A Latino man with pure white hair who was wearing a skin-tight red and white uniform was sitting on a bench in a destroyed warehouse. In front of him was a half-melted table upon which were lines of neatly arranged white powder.

Snowflame ignored the bullets bouncing off of him as he snorted a line of cocaine. Sure, he could just absorb the drugs with his powers, but sometimes you've just got to have respect for tradition, right?

A bullet bounced off his face and messed up his line. With a huff of annoyance, Snowflame idly threw a ball of white-colored flames at the morons trying to kill him.

As he turned his attention back to the drugs, Snowflame wondered not for the first time why people continued to shoot at him after they saw it didn't work. Though he supposed he should thank them.

The sound of screams and the smell of melting flesh were always welcome while he was high, which was pretty much always.

These particular morons belonged to the Medellin Cartel. The stupid fucks thought that they could take him on the second they managed to recruit some meta who didn't know who he was fucking with.

Sure, the kid had been strong enough to rip a tank in half and throw the pieces through the sky, but who gives a fuck? Snowflame had loaded up on cocaine, gotten the kid high with a single touch, and melted the poor bastard while giving him a beatdown.

Now his mostly melted head was laying in his lap and the Medellin fucks were trying to fill him full of holes for some reason.

Maybe they thought he was tired? Or that his powers ran out?

He wasn't a fucking battery. He could fall asleep, and these worthless shit stains still wouldn't be able to do shit to him!

A few more fireballs and the rats went scurrying, leaving Snowflame alone with his drugs.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before a different rat came to bother him. This time they were one of his, so he couldn't melt them for no reason. What a shame.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

The brat fucking squeaked and handed him a phone, telling Snowflame the boss wanted to talk to him.

He didn't know why the boy was so nervous—Snowflame thought he was a pretty chill dude. He only melted people if they got in the way of his coke or if the boss told him to, so the kid should calm the fuck down.

Snowflame took the phone and shooed the kid away before the brat pissed himself—piss didn't smell good while he was high.

"Hey, boss. Just killed the Medellin's new meta. What's up? How's your day going?"

"I have a target for you. Some hero has been fucking up our boys up in Miami and I need you to take care of it."

Snowflame sighed in exasperation, the boss was always about work. He never asked how his day was or wanted to make small talk, the guy should learn to live a little.

There wasn't much to be done about it though so he'd just get this conversation over with so he could get back to his cocaine. "Sure thing boss. Who do you want me to kill?"

"The hero's name is Slither. Some kind of snake meta that popped up a few weeks ago. The information will be waiting for you when you arrive."

As always, the boss hung up as soon as he was done talking. Rude.

Snowflame groaned and decided he might as well start making his way to the airport. He hadn't had Miami cocaine in a while and he couldn't remember if it was any good.

Hopeful it wasn't shit.

An androgynous Asian man dressed in traditional Japanese clothing was casually putting away his brush. He had just finished the tedious process of painting the necessary runes throughout his ritual chamber.

Using human blood for the runes was inconvenient, but unfortunately necessary.

Maro Ito looked down coldly at the bound woman in the center of the room who would finally complete his ritual.

It was not an easy thing to give life to folk legends in the modern age. In order for his magic to take hold, he needed a sizable amount of people to believe in them, and so many people now dismissed such things out of hand.

Thankfully, the increasing occurrences of supernatural and metahuman activity resulted in people becoming more… superstitious.

He had already had his agents spread the legend of Kuchisake-onna in this Japanese city and ritualistically killed many young women in a manner similar to the story in order to further the rumors. Now the city was in a panic, and there was finally enough belief for him to turn fantasy into reality.

"P-Please don't kill me. I have a family! My daughter is expecting me home in a few hours!"

Maro returned his attention to the woman who was struggling against her bindings and begging for her life.

"Your daughter is already dead," Maro said dispassionately, reaching for his ritual knife. "As far as the people of this city are concerned, she was killed by Kuchisake-onna a few hours ago."

Ignoring the woman's cries and denials, Maro placed his knife in the woman's mouth and carved a slit from ear to ear, and then covered her mutilated mouth with a cloth mask. Once that was done, he granted her the mercy of death and began chanting his spell.

There was no need for the woman to be alive for the rest of the ritual, after all, and Maro Ito was a merciful man when circumstances allowed.

For a long time, it seemed as if nothing would happen until suddenly the corpse began to move and its skin started to lose pigment until it was as pale as a ghost.

Maro was not able to see it with his own eyes past the mask, but he was certain that the corpse's mutilated mouth had grown larger and more exaggerated. His puppets tended to match their myths after all.

Kuchisake-onna released a mournful wail as she lifted herself from the floor and reached for the large pair of scissors Maro had gone to great lengths to acquire.

It was not a simple thing to find scissors that could cut through steel.

After Kuchisake finished settling, she stood silently as she awaited Maro's instructions. He found himself slightly disappointed at her silence.

His puppets could speak, but they were rarely interested in speaking to him. Some lingering trace of the person they used to be remembered what he did to them which caused his puppets to resent him.

That was only a small nuisance, however. As long as his puppets did as they were told, it did not matter how they felt about him.

Speaking of puppets…

Maro absentmindedly cast a spell to clean the blood off his Haori as his first and most important puppet approached him.

"Sister. How can I help you?" Maro said evenly. Only his 'sister' knew him well enough to hear the mockery in his tone.

A beautiful Japanese woman with long dark hair, brown eyes, and wearing a black kimono walked down the stairs and into the ritual room. She was expressionless as she formally bowed to Maro before speaking.

"Brother, instructions have come from Lord Falchion. He wishes for you to slay the new American hero who has been attacking the Medusa Syndicate in Miami."

Maro Ito hummed in disinterest instead of answering. Falchion, the troublesome demigod, was the newest fool to consider himself Maro's master.

He had escaped both his father and R'as Al Ghul. This Falchion would be no different.

Unfortunately, the time for that had not yet arrived, so he would need to continue playing the servile follower. However, there was no need for him to go in person.

"You go. Take my new puppet with you."

"Are you certain, brother? The instructions were for you."

Maro sneered derisively as he walked over and placed his hand on the woman's cheek in a mockery of tender affection.

"Don't you understand by now, Sune? You are merely a product of my magic. You exist only because I want you to. You are an extension of my will, and any actions you take are my own."

Sune Ito clenched her fists and bowed her head in obedience before quickly leaving alongside Kuchisake-onna a moment later.

After he was certain his puppets had left, Maro began shapeshifting his appearance into one of his unused identities.

Rising Sun had insisted on personally investigating the recent deaths of young women and was making an uncomfortable amount of progress.

Now that his ritual had been completed, it would be wise to leave Japan until the hero decided to move on.

A skeleton with a cybernetic leg who wore a well-tailored suit was smoking a cigar and reading the classified documents sitting on his desk.

Ever since Superman's debut, superheroes had been popping up all over the place and Director Bones was busier than ever.

The bureaucrats in Washington were ecstatic that America was finally getting some heavy hitters after they fucked up with the Justice Society. They tried to force the old generation of superheroes to unmask and put themselves on the government payroll, then they were surprised when all their strongest superheroes retired. Idiots.

After that, America watched warily for the next few decades as foreign nations gradually started to close the gap in superpowered force, and now that was coming to an end.

So yeah, the bureaucrats might be happy, but Director Bones was not.

As Director of the Department of Extranormal Operations, he not only had to keep an eye out for superhuman threats but also make sure the superheroes didn't become a threat themselves.

The director was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of someone knocking on his office door.

"Come in, Agent Chase."

The door opened and a young blond woman with short hair and a severe expression entered his office and sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Good afternoon, Director."

"Good afternoon, Agent. I have a mission for you."

The director handed the woman a folder filled with documents and focused on enjoying his cigar while he waited for her to finish reading. It didn't take her long, and she spoke up after a few minutes.

"Why are you sending me to Miami to gather information on this guy? There are new superheroes popping up all the time. What makes this one special?"

Director Bones breathed out a cloud of smoke before answering. "Nothing really. The guy looks weird and has a bunch of different powers, but I'm not really concerned about him in particular. I'm concerned about the Justice League."

"What the hell is the Justice League?" asked Agent Chase curiously.

"The heroes that got together to fight off the Appellaxians have decided to form the second coming of the Justice Society. Apparently, they enjoyed working together so much they decided to go steady," said Director Bones, handing over the classified documents he had been reading a moment ago. "Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman decided to declare their intentions to the government, and ask for feedback."

Of course, by "ask for feedback" what I really mean is they told the president how it's going to be and they asked him what they needed to do to stop the government from making a fuss about it, Director Bones mused.

It's not like the American government could do anything to stop a group of such powerful superheroes from organizing themselves.

"That's big news, but what does that have to do with Slither?" asked Agent Chase, not seeing the connection.

"The White House has expressed an interest in keeping an eye on the Justice League's internal affairs. Unfortunately, we ain't got jack shit on any of their founders," said Director Bones, allowing himself to huff in frustration.

"Nothing at all?"

"Not a damn thing. We're pretty sure we've got a decent idea of Superman's secret identity, but the White House ain't willing to risk losing him like we lost the Justice Society."

Superman was the strongest American superhero in this generation, maybe even in all generations if the D.E.O's analysts were right. Alien heritage notwithstanding.

Nobody in the government wanted to risk scaring him off to another country or forcing him to retire by trying to blackmail him with his civilian identity.

"Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter are foreign nationals and Green Lantern is a space cop so they're all outside our jurisdiction. Batman and Flash are both very good at hiding their civilian identities."

Director Bones was grateful he wasn't a politician. The politics of Wonder Woman and Aquaman being founding members of an American-based superhero team were thankfully not his problem.

"I'll admit, maybe I'm slow but I'm still not seeing how this connects to Slither, boss," said Agent Chase. She was very interested in the Justice League, but she still couldn't see any connection between a new superhero team and her mission.

"The Justice League has stated their intention to recruit new members in a few months."

With that piece of information, Agent Chase immediately understood her boss's intentions.

"You want to cultivate a relationship with their potential recruits so we can get information from someone on the inside."

"Bingo, that's why you're my favorite Agent Chase," said Director Bones. Chase had shown herself to be a capable agent and was quickly rising in the organization. "I've already sent Agent Barret along with Agent Omni to gather information on the new guy in Fawcett. I've done the same for a few other superheroes our analysts listed as most likely for Justice League recruitment."

"Agent Omni? Isn't he a little too… young?"

"A psych profile put together by our analysts of the guy up in Fawcett point to him being unusually immature. Agent Barret is too much of a hardass to form an amicable relationship with him alone."

Agent Chase nodded her understanding. "Is that the ultimate goal of this information gathering? We're trying to make friends?"

"That would be the best case scenario," said Director Bones. "All efforts to increase our influence over the superhero community have failed. When it forms, the Justice League will instantly become the most powerful organization in this country. We can't afford to not have a relationship with any of their members."

"So you want me to figure what I can about Slither and then offer the D.E.O's support?" asked Agent Chase, her tone growing more serious as the significance of this mission dawned on her.

"Exactly. The stick failed with the Justice Society, so we'll try the carrot this time," said Director Bones, pleased that his subordinate was quick on the uptake. "And if the carrot doesn't work, then hopefully the information you and the other agents gather will give the stick a little more leverage."

Director Bones and Agent Chase spent a few more minutes going over the details before Agent Chase left and the director was left alone to enjoy a few moments to himself.

He had a feeling that these short few moments would become non-existent after Justice League was formed, so he might as well enjoy them while he could.