Kyle had spent most of the night awake, consuming enough caffeine to put concern on any medical professions face. He was painting. His canvas open in his cluttered, yet meticulously placed room. He knew exactly where everything was, from the action figures and airbrushes to the collectors edition of graphic novels. He had his stash of comics and manga for collecting in one corner, in a plexiglass case. Bulletproof, fireproof, thief-proof. And then in the other corner, a rustic bookshelf next to his bed covered in comics and manga books. Every book well read, from the comic books about the Justice Society of America, to modern classics chronicling Arthurian legends. Not to mention the well maintained, though worn - the backs bent - copies of all 42 volumes of Dragon Ball. The seven golden spheres sat on a different shelf in a green silk cloth, as part of his massive collection of memorabilia.

His brush was making it's way over the canvas, his latest artistic vision. As he painted, his mind could never help but wander. His hand held the paintbrush, yet around him, green, translucent hands were organizing the rest of the room. Assembling a set of Lego, one of the hands was typing on the laptop that was humming softly on his bed, working on a simulation for a construction project. His phone was being held and lazily creating generic responses to the latest flood of fanmail @TheEmeraldKnight had gotten on social media. While his hand was painting, Kyle couldn't help but sing to the music blasting through his headphones. Four hours ago it had been, at least. But since then, his mind had sneakily unplugged the pair of closed back headphones on his head, instead a long line was going from the stereo, through the room. It was the second time this night he had heard the song on his playlist and he was really feeling it now. He always did. Kroeger knew what he was doing.

"She's got me nervous, Talkin' a hundred miles an hour"

The line made entirely out of green light, into equally shining massive tower speakers behind Kyle. The track came on, and Kyle's eyes widened, his ears perked up and his foot stopped bouncing absentmindedly, instead bobbing up and down with clear intent, as if he was playing a kick drum. In a couple of seconds, he was. The drum materialized as his foot found the pedal, a drumstick in his right hand, a brush-holder materialized as his hands became occupied. His left hand held a microphone as he bobbed his head back and forth.

"She's more than worth it, she smells just like a flower" His raspy voice belting out, in high school, one of his friends had told him 'Kyle, you sing like Kurt Cobain if he wasn't depressed', and that had maybe been the kindest thing Kyle had ever heard. He smirked, rocking his head forth, his black hair spilling over his face.

"I'd fall to pieces if I went anywhere without he-eer!"

The brush came to life through a phantom limb, adding more color to the canvas. He stood up, his chair disappearing into nothingness under him. The drums disappeared and instead a guitar in his arms and a leather jacket around him appeared. He strummed to the chorus, and as he did he felt his focus growing stronger as the light of all of the constructs in the room got more intense, like a high powered light bulb. He had several prism-like objects in the room, which lead to the green light being emitted turning the entire into a disco in different colors.

"I love it when she says, 'What's wrong with right here on the counter'"

As he was riffing, a loud thud was heard through the wall to his side. All the lights went out at once as his concentration was broken. The brush falling freely to the ground - caught by Kyle's hand - to not spill any paint, or risk ruining the canvas he had been working so hard on. He was about to yell back at the princess next door - which was certainly a funny way to see it, living next to a princess. Not that she particularly enjoyed being called that. He turned his lights back on, realizing he had unplugged his headphones - now blasting music and singing at 140 decibel. All right, so maybe that's why he's not allowed to live in a HOA. He needed breakfast. He was moving to the kitchen, plugging his phone into a pair of wireless headphones - given to him by Palmer Tech

"#NotLexCorp at least." He sighed under his breath, a part of him waning from the attention he had been getting for the past few years. In a way, he had been as instrumental into the creation of this Titans team as Lilith had been. He didn't know exactly what kind of future it was their Oracle of San Francisco had seen - but he knew it wasn't good. They needed to be here. But Loren Jupiter had taken an interest in him long before that. Palmer, Luthor and Edge had been engaged in a bidding war for whoever could buy themselves the affections of the young superhero when Kyle had emerged, a junior in High School. He made national news when he aided the clean up of the flooding of the central bay area in SF. And the earthquake in Coastal City. He stopped a few bank robbers, and he made sure to take his time to talk to the press while doing so. His charisma and charm had won the heart of the public instantly. A way of doing the job very few heroes had done before - they were usually all cloak and dagger. It took Big Blue several years to hold a press conference where he talked to the public. Kyle did it on his second week.

Loren had cut through the advertiser-friendly discussions. He had talked past the brand deals. He didn't want a private superhero. He hadn't promised Kyle riches and fame. He had promised Kyle a chance to make a real difference, without hindering him from doing things his way. Something the ring-slinger couldn't say no to.

Lost in thought, Kyle barely registered the blur that caused chaos in the kitchen. Leaving a mess in his wake as Wallace tore through the pantry. Piles of frozen pancake boxes everywhere, the microwaves turned into a mess as the speedster somehow always forgot to use a lid. Kyle ushered a few simple thoughts on a miniature snow plow that plowed all of the mess on the counter into the appropriate recycling bins, as well as mops, rags and other cleaning supplies cleaning the microwaves as he himself walked through. He made himself a large Mexican sandwich and six protein bars and a massive glass of chocolate milk. He wasn't a speedster, but he still ate more than a regular mortal. He figured the alien machinery he had instead of a heart required nutrition.

As he was mid-bite, the alarm blared. Everyone rushed. He finished the sandwich, put the bars into a little container he strapped to his jeans and then he followed the alarm. Cinderblock was back. The boys had all gathered on the bridge, Troia, as well. He smiled when he saw her, decked out in her pristine gear. She was a true warrior, more knightly than he could be. A soldier of a foreign land, a here on a quest - yet now roped into a completely different one. If Kyle didn't know she was real, he'd assume she was some sort of video game character, caught in a side quest. Not something he had gotten to show her very much about, yet, but he was certain the Norse Warrioress would take to The Witcher with glee.

Arsenal - fitting name for a man with a backpack full of weapons. Their very own McGuyver. Piece of string and a closet full of cleaning supplies and he could rain hell on anyone. He was far smarter than Kyle, and Kyle made sure to pick his brain whenever he was designing something, in return, Arsenal utilized Kyle's powers to demonstrate his own creations. Endless supplies of material, albeit temporary, is all a mad tinkerer could ask for.

Next to him was the black haired, dark-clad hero. The mysterious dark prince of Gotham. Robin, Kyle assumed everyone else felt like every word out of that boys mouth was a lie - but he had this weird energy to him. Living this close to him made it impossible to be fooled, Kyle thought. Yet, in spite of knowing they had a spy in their midst, none of them felt uncomfortable by it. It was like despite clearly lying about a lot of things, Robin held no malice for doing so. He was trustworthy, even if Kyle didn't believe a word he said.

And then there was Wally. Kyle's best friend at the tower. They had instantly bonded over their collective nerd-interests, their love for science and their even greater love for comics and video games. Wally had never been open about it but Kyle could tell the kid was an artist at heart. A poet who just didn't know it yet. He just hadn't found a way to connect his heart to his words. Kyle smirked as he looked at the three young men - the three who had the most experience amongst them were jabbering about Wally not being ready. Kyle realized he too was dressed in Birkenstock, ripped jeans and a paint-stained Nirvana T-shirt. He chuckled.

"Race you to get dressed, Kid Flash." Kyle challenged, closing his eyes as emerald light erupted from his chest, coating him in green flames that slowly burned into his black - white - and emerald green attire. His soft green eyes with hazel undertones flashed into a bright green flame that also subsided, leaving a clear green glow in his iris. The container with snacks still secured to his costume.

"Cinderblock's tearing up the town? We know how he escaped the transport? I'll fly us there." Kyle promised those that couldn't fly themselves. Knowing full well they had a T-Jet, a small scale jet plane that could house them all. But hey, he was @TheEmeraldKnight, you had to think green. His powers left no Co2-debt to take care of. Plus, the news picking up them arriving without a plane would give the Titans some good optics for their followers to make memes dunking on Taylor Swift for taking her jet from her bedroom to her kitchen.

_{Interaction(s): Kid Flash - @Sep, Superboy - @King Kindred}

Previously: Divide and Conquer

Placing the car back on the ground, Troia drew her weapons. Cinderblock was bigger than she remembered, though given the energy pulsing off of him, she did not doubt that his sudden growth spurt was related to these mystic energies. The energy ripples resonated with Troia, washing over her, attracted to her divine nature. Whatever had caused Cinderblock to grow was not from Midgard, which made Troia more than a little cautious that they weren't caught in some trickster god's sick game.

Cinderblock let out another roar before delivering a fist through the edge of a nearby building, compromising some of its structural integrity. It would have to be evacuating quickly and then either a controlled destruction, forcing it to implode in on itself, or immediate repairs. Were the Paladin here, he would have been able to control the damage immediately, but that was not an option.

"We need to get the golem out of the city," Troia yelled to Superboy, "And that building needs to be evacuated." She added, looking towards Kid Flash. Superboy was fast, but Kid Flash was faster. Troia could probably hold her own against Cinderblock if the two drengs were to work together to evacuate the building. But she couldn't be sure there wouldn't be more collateral damage. The buildings were too dense here, and without Green Lantern, they were limited on containment options.

"Superboy!" Troia called, "Can you stabilize that building?" She asked, gesturing to where Cinderblock had warped the steel column. With his heat vision, Superboy might be able to adjust the warp and stabilize it until a more permanent solution could be enacted.

"I'll hold him for now, but I need your help to get him out of here," Troia added. She knew Superboy could fly better than she could. With a foe struggling to be free, this much larger than her, she'd need the help. If they each took an arm, they could easily move this fight North into the Headlands. Raising her shield, Troia slid backwards from a glancing blow before drawing her blade and lunging forward. Sparks flew as the Blodstál blade dragged against the near-impenetrable exterior of the metahuman.

At least, she had the fight she had been longing for.

The prison transport lay abandoned just off the Eastbound I-80 outside of Oakland. As observed by Green Lantern, the vehicle itself had been ripped apart, not only from the inside but also by external forces that had compromised the exterior through supercooling, which left it in a brittle and fragile state. The asphalt also showed signs of extreme temperature change, having become brittle along the path where the vehicle skidded off the road and into the guardrail. The four escort cruisers had been toppled in a blitz attack, the telltale signs of Cinderblock's fists embossed into the doors and rocker panels. Heavy footsteps led towards the bridge before a broken rail indicated that Cinderblock had gone through the waters of the San Francisco Bay, explaining how he had remained undetected before landfall in the city proper.