I did it! I finished the second chapter in my set limit! (That I had to push back from two months to four but whatever!) And (finally) the Team! Ok three of them, but thats three times as much as was in last chapter! I apologize for any OC-ness and hope you trust me that there is a good reason for it. Enjoy!

Also, except for Hafsa, her family and the ever growing number of plot bunnies in my head, I own nothing!

"Italics" = Spoken in a languages other than English

Italics = Thoughts

Chapter 1

In which I die… Sort of

Boston, MA

February 5th 2017, 19:43 EDT

"Son of a bitch!"

I aimed a heartfelt kick at the now tireless wheels of the Buick, only to realize, two seconds too late, that kicking ANYTHING metal, even with the best winter boots, hurts. A lot. One colorfully worded minute later I leaned on the hood of the car, rubbing my poor injured foot and cursing my bad luck under my breath. I had been in the bathroom for like what? 5-6 minutes? And somehow somebody had made off with my tires before I even came out of the loo of the gas station to wash my hands. It stunk, it royally did. And the day had started off so well too… The phone call at breakfast from Humam, who said the overseas engineering job he was working on had finished sooner than expected so he would be able to come and see us next week for Mom and Dad's Anniversary… The B+ on the English assignment I was so sure I had bombed… The A.I. software competition Mr. Mark has announced at robotics club… And the call from my GirlsGetCars (GGC) Teacher Miss Brooks, saying she had found an awesome classic chassis within my price range.

And now here I was, no wheels, a dead phone and no money for bus fare, stranded in the shittiest part of town at night. Woopie. Not for the first time did I curse that my car had been made before the advent of pocket computers. I loved the Century, but the fact that it had first seen the light of day in 1958 told you something about its technological advancements. It had taken me weeks to get the old rusted engine working and an additional 48 hours to get the heat and headlights reinstalled. Even so I would probably have to scrap most of the original hardware of the car if I ever wanted to meet modern safety standards.

I sighed heavily as slid into the beat up drivers seat, slammed the door, (As much you can slam a door that sticks about halfway through the slam and has to be jiggled a bit to get it unstuck) slumped in the seat and considered my options. My curfew was 11 pm on weekends with a twenty minute grace period before Mom stopped being annoyed I had missed my curfew and began to worry if I was dead in a ditch somewhere. Then there would probably be a good hour to get to where I was stranded and back with me in toe after she asked H.I.M. to track my phone, perhaps with an additional 30-45 minutes to try and find a tow truck for the Century. All in all, I had a minimum 2 hour wait before I could get any help without risking being jumped for my wallet. I sighed again and my gaze drifted over to the back seat, where my backpack lay full to bursting with AP and Honors homework left to do. I sighed again. I had MEANT to do it on my bed with a bowl full of popcorn and Sick Puppies blaring in my ears, but beggars can't be choosers and misery loves company. So with one final, heartfelt sigh, I reached in the back and rummaged around for my French textbook.

33333333

Five blocks away, three figures crouch on top of an abandoned warehouse. The cold February wind whipped around them blowing snow into their faces and down the necks of their dark grey coats. They didn't move. They didn't speak. At least for a little while.

"I am so borrrreeed!"

"Hermano, your always bored."

"I am not! Says who?"

"Says everyone who has had the PLEASURE of your company for five seconds. Now can you please shut up and pay attention."

"Wha… look SPEEDY…"

"Call me that again and you're looking at an arrow shoved up your…"

"Ay dios mio, guys! Do you have to argue EVERY SINGLE TIME one of you speaks!"

"..."

"..."

"He started... "

"I don't care who started it, I'll finish it! And NO I am NOT authorizing the use of the plasma cannon!"

Silence. Then…

"I don't get why we can't just bust them now. We got enough evidence to lock these scumbags up to rot. Why put off the inevitable?"

"For once, I agree with daddy issues."

"Daddy issu… Listen you little Lactaid…"

"Did you just call me what I think you just called me!"

"You heard me you little…"

"Oh that's it! Prepare to be…"

There was a sound akin to two coconuts colliding followed shortly thereafter by two twin cries of pain.

"What part of a stakeout do you two fail to understand! Now sit down, shut up and watch the stinking warehouse, bien?!"

"... Fine."

"Yha sure, whatever you say Blue."

More silence.

"Hey Blue."

"What now?!"

"Geeze ermano. High strung much?"

"Sorry, I just hate the cold. You were saying?"

"This guy… The one who's running the chop shop/Reach knockoff distribution center?"

"What about him? Wait, do you see him!"

"What, no! At least not yet. But didn't Superboy say something about him having a love of classic cars?"

"Hermano, do you even know what a classic car is?"

"Yhaaaaaa no. We don't have classic ANYTHING in the future. It basicly all take it or starve. BUT I do know that I have been here awhile and I haven't seen any cars that look like THAT."

"..."

"..."

"Bart, Khaji Da says thats a 2007 Dodge Pickup. Their kinda common."

"What? No! Not that one! Four blocks down, near the gas station! That one."

"..."

"..."

"Well?!"

"Somebodys in there…"

"WHAT DID I TELL YA! So lets get down there and…"

"But its not him!"

"Second in command?"

"No."

"Third?"

"Impulse its a girl."

"Girlfriend?"

"Wha… NO! She's the same age as Arsenal!"

"Are you…"

"For crying out loud, She's doing AP and Honors level math homework!"

"Ok, Ok…"

"..."

"..."

"Ese, I realize I might regret this question but… where's Arsenal?"

"You know… I'm not sure."

"..."

"..."

"Oh no."

BOOM!

The sound shook the Century, rattling the windows and causing the rusted framework to rattle dangerously. I was thrown forward, my head connecting with the wheel with a solid thunk. Little blue dots danced before my eyes as I clutched my head and moaned. My own voice came through my ears slightly muffled, like sounds heard underwater. Through bleary eyes colors danced in red, yellow,grey and blue. I thought I heard screams. I thought I smelled smoke. And a flaming tire bouncing off the nearby roof. I keeled over, tucked my head between my knees, shut my eyes tight and waited for it all to STOP.

Inside burning warehouse was pure pandemonium. Heavyset men rushed back and forth, hacking on the blue-black smoke, throwing fire blankets and extinguishers foam every which way in an attempt to smother the unnatural pink flames before they spiraled out of control. Hidden in the chaos a significantly smaller man in a singed labcoat hurried in and out between the piles of crates. He was lugging a very heavy briefcase. He had not been expecting the explosion to be so perfectly timed to his bosses plan. He was also not expecting the rather sharp blow to the head that sent him off to dreamland.

3333333

The Blue Beetle lowered his mace and smoothly transformed the living metal back to its usual blue-black gauntlet. A yellow-red blur zoomed up next to him and dropped a considerable amount of handheld artillery off at his feet.

"Thats all I could find. Good news is Daddy-Issues has them so distracted with the fire they left the armory wide open. Bad news is that I'm pretty sure all our evidence is going up in smoke."

Blue Beetle knelt and examined the fallen man's briefcase. It was old and battered, but the lock on it looked surprisingly shiny and new. Ignoring Khaji Da's insistence that simply blasting the case with a high frequency sonic blast would be easier, Blue Beetle fashioned his hand into a delicate lockpick and inserted it into the miniscule gap between the combination lock and the metal end of the fastening. After a few seconds of fiddling, there came a small, but satisfying click of tumblers releasing. The case fell open and a creamy white folder full of papers spilled out onto the floor. Beneath his mask Blue Beetle grinned.

"I wouldn't say ALL of it hermono."

But Kid Flash wasn't listening. He was too busy staring, open mouthed, at the secondary contents of the case.

3333333

There weren't many times in Arsenals life nowadays when he was really, truly happy.

To be fair, you would be pretty pissed too if you woke up in a glorified freezer only to find not only that your 23rd birthday had came and went and you were still a 15 year old punk, but you could now be put on the list of the disabled, and your best friend, your partner, (Your father really, though you wouldn't admit that, except in the darkest regions of your head) had spent the past 3 years thinking a clone was you and another 5 not even trying to find you because he gave up on you as a lost cause. To say that had stung would be the understatement of the millennium.

But right here, right now, Arsenal was giving scumbags hell and enjoying every single second of it. Forget The Bat. Forget Nightwing. Forget Green, forget even that crazy MOFO Red Hood, HE was every villains worst nightmare personified, because to him, it was personal. And despite everything the big guys up in the watchtower said, he was STILL within the restraints of the law. They acted like the FBI, CIA, The Cops and even guys like The Bat and Green didn't use tactics like his own when the situation called for it.

Well whatever. He would get his job done, stay within the restrictions of the law AND get his revenge. The rest was just the icing on top, something to rub Lex Luther's face in when the time came to finally get even. And he would. Of that he had no doubt.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Wiping about quick as a snake, he spotted a large black shape bolting through a side door. A feral grin spread across his face. So somebody wanted to play hooky from the law? Fine with him. Just meant the scumbag had forfeited his chance at going down the easy way. Aiming the muzzle of his cybernetic arm, he fired at a large glass skylight. The grapple hit and the skylight burst in a rain of flame colored shards as Arsenal flew up and out into the murky winter night.

333333

Like a turtle sticking its head out of it's shell an inch at a time, I carefully peaked my head up and over the dashboard. The whole street was bathed in fluorescent fuchsia light, as if from a giant neon sign, except it all seemed to be coming from a burning building a few blocks away. I blinked stupidly for a second, and held up my hand to shield my eyes from the intense glare. The skin on my hands gleamed a weird red-yellow hue in the flickering glow of the fire. In the same offhanded way you know the sky is blue, a part of myself; A small, wiggly part that had been part of mankind since our ancient ancestors had decided getting eaten by things with significantly more pointy bits then you is a bad way to start a day, was kicking and screaming something along the lines of,

Holy Sh*t, Holy Sh*t, Holy Sh*t, Get out we're gonna die!

Eventually it must have found the right switch. My gut clenched, my stomach roiled and my limbs decided that being only a few blocks away from those unnatural flames was way, WAY too close. I worked on panicked automatic. I lept back up in to the drivers seat, jammed the key in to the ignition, cranked it a few times until it actually started, slammed on the gas… And was rewarded by the deafening screech of metal on concrete and a tooth jarring thump as the tireless front wheels ground off the cement blocks they were jacked up on. Well… so much for that plan. Ok, new plan. Grab my coat and backpack and leg it to the nearest police or fire station to wait it out, zigzagging in and out of alleys to prevent being seen. Now preferably.

I had made it almost three blocks before something slammed into me and sent us both sprawling on the icy pavement.

33333333

Five blocks away, two figures shrouded in the shadows of a rusty water tower watched as bright red fire trucks and blaring police cars surrounded the now merely smoldering ruins of the warehouse. Both of them were still in a state of mild shock. As they watched the collection of criminals they had rescued and subsequently restrained being arrested and ducked into police cars, Kid Flash finally spoke up.

"Sooooo… did you?

"Yes."

"And the…"

"Yes. I left it next to the guy in the labcoat."

"..."

"..."

"Out of interest, how much…"

"Khaji Da said it was about $1.4 million."

"Yeesh! I know people say crime doesn't pay but…"

"I know."

"..."

"..."

"The papers?"

"Khaji Da scanned all of them. The police have the hard copies."

"Oh. Ok then."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"We should probably go find Arsenal now."

"Most likely."

333333333

After a few extremely productive moments of panicked wheezing, (You would be to if something that felt like a surprise steam engine barreled into your gut) A few comprehensive thoughts began to jump up and down repeatedly in their effort to get noticed. First was that I was face first in the very cold, very wet, very dirty slush on on the side of a dead end alley. Second was the fact that the fall had gouged stinging, grit filled lines in my exposed palms. And last was that there was a very large, very heavy, very smelly weight on my back.

The weight cursed. Through the eye that wasn't completely full of dirty snow, I watched as a extremely scruffy, extremely cooked, extremely scared man, pushed himself off of me with extreme speed.

"Wha… What the HELL!" His eyes were huge and he whirled around like a trapped animal, searching the shadows and trembling like a leaf.

"Where are you ya' son of a bitch! Come on! Show yourself!"

The darkness did not reply.

Ok… Big crazy guy yelling at darkness with… yep, thats a gun under his jacket. So my options are run aaaannnnd... run. Super. Glad we sorted that all out.

Unfortunately, (You sensing a pattern here?) Mr. Tall, dark and psycho seemed to reach a conclusion at the same time my butt was preparing to kick into full gear. His hand snapped out like a snake and grabbed the hood of my jacket, effectively clotheslining me and giving him enough time to grab a wrist before my pain infused mind could gather enough brain cells together to wiggle free. I thrashed and kicked and screamed like a snared rabbit, before going as still and silent as a statue. A revolver pressed to your temple tends to have that effect on people. Once again the man addressed the darkness.

"Alright you crazy MOFO, I don't know who you are or what you want, but one false move and the girl gets it alright? Her and me are gonna walk. Nice and slow-like. And if I even think I hear a peep, she's taco meat."

Taco meat. Not exactly how I envisioned being referred to as when I died. Sweetheart certainly. Mom more than likely. Grandma hopefully. Actually I envisioned it as a quiet passing in a comfy bed when I was about 94 but that option was slowly becoming more and more unlikely, considering my current situation.

Once again the darkness said nothing. My captor was beginning to sweat buckets and when he licked a bead of the stuff off his upper lip I caught a good whiff of his breath. It stunk of cigars and garlic.

"Well? I'm not seeing any weapons on the ground. If I don't see 'em in ten seconds and little missy is pushing up daisy's! One…"

Please drop the gun. Please.

"Two…"

Seriously please. I'm begging here!

"Three…"

Even if you drop them right now, you, sir, are an asshole.

"Four…"

I mean the worst person possible.

"Five…"

You should not even be part of humanity. You may be the devil in disguise.

"Six…"

PLEASE! I DON'T WANNA DIE!

"Seven…"

You are not real. You cannot be real. You are… Oh no.

"Eight…"

You're not real. This guy holding me hostage is clinically insane and you're a figment of his wacked out imagination.

"Nine…"

I'm gonna die.

Sorry Mom, Dad, Humam, Jawdah. At least I can see Uncle Imad and Gido in heaven.

"Te…"

…

….

…..

….Well then. That went south quickly. Umm, review and comment I suppose?