[center][color=slategray][h1][b]Zatara[/b][/h1][/color][/center]

[i]January 1st, 10:02am Gotham City Hall of Justice [/i]

Zatara took another sip of coffee, eyes transfixed on the television. On it images of Bangkok, burning. It was a rebellion that called themselves the Sin Tzu, it didn’t matter- they were legion backed. He sighed, he was tired. He had celebrated the new year in his office, combing through the old intelligence reports and completing overdue paperwork, the only thing different from his regular night was the bottle of whisky he was drinking was better, some topshelf bottle he grabbed as he was leaving Shadowcrest. He looked at his pocket watch, nearly 40 hours ago, he chuckled slightly; his mum would be abhorred if she knew how much of a batman he had ended up becoming.

He knew alot of the leaguers in Gotham had taken the night off for the staff party at Wayne mansion, or was it Wayne tower. Whatever, he couldn’t really stomach those things anymore, especially when someone got drunk enough to ask him to do a magic trick or two. He looked around his office, it was mostly a generic sort of chic space-agey looking room with the exception of two-meter-long photos and half meter wide.

“Llifer.” Rex whispered, his mug slowly filling back up with coffee. Magic really didn’t feel like magic anymore, but when he looked at the photos he remembered the time when the mystical made him feel the most alive. It was a photo taken about 10 years ago, on one of his first Justice League missions. They were fighting a legion of doom force in downtown Philadephila, and in the center of the photo was Rex, or Zatara as they use to call him – usually with a prefix such as “great” or “spectacular”. He was in a tuxedo, somehow immaculate despite him being in what looked to be a warzone (a few anti-dust spells but he never use to admit it). Standing defiantly in the street, all the cars and busses hovering several feet of the ground from his magic. It almost looked like he was performing someone wonderful street illusion. In reality he was using them as a projectiles in an effort to subdue a rampaging meta-human, but a picture can paint whatever story you desire it to.

The other photo was of his mother, back in her mid twenties. She was dressed in something similar to him and striking a similar pose. She was also lifting several cars, but she was on stage. It was a sold out show in New-york just after he’d been born. Things were different then apparently.

He moved back to his desk and sat down at his terminal and began to scroll through the reports. He had just now finished with everything that need to be done by the end of the year. Mission reports, Hero reviews, league applications. Now he could move onto new business.
He opened the first intelligence report, it’s title read;
“Creon dead: Further investigations needed.”

The magician sighed and opened the report, “New year, Same shit.” Rex muttered to himself speed reading the evidence. 
The Justice league intelligence gatherers didn't have a clue what type of things they needed to be looking at to figure out how Creon was able to cast such a powerful spell. It didn't matter at this point, creon was dead. Shot in cold blood, the justice league he had joined didn't exist anymore. He was a soldier not a super.
“To defeat monsters we have to become monsters.” He quoted to himself, basking in his smugness because no one was around to call him out on it really.

What interested him most were the runes Creo had used to create the magical shield and to power up his sacrifice spell, they were abrahamic in design but he couldn't translate any of the words, this was magic he hadn't seen before, and that always terrified him. Zatara scanned the list of dead from last night, no one he recogonised- except Creo. 
He gathered some traffic feeds to watch Creo's final minutes. He was threatening the group of hostages, trying to move them with threats of incineration. You could tell from his body language he was panicing and his real plan had been abandoned at this point. And then with no real cue at all, Creo fall's over blood pouring from his head. 
The red light turned on and he looked into the camera above his terminal. He hoped he didn’t look too dishevelled, but he knew the chances of that were slim. The top two buttons of his white shirt which was beginning to stain, were undone and there were huge bags under his eyes.

“Flamebird, Gotham got hit by Creo, Deadshot's daughter shot him the head. The war's changing and in no way for the better.” He paused, this must have been the 12th message Zatara had sent the bat-brat in the last month, no one had seen seen him since May, he was offically K.I.A and while few suspected he was actually dead, many people were starting to worry he was ever going to return back to Gotham. But Zatara needed him in Gotham, he needed someone he could trust. Someone who knew how to play these games without eradicating life so carelessly. Most of all he needed his friend.

"Although no League casualties, for once. I don't know anymore maybe those new lethal leaguers have the right idea. If superman had just killed luthor 30 years ago I'd probably be performing magic tricks in Vegas." He chuckled a bit to himself, knowing deep down that would not of been the case at all.

His focus was beginning to drift from the message, he’d need to take a nap before he did anymore work.

“Oh, and happy new years James.” he added as an afterthought ending the transmission, he knew James was unlikely to reply, but he felt it was important that he knew he was missed, knew he was needed in Gotham.
He scrolled to the next message it’s title made his stomach drop

Kid Joker: URGENT RESPONSE NEEDED
Rex sighed, doubting if he was going to get that nap in today.