[b]BEACHWOOD PLACE MALL[/b]

More and more uniformed officials were arriving on scene, tending to the injured and restoring order. Several received news of Uprising's escape, and were busy posting guards in case the anarchist made a return to the mall. After getting their statements, the reporters seemed content to turn the cameras back to their anchors, the police asked their questions. 

The situation was clearly resolved there, and there was no one to keep anyone from leaving.

[b]METROPARKS ZOO[/b]

“One freak down, a dozen or so to go,” a National Guardsman observed sourly as he helped others chisel Mama Bear's corpse out of the asphalt. Other troops helped corral animals, tranquilizing a few with help from Animal Control. “Death Incarnate, Freakshow- bunch of crazies still running around.”

Their officer shushed his men, listening carefully over his earphone to orders being radioed in. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up. He shook his head sadly, and resignedly walked over to the knot of superheroes.

“Listen carefully,” the National Guard lieutenant said quietly. “I just got orders directly from Police Chief McCullough. I'm supposed to take you all into custody. God knows why, you guys are doing great work.”

The lieutenant leaned in conspiratorially. “But the thing about this radio equipment is that sometimes there's a time delay on transmissions. Say, five minutes or so. It'd be nobody's fault if you guys left in those five minutes before I received my orders, right?” he said with a wink to the superheroes.

[b]PUBLIC SQUARE[/b]

While Dervish and Damselfly had plenty of experience evading gunfire, the sheer outpouring of concentrated firepower was enough to force them under cover. Grand Slam, without his air support or another super to watch his back, was also forced to move under cover. With the Caught heroes pinned down, the police and National Guard were more or less evenly matched against the pirates. Their numbers and training were a match for the mystical abilities of the Sea Bastard and his men, or at least enough for them to give as good as they got.

The [i]Bloody Dane[/i] smashed through the hastily erected blockade without too much trouble. However, even in Cleveland, a pirate ship rolling on torrents of blood is hard to miss. Troops and cops started to pile into vehicles and give chase, when suddenly an unexpected order came out over the radio net.

“This is Command. Chief McCullough speaking. All units, stand down. Let the pirate ship go, too many people are dead already.”

The order was bizarre enough as it was, but the next left more than one cop scratching his head in confusion. “Any so-called superheroes currently in the downtown area are to be arrested on sight.” 

[b]THE PARKING GARAGE[/b]

Most of the lesser gangsters had dived for covered when the fight had started. Others had noticed the appearance of Star Ruby, but were uncertain if it was their job to handle her or if that fell to Mythica.

The Chairman, however, did not care for being lectured. He did not care for being referred to as scum, and he certainly didn't like the reference to his father. The only thing Dennis Lynch's father had taught him was how to get smacked around. 

His buttons had been pushed. Without betraying a hint of emotion on his face, The Chairman lifted his revolver and fired on Star Ruby. Several of his thugs followed suit.

[b]THE HARDESTY RESIDENCE, SHAKER HEIGHTS[/b]

It was a spacious, tastefully expensive house in an upscale neighborhood, as befitted a well-to-do attorney. It was clear that Gavin Hardesty's widow and children had left in a hurry- the front door had been left ajar, the garage was empty. 

 The reporters on scene were B-list, at best- the real news was happening elsewhere. They mostly milled about, writing copy or rehearsing commentary, waiting for something, anything at all to happen.

Quake's arrival caused a stir, if only because it was a change in the monotony. The press swarmed her, shouting questions over one another.

“Did you know Pokerface's secret identity?”

“Quake, over here-”

“Do you have a comment on the deaths of superheroes last night?”

“Did Pokerface this was going to happen?”

“Over here, Quake!”

While the last comment might easily be mistaken for having come from one of the reporters, Quake could see that behind the clump of journalists was an oddly dressed man, a muscular fellow in a yellow smiley face mask, crouched behind a low wall beside the house. 

He was just recognizable as the Toledo-based superhero Mr. Nice Guy, a frequent collaborator with Pokerface when he was still alive. Mr. Nice Guy, unnoticed by the reporters, beckoned to Quake. By his body language, he clearly had something urgent to tell her.