Reply to HellKing666: I think won't answer about Jean-Paul's biology here, but Dave/David is David Nelson aka Doctor Fate, a combination of Worm's Eidolon and DC's Dr. Fate. As for the fragment of the Green Lantern Ring, it might be bright green but its still pretty small.

Reply to Xbox432: Yes it was worse, but in the long term it might end up better for Victoria. As for Jean-Paul, the protagonist of By Star's Fire and a character from Worm, it was a Worm style Trigger aka an incredibly traumatic event that leads to super powers. That's all I'll say here.

Batgirl Beyond #4

Cover: Exercise equipment of various kinds fills a large room with a grey carpet and white and black walls, many of these look ordinary, if high tech, while others are well outside the norm such as a large solid metal cylinder mounted five feet over a metal platform. Walking through the large room are two men and a teenaged girl. One man has white hair and his using a cane while wearing a black suit with a grey shirt and black shoes. He is gesturing in the direction of one of the machines. The other man has a grey suit matching his grey hair and is also facing the machine, his face is not visible. The girl has long curly dark brown hair and has her hands clasped behind her back around a throwing bat. The carpet of the room is mostly neutral grey. However there is a large area that is dark grey, it is shaped like a bat with its wings spread wide.

+JLL+

When I reached Dick and Bruce, they had already stepped out of their booth. As soon as I stepped off of the last of the Danger Room's tiles and onto the grey carpet, I heard the last tile settle back into place in the floor.

Dick was smiling encouragingly and Bruce watched me with both hands on his cane.

"So," I said, taking the initiative, "what kind of training program do you think I need?"

"You should come here every day and do one of the simple courses," Dick said. "Also, there'll be self-defense courses available for employees and interns. Take them, at least at first."

"That's a good start," Bruce agreed, "but I'll also be instructing you on occasion. Martial arts schools don't necessarily teach you how to fight the kind of battles you'll be involved, but there is a gym I know that's good for training how to fight."

"Sounds good to me," I said with a nod.

"Then let's take you on a tour of the gym," Dick suggested. "That way you can get acquainted with the machines and weights while we're here." He started walking towards the side room with the Justice League grade workout equipment. Well, aside from the Danger Room anyway.

"Alright, what's first?" I asked.

"Well," Dick said as he started, "I imagine you can see that giant machine through the doorway. That's for brutes. I don't recommend you use it since most of its settings are going to be out of your range."

"Once you're ready for the suit, you could use it," Bruce told me. "However, there isn't much point as the majority of your training with it will be to make use of it without applying extreme force. If you're not careful with enhanced strength, you could easily kill someone."

"Especially in bed," Dick agreed. When Bruce glared at him and I stopped walking, mortified, he hastily added, "but you shouldn't attack people in bed. It's inefficient. Much better to ambush them with a sedative while they're asleep."

I started walking again, the two of them in front of me with Bruce still glaring. "Right…"

Bruce broke off his glare to glance at me before continuing to the exercise equipment. "Since we're on that topic, be careful to avoid getting grabbed by Brutes. Even when you get your suit you will still be vulnerable to their strength."

I nodded and said, "Makes sense."

"And another tangentially related topic," Dick said, "because I know Bruce would want me to bring it up." Bruce resumed his warning glare, but Dick continued anyway. "You should avoid dating supers, especially Brutes and flying bricks. It's been what, about forty years now? And Bruce still hasn't given up on making evident his quiet disapproval of Kory's 'irresponsibility' due to her super powers. And that's without getting into the grief he's given Cass. Not to mention – well, he probably deserves at least some of it."

Bruce grunted in annoyance.

"Okay, most of it," Dick amicably agreed.

"Right, no dating super heroes," I loudly confirmed, embarrassed by this turn of conversation and just wanting to finish it as fast as possible, "Er, with powers anyways."

Dick held up a finger and nimbly dodged when Bruce jabbed his cane at Dick's feet. "But remember, super villains, especially if they're hot, are okay to romance. Turning villains good – or at least neutral – through the power of love is a tried and true tactic after all."

"Um," I added. Then I realized what he was referring too. Batman was the legendary super hero of the city after all. "Wait, you mean Catwoman, don't you?" I gasped as my mind clicked. "Did you really marry her or did you break up or something? Was she…" I took a moment to think hard about the people that I knew were close to Bruce Wayne. I didn't pay much attention to that sort of thing so only a few names came to mind, and only one of them was a woman. "…Barbara Gordon?"

Dick started laughing uncontrollably and even clutched his stomach, doubling over.

Bruce gave him an unamused look, but for a moment I saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. He then rapped Dick on the head with his cane. "Behave yourself."

Dick straightened, rubbing his head with an unrepentant grin still on his face.

"I guessed wrong, didn't I?" I asked, somewhat needlessly.

"Yeah, want to try again?" Dick asked as he too casually took a step out of easy reach of Bruce and his cane.

I glanced at Bruce's face. He seemed stern and annoyed, but at the same time I saw an amused twinkle in his eye. I grinned and scrunched my face up in thought. "Well, I don't really remember anyone else to guess unless Lucius Fox used to be a woman. He used to be the head of WayneCorp's Advanced Technology division for reproducing Tinker tech. He was probably a Tinker himself. I don't remember if Catwoman ever used anything that was Tinker made, and it was a long shot anyway." By this point both Dick and Bruce were chuckling.

"Can you imagine Lucius in that purple cat suit?" Dick asked with laughter in his voice. He mimicked a feminine seductive pose with his weight on one leg and the other bent slightly with his hip tilted and thrust out to the side while he leaned forwards slightly with his left hand on his hip. He then reached out with one hand clawed, which he closed while saying, "Meow," in an imitation of a deep male voice.

Bruce shook his head before remarking with a dry tone, "Scarecrow conjured up worse nightmares, but not by much."

I burst out laughing and they chuckled too. "Did she really do that?" I asked a minute later once I had my laughter under control.

"Sound like an old black man?" Dick asked. "I don't ever remember that, but if Bruce asked her to…"

"No," Bruce definitively stated, "she did not."

"She did do the pose though," Dick supplied.

"Until that time Tim threw a bucket of cold water on her from behind and then called her a 'bad kitty,'" Bruce added. "I don't think she ever forgave him for that."

Dick laughed and looked at me. "I remember hearing about that, he was supposed to ambush her, but saw this bucket that had been sitting out in the docks for a few days and couldn't resist. Kept up that sort of thing even after she gave up the villain game."

"He enjoyed getting a rise out of her." Bruce shook his head and started walking towards the equipment again, gesturing for us to follow.

Dick nodded, a nostalgic smile on his face for moment before he followed as well.

I walked behind them in silence for several seconds. They were probably thinking about Catwoman. I got the impression that something happened to her, though I wasn't sure what.

Then another name I vaguely remembered being mentioned on the news at the same time as Bruce came to mind. It was another long shot, but since the other was apparently so funny I decided to go with it anyway. Maybe it would break them out of thinking about people they'd lost. I know I would appreciate that. "Um, how about… Diana Costa-Brown?" I remember that name being mentioned with him once, and it sounded familiar for some reason.

Dick snorted as Bruce paused mid-stride.

"Well, I do remember her dressing up a few times…" Dick said significantly.

Bruce shook his head and kept going. It was clear he had decided to simply ignore Dick's commentary that time. "I suppose now would be a good time tell you that attempting to guess a hero's or a vigilante's secret identity is considered rude," he told me.

Dick coughed, covering his mouth with a fist and said "Hypocrite."

Bruce glanced back from the front of our group as he reached the doorway into the room with the exercise equipment. "I never said that I disapproved, just that it's considered rude."

"True," Dick acknowledged as he passed into the next room as well.

I reached to doorway and paused to look around. I wasn't an expert in weight machines and the like, but I could tell that there was a large variety of machines, at least a few dozen. Each one was different, and it looked like each machine did something different. Several clearly looked like they were for leg muscles even if I wasn't exactly sure how they worked while one was a straight-backed seat with square pads on arms to either side of it. The arms were then attached to weights behind the seat.

Bruce turned to me and saw the machine I was looking at. He pointed his cane at it and said, "That's a butterfly machine. It's for exercising one's pectorals. It's not particularly special aside from the above average durability and higher number of weights. A lot of this equipment is similar to what a normal gym would have, but designed for being super powered individuals with a variety of abilities. Sometimes custom equipment has to be designed if a local League member has powers which would interfere with using the standard equipment, yet they still want to exercise."

I nodded. "That's copacetic."

"Oh god another," Dick said with mock horror. At our looks, he held up his hands. "Uh, nothing."

Bruce shook his head and continued the tour. He pointed out the more specialized machines, but didn't spend much time explaining them aside from the basics as they had instructions already printed. Once we were done with that he came back to the weapons and gear section in front of the Danger Room and explained that this was where all of the newly developed equipment was sent for field testing. This included some of the gear that I might end up using when I was ready for my costume.

"I think you'll be doing most of your equipment training at the local League's Danger Room though," Dick commented at one point. "After all, it will be easier to safely explain to them why some kid's showing up to play with bat themed gear while Batgirl runs around the city at night. Oh, that reminds me,"he said, turning to Bruce, "are you going to have her patrol regularly?"

"It will be good experience for her," he replied.

"I suppose it's important for a rookie to experience, but our biggest advantage was taking the time to strike a specific targets," Dick replied. "The night long stakeouts are just as important, if not more."

Bruce nodded in assent and looked at me. "Patience is an important part of our methods."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful and patient," I assured him.

"Never say don't worry to him," Dick told me, "he's always preparing for the worst anyway. He's almost as paranoid as the Question."

Bruce looked at him questioningly, "By the way, have you seen him recently?"

Dick shook his head. "The last I heard, he, Huntress and the rest of their merry band were going off the grid to hunt down something or other. Something about what happened sixteen years ago?"

Bruce frowned. "Many things happened sixteen years ago."

"Yeah, there was their little raid on the Assassins, that army of undead knights in France, and what went down in Russia," Dick agreed, "plus a bunch of other stuff too if we're including Constantine and the rest."

I frowned at the familiar names. Question was the renowned conspiracy theorist hero who was easily one of the more controversial heroes simply because of his beliefs. Apparently even with how lax the mods normally were on PHO, the largest forum on parahumans and the super powered in general, he had still been suspended for starting heated arguments due to his insistence on the existence of vast conspiracies. He and the somewhat worrying number of people who believed him all claimed this was a sign of 'Their' attempts to suppress the truth.

I wasn't familiar with Constantine, but I recognized the name from somewhere. I'd have to look him up later. Or ask now. Whichever works, I supposed.

"Constantine?" I asked.

Dick looked back at me and explained, "He's an investigator on the supernatural side of things. For the past decade or so he's been working with the Question and some others as the group that deals with the really weird stuff. They have a habit of vanishing off the face of the Earth from time to time or getting involved in inexplicable happenstance."

"They are a small group that calls themselves the Justice League Dark," Bruce clarified. "The Question and John Constantine became involved in stopping a magical conspiracy in the Scottish highlands. After taking it down they decided to form a team specializing in hunting down villains that the Justice League doesn't normally find out about until after they become a major problem."

"There've been more than a few conspiracies to summon something or use some sort of obviously evil artifact here in Gotham alone," Dick added. "We've been able to stop most of them from getting out of hand, but it doesn't always work out, and we're the guys that specialize in gathering intel and being prepared. Other cities have had worse problems with that sort of thing, like the time a cabal of vampires summoned some fish-people monsters and wrecked the French Quarter in New Orleans."

I vaguely remembered that from a documentary of the religious Bible Belt hero team Haven, and then another piece of information clicked into place in my mind. "Wasn't that the one led by a disco robot claiming to be Dracula?" I asked.

Dick shrugged. "Pretty much every vampire story I've heard of involves someone claiming to be Dracula, but yeah, that one stood out for me."

"Despite how that sounds, don't underestimate vampires," Bruce warned. "Even if they all insist that they are each the real Dracula, they can pose a serious problem unless they are tracked down and stopped quickly."

"True, and I think Question suggested once that Dracula is in fact a vampire hive mind, so be on the watch for that," Dick agreed.

"Oh-kay," I said.

"The biggest advantage is that the book actually covers their weaknesses and they're almost all insufferably arrogant so they have a hard time working together when one of them isn't clearly superior to the others in terms of power," Dick continued. "That and they're rare."

"Yes, the last time there was an outbreak of vampirism was in Ethiopia back in 2003," Bruce informed me. "The Justice League's been working with Toybox, the CDC and the WHO to track and contain the spread of vampirism while developing cures. Star Labs was the first one to develop a cure that could work in the early stages of the disease, but as of yet the later ones are difficult to reverse without magic."

"That's good," I said.

"Yes, now let's set up your WayneCorp account," Bruce said, leading us to the consoles that controlled the course. There he helped me set up my account, which the WayneCorp IT staff had already created. Apparently I would get my on the job training later, so they simply helped me find the basics for how to use the Danger Room and check the calendar. Bruce told me that he would have my training regimen posted by the time I got out of school tomorrow.

After that I showered to get off the dried sweat while Dick and Bruce remained in the Danger Room to discuss matters. Once I was done I changed back into my old clothes and went to meet them.

"So, how was your first day?" Dick asked as we started walking back through the locker room.

I shrugged. "The course was harder than I expected, but I think I did well enough. I'm looking forward to the rest."

Dick chuckled. "That's good, because Bruce here can be a bit sadistic in his training regimens."

"You need to be prepared," Bruce explained.

"Yeah, but I don't imagine being a super hero without powers would be easy, so I'm okay with that," I replied.

"Good," Bruce said.

"Just hold onto that thought in the future," Dick replied, "and remember that however bad your training gets, it can always be worse."

"There's no point to training if it isn't hard," Bruce commented.

"True enough," Dick agreed. "Oh, and see if you can find Shadow Stalker at some point since I'll be heading to Bludhaven tomorrow before a trip to Quebec. I've looked at Bruce's file on her and she's basically Huntress with shadow powers and without the skimpy costume and maturity, so she'd make a good sidekick."

"She's shot people in the hands and feet, which can lead to permanent damage and unless she's careful her crossbows could cause mortal injuries," Bruce countered.

"Yes, and we've never done that," Dick replied with wry sarcasm. "She's just a kid and you're annoyed that she's stealing your gimmick of being dark and edgy." He turned to be once we reached the exit and the bulkhead started opening. "It'll be hard and I don't expect you to do it until you actually know how to fight, but when you start going out on patrols at night you should see if you can find her." He leaned back and hummed. "Maybe if we got Huntress to public come to Gotham we'd get her to show up. She's got to be a fan."

"You said we haven't heard from Huntress, so we'll have to resort to finding Shadow Stalker ourselves unless she decides to come in on her own," I said.

I saw Bruce watching me speculatively. Was he waiting for something?

"Um, we could make an announcement and ask her to come forward?" I suggested. "Maybe say she can work with the new Batgirl?"

"Well, you're not Batgirl yet and we want to avoid associating your civilian identity with the newly recruited super hero," Dick argued as he started walking down the hallway. "Even if the police are keeping your name confidential, it's better to limit the possible association between the girl that helped Batman and Batgirl."

I frowned. "Well, they can't keep it completely secret since it's already in the news."

"Misdirection can be just as important as absolute secrecy," Bruce explained. "Some might draw that conclusion, but there won't be any significant evidence to support it."

"Unless you're the Question, anyway," Dick commented.

"Well, how about we say that one of the female members of the Bat Family is in town and looking to meet her," I suggested. "Um, that is what you call it right? Bat Family? Because I heard someone call it Bat Incorporated on PHO, well, I read it called that on PHO anyway. We could word it vaguely and post it on their connections forum, or just have Batman post a message asking to meet her." I looked at Dick. "Or Nightwing could do it, and say he'd like to meet tonight."

"I leave in the morning though, and in my old age I need my beauty sleep," Dick replied.

My look turned to one of disbelief. "Beauty sleep?" I was at a loss as to what to say to that. I knew he wasn't being serious but I couldn't come up with an immediate retort.

"I'm afraid it's a lost cause," Bruce remarked as he pressed a wall panel and the hidden elevator doors opened.

"Ouch," Dick said, clutching his hands over his heart and leaning against the wall of the corridor beside the elevator. "You sadistic old man."

Bruce ignored his theatrics and stepped into the elevator. I followed him in, stepping around Dick.

When he saw we weren't paying attention, Dick muttered and straightened as Bruce pushed the lobby button and then the close door button on the elevator's panel.

"Hey!" Dick called out as he stuck his hand in front of the closing elevator's door. "I'll do it. In fact," he said, pulling out a smart phone, "I'll post it right now."

He quickly set to work typing away on the phone while the elevator doors shut. When I heard a hum coming from the elevator's walls I was worried, especially since I didn't feel any movement. However, Bruce looked at me and explained, "This is a special elevator maintained by our Advanced Technology division's Tinker tech. It features inertial dampeners to make the ride smoother."

"Okay," I said. "That's cool."

"Yep," Dick agreed absentmindedly.

A moment later we reached the ground floor and Dick held his finger on the close door button. "Okay, so I've just posted this request in the connections forum for Gotham: 'Hello Shadow Stalker, I am Nightwing and I am currently in town for the time being dealing with something beyond my dear partner in crime fighting, Robin – I mean Armsmaster. I'll be in costume at Cathedral Square at 11pm to midnight tonight and I'd like to meet you since you are a new hero in my old hometown. Sincerely, Nightwing.'"

Bruce gave him a disapproving look, but he merely smiled and stepped away from the elevator's buttons.

"You're not actually going to post that are you?" I asked.

"I'm not going to post it, because I already have," Dick replied as the elevator doors opened onto an empty corridor behind the security office. "And if you're worried about Armsmaster's feelings, don't be. After all, it's the responsibility of older members of families to relentlessly tease the younger. As the newest member of our little Family, the position of acceptable target now falls to you. Like I said, I'm sure the rest of us will be showing up to make things interesting for you." He held out his hand to me. "Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you Taylor, but we both have to be off. Good luck."

"Thank you," I said, taking his hand and shaking it.

Dick nodded to Bruce and walked away with a wave.

Bruce stepped out of the elevator after him and I followed as well. "I trust you'll be able to get home safe?"

"Yes, I replied with a nod. "I'll go call my dad at the front desk for a pickup."

He nodded. "Good, remember your schedule." He took out a smart phone from his pocket and handed it to me. On the back it had the WayneCorp logo. "As my personal assistant, you'll need a way to stay in touch. With this you'll be able to remotely log onto our servers, so be sure to keep this safe and use a secure password."

I looked down at the phone in my hands. It was surprisingly thin and light, despite being wide-screened. My mother had died because of using a cell phone, and I knew my dad would be uncomfortable with my having one… but if something happened I might need to be able to reach Bruce Wayne, or he might need to reach me. I was going to become a super hero after all.

Dick, Nightwing, had just said I was a member of their 'family,' so maybe I already counted as a hero, and heroes weren't afraid of cell phones. I clenched the cell phone in my hand and nodded with determination to Bruce, before putting it away in my pocket next to my wallet so that my dad hopefully wouldn't notice.

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant now."

"Oh, um, right," I stammered as I took the phone back out and turned it on, hoping my embarrassment wasn't too obvious.

"Call your father and set the phone up," Bruce ordered. "And try to get in forty minutes of cardiovascular exercise like running. You need to get started on your physical training immediately."

"Yes, sir," I replied as I tried to make sense of how to work the phone's interface.

"And go to the security station. The head of security, Sirius Wright, can help you set it up after you've made the call."

"Right!" I said, straightened my back and nodded sharply. "See you tomorrow!"

"Good bye," he replied evenly before returning to the elevator.

I returned to the security office and with Sirius's help I was able to set up the phone quicker than I expected, and he even showed me how to fold the phone into its compact carrying form, which apparently was one of their newest models based on Tinker tech. Once that was done, I put my new phone in my pocket and went to the front desk. I didn't want to call him using my new cell phone. In fact, I wanted to keep it a secret from my dad since he would be uncomfortable with it. I wasn't going to lie to him, just not mention it.

After the receptionist saw my badge, he let me use their phone and five rings in Dad picked up the other end.

"Hey, Dad," I said. "I'm ready to get picked up."

"I'll be right over then," he replied. "How was it?"

I smiled into the phone. "Good, very good. I think I'm going to like working here."

+JLL+

Aquarium Special Issue

Cover: A bloody corpse lies tied to a chair with a steak knife lodged in its eye. Blood drips across its scaly skin and prison uniform. The corpse is seated in front of a table, and three men similarly dressed in prison uniforms are seated at the other four sides of the table, each with a plate of steak, mashed potatoes and broccoli in front of him along with glasses of wine. Directly across from the corpse is a dark skinned man with greying close-cropped hair and a handlebar mustache. This man is sitting straight and is holding a steak knife in one hand and a fork in the other. To the left of the corpse sits a pale skinned man was long hair that extends past the shoulder and a short, well-groomed beard that is a mix of dark brown and grey. He is leaning forward slightly as his own steak knife is in his steak and he is pointing to the man to the right of the corpse while the man on the left's mouth is open slightly to talk. The man on the corpse's right is leaning back in his chair smirking while swirling his wine glass in his right hand. A fork is visible beside his plate but a knife is not. Small red lightning sparks trail between a spot beside the corpse and the man to its right. Behind them all are a variety of other people in prison uniforms, all standing at attention along the bare metallic walls.

+JLL+

He sat in the metal frame chair watching the news on the block's television, his trimmed black mustache and hair flecked with grey. This was his block, for all that that had any meaning. He repressed a sigh. This was not a world, a universe, that rewarded the soft, and so he had been hard, ruthless. Yet he had still ended up here. He looked down at the meal before him. It was a disappointingly cheap steak alongside equally low quality mashed potatoes and boiled broccoli with a side of cheap wine to help it go down.

"Something wrong?" his companion across the table and to his right asked. He wore the same uniform, if with the leaves rolled back. Unlike the first man, his companion also had long, dark, hair that extended past his shoulder and a close trimmed beard, both streaked with grey, in addition to his lighter skin tone.

"We are here, are we not?" the first man replied.

"True, but weren't you the one to say that it was our failures that showed who we were?" his companion asked.

"I believe that's what you said when you killed Murderbeam," his second companion agreed from the man's left. He was the slimmest of them, even taking into account the first companion's effeminate appearance. Also unlike the others, he kept his face completely clean shaven. "I found it insightful, though I do agree that this all does get tedious from time to time."

"That's understandable," the first companion mused, "you are a speedster after all. Our situation is disagreeable with us all. Not being able to run free must grate."

The third man leaned back in his chair and sighed. "That it does, but I think I've managed to find ways to enjoy myself." He tilted his head in the same direction as the television.

All three were sitting at a table such that they could all look in the direction of the television while they ate and talked. Normally they would have sat around a circular table forming an equidistance triangle, but this was a special occasion, hence them breaking out their limited supplies of wine.

"I admit, I did initially not peg you as the type," the second man confessed to the third.

"Really?" the first man asked. "After everything he did in pursuit of his grudge with the Flash?"

"From everything I've seen, he was very practical in pursuit of his vendetta," the second man explained before taking a sip of his wine.

"I don't like him, but I'm no fool," the third man agreed as he idly picked up his knife and spun it through his fingers with increasing speed. "Unfortunately his friends were too much for me to handle. I'm not ashamed to admit it."

"It is a rare man who can seriously oppose Superman, Wonder Woman or the Manhunter, let alone all three at the same time," the first man agreed. "That's why I put so much effort into distracting them when I made my move against the Atlantean. If my son hadn't betrayed me for the heroes I would have won."

The second man nodded. "We do our best for our children, but ultimately it is their choice whether to follow in our footsteps."

The first man nodded in agreement as he speared a piece of steak with his fork and began to cut himself another mouthful. "I wanted him to be strong. I suppose standing up to me took its own strength for all that I detest his choice."

"Look on the bright side," the third man said, "if your children had followed your footsteps, they would probably be here with us now." His knife was now being twirled by his fingers fast enough for the rush of rapidly displaced air to be audible to his two comfortably seated companions for dinner.

The second man scooped up some mashed potatoes and ate them in contemplative silence while the first man chewed on his slice of steak.

The third man shrugged and grabbed the blurring knife by the handle, stopping its motion with a snap before he too set to slicing his steak. "I never had children but while I'm sure you miss them dearly, at the same time I can't help thinking that no matter how little you think of their life choices, their continued freedom is far more preferable to having the chance to see them regularly."

The second man swallowed and nodded in assent. "True, though I wish I had the chance to speak with my daughter again, I do not wish to see her end up here."

"I would prefer to see him as well, but outside of this prison," the first man agreed as soon as he could politely speak again.

The third man inserted his mouthful of steak and chewed it in a blur while setting down his knife and fork. He then picked up his own cup of wine and swirled it experimentally.

"All of us would prefer to be out of here," the second man said while gesturing at the bodyguards that stood silently at the edges of the room.

"Especially our friend there, I wager," the third man said, nodding in the direction of the television, which was now displaying a panel discussing the ramifications of Batman's abrupt return from retirement. Upon hearing muffled sounds he smiled meaninglessly and waved the fingers of his left hand in the direction of the television. "Hello, yes, we're including you in this conversation even though you aren't much of a talker right now."

The second man lightly dabbed his mouth with his napkin and said, "I don't do displays like this, typically."

"Oh, so then how did you punish failures back in the day?" the first man asked. "I recall you were quite feared in Gotham, that the crime families had to pay you their due."

The third man scoffed. "Intimidating normals into complying isn't hard when you have powers, especially ones as dangerous as ours. Captain Cold was able to stand off against a coalition of the local unpowered gangs back in the day, and he's second rate at best. Not to mention the Joker."

"Please don't while I'm eating," the second man said. "And as for your question," he continued while looking at the first man, "I did not punish through grand displays. If a servant failed me, I killed them. Whatever it was, they never did it again."

"If you don't mind my asking," the third man said before continuing without waiting for a reply, "how did you ever get any loyalty whatsoever?"

"Excuse me?" the second man asked in surprise.

The third man flickered a hand in the first man's direction. "If you kill anyone who fails you, then even if you hide the body people will find out that he disappeared and start to think the worst has happened which would have been absolutely true. They will become afraid of failing you, but also afraid of working for such an unforgiving boss. Black Manta at least understands the value of forgiving mistakes and failures."

"Are you really one to talk?" the first man asked with an eyebrow raised.

The third man shrugged. "I always used proxies or allies when I needed minions. I preferred working alone. Few can keep up with me."

The first man let out a soft chuckle. "Really?"

The third man shrugged as he lounged back in his chair, once again twirling his knife. "Yes, what's the problem? Not up to speed?"

The second man held up a hand. "Before you try to show how quick-witted you are and make another pun, let's return to our previous topic. I did not intentionally seek out to cause fear. Instead I merely thought that it was a simple way to solve problems."

"Maybe that's why they were able to dismantle your operations," the first man suggested, "people who were captured or who knew that they had failed in your eyes would have no incentive to remain loyal when they knew disappearance and a shallow grave awaited them upon their return to your side. Turning on you or running away were their best options, even if you could win most of the battles you fought. I worked to foster loyalty among my men, and it worked out for me. It's not often that a Tinker, even if he has secondary powers, is able to lead his own group and make it a serious concern."

"True," the third man agreed, "I remember hearing about your exploits from the news and through the Society. Quite impressive for a man who styled himself Aquaman's nemesis."

"Styled?" the first man asked, incredulous annoyance clear in his voice, "I was his nemesis. There was no one else who came as close as me to destroying him and his legacy, conquering Atlantis. I was the one who struggled against him the most, who achieved the most victories against him. No one else."

The third man hummed. "I suppose so. I guess that means that two out of three of us are nemeses of major villains." He looked at the second man. "You were notorious in Gotham, but out of everyone the Bat's faced you don't really rate as a nemesis. Especially since it wasn't him that took you out."

The second man frowned. "Why does being a 'nemesis' matter? I ruled most of Gotham when I was free, the Joker can't claim that."

"I remember him holding the city hostage a few times," the first man commented.

"Really?" the second man asked in surprise. "I wasn't aware of that."

"No, no, you just ask after your daughter," the third man replied.

The second man scowled.

"Speaking of, I happen to know something that might interest you," the third man said with a knowing smirk.

The second man narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

The third man started juggling his spinning knife. "Dibs. And a favor, in the future when we get out."

The first man scoffed. "Get out? This is the Birdcage, the most secure prison on or near the Earth. How do you expect to get out?"

The third man chuckled darkly as he leaned forwards, catching his knife and resting his elbows on the table to either side of his plate. "You'll know it when it happens. So, like I said, a favor when we get out." He looked around the room significantly. "And we all will get out, or at least, those of us alive when it happens."

"I think I'd like more information on how you expect us to get out of here," the second man said. He looked up at the ceiling. "Unless our warden could be a problem."

"If you try to break out, this whole place could blow up, and they'd make sure we wouldn't survive that," the first man added, and threatening undercurrent to his voice as he leaned in too.

"I suppose I should clarify," the third man said, "we'll be let out. Call it a premonition, but we'll get out and when we do I want you to help me destroy the Flash, no matter what."

"No matter what?" the first man asked incredulously. "Even if this premonition is accurate, there's no way that they would let us out for anything less than the end of the world, and even then they have Superman and the Martian Manhunter. What could possibly be worth letting us out?"

The third man frowned. "There are plenty of precognitive Thinkers of the parahuman, magical or metahuman variety. I have it from a very reliable source. But you're probably right that it'd be serious." He locked eyes with the second man. "However serious it is, I imagine you'll want to see your daughter. I can help with that, maybe tell you more."

"Why are you making this offer now?" the second man asked, half-standing up from his chair. "And if you know how much this means to me, then you know that I might consider less polite methods of getting answers." The ever-present tension rose to palpable levels.

The third man held up his hands. "I was bored and I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Just look at Jay's wife. Oh, wait. She's dead. Like his daughter."

The second man narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands.

"Do you really want to antagonize him? Me?" the first man asked, right hand holding his own knife in a firm grip as the bodyguards around the walls subtly prepared themselves for a fight.

The third man sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm getting claustrophobic, and knowing that I'll get out isn't making it easier, just the opposite. Promise me help in making the Flash suffer and give me someone else to take out my boredom on, and I'll play nice."

"Fine, if they're desperate enough to let us out, then they won't miss one old man," the first man said, hoping to defuse the situation. He didn't actually believe that they would get out, but he would rather let his dinner companion self-destruct in his own block than in here.

A sinister smile of anticipation spread across the third man's face. "Excellent. You too, Marquis?"

The second man continued to level a glare at the third man for another second before sitting back down. "Very well, so what is this news of my daughter?"

The third man leaned back with a triumphant smirk. "One of my new inmates heard several years ago that a young woman by the name of Amelia Lavere just got married. He tried to crash the wedding before being sent here, but Red Robin stopped him."

The second man, called Marquis, frowned. "Which of your people did this?"

The third man shook his right index finger at Marquis. "That will cost you extra. I like having people in my cell block. Also, I have a feeling our wonderful warden won't be as inclined to send people my way if I just hand them over to be killed."

"They only send you people when all the other options are worse," the first man replied.

"Isn't that true for all of us?" the third man replied.

"Some more than others."

The third man shrugged. "Perhaps. I believe we have more pressing matters however. May I?" He balanced the knife so that its edge was between his fingers and the hilt was pointed towards the ceiling.

"Be my guest," the first man replied.

The third man flipped the knife back so that he was holding its hilt and then threw it, vanishing from his chair to reappear before the fourth person at the table before the knife had traveled a foot. The third man brutally tore the gag out of the fourth person's mouth and jerked the person's head into the path of the knife, which sank into his eye. "Heh." The third man then shoved the now dead body so that it tipped over in its chair to fall to the floor. Before it hit he was back in his chair holding his cup of wine. "Brief, but satisfying." He sighed. "Do you think that sent the right message?"

"Making it longer would have just been a waste of time," Marquis replied before he too sipped his wine.

"I personally dislike eating to the sound of screams," the first man added. "If anyone else causes us a problem in here, we can just kill them."

"My philosophy was that people don't cause problems if they're dead," Marquis agreed. "It served me well."

"I don't find that to always be true," the third man said, "but it does work a surprising amount of the time, doesn't it?" He smirked while using his remaining mashed potatoes to sketch the shape of what looked to Marquis like a design with two parallel lines going from the bottom of his plate to touch either side of a circle. From that point of contact with the circle, the lines then continued straight up parallel for a short distance before moving diagonally away from each other about an inch before returning to being parallel with each other until the lines reach the other edge of the plate. Meanwhile the first man noticed a faint flicker of red in the third man's eyes as the other man played with his food. "For everything else, there's always the simple expedience of gratuitous violence."