Jack Munson grew up in one of the toughest neighborhoods of Gotham. He wasn't sure which, of the many men his mother slept with, was his father. His mother sure as hell didn't know or care. He was another mouth to feed – an uninvited and not a particularly wanted guest in her life. At least she didn't have to worry about him getting in trouble at school. He refused to go and she agreed with his decision. It was too much trouble to wake up at seven in the morning anyway. As he grew older he hung around some of the men his mother brought to the filthy apartment they shared. They used him to make illegal runs for dope knowing, if he got caught, he would get a slap on the wrist and sent back out to the streets. By the time Jack was eighteen, his mother dead five years earlier due to a heroin overdose, he was first lieutenant in the notorious Five Mile Posse gang with eight executions to his credit. Most likely he would have died before his nineteenth birthday except he made the mistake of killing a well-connected dealer who shorted him cash. The police actually investigated the homicide seriously and Munson was sentenced to life with no parole. His real education began two years later when Oliver Denning was assigned to his cell block.

"You think so? Bitch!" Munson was still close.

Kara weathered another kick to her blind side. Come on! Get smart … take the out!

"So you think you're so fucking important the cops will let us waltz right out?" Oliver said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I didn't say that!" Kara quickly replied keeping her voice weak. "I said they're less likely to shoot if it's me as a hostage when you go out. Let them know I'm in here … it might stop the police from coming in and killing you."

Kara heard the handset leave its cradle.

"Yeah, police bitch. Got someone in here who says she's real important to you so you may want to keep your bitch boys from coming in and getting her killed. No, you don't need to know her name. All you need to do is get that tactical tank ready. I want it parked four feet from the front door. Hope it's got plenty of space because anyone we don't kill in here is coming with us!"

NO! You can't do that. Take me – just me! Don't kill anyone.

"That's going to go over well with the negotiator's bosses. You sounded desperate. Why didn't you tell them my name? Now they think you're bluffing and they'll come in, anyways."

"You need to stop thinking you've got some kind of control here!" Munson yelled and Kara heard, yes it was definitely Mandy, cry out. "Shut the fuck up!"

This is not working. The cops are going to come in and it will be a massacre. Think Kara! What would Cat do? Change tactics. Lead them to where you want them to go ….

"Okay. I'm sorry. I was wrong. You're the ones who are in charge."

Silence.

Good – no one getting hurt. Keep talking Kara.

"Obviously you guys have dealt with the cops more than me. You know what you're doing – how to handle them. What to say. You guys planned this out carefully. Something went wrong and you ended up stuck in here with us and a whole lot of cops outside. You've dealt with the authorities long enough to know how they think. You'll come up with a way of getting out of here."

More silence.

So far so good. Keep them confident that this will work – they'll be less likely to hurt the hostages. From what the cops said, these guys ran the prison. They'll want their cohorts to know they were smart enough to escape.

"But those guys you three left behind – McCormick, Porter, Restum and Barnes? They won't hear a thing about your escape. The warden clamps down on anything that makes him look bad. You know that. It's how the system works. There won't be one word about your escape. They'll lie to your friends and say you've been sent to another super max prison across the country or that you were shot and killed trying to escape. That your plan failed."

Good. Let that sink in for a second. Engage their egos. The angrier they are at some perceived slight the less their likely to think things through.

"Using my name can help you with that."

"Oh, you think you're so important? Like you're the President of the fucking United States or something?" Royce was about fourteen feet away.

"No, I didn't say that."

Come on, Kara. Lead them to where you want them to go. Make them want to release your name.

"I'm well known. Connected. All the news media will cover this story. I'm one of them. It won't be buried on the back page of some newspaper. It'll be front and center on every newscast, every newspaper. It'll be impossible for the warden to contain the news that you guys did it. Escaped."

"Listen, bitch, you're nothing. All you do is write about things. Your name doesn't mean shit!" Munson had moved away from her again.

He's about ten feet behind me … to my left. Close to the kitchen door. Probably keeping an eye out for the entry team. Maybe I can pull off a rescue if he's distracted enough. I don't think he has a hostage … Royce has John and Oliver is holding Danine. Someone's moving again.

"Yeah, police bitch? We got your famous reporter, Kara Danvers, in here. She's going to be the first to go – Royce will do her – if you don't do exactly what I say. You know who we are so stop feeding us bullshit. You have two minutes to park that tank four feet from the door with the engine running," Oliver slammed down the receiver.

That's right. Take me as a hostage. Come on – grab me!

"You!" Royce yelled.

Kara heard a muted blow then a man exhaled in pain.

"Get up! NOW!"

"Oka-"

"Did I say TALK? Motherfucker! One more sound from you and you lose a couple of fingers."

Damn it! Please, Rao. I have to figure something out that'll work. There's got –

"You! Glasses!" Munson sounded like he was near Royce. "You wanna write about how it looks to see someone gutted? Maybe we should have you do the cutting? Then you'll know how it actually feels to snuff out a life instead of writing about it. Royce, you wanna pass me over your cripple? He's useless now anyway – except as a message."

"Hold on," Oliver cut in. "I hear something – sounds like the tank. Royce – drop the cripple and take your new shield over to get a better look."

"Aaarrgh!" The sound of a body slapping onto the tile floor then John's labored breaths filled the kitchen.

The business phone rang. No one picked up.

"Classic police tactic. Trying to distract us. They think they're dealing with some stupid newbies. Fucking cops. Keep an eye on the doors – they're gonna try to get in."

Kara listened to the activity outside the building. The entry team was in position both near the front and back entrances. They were waiting for the green light from command.

Rao, this is going to be a bloodbath! I have to act now. No more time for talking! Wait, what? Pull back? That's a smart move. Thank you to whomever is in charge. They're moving the tactical tank away too. What have they got planned? Wait, did one of those guys in the command center say Grant?

"… the chief said to give that Danvers some more time.

Supposedly she's some bad ass reporter who might be able to

dazzle these guys with her bullshit. I guess that's what Grant

told the chief – something along those lines. Anyway, I agree

about pulling back the troops. It's a stupid move to send them

in this early but Lask always was a dumb ass. He

wasn't going to be the first one through the door."

Sounds like Cat bought me some time to keep trying to reach these guys. How did she know I was in here … unless … Winn must have been up in our special office listening in on secure police lines – getting the scoop on what was going on at Noonan's. Cat must have phoned Chief Thomas - convinced him to hold off on sending the tactical team. That was fast. Bet there was some sort of blackmail involved. Now I have to figure out a way to get us out of here. All of us. Crap – they don't know the entry teams pulled back. I don't want to say anything right now that could startle them into pulling a trigger. Wait until they say something – are a bit more relaxed. At least that stupid phone has stopped ringing. Okay, Kara, think … how are you going to reach them?

Long minutes stretched on. The only sound in the kitchen were the labored breaths of the hostages, quiet moans of the wounded, and slight shuffling noises as the captors moved around with their shields.

"I think they've pulled back," Oliver said after about fifteen or twenty minutes.

"Yeah," Royce agreed sounding perplexed. "I thought for sure they were on their way in."

"They moved back because you told them who I was," Kara said softly. Don't put yourself in a position of power over them. This has to seem like it's their plan. "You were right. They probably were coming in until someone in command heard what you said. Heard who you had in here. Now they don't know what to do. You've got them confused."

"Shut the fuck up, Glasses," Oliver said, not quite as vehemently as before. Kara didn't hear any cries of pain from his shield. That's a plus.

Several more minutes went by. Then Kara heard someone pick up the handset.

"No bullshit, why did you guys pull back? I'll know if you're lying, police bitch," Oliver said as Danine cried out in pain.

Rao, please, tell him the truth. Tell him it was because of me, please!

Kara listened intently for the negotiator's answer.

"You said Kara Danvers was one of the hostages -"

The conversation ended as Oliver slammed the handset back into its cradle.

"Shit, Glasses, you were right!" Oliver sounded incredulous then his voice hardened. "I guess you were also right about what you said earlier about dying today too."

"Yeah, I know," Kara said quietly.

More shuffling noises.

"Keep an eye on that door, Munson. I don't trust those cops," Royce said. "You sure that's what that cop said on the phone? It doesn't make sense that they'd care that much for some reporter. She's gotta be a cop. Maybe she's wired."

"I'm not a cop. Really. My purse, the heritage blue Fossil … uh, dark blue leather shoulder bag … should be on the floor near the counter. Check it. My work ID card is clipped to it."

"Sure. We go out there and the cops blow our heads off. Nice try, Glasses," Royce spat out.

"I'll go out there. They won't shoot me," Kara said already knowing what the answer would be.

"Fuck no!" Royce didn't disappoint her.

"Send one of the bitches. This one'll do," Oliver said as Danine cried out in pain. "You go get that purse, bitch. Bring it back here. If you decide to run, I guarantee I'll drop you before you reach the door. Understand?"

"Yes," Danine's voice trembled.

"Go, bitch."

Kara heard the light footsteps cross the tiled floor and enter the front of the eatery.

I should try to stop these guys now while their attention's divided. I'm pretty sure Oliver is by the kitchen door; Royce was behind me – about fifteen feet to my right. Where is Munson? Crap – he's way over on the right. Damn it! These guys have us between them. I can't see if Royce and Munson are distracted or if they're waiting to shoot. Please, Danine! Don't try and make a run for the door. He will shoot you.

"I mean it bitch! I'll put a bullet in you if you even sneeze the wrong way. There's nothing I'd like more than to cap your ass in front of all of those cops so don't tempt me," Oliver warned. "That's a good bitch. Nice and slow. Walk back carefully. Don't even think about it."

Kara heard Oliver grab both Danine and her purse. Then she heard the contents of the purse scatter as Oliver dumped her purse out.

"No gun. No badge. This thing says she works for Catco. What the hell is Catco? Doesn't sound like the name of any newspaper to me." Oliver said as he went through her wallet.

"It's the name of a media conglomerate. We're right next to their headquarters. My press pass should be in my purse too." Probably not, though, sounds like everything's on the floor.

"Yeah – I see it. Damn, Glasses, you only got eight bucks in here. Well, had, eight bucks anyway," Oliver said as he stuffed the bills into his pocket. "Okay, that's settled, Royce. She ain't a cop. Now we're gonna find out how valuable she really is."