save Tsuna's family for last. Made things more fun that way for him, Tsuna thought grimly. After all, what was a game without an opponent to play with?
A scoff. And oh, how he so loved to play with them. Why he loved it so much, he even decided to steal their name as he went about his initial killing sprees, wiping out Famiglia after Famiglia in his search for the scattered Vongola pendants. Now over half the underworld thought them monsters, villains, legends, and now with this particular instance, a reality.
It didn't escape Tsuna that they had essentially confirmed to the world that the Vongola existed, and that they were clearly just a vile and wretched as Castello had portrayed, butchering children without care or remorse. He sighed. He could say that the was shocked at the development, but he knew that it had been bound to happen sooner or later. Had always known really, ever since he had heard of what Castello had done.
Now, not only did Castello make off with another piece of the Tri-ni-sette, he had also decided to set them up for their Grand Debut. The fact that it would happen at an orphanage filled with innocent children was simply a stroke of luck on Castello's part, and horror on their own.
It hurt. It always hurt, every single time he had to look any Tainted in the eyes, see who they used to be, and be forced to put them down. To listen to them curse him and his family, to fanatically throw their lives away for the sake of a man, a monster, who thought them nothing more - no, who thought them even less than the ants beneath his feet.
But at least in death, they would have their solace, their spirits speaking, for the just the smallest of moments, not in hate or fury - but in relief and encouragement. And while the world may scorn them for what they may seem to do, for the atrocities they may seem to have committed, his Family would never fold.
Besides, he thought, resigned but also strangely relieved, it was better this way. By labelling them as Villains, this new world had given them permission to act like Villains. Free from the Law, from public opinion, granting them the power to do what needed to be done without fear of any sort of backlash. They would fight. They would kill. And they would do whatever it took, to bring an end to the Rovino and secure the Tri-ni-sette.
They would have also come into conflict with the League eventually anyway, seeing as unlike them, the Heroes couldn't exactly tell whether or not a person was corrupted, so no loss there either way.
A wave of cold struck him from the back. "The portal is ready, Don Vongola." Jaeger spoke, tipping his head just the slightest degree. "You may move the children as you will."
Nodding towards the Vindice, Tsuna replied. "Good. We'll begin transport right away." He reached for his comm. "Spanner, how are the children's vitals."
"With the exception of a few broken bones and a number of concussions, all are stable and should be safe to jump."
"Excellent." Then with a gesture, Tsuna motioned for the gathered mosca to enter the portal, their massive hulking forms vanishing quickly one after another into the inky black void of the flame of Night. Glancing upwards, he locked gazes with the Heroes observing them from afar, their features all scowls and teeth and eyes shining with rage.
Clearly, the more intuitive of their numbers had already written off getting in through the barrier as an impossible outcome, given the way they had reluctantly shifted from seeking a way in, to scanning and testing his ice. Another fruitless endeavor, at least, as far as he knew now. Still, they would need to be observed, in case counter measures were required.
The other, far more stubborn lot, were still trying to force their way in, even despite almost fifteen minutes of non-stop attacks and no progress whatsoever. He admired their determination, certainly. Their tenacity – hope. But just as their will was strong, his own needed to be stronger, not only for his Family's sake, but the Heroes as well.
Castello's corruption did not discriminate between humans, metas and aliens. And while infection may be difficult, seeing as only the weak-willed could be affected, it didn't mean it was impossible. More than that, should the Heroes come to realize the presence of the corruption at all, it would in turn draw them ever closer to Castello himself, and should the Don of the Rovino realize that the Heroes were closing in on his trail, he would kill every last one of them. None would stand a chance, and the world would fall to chaos.
At least this way, with the Justice League's ire directed at the Vongola, Tsuna and his family would be able to limit their exposure to the Rovino. Castello, after all, was their problem to deal with, they could not allow anyone to interfere.
As the last of the mosca disappeared into the dark, Gokudera approached. "Transfer of the children is finished and I expect that Reborn has already left, you know what to do Hayato."
The bomber bowed. "Of course, Tenth."
And without managing to show any of the embarrassment he happened to feel (because really Hayato? We've been over this whole bowing thing of yours), Tsuna watched as his friend took a breath, and set the building ablaze.
-(7)(7)(7)-
Orphanage of St. Clair – Exterior
His suit was like the swordsman's, plain black but with red in place of blue; his mask like a roar, all teeth and rage, and with a single breath, the entire orphanage was awash in flame. Dick cursed. Well fuck. The mobsters had started cleanup. That meant things had just gotten a whole lot harder.
The absolute worst traits to find in any villain: powerful, brutal and intelligent enough to cover their tracks. These mobsters, if one could truly call them that, clearly knew exactly what they were doing, and if they were anywhere near as good as they currently seemed to be, there would be nothing left for the League to follow up on by the time they were done.
Many of their numbers had already reluctantly acknowledged they would not be getting through the barrier in time to save the civilians, but had hoped to find some clue to the circumstances surrounding the attack once the mobsters had gone. But now, they wouldn't even have that to fall back on. They were literally watching themselves be sabotaged before they even had a chance to act, and it was beyond frustrating.
Almost immediately, Dick heard his communicator come to life. "Start recording and make note of anything and everything you can find." Bruce spoke without preamble. "Dick you have the North end. Tim, the South. I will take the West and the Arrows will handle the East. We need to gather as much intel as we can while it's still present on the scene. Focus on faces, identifying characteristics and items or actions that might help explain the mobsters' MO."
"Right, I'm on it." Tim replied.
"Already in position." Dick himself added, initiating the recording feature in his mask's ocular lenses.
Above him, the sounds of impact after impact, explosion after explosion rained down upon his being, the air all around him thick with desperation and the now ever encompassing sense of failure. The fact, undeniable to them all, that they had lost. That they had been beaten, and worst of all, bested without their enemy so much as lifting a finger in response. Unable to do a thing, as innocents, as children were slaughtered right before their very eyes.
And Dick knew, without a doubt, that that failure would scar; would fester inside their collective consciences and color their every interaction with the mobsters from this point on. Because they would meet again, of that Dick was certain. He only hoped though, that the traumas they experienced here wouldn't be enough to drive his fellow heroes into doing something they might eventually regret. He had seen it happen to more than enough cops down in Gotham to know there wasn't at least the possibility. He glanced up towards Superman, no matter how good the person may be.
"No! No! No – No – No – No – NO!" Clark roared, still heedlessly trying to force his way through the barrier, his every cry perpetuated by a thundering crash against the barrier's still pristine surface. He then turned towards his fellow heroes. "Why are you all just standing there!?"
"Because we've been at this for nearly twenty fucking minutes Superman and haven't made an inch of progress!" Canary called back, sounding just as frustrated. "And they're literally about to escape! The best we can do now is gather as much information as we can, so we're prepared the next time we encounter them."
"There are CHILDREN in there! In the machines! They're taking them!"
"Don't you think we know that! We'll get them back. But deny it all you want, we've lost Superman. All you're doing now is losing face by blowing your composure!"
And with a furious cry, Clark turned to rage at the ice once more, eyes ablaze, heat beams as wide and as powerful as they could possibly go. And, as many had expected, nothing. It seemed only the mobsters themselves held the ability to affect the barrier. To slip past it's seemingly nigh-impenetrable walls, given how the bullets the sniper had used managed to pass through so easily.
It was obvious that these were no ordinary crime family goons they were dealing with here. For one, they were all clearly metas of some sort. Red with his fire breath, Blue with his heart stopping ability (It had taken them a while to figure that one out) and the bandaged spectre's power over warp. Which in turn, considering all other factors, likely meant that the dome that stood before them, was due to him, the final man among their enemy ranks.
Clad in white instead of black, with soft orange trimmings alongside a matching tie, the mask that he wore was the plainest out of them all. A simple porcelain frown, pale as snow and drawing all who looked upon it to the man's unflinching gaze, his eyes of liquid fire. Dick shivered at the sight of them. He must be their leader, given the way the spectre seemed to have addressed him and how he had instructed Red to begin the burning of the orphanage.
Grimly, Dick watched as Blue sheathed his sword, the last of the remaining stragglers who had escaped building now dead at his feet. At the same time, Red straightened himself up, the remains of the orphanage only cinders and tinder. For a moment, Dick shut his eyes, drawing in a slow steadying breath as he took in the aftermath. It was over, for now.
Then with a nod each towards the man in white, both Red and Blue slipped through the still-open portal, the spectre behind them quick to follow suit, leaving only the leader to remain. He stood there for a moment then, regarding all the gathered heroes, the weight of his gaze alone bearing down upon them all. This was him. This was the man that had stopped them, that had beaten them, all on his own and with a single ability.
A fact, all to easily confirmed, as the man then snapped his fingers and the ice that formed the dome was suddenly flame and heat, a massive inferno crashing down and inward upon all that lay within. Immediately, Dick leapt from where he stood, the fires spreading quickly across the area, engulfing all that they touched.
From the corner of his eye, Dick could see Kaldur and Aquaman attempting to put down the flame, their efforts quickly growing as other Leaguers joined in their attempt. But before they could properly rally a response, the fires, to the shock of all, sputtered and died as rapidly as they had formed, their master gone alongside the bodies of every single victim butchered in the mobsters' attack.
"Bastards wouldn't even let us have the remains." Green Arrow cursed beneath his breath, shoulders tense and fists shaking at his sides.
Without even turning, Dick could sense Bruce's approach, question out of his mouth before he could even realize he was speaking. "Who are they?" He spoke, the anger in his tone surprising even to himself. The frustration and failure suddenly all too real. All too suffocating.
Bruce was quiet for a moment. "I don't know..."
"... But I will soon enough."