[b][u][h3]Pistolera[/h3][/u][/b]

No signal. Balls. Guess I shoulda expected as much, considering I set up shop under the foundations for the Grell Street Bridge. Great place for hiding, not so great for connectivity. Setting up Wi-fi would be a bitch. Guess I'm just gonna have to operate blind for now, and hope Rufus has stopped the boys from doing anything too incredibly reckless. Fat chance of that, knowing Sentinel, but a girl can hope. 

As I'm struggling with the portable Cell approaches from behind. I do my level best to ignore her, hoping she'll amble off, mostly cause I reckon she was going to bitch about my less than gentle treatment with the team. The last thing I expected was for her to thank me though, and it's fair to say I was more than a touch surprised. I struggle to dismiss it as a [i]hallmark[/i] moment, try to work up my usual cynicism about such warm moments, but for once my bile just ain't level to the task. I'm genuinely touched by her earnestness, and while I manage to stifle the grin that threatens to invade my face, I can't do anything about the blush. I try to play it off cool.

“Don't worry about it Band-aid, what are friends for? And between us girls, well I was planning on ditching ya'll. Had the bag's packed and everything. Still more than a little surprised myself at how things are playing out.” And it's true. A little voice inside is still screaming at me to abandon the kids, head for the hills, and bury my head till this whole mess blows over. It's the smart thing to do. And yet, lord knows why, I'm still here. I feel a little better for admitting my character defect to Rhea, like I weight that I didn't know I had been carrying was lifted, and hope she doesn't think less of me for it.

Hell, look at me, worried about what other people think. Just like a real girl. There's hope for us all.

[i]"Got any wine?"[/i] Evan. He'd been hitting the sauce pretty hard the last couple days, searching for oblivion and doing a pretty admirable job of finding it. Some people just can't cope with the horrors life throws at them, and it turns out Evan's one of them. Suppose being raised on [i]'Paradise Isle'[/i] doesn't really prepare you for life's tragedies. 

I'm about to answer that there's some Old Pultney whiskey somewhere in the back and that he's welcome to it if he can find it, when he begins to sputter some half-sozzled shit about Tartarus, and immortality, and resurrections. Only, once it's all laid out loud and I get a sec to digest what he has to say, I realize that maybe it's not shit. It's actually, dare I admit it, a feasible plan. Though when the only option open to you is the one offered up by the half-cut Godling then you know you're in trouble.

While the others jump aboard the hype train, offering themselves up on the metaphorical chopping block, I get down to making a pot of coffee. Not quite the heroic endeavour you might expect of me, but I need time to think, and if Evan's heading into Greek hell then he's gonna have to sober up, the faster the better. And besides, how heroic do you really think I am?

The more I think on it, the more I'm left with the realization that this is really our only choice. The crimes levelled at us, the accusations being hurled at the team, they're all true. Luthor hasn't manipulated public perception so much as he's directed it. The people are equal parts furious, confused and terrified because they believe the Team slaughtered San Francisco, and like it or not that's exactly what the Team did, regardless of their intentions or reasons. They. . . no, we, committed the crime. There's no two ways about it. We can't clear our names, because our names are rightfully dirty. Instead all we can do is make up for our mistakes, and brining back the population of San Fran would be a massive step in the right direction.

I re-join the others and hand Evan the put of rocket fuel, directing him to drink. If we get time I'll put him through a cold shower. . . Ironic. Usually it's him making me need a cold shower.

I don't argue with JC when he demands to be let in on the Tartarus group, despite Evan explicitly stating he doesn't want either Thermo or myself, for good reason. Not that I think he's going to 'make this all go right' like he claims – everyone knows the stakes here without him keeping us on point - but because there's sure to be a lotta opposition down there, and the versatility of JC's powerset down there is sure to be a major boon. 

I don't even poo-poo Stunt Devil's application to the suicide squad, though for his own sake I want to. I'm not as certain he's as suited to it as JC and Evan, unbreakable bones being fun, but maybe not enough to cut it in the underworld. More importantly he was on the verge of breaking down emotionally back in the Tower, and with Wonderboy on a drinking binge then that might be too many flakes on that mission for me to be comfortable. Still, it's his choice to go, and I admire his courage, if not his intelligence. If Evan hadn't taken the decision out of my hands I'm not sure I'd be able to volunteer myself.

I do put my foot down when talk of Sentinel going is breached though.

“No, Sentinel stays here. He's Kryptonian, remember, and Tartarus is mystical in nature. Too much of a risk to take sending him, seeing how fragile they are too magic. Rufus is a better option. Almost as powerful, without the vulnerabilities, and steadier to boot.” If she couldn't go herself then the speedster was the only other member of the team that she halfway trusted to get this delicate operation done. She just hoped he was as unflappable as he made out.

“Besides, we'll need Sentinel more than you will. If Luthor get's wind of our plan you can bet your bottom dollar that he'll try to stop us. Superheroes fucking up as bad as we have? That's the perfect opportunity for him to really drive it to Superman and the League, so he ain't gonna loose that ammo without a fight. As much as I hate to suggest it, those here left behind while Evan is in Tartarus will need to make a lot of noise, distract Lex while you get the job done. No one's better suited to that than Sentinel. He's got the 'S' symbol and everything, and as we all know flashing that in Lex's face is just as potent as saying that we banged his daughter.”

I slump into a camp stool, feeling drained all of a sudden. Without thinking too much about it I palm a ciggie and light up. Not the healthiest option in here, but it's not exactly as if we're talking about going for an organic brunch. Smoking is the least of my health concerns right now. Cell raises her issues about the plan while I puff away. They're good concerns, real concerns. Concerns I don't have answers too, not good ones anyway.

“Classic Greek mythology is filled with tales about heroes delving into Tartarus to save loved ones. This is just the next step up.” I don't add that the old tales usually feature the heroes getting lost in the world below, or failing miserably in their quests. Just doesn't seem like a big morale booster. “Honestly, as cut throat as it sounds, Evan's immortality should be more than enough to buy back the people's lives. They were nothing, not in the grand scheme of things, while he's a demi-god hero, made for great deeds. Hades will jump at that deal. He'd be a fool not to. And even if I'm wrong, and this is all a waste of time, what other option do we have?”