Gotham City, June 17th, 2027
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" asked Vandal Savage. "You do remember that you won't be able to come back, after all."
"Of course I remember. And of course I'm ready, just like the past fourteen times you asked me that question."
"Are you sure you can't let me tempt you with a haircut before you go?" said Commissioner Barbara Gordon. "It's not like I don't have experience in the matter. Just a trim?"
"It's no worse than my dad's haircuts. Do I have to turn the machine on myself or are we going to get down and do this?"
"Alright," said Commissioner Gordon with a chuckle. "You're all set, then?"
"Of course. Bye Dr. Savage, Auntie Babs, Uncle Nate."
Captain Atom, who had heretofore been standing silently in the corner, said, "Have fun. See if you can't convince your mother to forgive me this time."
"I'll try."
"And don't forget not to trust me," said Savage.
"Alright. Let's go."
Gotham City, June 10th, 2007
A young, dark-haired woman in a dark grey trenchcoat and black leather boots tumbled out of a vortex and ran straight into the back wall of a blind alley. The homeless man sitting in the alley didn't even flinch – in Metropolis, something like this happened at least once a month. The young punk who walked by didn't ignore the young woman, though, for two reasons: he was new to Metropolis, and he hadn't seen the vortex. "Hey babe," he said, sauntering up to her and putting his hand on her hip. "You look lost. Mind if I… show you around?"
She brought her fist up and punched him in the nose, then whirled around and landed another punch in the solar-plexus. He was too winded to say anything, but he looked sufficiently horrified when he saw her face – or rather, the lack thereof. She had no face! "Who…" he eventually gasped.
"Gen," she said. "As in next. You going to stare at my chest all day or tell me where I am?" He did neither – he ran away. "Great," she muttered. "My people-skills still suck."
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch, Gen as in Next?"
Gen looked to her left. Oh! There was an old man sitting on the ground. "I'm not a witch," she told him. "I don't have any powers at all."
"But are you good or bad?" said the old man.
"Depends on who's doing the asking. I fight against oppression, if it helps."
"And where did you come from? Or when?"
"I'm pretty sure I came from the future, unless something went wrong. When is it?"
The old man rummaged through the pile of newspapers beside him and pulled out the least yellowed one. "This one's from yesterday," he said. "I haven't found one for today yet."
She sighed. "I overshot. I was supposed to arrive next week, and in Gotham." She shivered, peering out into the main street. "I hate Metropolis. There aren't enough shadows."
The old man chuckled and started gathering things together. "At least we've got time to get there, then."
"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to come with me," said Gen. "It'll probably be dangerous. And I'm sorry, but you're old, and I'd be worried about you getting hurt."
The old man's chuckles turned into a full-out, booming laugh. "I like you, Gen as in Next. You don't mince words. But there'll be no getting rid of old Bobby Black-and-Blue. 'Sides, I've been in Metropolis long enough already – time to see what Gotham has been up to while I've been away." He grinned at her. "You don't have to travel with me, but as we're going the same way, we may as well save our money and go together."
She tilted her head, contemplating him. "I don't even know you. How come you're trusting me? How come you expect me to trust you?"
"Hey, you don't have to trust me," Bobby said still grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You're the big, superhero, right? It's us little guys that have to trust you."
He pretended not to listen when she muttered, "Perhaps. For now."