Reply to Hellking666: Thank you! As for Victoria, that was her first night out after just triggering. Maybe she'll get raised by wolves? I'm sure that would help.

Questionable Decisions Special Issue

Cover: A man stands on a dark stone staircase while wearing a blue overcoat and fedora with purple trim over a purple vest, yellow shirt, black tie, purple pants and black shoes. His gloved hands are in his pockets as a shadowed figure stands behind and above him on the staircase and is pointing a crossbow at him. Before the man on the staircase is another shadowed figure with a long sweeping cloak or cape reaching to the floor.

+JLL+

Sixteen Years Ago…

Batman walked through the Batcave and to the transparent panes of the door his computer and lab. It had been a long night even for him and he was tired. However, he wasn't done quite yet. He needed to check and update the profile on the Red Hood, and hopefully stop him before he killed again.

"Hello, Batman," a new yet already familiar voice said from behind him.

Batman turned around to see a man wearing the classic PI's costume. He wore a yellow button up shirt with a black tie and shoes, as well as purple suit pants and suit vest. Over top of that he wore a blue overcoat and a fedora of the same color but with purple trim of the same color as his vest and pants. The man stood on the stairs leading up to the manor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Batman knew that the man's hands were clad in black gloves of the same ebony shade as the man's tie and shoes. The man maintained a casual air despite the loaded crossbow that Helena, out of costume, was pointing at his back from the steps above. The most notable feature of his, however, was the smooth featureless skin that covered his face.

Batman frowned. "What are you doing here Question?"

Helena looked between them. "It's him? Good. He just showed up at the front door in the middle of the night and said he needed to talk to knew, and knew my identity." She gestured with her crossbow. "I thought it'd be best to take precautions."

"You were smart to be careful," Question told her as he started down the stairs towards Batman, his empty face never leaving the older hero. "However, the reason I'm here is the same reason your paranoia is misplaced."

"What are you talking about, Question?" Batman asked warily. Question was a relatively new hero and thus far had done well both in and out of the Justice League. Unfortunately he was known to be an eccentric conspiracy theorist, and was one of the heroes that Batman worried might be just as unstable as some of the villains that he had helped place in Arkham or Blackgate. "And why did you come here?"

"I came here to save the Bat Family from a hidden threat they thought was long dead," the Question explained. "It all started in 1978 when the Joker beat Jason Todd with a crowbar and then blew up the building they had been in."

Batman tensed, his teeth clenched. Even after all these years he didn't like to dwell on that moment, that failure. He regretted every failure, but that was one of the special ones, that he could never leave behind.

"However, that wasn't the end of his story," Question continued as he approached Batman, Helena warily following. "No, many years later his body was recovered by one Ra's al Ghul." Batman stiffened. "Oh, yes. He took Jason to one of his Lazarus Pits and brought him back."

"He's alive?" Helena asked. "Where's he been all these years?"

"Where indeed," the Question said as he stopped just outside of Batman's lunging range. This did not go unnoticed by Batman. "He trained with the League of Assassins, preparing for the day he could have his revenge on the man he felt had betrayed him. Bruce Wayne."

Batman inhaled sharply.

"It was all part of an elaborate plan, created so that would Talia al Ghul become pregnant with Bruce Wayne's child."

"I have a son!?" Batman asked loudly at the same time Helena exclaimed in shock "What!?"

"You would be surprised how many siblings you have, Huntress," the Question replied to Helena without looking away from Batman.

"I'm already surprised," she replied before frowning. "Wait, what does Jason Todd have to do with that?"

"What indeed," the Question said. "Ra's al Ghul wanted to groom his grandson as his heir, and that Bruce Wayne would be both the ideal father as the only man that Ra's al Ghul had deemed a worthy successor. Talia wanted Bruce Wayne to see his grandson. Ra's agreed. Unfortunately for them, Bruce Wayne's survival would jeopardize their operations. They needed someone who could understand the Batman on his own terms, all so they could lay their trap. Jason Todd knew him inside and out, and with their training he was more than capable of fighting on Batman's level. Especially when he was injected with the experimental serums being developed by the Illuminati, Cadmus and Cauldron which are a combination of Lazarus and Superman's DNA. Jason Todd was more than a match for Bruce Wayne, but he wanted to humiliate him, destroy his legacy as the Batman. Thus, he resurrected the early identity of the madman who would become infamous the world over as the Joker. That identity? The Red Hood."

"Whoa, slow down," Helena said, holding up a hand. "Are you saying Jason Todd is the Red Hood so that he can kidnap Bruce so that he can get it on with Ra's daughter?" She paused. "Did I just say that about my own father? Ew. And what was that about the Illuminati and Cauldron and super serums?"

"They've been using access to Lazarus Pits both on this Earth and alternate ones in order to develop new types of serums capable of giving people powers due to the Lazarus Pit's regenerative properties assisting in the subjects' survival and recovery from the procedure. Kryptonian genetic information is just the latest in their long line of experiments, including but not limited to magical artifacts, demonic blood and tissue samples from the dead gigantic alien whose component parts, as well as many of those of its mate's, are responsible for the granting of the majority of what we call super powers," the Question told her. "However, Jason Todd isn't just killing to discredit Batman and draw him out so that he might be kidnaped. No, the version of the serum that Ra's al Ghul gave to Jason also dramatically increased his mental instability, which was already significant given the fact that he had been dead for a long time before being resurrected at the Lazarus Pit. It was only compounded by the trace chemicals from the Joker that he had absorbed into his system by then, and later synthesized and injected into himself so that he could better humiliated and destroy Batman. He began to see himself as the real Batman and wanting to surpass the 'old him,' while at the same time making excuses for why he was avoiding those that could see through his disguises and he continued killing as the Red Hood. What does this have to do with the kidnapping of Bruce Wayne? Very little. He's been gone for three months already."

"He's Jason?" Helena asked.

"You're insane," Batman countered, "you should never have been allowed to join the Justice League."

"Am I Jason? Or are you finally realizing how insane you really are as the delicate façade you've been maintaining comes crashing down around you?" the Question asked as he took his hands out of his pockets, a collapsible baton held in his right hand and a small bottle of spray in his left. "You're a serial killer, a disgrace to that mask you stole. What would your parents say if they were here now?"

With a roar, Batman leaped at the Question, who rolled to the side as Batman moved with inhuman speed and strength.

"Holy crap!" Helena exclaimed as she backed away, her revolver crossbow pointing first to the Question and then to Batman. "Since when could you leap a dozen feet from standing still!?"

Batman glared at her from behind his mask, his mouth drawn back in a feral grin. "I've been doing this all my life, Huntress! Now focus! He's insane! Don't let his mind games get to you!"

Helena glanced at where the Question stood warily facing Batman. She looked back at Batman, who was now crouched with a gas pellet in one hand and a throwing bat in the other. Teeth bared in his vicious smile. She'd been worried about how odd he'd been acting compared to his old self, but this…

"Yeah," Helena said, "I'm going to trust the kooky conspiracy theorist on this one."

"Have it your way," Batman replied before tossing the throwing bat at her and crushing the pellet in his hand so that a cloud of smoke rose up around him. Unfortunately for Helena, she had to dodge the throwing bat and only partially succeeded, the sharpened metal leaving a deep gouge in her shoulder before embedding itself in the cave wall behind her.

Despite herself, Helena stared at the gash in her shoulder and the bloodstained throwing bat. If it had hit somewhere else on her body, it could have killed her. "Yeah, definitely trusting the right crazy guy."

She quickly looked back to see the now clearly fake Batman attacking the Question with a speed and ferocity that she'd seen once before: in her one confrontation with the Red Hood. It made sense now how Batman had never been able to catch the Red Hood. Come to think of it, since she'd come back to town she hadn't seen her father up close without his costume on either.

Faux Batman punched at Question, who parried it with his baton, only for Faux Batman to grab the baton and yank in towards him, forcing Question to let go. Faux Batman then lunged forwards, knocking the two of them back into the transparent doors to the Batlab and causing them to shake. An instant later, alarms started flashing on the console in the lab.

Helena aimed her crossbow at the fake Batman's cape and tried to put a bolt through it. Unfortunately, the bolt hit the cape and slide off with a crack due to its impact carrying the force through to the stone underneath. She readjusted her aim to the fake himself, as long as he was alive in the end that was what mattered. He was currently choking the Question with one hand and reaching for his belt with the other, a scowl on his face. The Question brought up the spray bottle in his left hand and sprayed something into the fake Batman's exposed mouth, causing him to stagger back coughing.

The Question landed on his feet and kicked Faux Batman in the shin before spraying the man in his open mouth when he involuntarily cried out. Helena assisted by firing a bolt at Faux Batman's knee. It wasn't strong enough to penetrate all of the way through the armor since these were just her standard bolts, but it was enough to lodge itself in the joint and trip him up.

Faux Batman landed like an experienced martial artist and started to reach for the bolt lodged in his armored knee. Helena and the Question both ran up to continue the attack while their physically more powerful opponent was on the back foot. After a brief pause, the Question delivered a judicious kick to Faux Batman's groin. While the kick didn't fully penetrate the protective codpiece, it was enough to make Faux Batman flinch and gasp despite the preexisting pain in his face and mouth.

Helena decided to add to that pain in his face, namely by kicking him hard in the forehead. Faux Batman collapsed unconscious.

Helena nodded to the Question. "Let's get him restrained."

"What is going on here!?" a female voice demanded loudly from the lab.

Helena and the Question turned to see Barbara's face glaring out at them from the largest of the monitors. "Why did you just attack him like that?"

"That' not Batman, that's a fake!" Helena told her, pointing at Faux Batman.

"I know that," Barbara retorted. "That's Dick. He's covering for Bruce while he's undercover."

"Dick?" Helena asked before looking back at the Faux Batman and crouched next to him. She pulled off the mask and scowled. It was Dick.

"He didn't tell you?" Barbara asked.

"No, he just pretended to be Bruce," Helena snapped. "Asshole. Why didn't they tell me?"

"Bruce wanted to keep the information as secret as possible and you were going to be at college most of the time he expected to be undercover anyway," Barbara explained. "Though I don't see why Dick didn't tell you earlier," he tone hardened, "or why you felt the need to attack him."

"He attacked us!" Helena snapped back. "He's too secretive, like father."

"Perhaps his name is a hint," the Question mused as he inspected Dick's unconscious form.

Helena laughed as she stood up. "Yeah, I'm going to get some restraints in case he feels like attacking us again," she told him. "What about you?" she asked Barbara. "Do you know why he'd attack us?"

"I don't know, and that has me worried," Barbara replied with a frown. "Get me a blood sample and I'll see what I can turn up."

"Right," Helena agreed as she let the door's electronic lock scan her eye before opening. She quickly jogged in and retrieved a set of Brute grade restraints to take back out.

"What are you doing with those?" Barbara asked with concern.

"He was stronger than he should've been," Helena explained as she quickly moved back to Dick, who was starting to stir until Question hit him in the head with his retrieved baton. "Question thinks he was dosed with some sort of super formula that drives him crazy."

"Actually, he likely inhaled some sort of hallucinogenic or psychotropic agent which removed his body's natural limits which are allegedly in place to protect it from harming itself," Question informed them. "Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, did this in order to drive Batman crazy and humiliate him. Ra's al Ghul wouldn't give away a sample to an enemy besides his preferred successor. Obvious, in hindsight."

Helena nodded as she cuffed Dick's hands and feet. "If you don't mind, I'd like some second hand confirmation of this."

"A wise choice," the Question told her as the two of them picked up Dick and moved him into the lab.

"Thanks," Helena replied.

They set him next to a forensic analysis setup and used a syringe to draw a sample of blood from Dick. Helena then inserted the blood into the machine and pressed the button to set it to examining the sample.

"So, what did you spray him with?" Helena asked. "I mean, you thought he was a Kryptonian enhanced super soldier, so what did you think could work against him?"

The Question took out the spray bottle and held it up for her to see. "Brute grade pepper spray. Extremely concentrated."

"Ouch."

"Yes, but the Illuminati developed countermeasures to those and similar chemicals using unicorn tears so that their own agents are immune-"

"Looks like you were right," Barbara muttered from the screen, interrupting the Question. "These are on file as being used on several occasions by the League of Assassins, and there are traces of Joker's Smile-X. I'll have an antidote and a sedative brewed in a minute, but I'm afraid it won't be using any unicorn tears. They are extinct after all." In the lab, several machines hummed to life and began to work. "Not to mention imaginary," she added under her breath.

"That's what they want you to think," replied the Question.

"So this is our main intel guy?" Helena asked.

Barbara cleared her throat.

"Yes?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "He's surprisingly good at putting together information even without any apparent Thinker power. However, he tends to get carried away."

"That's what you think," Question replied. "Hidden organizations and secret worlds abound. Themyscira, Atlantis and the League of Assassins are only the tip of the iceberg. They seek to control world events, manipulate us and shape us for their own sinister purposes. Even when the League at large is exposed to parts of the hidden world, such as with Batman and the Court of Owls, you refuse to see."

"I'll admit that there are secret societies all over the world, but sometimes the simpler answer is the correct one," Barbara countered. "And no, a giant conspiracy controlling everything is not the simplest answer."

"It is not simple," the Question agreed "but it is the truth."

The chemical synthesizer beeped and Barbara shook her head. "Okay, listen. We don't have time to go down the rabbit hole. Inject Dick with this and it should neutralize the chemicals in his system. I'll let Kory and Tim know what's going on and they'll come help out with the Red Hood."

"What about Dad?" Helena asked. "You said he was undercover."

"In the Middle East, tracking down some leads related to the League of Assassins," Barbara elaborated. "If Red Hood is working with or worked with the League, then that means he could be in danger. Well, more danger."

"So we're going to go save him?" Helena asked, eagerness bleeding into her voice.

"No, I'll just ask Manhunter and Superman to do flyovers and find him when they get the chance," Barbara replied. "Manhunter would be passing over soon anyway and Superman regularly flies around the world to help with disasters as well. Not to mention the fact that we have about three hundred League members in the region in case he needs backup."

"Oh," Helena said, put out.

"Yes, you're part of a world-wide organization with literally tens of thousands of members and hundreds of thousands of affiliates, you don't have to do everything yourself," Barbara replied wryly.

"If he hasn't been found by the time we've dealt with Jason, we can go anyway," Question assured her. "I've been meaning to locate any of their remaining documents regarding their secret alliance with the Templar and the other Crusader orders anyway."

"Thanks," Helena replied. "For a guy Wildcat called crazy, you're not too bad. Even if you are probably the ugliest guy around with the way you're always hiding your face."

The Question reached up to touch his face mask.

"I hope you realize that if Dick were awake right now he'd be teasing you mercilessly about how romantic that sounds," Barbara remarked.

"Romantic?" Helena scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I just called him ugly!"

Barbara's only reply was to start laughing before cutting the connection.

Helena and the Question shared a silent moment before she gestured at Dick, who was starting to stir again. "Well, I'll inject the counteragent in him and change into costume. You can drag him to the infirmary." She paused and smirked. "Unless you'd like to watch." Then she blushed and scowled. "Damn it, now Barbara's going to show Dick and Tim that."

The Question cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Yes, let's follow your first plan. After that you can clear the security footage."

Helena nodded. "Good idea." She took the injector for the antidote out and used it on Dick, who was stirring.

"I'll still… tease you…" Dick slurred as he tried to get up.

"Don't worry, Dick, you're still crazy," Helena assured him as she held him down.

"'m not crazy… b'cause I'm Batman…"

"Shh, of course you are," Helena assured him as he slipped into unconsciousness again. She turned to the Question. "I'll get into costume while you bring him to the infirmary and then I'll figure out how to delete the security footage. Good?" Question nodded. "Break."

Little did they know, but Batman's security footage was not stored merely on the Batcomputer, but also the Watchtower where Tim had started watching the instant Barbara had sent him a message about what was happening.

Stephanie leaned over Tim's chair and looked at the screen. "What's going on?"

"Just some cute bonding over dealing with unconscious crazy people," he explained.

Stephanie hummed. "If you edit a mask over upper her face we could play it on repeat in the commons."

"She'd probably die of embarrassment at people seeing her in her pajamas while she's saying that," Tim replied. "Let's do it."

By Star's Fire #1

Cover: A column of viridian green light which gradually fades away into yellow. In the center is a slim silhouette standing with their hands and feet spread apart and their head tilted back. Despite the pillar of green light surrounding the figure, it is possible to see more green light leaking from the figure's eyes, nostrils and mouth even though finer details are not possible to distinguish. Near the viewer is another silhouette, facing the column of light. They stand with a hand in front of their face in an attempt to block out the light.

+JLL+

Now…

Life's crazy, you know that? Back before all this, if you'd told me what I'd be and where I'd be, I would have called you crazy. Some things you just never see coming.

My life wasn't what you'd call good. In fact, by most objective standards, it sucked. When I was a little kid, I didn't think it was so bad. But that's mostly just because I didn't know anything back then.

Okay, I could tell things were different. I just didn't know how different things really were. Mostly I thought things were pretty cool. I got to basically do whatever I wanted. No one really cared as long as I didn't attract the attention of the wrong sibling. Or Dad.

There are a lot of times that show how fucked up my life was, dozens at least, but I'll go with one when I was eight or so. Two of my sisters – I have enough that the specific names don't really matter – were watching this craptastic stop motion cartoon. Of course, I didn't want to watch it, I wanted to watch the music channel. They'd outnumbered me two to one, I'd known that I'd lose the argument. So instead of arguing, I'd thrown a temper tantrum, started screaming.

The entire atmosphere in the house changed in an instant. My sisters went from argumentative to conciliatory in a second as soon as I started, changed to the music channel, tried to give me the remote. One of father's 'girls' came in and tried to quiet me down. When I'd continued anyway, she clamped her hand over my mouth.

It wasn't enough. Dear Old Dad came marching out of the master bedroom. Nikos Vasil. Heartbreaker. One of the scariest Masters around, within the past decade or so anyway, able to make a person feel whatever he wanted. That's how he got his 'girls,' in case it was hard to guess. Tall, wearing only his boxers, with a muscled, lanky physique, long hair plastered to his head with sweat. Father had taken two or three seconds to assess the situation before using his powers on all four of us, even his 'girl.' He hit us with stark terror. The kind of fear you experience when you were claustrophobic and you woke up in a coffin six feet underground. That's how Marko described it at one point. Said he knew from experience, and I believe him.

Then father had turned around, gone back to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

I'm not certain when exactly that was, but it was around summer. I didn't have any way to tell time, back then, since I hadn't been going to school, and the days kind of passed. Still, it had been hot, so summer seems right. I hadn't opened my mouth to speak even once between that summer and Christmas.

Maybe father broke something in the process of all of that. With that kind of childhood, how could he not?

His 'girls' didn't care about us, his children. Father cultivated us, bred for us, went miles out of his way to get us back if any of his 'family' was taken from him. But he only cared about us as his pawns, or just to keep us around. He was possessive, and liked collecting people. When we were around, he paid almost no attention to us kids. When he did, it was to discipline or test us. Disciplining meant getting a dose of paralyzing fear for not listening to him, insulting him, or even looking him in the eyes, sometimes. Testing happened on our birthdays or if he'd had a bad day. He'd try to set up a trigger event. Not supposed to be hard, given that we were second generation capes, obviously, but he started when we were eight.

Unfortunately for me I didn't get the fortune of triggering early. I think some part of me just refuse to break, just to stick it to him. I think I would have preferred to trigger early, under most circumstances.

However, his apathy towards us helped me out. I learned how to avoid him, which wasn't hard admittedly. When he went on the war path, I just made sure that there was someone else between me and him. It's like that saying about running from bears. You don't have to be the fastest, just not the slowest. Of course, anything that looked like fleeing or hiding from him would just make him go after you too.

It wasn't all bad though. I didn't do it often, but sometimes I went out into the city. There wasn't much I found interesting, but wandering around Montreal wasn't bad. In fact, I considered it better that staying in the house most of the time, and not just due to the fear and boredom. It wasn't as though I expected to be able to run away however. My siblings, such as Guillaume and Nicholas, were more than enough to make sure that wouldn't work. If it even crossed our minds.

If I managed to steal enough pocket change from father's 'girls' or my siblings who had some from working for father, then I could go out. A few times I went to a café. I'd buy an expensive drink and watch people, sometimes imagining what their lives were like. I was smart enough by then to know that things were different for other people. I wasn't sure how different though, aside from what I considered the obvious. They didn't have to deal with Dear Old Dad for instance, or at least not usually.

A few times I imagined some of couples as my parents. I knew enough about what life was like for other people through TV to know that they were probably better parents than my father. At least they wouldn't intimidate and coerce with their powers, if only because they probably didn't have any.

One time, I was sitting at a table outside. It was cool out, but not particularly cold. It was sometime in autumn. I had a large mocha with whipped cream and was sipping it while looking around.

I noticed a man with grey hair sitting at one of the tables. I hadn't seen him before, but he looked like he was from somewhere to the south, in the United States. Wearing a green-grey button up shirt and blue jeans, he looked strong. He'd clearly exercised throughout his life. Even as he relaxed in his chair at the café, his eyes seemed to constantly search his surroundings. It wasn't an active wariness though. Rather it seemed something ingrained in him through a lifetime of experience.

I immediately identified him as a veteran of some sort. Either police or military, though those weren't very big with superheroes existing for so long. Maybe he was a retired super? They were starting to become more common these days.

When his gaze locked onto me, I smiled and nodded at him. He nodded back before opening an English newspaper and beginning to read it while he drank his coffee. I spent a minute idly imagining what his life as a super hero was like when a young woman in her late teen or early twenties walked up with her own drink and took a seat across from the old man, setting a black and green courier bag down on the ground next to her as she did so. Medium height, light, creamy skin contrasting her shoulder length, dark green hair and her emerald green eyes as well as form fitting bright green tank top and black slacks and sneakers that helped show off her figure. It wasn't a stretch to assume she liked the color green. She waved at the old man with her free hand and I noticed that she was wearing fingerless gloves, also dark green.

"Hi, Uncle David," she said to him. I unobtrusively leaned in closer to listen in better.

"Hello, Jade," he replied as he glanced up from his paper. "What brings you here? I'm on a vacation."

I could only see her face from the side, but I still managed to see the corner of her mouth quirk up. "I was wondering if you could help me with something." Jade reached into her courier bag as she continued talking, "Dad said you helped him out with a similar project back in the day." She pulled out a plastic bag with what looked like broken pieces of some sort of plastic with a green metallic sheen.

She took a sip from her cup while David answered. "I'm retired, Jade. If he broke it after I helped him get the thing working, then that's his own damn fault. Besides, I'm sure his new friends would be more than happy to help him out."

She set down her cup and shook her head. "They could help, but it's not just this." She leaned forwards and set her elbows on the table. I imagined that from David's angle he was getting an eyeful of her low cut blouse. I frowned, idly wishing I was sitting there instead. "You were able to help him get it just barely working and he was able to take in the rest of the way on his own, but we found another. And not just one of these dinky rings either."

I think David silently reacted somehow, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. Damn.

"It's true," she said to whatever his reply had been. She opened the bag and poured it into her right hand. I couldn't help but notice a piece bounce out of her hand and through the grate of the café table. It glimmered on the ground, but I tore my eyes away for something more important. "I want to fix it, completely. Not that patchwork project you and Dad did all those years ago."

"It worked well enough," David replied, sounding a mixture of annoyed and curious.

"Yeah, but the thing is, this thing we found isn't some antique battery," she smiled wickedly, "it's a generator. And generators can power things." Jade's smile twisted into a grimace and I sighed in disappointment. "But it's pretty smashed, along with everything else and we can't do what you and Dad did last time."

"Then how do you expect me to help?" David asked.

Jade smiled encouragingly. "Dad always said you were a bit of a Jack of All Trades. Not to mention that you're pretty skilled at what you do."

"And I ask again, how could 'what I do,' help," he retorted. I could hear the scowl in his voice.

Jade leaned back, showing off her figure from another angle for me, and sighed. "You can't think of any way, Uncle David?"

I could think of a few ways to help you, I thought.

David grunted. "Without what we used last time, I don't think I can fix it on my own." Jade straightened up to speak and he cut her off, making her pout. "Not even with your father and his 'colleagues'' help."

"There must be something you can do," she pleaded, leaning forward and clasping her hands in front of her chest. "I came all this way to find you."

"How did you find me anyway?" he gruffly demanded. "I'm retired and touring Canada."

Jade leaned back and smirked. "A little birdy and his friend told me."

"Dick," David snarled. I wondered if that was his actual name or just what David was calling him. Either way was probably accurate.

Jade's smirk intensified. "Kory, actually."

David grunted. "Same difference." He may have done something else as well, but I still wasn't paying attention to him.

"Anyway," Jade said, bringing them back to their original topic, "the point is that we need your help. Please?" She leaned forwards again and though I couldn't be certain I think she was using puppy dog eyes on her uncle David.

David scoffed, before relenting. "Fine. There's someone who I think could help us. It's up his alley as much if not more than mine."

Jade's face lit up and she did an excited little jump in her seat. "Yes! Thank you! You won't regret this!"

David sighed. "Yes, I'm sure."

They soon left, Jade dragging David away from the café. I hated to see her go, but I loved to watch her leave.

However, my attention kept being drawn back to that green piece of plastic. Once they were gone, I finished off the dregs of my mocha and walked over to their table before anyone else could sit down there. I crouched down and picked up the piece in my hands.

It wasn't plastic as I'd first thought, but some kind of green metal. It was weird, but I'd already pegged David as a retired superhero and Jade hadn't gone to any particular lengths to keep that fact a secret, so I assumed this was some kind of Tinker tech her daddy had salvaged a while back and they'd found more. There was something about the piece of scrap metal that drew in my eye, but I wasn't sure what.

I shrugged and put it in my pocket before tossing my cup in the trash and walking away.

Over the next few days I found myself keeping that strange metal shard with me. In order to make sure I didn't lose it due to its small size I kept it in a piece of plastic wrap tied closed with rubber bands. I wasn't sure why, but I always felt more certain with it around. It occurred to me that I was carrying around a piece of some sort of weird Tinker tech material, but I didn't really care about that. If Jade had been carrying it around in a plastic bag it couldn't have been that dangerous. If anything, the possibility that I might accidentally irradiate us in our home appealed to me in a vindictive sort of way.

Unfortunately, I couldn't always stay clear of Dear Old Dad when he was in his moods. One late afternoon I was in the kitchen fixing myself a snack. Cherie and Guillaume were sitting at the table playing cards with Nicholas. He was in the bathroom with his hand so Cherie didn't cheat, though of course Guillaume had accused him of using that as an excuse to cheat himself. And then father barged in through back door and stormed into the kitchen. We all stiffened as he glared about, before his gaze settled on me.

"Jean-Paul," he snapped, "it's time for a test." He spoke in French, after all we were Quebecois.

I swallowed, my hand going to the shard in my pocket.

"You've been remarkably stubborn, so we're going to try something different," he growled. I think he was offended by the fact that I hadn't triggered yet and I was around fourteen. Without records I wasn't sure of my age. Not that it was very important right then.

He stepped forward and hit me with crushing fear again, paralyzing me.

He looked at Cherie and Guillaume. "Bring him."

They both jumped to obey, afraid of our father just like I was.

Even with the absolute terror he was pushing at me, as my hand clenched around the shard, something changed. I didn't want to go with them, to get taken to another test. I lashed out with my free hand, striking Guillaume in the face before I'd even realized I'd done it.

It was so surprising that all of us stared in shock. Father was so surprised that the terror he'd put on me loosened its hold. In that moment acted on instinct, turning and dashing for the back door and shoving father out of the way. He was so surprised that he actually tripped and fell.

I sprinted faster than I'd ever gone before and reached the door in seconds.

But father recovered faster. "GET HIM!" he roared and fear that wasn't entirely his fault flooded my on hearing him.

I yanked open the door and bolted at a dead sprint away from the house. I knew I wouldn't get away with them so close. Father and Cherie would be able to track me. However, I was already running scared and fear of what they'd do to me for my test. Either way I wasn't going to let fear stop me.

Then I started to calm down. After all, what was he going to do to me that was so bad?

Oh, right, the test.

Why did I care about that again?

And then I realized what was happening. Cherie or father, or both, were hitting me with lethargy and apathy.

I tried to grit my teeth, but found it difficult to summon up the effort as I slowed to a walk. I knew intellectually that I really didn't want them to get their hands on me, but I couldn't get away.

Each step got progressively harder to will myself to take. But I kept going anyway.

Until Cherie walked in front of me on my left, smiling at me.

I started to look around, but then stopped. After all, I was just so giddy. What could go wrong?

I felt Guillaume roughly grab hold of my wrists. That wasn't nice, but I was still just happy to be alive. The weather was nice, if not for having to see Cherie the moment would have been perfect. I saw her lips curl into a frown at that.

"Get the chains," father ordered. I wasn't sure who he ordered, but Cherie didn't move from where she was standing in front of me aside from a glance behind me, and Guillaume didn't move either. Maybe Nicholas? It could have been someone else.

"Come," he commanded again, and Guillaume pulled me with him back towards the house, but he didn't need to. I was giddy with excitement already, eager to see what was in store.

I focused on how great it would feel to hit Guillaume, or Cherie or Dear Old Dad, but I felt any hostility quickly slip away.

They took me into the basement. It was carpeted except for the bare concrete of the corner room they took me too, but I didn't mind. They took me and wrapped chains around me, binding me to the floor. When they were done, Guillaume and Nicholas stepped back to either side of father.

He glared at me, angry enough to send a tinge of wariness through Cherie's emotion manipulation before she smoothed it away. "Stop," he said. Cherie stopped and suddenly the reality of the situation settled in. I was chained up for a test and father was pissed. I'd knocked him to the ground, and now he was going to test me.

I offered a smile. "Hey, Dad."

"Get the pipes."

I swallowed. "Shit."

"I am not happy with you, Jean-Paul." He informed me with a dangerous tone of voice. It promised suffering, which was worse than usual with these tests.

I opened my mouth to say something when he hit me with paralyzing terror again.

He glanced at the doorway as Guillaume and Nicholas came back, each with a hockey stick and a copper pipe respectively. Father gestured at me and they stepped forward, pulling back their weapons to swing.

"Wait," Cherie said, and suddenly I felt hope stir in my chest.

Father turned to face her silently, letting the terror he was sending me subside to a more natural level.

"He's got some lucky charm or souvenir he's been carrying around for the past few days in his pocket," she helpfully informed him, even pointing out my pocket.

"Take it out."

She nodded, looking submissively at the floor, before crouching over me and pulling the metal shard out of my pocket. I glared at her, and she gave me a vicious smirk. I spit at her and she shrieked in anger, kicking me and hitting me with another dose of terror. She stood up and unwrapped it, wiping her face off with the plastic wrapping before tossing the spit covered plastic on top of me.

She looked at father questioningly as she held it up. "May I?"

He nodded.

Cherie kicked me again and looked to Guillaume and Nicholas. "Let's see if we can make him a Brute. Hold his mouth open." After a short pause, she added, "Please."

The two shot her annoyed glares but set their weapons down in order to force my mouth open.

The crushing fear was too intense to do anything. I think father didn't want a repeat, even if Cherie probably wouldn't have minded me biting one of them. They forced my mouth open and Cherie crouched and dropped the green metallic shard in my mouth. "Make sure to swallow, Jean-Paul," she cheerfully informed me as Nicholas forced my mouth shut.

Cherie stepped back and Guillaume moved away.

My eyes locked with father, and before I knew it I was being hit with the hockey stick. At some point Cherie joined in with the copper pipe. I writhed around as the shard cut into my mouth with its edges.

Each hit was vicious and I could see the sadistic satisfaction Cherie got out of it as she smirked at me mockingly. I felt trapped. In my terror I knew they were going to kill me this time. Father was too mad to stop them, not in time anyway.

I couldn't do anything. I needed to –

– escape!

I thrashed, trying to break free as father and Cherie staggered. I suddenly felt alive, stronger, full of energy. I didn't expect much but I had to try something.

And with a screeching of metal and a flash of viridian that something worked as the chains holding me snapped apart.

I sat up, shoving Nicholas and Guillaume to the side as I glared at father.

He hit me with absolute, blinding terror. I couldn't move, couldn't think as he watched me, a scowl tugging at his lips. But that wasn't what drew my attention, my fear. I could feel something building up inside me, screaming for release. I could see green creeping into the edges of my vision.

The terror suddenly left me, being pushed down into contentment by them, but I wouldn't let them do this to me. I'd just snapped his chains. I'd just tossed two of my brothers away from me like rag dolls. Like hell I'd let him make me his pawn.

"Fuck you old man, and fuck you Cherie," I snarled before pushing and pulling at the energy screaming for release, tossing my newfound powers in their faces.

And then everything went green.