"Oh, that's a nice one, Sharon."
"I was glad I was able to get him at great clarity too."
Sharon Parker made no hesitation to share one of the saved pictures on her Kodak camera. After all, it wasn't like she had expected to get an glimpse of Hawkman flying through the sky when she went out to take pictures of the night sky over at Grinder's Bluff.
"Maybe you'd be lucky and see him up close," Jared tells her as he returns to the booth next to her.
"An girl can wish," she sighs as she gazes at the back of her camera. Of course, she won't say that she had actually met Hawkman in person. Well, not as herself at least. Not that she could say that.
Sharon could still remember the way Katar's brown eyes gazed at her with such an intensity. Just thinking about it made the blood reach her cheeks now as it did then.
She shakes her head as she sets down her camera. Oh, please. She had a boyfriend. Why is her mind wandering to some guy she barely kno-
Sharon's thoughts are interrupted when she feels the talisman around her neck burn. Sharon rolls her eyes as she grumbles under her breath.
"Freaking raven god," she mutters to herself, removing it from her neck and tossing it across her desk. She thought she made it perfectly clear to the All-Father that she was not there at his beck and call. That she wouldn't leave Midway unless they needed her.
Frigg, Thor, Brunnhilde, and Sif understood that, why couldn't he?
Shayera must have spent two hours scooping Midway from above and by that time, her wings were aching for from relief from the cold. She grumbled to herself as she landed in front of what appeared to be some sort of pub.
If they knew they'd land in this part of the planet, they would have brought thermal casings for their wings. She had a pair of them in that one outpost she was stationed at. She could really use them.
Shayera blows on her hands and rubs them as she passes through the glass doors of the bar. Welcoming the hot warm air as it meets her skin. Lifting her head up to see that there were only three people not counting the bartender wiping the glass behind the counter.
Of course, it would be dead at late morning. It seemed that humans were like Thanagarians when it comes to getting their drinks late at night.
"Sorry, but the Christmas pageant was days ago, girlie," remarks the bartender. It was then that she saw two of the three patrons gawking at her. Of course, they were bound to stare. It wasn't like they had wings naturally affixed to their backs.
"Just give me a drink," she says. Not caring to see who was coming in as she sat on one of the red cushioned stools. "I'm not particularly picky."
"What you're making, make it two." Shayera sees Andar taking the stool next to her. "I saw you walking in here half an minute ago."
"Wanted an drink too, Corporal?" she asked.
"With this environment I'm in?" Andar snorts. "I need a drink."
They are presented with two glasses of an amber liquid. Shayera picks one up and tips it to her lips. Though it wasn't bad, she could barely taste the alcohol. Looking at Andar, she sees him glancing at his glass after he took his sip. "What we brew would probably put these humans in a coma if their beer is this weak."
When they were done, he pays the bar man ("I hate this physical currency," he mutters as he gives him four of those green slips).
"Oh, one thing, Katar." She hands Andar the paper that Rita had given her. "Someone by the name of Chief wants us at an address this evening."
She watches as he examines the note. "Well, then, let's see what he wants."
What Shayera learned from her mother's Absorbacron card, 10 Drake Way was first occupied by archeologist couple Carter and Shiera Hall upon the completion of its construction during the penultimate decade of the nineteenth century. The manor belonging to their family until that ill-fated day in Wall Street in 1929.
At approximately before eleven, Shayera and Andar land on the snow covered ground. The former surveying the structure before them. Mason and stone by the looks of it. There was a chance that it might not survive the strongest of Gordanian firepower.
The snow crunching under the soles of her boots as they approached the doors. Andar being the one to give it three knocks. "I don't understand why we can't just walk in," he grumbles.
"According to the Absorbacron, it's what humans do if they want access to a building," Shayera pointed out. "No different from those buttons to request entry."
The Thanagarian duo waits outside for maybe a few minutes – she could see Andar tapping his foot impatiently – until one of the doors opens. "Oh, so it's you fucking winged twats."
The speaker was a few years younger than Shayera's physical age. Her messy black hair reaching to her shoulders. Some sort of ink illustration across her chest.
"Well, then, fuck you too," Shayera returned. If their greeter's intention was to intimidate them, she seemed to be failing. Thanagarians were abrasive by nature anyway.
"We're here to see the Chief," Andar makes known. "Unless you don't know who that is."
"Yeah, the sissy little bitch said you winged fuckers were coming." She rolls her eyes. "This way, you shits for brains." She shouts as she closes the door behind them, "Our motherfucking winged friends are here!"
"Goddammit, Hammerhead! Will you keep it down! Garfield is trying to sl– what the fuck?!"
At the foot of the steps was a being that had to be made out of metal. She wouldn't have been surprised if the task of dressing him caused his jeans to rip at where his kneecaps would have been. Or maybe that was his preferred style, with the worn leather jacket and a thin looking shirt with some type of insignia on it. Like some of the humans she had seen during the day.
"Without wasting anytime, where would the Chief be?" Andar asked without an beat.
"Oh, he's up here in the drawing room." The tin man points behind him. "He's got a grouchy bat, Goldie Wings, and Lady Blackhawk up with him."
An grouchy bat and Goldie Wings. That would have to be Batman and Golden Eagle respectively. "Then show us the way, since you live here anyway."
They remove their coats in the foyer, and as they begin to climb the steps, Shayera notices that the ink on the woman's chest disappeared. "Hammerhead just happened to be behind the controls when you two showed up."
"Aren't you Hammerhead?" Shayera asked.
"No. Jane," she corrected. "There are sixty-four of us, but I take control most of the time. The primary. Either Hammerhead or Driller Bill surface when there is someone new. Especially if an man is present."
"Okay, then," she says, not knowing what to make of it. Even if she would know more of it as time goes on.
"You'll get used to it," the tin man tells her. "Oh, name's Cliff Steele."
"That fits," she comments. "When you are nothing but metal."
"Very fucking funny, Wings," he grumbles up ahead.
Cliff and Jane take Shayera and Andar down an hallway before entering the drawing room. She instantly recognized Batman, Golden Eagle, and Rita. The first one's cowl still ominous even with the orange of the fire reflecting off of him. In the room were an few other people she didn't recognize. One of them bearing wings that looked like her's and Andar's.
"You must be the new Hawkman and Hawkwoman," greeted an woman standing next to an man sitting in an chair that reminded her of Thal's hover chair. She steps forward, shaking Shayera's peach colored hand with her smoky quartz one. "Celsius."
Mento. Negative Man ("What's the story behind those bandages?"; "Let's just say it'd all go to hell if I take them off."). Lady Blackhawk ("Sorry if I missed you yesterday. I just had to wrap up that Christmas vacation in Keystone City, if one can call it that"; "That's what comes with the territory."). The Chief. The last one being the man sitting in the wheeled-chair next to Celsius.
"I should say that the first Hawkman once lived in this very house with his wife years ago, except that it isn't common knowledge," the Chief makes known.
"It shouldn't be," Batman interjected. "To get to the point." He turns to Shayera and Andar. "I debated whether you needed to be or not but with the fact that you'll get roped into this anyway."
"Roped into what?" Shayera demanded. Deep down, anticipation was running through every fiber of her veins. At least her first days on Earth will be eventful.
"It started before your arrival." The Chief wheels himself over to them. Holding out what according to Hal Jordan's Absorbacron was a manila folder. "So far, two people have been admitted to Midway General with mysterious bouts of hysteria. The first subject was admitted six days prior to your arrival."
"Hysteria." Andar takes the folder and Shayera looks over his shoulder to gaze at the contents. Shayera couldn't help but flinch when she saw the photograph attached to the document. Seeing the subject face contorted in manic laughter. At least sleep was hard to come by for her. "Hysteria as in…."
"Laughing until their heart gives out," Batman interjects. "Looking at the reports, toxicology identifies a foreign substance in their system. Or what they believe to be an foreign substance of unknown origin."
"Get to the point," Negative Man. "So, stop beating around the bush and tell them."
"In fact, I was getting to the point, Negative Man," Batman answers.
"Which is…" Andar began.
"The Joker thrives on chaos," Batman continues. "He'd plan to decimate an entire city just for the laughs of it. What Midway has been seeing is only one of the other variant of his toxin, which serves as his signature."
"So, that's his goal then?" Shayera can't help but ask. "It has to be more that just injecting people with his laughing toxin."
"Exactly," Batman answered. "I think he's just establishing his presence here. Truth is, I don't know exactly why he's here. As unpredictable as he is, we should be keeping our eyes open."
"Fighting a diabolical clown wasn't on my new years' resolution," Lady Blackhawk makes known.
"What I hear, he's like a diet Mr. Nobody," says Jane. "Piece of shit probably wishes he was that powerful."