Young Knights
Issue #6: Revelations.
A few miles outside Gotham City, aboard the Lex-Rail express, 11:45 PM
The train rumbled along the tracks, going so fast that the scenery outside was just some paint strokes and blues and blacks. He left out a small yawn, sidling down the train car's hall, running a hand along the walls that were lit with peaceful blue over lights that switched on at 10:30, he supposed so that those sleeping would be more comfortable. Slipping through a door, he came to the lounge car. Full equipped with comfy sofas, a bar with a wide assortment of drinks and a small stage where a jazz band wailed away only three hours ago, the room was deserted now.
He went to a table near the back with a water boiler and some coffee and tea bags on it, got a Styrofoam cup and made himself some green tea, after that he turned back, sock covered feet shimmying across the blue and grey carpet back through the train to the passenger cars, where he the seatmate to both a Nun who just couldn't stop warning him of the evils of his new home to be and a business man father with two six year olds who kept calling his cell phone to tell them how much they missed him. At least he had something to read.
- - - - - - - - -
From far away, Gotham City is absolutely beautiful. Up at the peak of the skyscrapers in Early Morning, with the light of the moon's gaze wrapped around every contour of her cityscape and molding with all the lights from windows and street lamps. Tim mused that she was a lot like the women in those old Bogart movies. The ones who saunter in all sexy and alluring in a form fitting dress and are tinted in shades of black and grey. It was true that from far away Gotham was beautiful.
But Tim was angry. He felt helpless as his world fell apart around him, his father was in the hospital, his pregnant Stepmother kidnapped by some unknown with an apparent fixation for "The Man in the Iron Mask" and he had a feeling that it was somehow tied to the recent drug and weapons outbreak in the city but he just couldn't fit the pieces together. Everything was skimming by too fast and he was in too much of a rage to think it through or to ask for help from anyone. That's why he was here now, because right now Tim didn't want beautiful.
So he took a dive off the gargantuan skyscraper of Wayne enterprises, down past the first ten floors where he caught a glimpse of a lower level executive and his secretary going at it, he was sure the man was married. Past the halfway point of the building, through a window of a nearby apartment building he saw a teen barely younger than him steal a hundred dollars from his mom's purse. Tim's arm lashed out with a jump line, snagging on a far off flag pole. He swung past a darkened street corner where a prostitute was climbing into the back of a squad car with one of Gotham's finest, while her pimp paid off the guy's partner. Tim didn't stop for any of these, not because he felt he should turn an eye, especially for the last event, but because he'd have to pull his punches.
Finally he found what he was looking for. A dead end alley with only one streetlamp yet to be shattered, an attractive young woman dressed in clothes that are nice enough to signal her as someone unfamiliar with the neighborhood backed up against the wall with her shirt torn open to show a black lace bra, two rather large men, one with a butterfly knife cornering her and sputtering out derogatory retorts of organs and orifices that made Tim's teeth grind. He didn't waste a second and let go of the line, plummeting down, past the graffiti covered walls and landing with a crunch on the dirt covered pavement, littered with garbage and fecal matter. He rose to full height, let the cape drape around his form and glared coldly at the two would-be rapists.
From far away Gotham City was beautiful, but close up she was ugly as sin. And ugly was exactly what Tim was looking for.
- - - - - - - - -
He'd gotten back to his seat without incident and to the praise of God above Sister Clementine had dozed off and the wall street had shut his cell phone off so he could read his Grisham novel in peace.
Sipping on the hot tea, he reached down to the leather briefcase, one of the newer style ones with the carrying strap, and fished out a plain looking file with the words "CLASSIFIED – G.C.P.D" stamped across it. Running a hand through his raven black hair, he flipped open the file. Inside were various basic biographies and statistics and some of the worst Gotham had to offer, all with a mug shot, or the next best thing the department could provide for a photo, attached for visual reference. Stretching himself out to get as comfortable in the coach class chair as he could, he went to work.
- - - - - - - - -
Robin's fist connected with the forearm of the man with the knife, shattering the bone. Take out the threat first, he thought to himself, but had to admit that these guys weren't much of a threat. They were big, burly and expected no trouble from the little sixteen year old in a tights. Idiots.
His foot shot out into the second man's windpipe, he heard a scrunch! Not a crunch or crack, just a scrunch, like when you crumple a straw from McDonalds once you finish your coke. The thug fell clutching his throat and he wouldn't be getting back up.
Tim turned back to the man with the broken arm, walking in measured steps towards him, one foot after the other, backing him in to the wall, "boo."
The thug let out a blood curdling and rather high pitched scream, stumbling against the wall and tripping over garbage in a mad scramble to get out of the alley, the faint aroma of fresh urine tingled against Tim's nose.
He let him get as far as a foot before the end of the alley before his arm lashed out from under the cape, letting a throwing bird fly.
The woman only now picked herself up off the ground, bracing herself against the back wall for support as she watched the last of her attackers go down. The boy who saved her stuck close to the walls and shadows, making it difficult for her to make out anything but an outline highlighted in reds, greens and yellows.
"Are you alright miss?" His voice was dark, almost like a stage whisper, but it had a sense of compassion to it. Dumbfounded, she nodded.
"You're new in town, aren't you?"
Again she gave another nod.
"It isn't safe for a young woman like yourself to be walking these streets alone. There's a building just up the block, it belongs to the Wayne Foundation. Do you know it?"
"Y…yes…" her voice shook like a leaf, "I walked by it, kind of hard to miss something that big."
The vigilante nodded, "Good, go there and ask the front desk to help you get home."
Before she could even answer or ask another question his arm moved back out from the folds of his cape and with a snap-hiss! A cord or rope of some kind shot off and subsequently propelled him into the sky.
And the girl smiled, remembering her anger at getting turned down by the Planet, and feeling like she was taking second place by accepting the job at the Gotham Times. But if there's one thing that Jessica Andrews, novice journalist and would-be author just learned, her new home was anything but dull.
- - - - - - - - -
The indigo on his watch flashed midnight with the train pulled into Gotham city, He looked away from his file, this one of a man who dresses like a clown, to spare a glance over the sister and CEO at the marvelous Art Deco landscaping of Gotham city, Like medieval castles and Haunted towers reaching for the stars they rose in to the night sky. For a moment he was caught breathless, admiring the surrealism of his new home. The voice of the conductor broke his reverie, they had reached their destination.
- - - - - - - - -
Robin landed on to one of the many roofs of Gotham with a light thud, bending his legs to absorb the impact. His hair clung against his face from perspiration and his chest heaved with every breath.
"Pushing yourself a little hard, aren't you, Boy Wonder?" They came out from the shadows that overlapped the building from a taller skyscraper. Nightwing was the first and moving just behind him was Batman.
Tim never ever gave them a glance, "What do you want?"
Bruce's voice sounded like crushed gravel, that distinct low growl that was by now automatic for him, "We wanted to give you some information we've pulled together on new criminal factions, it could help us find a lead towards your father's attacker."
"I know who attacked Dad." Tim snapped back, never missing a beat, "he came to and gave a description to the police early this evening. It's the same guy who attacked Batgirl before, the same one's been stalking me since this all started. It's Oni." Tim pivoted on his feet away from them and walked over to the edge of the building, looking down into the darkness. "What I don't know is where does he have Dana? And why is he tormenting me like this…" He looked over his shoulder at them, his eyes as cold as ice, "but I'll find out myself."
Dick's shock was splayed across his face, stepping forward to confront Robin, "What! Tim we want to help, the entire team is here for you, and we're going to help you…"
"No!" Tim was moving for Dick so fast that they could hardly follow his movements, and he stopped just short with his finger in the older man's face. "Stop it! Stop it right now. I am sick and tired of you people trying to replace my family. I'm not an orphan! Or a runaway! I have a family and I love them, and I've put them in danger too many times now, and always for you and your crusade!" He spun on Batman, "so no I don't want your help. I'll do this on my own." Without another word Tim was off the edge of the building and flowing through the night skies.
Nightwing lunged to follow, even got a foot out before Batman's gloved hand clasped his parents; Dick turned and saw the tears welling under Batman's cowl, "Bruce?"
"Dick, it's his parents."
- - - - - - - - -
He slipped the files back in to his briefcase and clambered out of his chair, pulling on a black military bomber jacket, one of the ones with the fur collars and patches on the sleeves, all worn down from years of use and memories. Slinging his case over his shoulder he made his way for the car's door and down the metal staircase on to the platform. The platform was almost empty because of how late it was, so he had no problem picking out the man who was waiting for him, especially since he secretly idolized the man. Extending a hand as he walked towards him he smiled, "Jim Gordon? I'm Lieutenant Jack Turner, pleased to meet you."
The older man smiled at Jack, his mustached bristling and his eyes shining behind his glasses, "Nice to meet you Jack, welcome to Gotham City." Jack amusedly looked Gordon over, thinking that he looked like something out of a 1940's serial, dressed in a brown trench coat and a fedora nestled on his head, he seemed like a man from another time, "My car's this way Son," Jim smiled, guiding Mark along through the unfamiliar surroundings, "Commissioner Akins called me earlier this evening, all of your personal effects are waiting for you at the station, so we won't have to worry about that right now." Waiting in the parking lot was an old Chevy that despite its age looked factory fresh.
"Nice car," Jack noted,
"Thanks, I always try and show the old girl how much she means to me, hop in and I'll take you home," Jack smiled at Jim's kindness, maybe Gotham wouldn't be so bad after all.
"If I may ask Jim, why are you the one picking me up?" Jack slid his seatbelt across his shoulder and buckled in, "I thought you were retired?"
"Oh I am," Jim smiled, turning the ignition and a loving touch, "But well, my welcome to Gotham wasn't the best, so recently I've made it a tradition of mine to give newcomers like yourself a better greeting than I had." He gave Jack another heartwarming smile, and they drove off in to the Gotham night.
- - - - - - - - -
Tim's mind was a mess, all of the clues were etched across his mind like huge neon billboards but he couldn't understand where they were pointing him. With a weary sigh he peeled his mask from his face and let it drop onto the stone desk. He had been riveted in front of the bat computer for an hour now trying to work through the puzzle. Yes he had told Bruce that he would do this alone, but he wasn't about to limit his resources. This was his family after all.
I'm trying Dad, I really am.
Across the vast monitor was anything that Tim thought could have a shred of significance. Any clue at all. And every one of them had conjectures and statistics and comments attached but none that made sense to Tim.
Taking a breath Tim tried to get himself to focus, forcing himself to go over each piece one at a time.
First there was the newspaper article. July 1st 1988. Oni told him to look it over, said it was "extremely well written." The only thing Tim found was an article in the society section about his father, Jack had been away from Gotham for close to two years on a business trip, though supposed rumors alluded that Jack had left because of problems he'd been having with Tim's mom. But when he returned they were able to work things out.
Then there was Bane's attack on the Plaza ball. Bane had said that his target then was in fact Robin.
A hit on Robin and an assault on Jack Drake, he was trying to tell me.
The phone call on the planted cell phone: Oni had taunted him, made it clear he knew Tim was Robin.
And the fight between the two of them last week: The creep had taken Batgirl out fast.
Me though? He toyed with me, he enjoyed it. And whoever his boss was then had to snap the leash on him to get him to leave.
And then there was the clue that didn't make sense at all. The DNA test he'd run. Oni's DNA matched up with Tim's…
None of it made sense. None of it could make sense.
Tim was jarred from his thoughts and back to reality by the clang of a silver tray being placed on the desk beside him. Alfred was beside him with a small assortment of sandwiches and a large glass of milk.
"I felt you would be no good to your family if you starved to death, Master Drake." The tones were curt and forced. Before Tim could even thank him or insult him, Alfred turned away.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs to the Manor, "Master Grayson took the liberty of informing me of your little tirade." Tim could feel Alfred's eyes on his back. "And I must say sir that I expected better from you. There is no one in this world who understands the value of family more than those two men, they risk their lives every night for that very purpose. A purpose that up until tonight I believed you shared."
Tim wanted to turn on the old man, to scream and shout till he was blue in the face. How would Alfred know? How could he know what it felt like to lose family and to fear for their safety.
"Now I admit that you were not brought in to this crusade the same way as either Master Bruce or Master Dick but nonetheless you came of your own volition, your own choice!"
But he was stunned, Alfred hardly ever yelled.
"I am sorry for the danger your family has been placed in but to blame either of those two men, those who have shown you compassion and friendship and guidance is juvenile and downright selfish! Frankly speaking I am appalled by your behavior. Now Master Drake I ask that you open your eyes to what you have accepted in this life, to the legacy you are a part of. Family does not solely rely on whose blood runs in your veins, sir. Family is formed by the bonds we make as men. Now I request that you think about that sir and decide just why it is that you wear that uniform? Remember the value of the tradition you carry. If you can not cope with that then that is fine, turn the cape and costume back to those who can shoulder it and live a normal life, or continue with the crusade. But do not forsake your allies, and do not believe for one second that you are not a part of this family.
Tim couldn't scream, or shout or burst forth in an outrage. The first tear slid down his cheek. Alfred understood. He understood better than anyone what Tim was going through. Because every night Alfred watched his sons and his daughters face the cruelty of this dark world. And Tim, whether he admitted it or not, was one of those sons.
The tears streamed down his face, his eyes swollen and red, "I'm sorry Alfred, I didn't mean… I just… They're my family Al… I couldn't protect them…"
He wasn't sure when Alfred had moved, but all of a sudden his arms were around Tim's shoulders, hugging the boy in the chair who felt so very very small.
From the shadows of some corridor Bruce and Dick both emerged and Tim had no idea how long they had been there, truthfully he didn't care.
"We haven't lost yet Timmy," Dick smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder.
"But there isn't enough!" Tim felt his world collapsing in on itself around him. He grabbed on to Alfred all the tighter for fear of falling from his chair. "The clues don't add up. Nothing's possible."
"There are always possibilities Tim," With a fluid motion Bruce pulled the cowl from his face and Tim saw someone most people rarely do. Behind the mask of suave playboy and underneath the anger and the darkness was a man who above all else wanted to protect his family. He saw a man who cared more than anyone else, and was damned for it because he saw the world for what it really was. A man who chose to shoulder that burden stoically, a man who was a hero. "Add everything together and dismiss the impossible. Whatever's left..."
"…no matter how improbable is true." Tim completed the adage. He pushed a fist across his face, smearing the tears across his face and looked over everything he had catalogued so far, with a completely open mind.
What did he say on the phone? When I asked him who he was… "I am the Philippe to your Louis..."
"Computer run cross check on the names Philippe and Louis, narrow search to fictional and historic characters."
- - - - - - - - -
The lounge room was classy, really exceptionally classy in fact. It was on the top floor of one of Gotham's many skyscrapers. The entire top floor was one open room divided in to three sections. The elevator Entrance that Tommy had just come out of led on to the main floor with a dance floor, various tables and booths and a jazz band playing off to the side. The second floor was the smallest and was the bar's location. It was made of red oak with black marble insets. The upper most floor, a balcony of sorts was invite only with private booths and a view of the whole lounge. Marble stairs led from each floor to the next and the floor was covered in red velvet carpet. All four walls were formed from plates of glass that rose to a towering peak that gave the rooftop club the appearance of a spike thrusting in to Gotham's sky, and in turn it gave the lounge's elite clientele a stunning view of Gotham. Tommy had bought the lounge a year ago when he'd come to Gotham and completely refurnished it, named it "The Afterlife" and had watched as it had become was of the most well attended and popular social spots of Gotham's bourgeoisie.
Though you could never be able to tell it, Tommy wasn't a native to Gotham or even North America. He was born in Japan as the son of an American Soldier and a Japanese socialite. He'd been raised in luxury, sent to private schools in England and on turning nineteen Tommy learned about his mother's real business, crime. She was part of the Triad and on that day Tommy joined the family. He was smart and cunning and cold blooded. He elevated through the ranks with a startling speed. And a few years ago he was called in to a meeting, one with his superior and men he'd never seen, men who weren't family but were treated with respect. They were men of power from all over the world, they were the Draco. That day Tommy became a member of a new family
"Evening Mr. Chang," smiled one of the Bellboys, taking Tommy's thick jacket and leather gloves in deference, "Your table's ready sir."
"Thank you Elliot," Tommy waved off the child with a small smile. The boy had no idea who Tommy was, not really. The Draco had chosen Tommy to organize their foothold in America, because of his wit and cunning and also his appearance as Tommy's father had dominated the genetic pool. But he wasn't the first one chosen. The original Candidate had been an American and one of power, but he had gotten cocky and too concerned with his own agendas and he had gotten caught.
But no one knew he was Draco, just as no one knew that Tommy was now. To the public he was Gotham's newest millionaire; to his men he was another crime boss and a damn good one, but no one knew he was Draco.
He made his way to his private table on the top level, it was a corner booth, an "L" shaped bench made of dark mahogany with stuffed dark green cushioning and chairs of similar build to go along with it.
"A scotch if you please," one of his many lackeys scurried off to carry out his will.
Another nameless clerk stepped up to his table, "Sir, Mr. Isaac has just stepped in to the elevator."
Tommy smiled; the clerk seemed calm and poised, statuesque even in his business like manner. He would have to keep that in mind, "Very good."
Mr. Isaac walked up the stairs a moment later, his own smaller entourage fanning out throughout the lounge. He was young, attractive and charismatic. The build of a model, million dollar smile and his blonde hair was styled with a cut that probably cost as much.
He stopped with a swagger and pulled his blue tinted sunglasses from his eyes, folding them in a pocket. With a boyish smile he held his hand across the table with an open palm, "Tommy,"
And Tommy Chang, gang lord smiled like a grandfather saying hello to his favorite grandson, "Jeremy how are you my boy?" He took the hand with a firm grasp."
"I'm good Tommy," sitting across from his senior, Isaac rested his hands on the table, "But our investments are frankly speaking, sporadic."
"Saying they are sporadic isn't frank at all Jeremy, in fact I find it rather vague," He leaned back into the corner, seeming both at ease and deadly serious, "It just makes you sound like someone trying to cover something."
Mr. Isaac turned his hands over on the table, placing his palms submissively up, "Then I'll try to be even more frank sir. Production of "Angelus" is going along excellently. Our only concern is that the police found the dumping ground for our volunteers but they don't seem to have any substantial leads. We're actually ahead of schedule and should be read for it to hit the streets by next month."
The stone that was Tommy's face cracked with a little grin, "That is good news…"
"But the rest isn't, Tommy." Isaac cut in, "Our deal with the penguin for distribution of the next generation weapons isn't clean anymore."
"What's wrong, cops?"
"Worse that that, capes. My source tells me that files were found by the boy wonder almost a week ago and then Nightwing paid the fowl another visit after that."
The stone was set again on Tommy's face, "recommendations?"
"Cut our ties to the Penguin," Mr. Isaac looked Tommy right in the eye; we'd only be out about two grand in product and right now. It wouldn't hurt us long term and if we wait any longer the bat could link us to him."
Tommy nodded thoughtfully sipping his scotch, feeling its rough taste in his mouth, "I'll think about it, anything else?" For a moment Isaac was silent and that was a very bad sign. "What is it Jeremy?"
"It's… Your pet sir,"
"You mean Oni?"
"Yes sir, his obsession with Batman's kid is getting worse and more importantly it's becoming more public. First the girl, then the fight in the office building, than he used a very unstable Bane to draw him in to a crowd and try to test him or something." Isaac's finger was tapping on the table, "Sir he's a loose cannon, who knows what else he's done that we haven't heard of."
Tommy pressed the tips of his fingers together in a pyramid in front of his face, this was becoming a very bad night for business indeed."
- - - - - - - - -
Thirty minutes later Tommy and Mr. Isaac had concluded their business and were going over small talk, asking about children and legitimate businesses, the kind that was good for appearances. Isaac leaned over to take a sip from his martini and paused, he was covered over in shadow, and the shadow was growing larger.
The glass above them shattered in to a million shards and rained down upon the club, two figures plummeted to the floor, arms whipping out around them in a whirl of cloth and shadow, and suddenly all of Tommy' s men were unarmed and on the floor, clutching their hands. The two figures landed without a sound, and loomed like two boogeymen from a children's nightmare.
"Well, the infamous Batman and Robin," Tommy's voice was cool, his eyes calm, his face stone, "What do I owe the honor?"
"Oni." Batman's voice growled out from the living shadow "Where is he?"
"Yes he said you would probably pay me a visit, though for future encounters I do respectfully ask that you use the door…"
"Where!" Robin screamed like a caged animal and for a moment, Tommy was afraid, "He told me to tell you that there was no place like home."
Robin gave the Bat an almost imperceptible nod, and without a word the two of them fired off cables back through Tommy's shattered roof, and disappeared.
- - - - - - - - -
"I know what it means, really it's kind of blatant," Tim told Batman as they set down in an alley where they had stashed the Batmobile and the Redbird.
"Good," Bruce opened the batmobile's hatchway and paused before climbing in, "We'll get Batgirl and Nightwing to meet us there, and finish this tonight,"
As if on cue the radio crackled and Barbara's voice sounded in their ears, "Open call to all agents we've got a disturbance at the Kane Memorial hospital, suspect has been identified as Clayface. GCPD is going to need our help on this one boys."
The moment they heard it Bruce and Tim knew they were thinking the same thing, Bruce spoke first, "It's a set up."
Tim nodded in agreement, "It has to be, but that doesn't change anything. Go deal with the mud monster, I'll handle Oni on my own." Confidently he straddled the bike and slipped the helmet over his head, "I'll call if I need help."
- - - - - - - - -
"All Units please respond, we have a Meta sighting near the Kane Memorial…"
The call blared across the radio in Gordon's car, and Jim and Jack both felt their blood chill. "Jim, I need you to take me to the station."
- - - - - - - - -
Rocks and dirt spun out from the Redbird's tires as Tim steered her deftly up the winding mountain road. In the distance, crowning the peak of it all was Wayne Manor, but Tim had another destination in mind. Oni's last clue was a childish one, and now that Tim understood how Oni was thinking he knew exactly where to look. Leaning in to the turn Tim guided his bike on to a small side road: or in reality a rather long drive way. Following the road he came right to the front door of Drake Manor.
He didn't bother with stealth or guile, he was sure Oni knew he was coming. Tim confidently strode up to the front doors and with a push of both hands he sent the oak doors flying open. The mansion looked just like they'd left it with all of the furniture covered with white sheets, giving the old building the feeling of a mausoleum.
Taking a straight path Tim walked through the main hall to the fall of the master stairs, and the sight he saw at the top made his blood boil.
Dana was on her knees, hands and feet bound behind her and her eyes blindfolded, her mouth gagged. Oni stood behind her, wearing jeans and a white tee shirt, his combat knife sheathed against his chest. "So glad of you to join us, little Robin," he sneered down at Tim, "I really thought you were just too much of a coward, and ran away from your problems, just like your snobby little daddy."
Tim's feet slid out to each side, planting himself firmly, his fists came up in a defensive stance, ready to fight, "Oh come on now," he retorted, "Is that any way to talk to your baby brother?"
To be continued…- - - - - - - - -
Next Issue: The secret is out! Robin and Oni, brothers? Is it true? How? All will be explained as these two warriors face off in a no holds barred all or nothing battle with Dana Drake as the prize. Plus, meet the GCPD's newest weapon against crime: The Major Crime Unit's Special Crime Response Team; created by Commissioner Akins and Captain Sawyer, and led by Gotham's newest cop: Lieutenant Jack Turner. It's all in the pulse pounding conclusion, next!
A/N: So at 13 pages I'm pretty sure this marks my largest chapter, and we've only got one left, as always I'm sorry for the delay, know that I do work on this story almost daily and definitely weekly. On the bright side the story has moved to the climax and I've been able to introduce not one, but two new characters. An interesting note is that every scene with Jack was a rewrite because those sections originally centered on James Solomon, agent of Checkmate. Since Jack and James feel to alike for names for me, any Checkmate agent we see will be renamed, maybe I'll post one of the deleted scenes in the afterword. Finally I hope the following helps any confused folk:
I realize that my continuity is a little messed up and to be honest I don't care, but I thought I'd give a list of some major events from the DCU that either have or haven't happened.
Identity Crisis/Infinite Crisis did not happen. I love the story and where it's leading but I don't want to cheapen it by taking out plot points that were vital.
War games didn't happen. For quite a while I've been iffy on whether or not I'd include this. The events concerning Steph made the decision and the fall out at the end sealed it. So the Bat-team is still (dis) functional and the Clock Tower is standing.
In concert to this, most every event of the Bat-verse since is null and void, I'll specify if something comes up that I like and want to keep. So Tim and Cass are not in Bludhaven.
President Lex's outing and Supergirl's arrival, both depicted in Superman/Batman have happened. Kara trains on Paradise Island but by this point in the story, or at least by the time we see her will be enrolled in Metropolis High, more on that later.
Most everything in Teen Titans and OUTsiders is current, including Titans Tomorrow and "The Insiders" crossover are current. This was a tough call due to similar storylines I've had in mind for a long time, but no use in repeating.
Lastly Green Lantern Rebirth did happen and Hal is back, though my Corps structure will most likely be different.
See you soon