---

Otto burst through his dorm room door like a bull in a china shop. Sweat was pouring off him so heavily anyone who'd seen him stumbling through the halls would have assumed he'd come straight from the shower. His brain was a flurry of conflicting thoughts; half of them panicking about what he'd done, about the experiment gone wrong, the other half trying to keep his ego intact, trying to reassure himself that this was all coincidence. That the fever and the horrible sick feeling in his stomach was all unrelated to the gene splicing experiment he had inflicted upon himself not two hours previous - that the mechanical arms hadn't penetrated his mind and infected him with the thoughts of a deep sea cephalopod.

He banged into walls left and right through his cramped room and practically fell over opening the door to his bathroom. Inside he gripped the sink with two hands, steadying himself against the seasick feeling of queasiness that overcame him like a trawler. A shaky, clammy hand raised and wiped his forehead and was left soaking wet. Finally his eyes raised to meet the gaze of his reflection - he was pale, deathly so, almost green in complexion. Otto could feel his ragged breaths getting deeper and more haggard as the seconds ticked on like hours. Catching a glimpse of his horrible sick visage only made him feel worse, the longer he stared the more sick he felt.

Finally he felt a swelling in his gut. A rising, horrible mass that travelled through his intenstines and upwards towards his throat. He fell to his knees - crawling on his hands towards the toilet and with the last of his might throwing up the lid and dunking his head into the bowl. The cold of the pristine white toilet momentarily felt like safe sanctuary, like everything would be ok.

Then the swelling rose into his mouth and spewed out the opening. Viscous bile stained the ivory white bowl and filled the water with liquid heavier than it could handle. Otto weakly pulled the flush and sank the disgusting water down, feeling the cool refreshing feeling of rushing water splashing his cheeks as he continued to puke.

Eventually it all subsided, he managed to gather the strength to push himself up from the water with both hands. He expected to see the vile yellow green of vomit staining the toilet bowl. Instead he saw murky blackness painting all he could see. Confusion overcame him - what could this be? He tried to trace back everything he'd ate that day. Not that it'd matter, nothing short of Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia might've caused this.

Then it struck him. The experiment from earlier. Maybe his fears had been true.

This wasn't vomit.

It was ink.

---

---

Otto slung the conspicuous backpack over the back of the chair as he sat at the table - late as always. The trifecta waiting for him were his closest friends, those who expected him to not be on time no matter the occasion, and the same who would never judge him for that fault.

They were - in anti-clockwise order - Mary Jane Watson, Harry Obsorn, and his first and best friend, Peter Parker.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Got caught up in the lab."

"Big surprise there, then!" Despite everything, Peter could still joke. This was something Otto not only admired about him, but envied. The ability to make light even in the worst situations, to try and make others happy when that should be the last thing on your mind.

It had been a few months since Uncle Ben had died, and the event had sent shockwaves through the group as heavy as any earthquake or intergalactic threat. To them, this was their Fire Troll attack on New York. And it was all at the hands of some rogue gunman with a hair trigger.

It was hard not to feel selfish. Ben had been their surrogate father as much as he had been Peter's. Otto had never met a man with so much capacity for love in his heart as he. None of them had proper father figures in their life at all, not in the last Otto or Harry. Both had bonded since becoming close friends about the expectations placed on them by their dad's. They couldn't have been more different parents and more the same. Ben had provided much needed compassion in the lives of these young people who had never been afforded that.

And yet, the three friends had made a pact to not make this about themselves. Despite their pain, despite their sorrow - Peter must have been feeling it tenfold. If the roles were reversed, Peter would no doubt have been leading the therapeautical charge - it was only right for them to do the same for him.

"So, uh, anyway - you guys got drinks yet? I think it's my turn to buy the coffee?" Otto said, pulling out a tatty old wallet and inspecting the inside for any loose change. No doubt this would be another round to stick on the credit card.

Harry let out a laugh. "Keep the moths in your wallet, Otto. I've got this." He smoothed out his suit pants as he stood up and made his way over to the counter of the university cafeteria. He had their orders committed to memory. Such meetings were bi-weekly if not even more common. Otto smiled weakly at the gesture, he knew better than to argue with Harry's limitless credit card.

"What's with the suit?" Otto said to the remaining members of the group.

"Another charity gala, Norm is putting on. Harry says he's gotta jet right after his last class, no time to change." Mary Jane answered, brushing a strand of red hair from her pale, freckled face. Otto smiled to her, his best friends girl. She had all the attributes of a great actress, and yet she chose a degree in script writing instead. Despite their absolute faith in her ability, she'd never let them read any of her writing. Not even Peter. She was committed to only showing her work once it was on screen.

"Typical, the golden boys drinking champagne while we drown our sorrows at O'Neals" Peter interjected, a weak smile playing on his face.

"Like you'd prefer to be with all those rich bastards anyway. I'll take a night of cheap booze, a few games of catan, and some karaoke over that any day."

The three sat in silence for a moment. As if the overbearing weight of the situation had seeped back in. None of them wanted to bring up Ben. Whether it be because of immaturity or fear neither Otto nor Mary Jane wanted to spoil the faux pleasantry by acknowledging their grief.

Finally Harry arrived back, carrying a tray of hot drinks and placing it down in the middle of the table. Everyone took their drinks as Harry regained his chair and lifted a latte to his lips for a sip - only taking in the briefest drink of caffeine before he lowered the bone white mug to the table and raised a finger. "Oh, apologies. Not to interrupt the awkwardness, but-" He slid his phone out of his jacket pocket and unlocked it with a quick swipe of his thumb. "-I almost forgot to mention, dad - in all his wisdom - was asking after the two of you. I mentioned the prosthetic biological arm thingeys or whatever to him and he was really interested. Don't quote me on this, but I'm sure if you buttered him up the right way he'd slide a research grant your way. Oscorp has been really big into that kind of stuff recently."

Peter shot Otto a look. A mixture of confusion, concern, and interest. Otto raised an eyebrow in return and sent a shrug his way. "That's great, Harry. Although I'm not sure what your dad would be able to do with two shlubby, nerdy, college drunks."

The three laughed. "Hey, make that one shlubby, nerdy, college drunk. Peter is just a nerdy college drunk. No offence, Petey but you'd still be dressing like a granddad if you'd never met me. We've really gotta find someone to change your wardrobe, Otto!" Mary Jane spoke up.

The rest of the meet went by like nothing was hanging over them. The three laughed, joked about teachers, and showed each other dumb videos on their phones like everything was normal. To tell the truth, Peter was happy they hadn't mentioned Ben. It was nice to pretend things were normal for a while. They wouldn't drink tonight, Peter wasn't ready for feeling the kind of emotion alcohol brings on. Instead, Harry would swan at his gala, the lovebirds would retreat to Aunt May's house for dinner, and Otto would make a decision that would forever change the course of his life forever.

---

Otto stood on the top of the grimy, Bronx roof like the superhero he was pretending to be. He felt the fabric of the advanced polymer mask in his hands. He stared down at it like narcissus staring back at his reflection. He'd spent a long time on that roof, watching day turn to night and staring at the cruel shadow-self that the mask represented. He wondered what this all meant - why he was doing this. The death of Uncle Ben had spurred him to action, that was for sure. But how much more of it was for himself. He'd spent his whole life feeling powerless. Now he had power and he'd kept it a secret - a secret broken when he was forced into action.

Finally he slipped the mask on over his face. The inconspicuous backpack morphed and shifted until finally four long, metal tentacles sprouted from his back. Their claws clicked and their length twisted and turned as they observed the surrounding area. They were as much alive as he was.

He'd tested his own abilities somewhat since that horrid night with the fever, but never like this. This was his first true test, not only of his powers, but of his willpower. It was time to bid farewell to Otto Octavius, mild mannered, fearful, shy, college student - and it was time to say hello. Hello to the Octopus.

He eyed up the gap in front of him. A space that no normal human could leap in a single bound. A fall that any human would die from crashing down into. A challenge fit for someone who wanted to stand alongside the Mighty Thor, the brave Warbird, the reliable...err Green Guy?

He stepped backwards a few paces, readied his knees, and ran. He ran forward as fast and hard as he could, and at the last moment he pushed off of the concrete and upwards into the air. He slipped.

His foot caught the edge of the building, and instead of soaring across the gap instead he undershot it entirely. Time moved almost in slow motion as he stretched out his palms towards the fire escape of the building opposite. Reaching out as far he could and then trying to reach out further in desperation. He saw the metal rise above him, rising out of reach from beyond his fingertips as he plummted towards the earth.

Who gave him permission? Who gave Otto Octavius permission to rise above his station? To be anything more than his father expected him to be?

The tentacles shot out into the walls. Four struts of saving grace embedding themselves into the brick and mortar and suspending the young scientist high above the ground. They acted independendent of him. He rationalised they were saving themselves. In fact, they wre saving him.

High above the alley he gazed down at the floor below, panting and breathing. He could feel sweat and tears run down his cheeks as shock overcame him. Instinctively, in an act of self preservation, his skin and in tandem his suit camoflagued into the surroundings around him. Everything changing to match the night sky, the metal of the fire escape, and the red brick of the walls around him.

The camoflague had activated just in time. The loud thud of the tentacles had alerted the mugger below to his presence, but his invisibility had dissuaded any suspicion. The masked man turned back to the meek businessman in front, holding up his briefcase like a knights shield in front of his girlfriend as if it could do anything to stop the sharp blade of his attacker.

"Your wallet. Now. I'm sick of waiting. You best cough up the dough before I carve you up real nice."

"P-please, sir. I need that money!"

"Yeah right, you probably got more in the account than I've seen in my life. Oh, speaking of, I'll be taking your card too. And don't even think about cancelling it before I squeeze the thing dry."

This was his chance. Time to be a real hero. Time to show fate what he was made of.

Otto took a deep breath, analysing the situation at a speed unmatched by any living man. Finally the tentacles dropped him gently to the floor and his camoflague faded away.

"Time to drop the knife buddy. I got four friends here and none of them like bullies." The arms raised around him as if on command and snapped and shuddered in the direction of the robber.

The masked man looked back in shock at the creature before him. Turning the knife from the man with the briefcase and to the Octopus, and then back to the briefcase once more. In a quick burst of energy he made a decision, slapping the man to the ground with a backhand and grabbing his girlfriend by the ponytail soon after, pointing the knife to her throat with practiced urgency.

"Yeah right, superdweeb! You think I ain't seen the news? I ain't never seen you though, what do they call you? The four armed freak? You take another step forward and I slice her throat. I ain't going back to jail!"

Things hadn't gone as planned that was for sure. Even with his arms it was too close. Too volatile. One twitch of the man's wrist and the blade would open the girl's throat before Otto could cross the distance.

His mind began racing. A million things coursing through all at once. Angles. Distance. Reaction time. Muscle tension in the robber's forearm. The tremor in his voice. The way the knife was held too tight, desperate. A man on the edge.

His brain split the situation apart into pieces the way a mathematician dismantles an equation. The four tentacles hovering behind him seemed to respond to that thought process instinctively, curling and adjusting as if reading the silent commands forming in his mind.

Four limbs. Four vectors. Two seconds to act. Maybe less. Otto raised his hands slowly, playing possum for a moment. "Alright." he said calmly. "Alright, easy. No sudden moves."

The mugger sneered. "That's right, rookie. You listen real good. Time for you to go home and hang up the spandex."

Otto tilted his head slightly, watching the man the way a predator studies prey. "Can I ask you something?"

The man frowned. "What?! I should be the one asking questions!"

"Do you know anything about octopuses?"

The mugger blinked. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Well..." Otto continued conversationally, "They're fascinating animals, see. Extremely intelligent. Problem solvers. Escape artists."

The mugger's grip tightened on the girl's hair and she let out a yelp. "Shut up!"

"But the really interesting thing." Otto went on, ignoring him. "Is their nervous system."

The robber hesitated. Otto saw it, the moment of uncertainty. That second of confusion he could use to his advantage.

"One third of their neurons are in their brain." Otto explained. Otto explained. "The rest?" A tentacle twitched slightly behind him. "Distributed through their limbs." The mugger frowned. Otto smiled beneath the mask. "Meaning each arm can think for itself."

The first tentacle struck. It shot forward faster than the robber could react, slamming into the man's wrist. The knife flew from his hand, clattering across the pavement. Before he could even scream, the second arm wrapped around his torso and lifted him off the ground. The third seized the back of his jacket. The fourth plucked the blade neatly out of the air before it hit the concrete.

The whole thing took less than half a second.

The girl collapsed to her knees in shock as the mugger dangled helplessly six feet off the ground, screaming and kicking while the mechanical limbs held him like an insect caught in a spider's web.

Otto stared at him. "See?" he said calmly, spreading his arms out before folding them across his chest. The tentacle holding the knife crushed it like aluminum foil and dropped the twisted metal to the pavement. "I told you. Four friends."

The businessman rushed to his girlfriend, pulling her close while she sobbed against his chest.

Otto lowered the robber slowly until his feet touched the ground, though the tentacles still held him tightly. The man glared at him with wide, terrified eyes. "What the hell are you?" he whispered.

Otto paused. He'd considered many questions in his lifetime, but this was never one of them. Just what exactly was he? A scientist? A mistake like his father would have him believe? A hero? A villain?

The question echoed strangely in his mind.

"Someone who really hates bullies."

The mugger swallowed. Sirens began wailing somewhere down the street. Someone must have called the police during the commotion. Otto glanced toward the sound and the tentacles released the man abruptly, shoving him face-first onto the pavement.

Otto turned toward the couple. They stared at him like he was something out of a comic book - although he wasn't sure if they thought he was the hero or the monster.

The man opened his mouth and then shut it again, looking at his girlfriend. Quickly he ran over to Otto and began thrashing him with the briefcase. Otto raised his hands in defence, backing up step by step as the man swung his leather baggage at Otto's head.

Ah, so they thought he was the monster, then. Despite his objections they never listened, insteadd shouting obscenities about him being a creature of the night. Quickly, his tentacles threw him into the air and carried him along the night sky, clambering from building to building until they were a few blocks away. Why, oh, why couldn't he have chosen a more friendly animal to splice with? Maybe a dog or a cat?

His camouflage flickered again instinctively as adrenaline surged through him, his suit darkening to blend with the night sky. Wind rushed against his mask as he reached the top and Otto collapsed onto the gravel rooftop, breathing heavily as his heart hammered against his chest.

He stared up at the night sky, the stars twinkling down at him in approval like watchful guardians. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He'd done it. For the first time since Uncle Ben died, this city had taken something from someone weaker and tonight, someone had stopped it.

Maybe Peter was right. Maybe the world didn't change with giant battles or gods falling from the sky. Maybe it changed one alley at a time.

Otto slowly sat up, pressing his back against the cold half wall of the roof. One of the tentacles tapped the ground beside him, almost impatiently. He looked at it. "Alright, alright." he muttered.

The arm flexed slightly, metal joints clicking in approval as he stood up. Far below, the lights of New York stretched endlessly into the distance. Otto pulled the mask down tighter across his face. "Well then." He said. "Let's try that again." The tentacles lifted him off his feet effortlessly. They took a few steps back, and then began a run forward.

And for the first time in his life Otto Octavius leapt.

And he made it to the other side.

ᛒ ᛟ ᚲ # 0 0 3
ᛒ ᛟ ᚲ # 0 0 3

The nice thing about Washington state was the near-religious dedication to coffee. Oklahoma had churches on every street corner begging you to repent for your sins; Washington, though, just wanted to serve you an overpriced iced late with lavender-vanilla syrup at all house of the day and night. The Custard Crow - a coffee shop and frozen custard bar - provided the perfect place for Vilhelm to light for a few hours while he browsed the press releases and waited for night.

Normally he would have preferred to go through all the proper channels to get rap sheets on the victims, but his gut told him he didn’t have time for an ROI form and waiting period. His forest spirit was likely to strike again tonight if she held to her current pattern. Vilhelm reached into his backpack and produced his laptop, opening it up and connecting to the coffee shop Wi-Fi. He probably should have been more concerned about security, but Antheron had put some VPN security stuff on it for him months ago and promised that was probably enough unless the government started looking into him.

Pulling up their chat, he typed a new line and sent it:
Asg4rd1an >> You on?
Antheron >> Always
Asg4rd1an >> I need a favour
Antheron >> Anything 4 u bro
Asg4rd1an >> Can you pull records on the previous victims? Looking for a link
Antheron >> Gimme a sec

Vilhelm sat back in his chair with an lavender oat milk latte - “distinctly queer” as the barista had commented - and started flipping the pages of the press release. The names and badge numbers of the officers who had worked the case, including Detective Collins, were all listed along with the names of the park rangers who had found the victims. Different ranger each time pretty much nixed any possibility of it being the ranger who did it reporting the find - it was a theory he had come up with after watching an episode of some crime-of-the-week drama with his grandma. That said, it didn’t totally absolve the rangers.

A small ping from his laptop drew his attention back down to the table.

Antheron >> victims.zip

He clicked the file upload, opening it to find three official police records - one for each victim. There was the usual boring stuff at the top, but a little further in and each one had two things in common: drunken disorderliness and DV or assault charges. None of them saw jail time and only one was actually convicted. He just got a few hours of community service and counselling, though. Vilhelm had to guess the logging companies were desperate for labour and didn’t ask too many questions.

Antheron >> Got what u need?
Asg4rd1an >> Three nasty dudes who like to beat on nice girls
Antheron >> So, gonna tell me whatcha thinking yet?
Asg4rd1an >> You know I won’t until I prove it. Gonna finish reading through the press release to see if I find anything else interesting

Photos of the bodies - well, the bodies under sheets - and the area around them showed they were all pretty secluded and it looked like they were dumped away from the trail. That pretty much narrowed down the list of suspects to hunters, expert hikers, and park rangers. People who went off trail without experience didn’t usually make it back, and for this to happen three times guaranteed more than a novice outdoors person.

By the time his coffee cup was empty, the sun was starting to sink past the middle of the sky, and Vilhelm had everything he needed. His best guess was a Huldra was posing as a park ranger to spy on the lumber operations looking for those who didn’t respect the forest (which honestly could have been all of them; maybe it was just coincidence that her victims all had similar pasts). He tidied up his spot, tucking everything back into his bag and putting the ceramic cup into the bus bin in the corner. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he waved a friendly goodbye to the last remaining barista starting their closing duties.

Forks was, gratefully, not a particularly lively town. The perks of a small town were such that he could simply duck into the quiet alley behind the coffee shop to magically transform into Asgardian’s hero uniform and open a transport portal of the gates of Olympic National Forest.

He dropped himself right outside the front gates in a thick bank of trees and brush that would conceal his entrance. Cars rolled past one after another on their way in and out of the park. Before he stepped out, he thought better of appearing as Asgardian at first, and decided to change his look one more time.

Waving his hand over himself, he spoke in Old Norse, “Eg verð göngumaðr.” A flash of green engulfed him, and when he looked down he was actually properly dressed for the terrain. Illusions and glamour came so easily to him - some of the first magic he displayed - likely because of who his father was. Vilhelm marched out of the brush and up one of the packed earth trails that led further into the part toward the ranger station and the trailheads.

A map outside the ranger station indicated all the nearby trailheads and where they led. The Huldra - assuming he was right about who was doing the killing - had dropped all the bodies in relatively close proximity about a mile or so off a difficult trail. He almost wished he’d commandeered a horse somewhere - horse trails were never as well cleared because horses could just tromp through. A Huldra could move through the forests just as well, but Vilhelm was neither a horse or a Huldra. Demigods were strong, of course, and he was perfectly capable of forcing his way though, it just wouldn’t be fun and it would probably take him hours. It would probably be dusk by the time he made it to the dumping grounds.



The police made it really easy to find where to turn off the trail; the whole place was wrapped in a zigzag of bright yellow crime scene tape. Vilhelm looked around, making sure no one was going to see him when he noticed a place where the tape was broken and the brush looked like something had been dragged through it. A moment later he could swear he heard indistinct shouts in the distance. That set off alarm bells in his head and he quickly bounded off trail and into the deeper forest, following the path down further.

Vilhelm lost his footing near the edge of a small clearing, almost tumbling right out into the open before he managed to grab a tree to stop himself. There was his Huldra, her tail flicking angrily as she shook a man larger than herself by his collar, “Where is she?! Where did you take her?!”

Okay, motive unlocked. She was looking for someone and she thought the men she was killing had taken them. That didn’t exactly make sense - he thought Huldra were solitary. Still, he could ask questions later. Right now, he needed to save a man’s life first. The glamour dropped and he once more looked the part of Asgardian as he stepped out of the forest and into the clearing.

”STOP!” Vilhelm commanded with all the authority he could muster.

The Huldra stopped, blinking at him with a mix of anger, grief, and confusion in her eyes. For a moment, she said nothing and they stood with their eyes locked. Finally, she dropped the limp man and opened her mouth, “Who are you to command me,” she paused, looking him up and down to determine his origins by appearance, hissing angrily “…Asgardian?”

”I don’t represent Asgard, though I do go by that moniker,” he explained. ”I’m here to get to the bottom of the murders. There are people hunting for you, and they could hurt you if they discover you’re responsible for the murders.”

The Huldra’s face twisted with fury, “Murders? I give these men what they deserve! They have taken that which does not belong to them.”

”You mean the lumber?”

“Lumber?! You think all of this is for a few trees? They could never truly kill this forest. She lives on despite all.”

”Then tell me what all of this is about?” this time he spoke more gently, holding his ground instead of approaching to give her space and safety.

“They took my daughter!” Her voice broke, and she wrung her clothes in her hands. “They act stupid, but I know they have taken her. She is hidden somewhere I cannot find her.” Angry tears welled in her eyes.

Vilhelm finally understood. This wasn’t about the forest, it was about family, and family could make anyone do things they might normally have considered unfathomable. He reached into a pouch on his belt - his backpack having transformed into something much smaller though it retained its original magically-expanded volume. Fishing around for a moment, he produced a compass that didn’t point north.

“I can help you if you promise this is the last one,” he offered, showing her the compass in his hand. ”What’s your name?”

“Why would you help me?”

”It’s my job. Like I said, I don’t represent Asgard. Not exactly.”

“Alfrun,” she finally offered. “I am Alfrun and my daughter is Eyja.”

”Nice to meet you, Alfrun,” Vilhelm sat on the ground and set the compass in front of him. He beckoned Alfrun to join him and took her hands in his to form a circle. ”Tell me about Eyja.”

“She is small for her age, but full of boundless energy,” Alfrun started to perk up a bit. She couldn’t help a maternal smile as she spoke, “She can name every tree, every rock, every creature in these woods. She is beautiful with hair like spun gold and eyes like the first budding leaves of spring. She is full of love.”

”Good, that’s perfect. Now it’s my turn.” Vilhelm drew in a deep breath, concentrating on the image of a little girl just as Alfrun had described. The words came out deep and heavy with magic, ”ᚠᛁᚾᚨ ᛖᛁ"

The compassed rattled and shook as a green glow emanated from it in sparks. The needle spun around and around, quickly gaining speed until it stopped and pointed East. Vilhelm opened his eyes and grinned. It worked! It was pointing to something - hopefully Eyja.

”It’s getting dark. We should hurry.”



It took them an hour and a half of traipsing through the dense forest, the compass needle occasionally sliding one direction or another as it guided them to their prize. They were losing daylight fast when they came across an old camp that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. There was a dilapidated cabin, an old lumber road that had seen better days that led up to it. Parked next to the cabin was an old truck that was splattered red with rust.

Iron. Of course.

Every culture had a name for them - fae, fair folk, spirits - but one thing was universally true: they had a weakness to iron. So hiding Alfrun’s daughter in a truck with at least some iron in the body had created a magical blindspot she couldn’t see through. It only worked for Vilhelm because neither humans nor Asgardians had that same weakness.

Walking toward the truck, the compass went from pointing directly at it to spinning wildly. This was the end of their quest. Alfrun must have seen from the look in his eyes that this was the place.

“Eyja!” She cried out frantically, darting for the truck. Vilhelm only just managed to grab her and yank her back away from it before she touched the door. She wrenched in his grasp, “Get off of me!”

”Wait! You’ll hurt yourself,” he insisted, holding her still until she calmed slightly. ”Let me.”

Tucking the compass back into his pouch, he touched pulled at the door handle until he could wrench it free of the rusty hinges and dropped it to the side. Curled up on the disintegrating bench seat was a little girl no more than a toddler. She woke as Vilhelm reached in to get her out, immediately kicking and screeching at the top of her lungs.

Alfrun appeared behind him, “Still, Eyja, still. I’m here. He is a friend.”

For a moment she still kicked before the words penetrated and she looked tearfully up at Vilhelm. He carefully extricated her, tapping the ropes around her wrists and ankled to make them fall away with magic. Her feet were already running before he righted her and set her back on the ground. Eyja buried her face in her mothers legs as Vilhelm stood again.

”Promise me this is the end of it?” He said sternly.

Alfrun nodded fervently, “Yes, yes, I promise.”

Vilhelm sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t take her to jail for the murders, but as long as she stayed out of trouble the case would probably go cold and they’d shelve it with the rest of the unsolved murders that happened in the woods of Washington state.

He reached back into the pouch, pulling out a coin, ”Do you know how to use a pay phone?” Alfrun nodded. ”Good. If you put this in, it will call me. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate. It’s what I do.”

“Thank you… You never told me your name,” Alfrun realised.

”You can call me Asgardian.”

---

The noise of the projector finally whirring to a stop and echoing out a loud click as it shut off served as a makeshift alarm clock for the napping Otto Octavius. He groggily raised his head - a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek with his own saliva as glue - and scanned the room around him. This definitely was not his dorm room, not even close.

Every seat in the lecture hall as far as he could see was empty. Every seat but his own. He searched the room for a clock, his eyes resting on a time that sent shockwaves through his spine. Had he really slept for just over half an hour after his class had finished? And more importantly why hadn't anyone woken him?! He facepalmed and slid the paper from his cheek back onto the desk. If there's one thing he'd never accounted for it was how late crimefighting would keep him out - and how tired he'd feel the next day.

He clicked his pen a few times quickly as he gathered his thoughts, and then quickly slid his books and papers into his satchel and stood up. His embarassment was not unnoticed though as the door to the hall swung in, and in walked the ever debonair Harry Osborn - slightly less well dressed than the day previous as he was missing his tailored suit - but still wearing the latest designer fashion.

Otto allowed himself a second facepalm, mentally preparing himself for the ribbing he was about to endure.

"Oh-hoh! Look who we've got here! Sleeping not-so-beauty!" Called Harry up the seats towards him. "Nice of you to keep us waiting! I'm sure my dad will take real nicely to being kept waiting this long. Not like he's the head of one of the top FTSE 500 companies or anything!"

"Shit. Was that today? I'm really sorry, dude, honestly I didn't realise I was falling asleep." Otto collected himself and started down the stairs towards his friend, a sorry expression on his face. "Was he upset? Any chance I can salvage this? Where's Pete?"

"Woah, woah, woah. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. "Look man, that's not for me to say. He's a real old fashioned guy, nothing short of kissing his Armani shoes would get you a second audience with the king."

Otto began cursing and damning his own ineptitude. One of the biggest opportunites of his life and he wasted it playing superhero the night before. God knows he needed this chance. The money from even the lowest paid research job at Oscorp would be more than enough to get him a place of his own, and to slide a bit of extra cash his mothers way under the ever watchful nose of his asshole father.

"Look, Harry I'll do anything for this. You just let me know what I gotta-"

His sentence was stopped midway by the raucous laughter of his friend. "You should have seen your face!" His laughter only got louder. "Don't worry about it dummy, dad had to cancel anyway. Some meeting with government contractors or something. I was actually coming to deliver his apologies."

Otto gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Always with the jokes, huh? Well at least no one else saw me grovelling. You really know how to embarass a guy, Harry, it's a skill."

"I prefer to think of it as an art. Plus you're not entirely alone, Otto." He nodded further up the hall than where Otto had been sleeping, up towards the seats at the very top of the lecture theatre.

Otto turned over his shoulder and looked up to the back. Sitting there was Lia - almost silently tapping away on a laptop she was gazing at through a pair of large round glasses. For a moment he wondered how he'd managed to miss her. The next moment he wondered why she hadn't bothered to wake him up.

Her posture was slightly hunched over the laptop resting on the desk in front, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard with a soft clacking that echoed faintly through the empty lecture hall. A mess of dark curls framed her face in a loose afro that seemed determined to escape the hairband trying unsuccessfully to hold it back. The large glasses magnified her eyes just enough that whenever she glanced up at the screen light it made them look wider than they probably were.

Otto felt the strange, immediate urge to pretend he hadn't turned around. Lia froze mid-keystroke, like a deer caught in headlights, her fingers hovering above the keyboard for a second before slowly finishing whatever sentence she had been typing. Her gaze flicked from Otto, to Harry, and then back to Otto.

Harry grinned. "Guess you weren't the only one who stayed behind." He whispered, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow.

Otto awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous he must have looked waking up with paper stuck to his face. Lia, looking like she felt just as awkward raised her palm and gave him a small, uncertain wave.

"Uh...hey." Otto's voice echoed embarrassingly far in the near empty hall. In reply to her wave he held out a thumbs up.

Lia held her gaze. For a second it looked like she might say something - her mouth opening slightly - but whatever words had been forming seemed to evaporate before they reached the surface. Instead she gave a small smile and then resumed typing on her laptop.

Harry leaned closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he guided his friend out of the lecture hall and into the halls of ESU. "Smooth, Octavius, very smooth. I'm sure all the pickup artists in Vegas are going to be using the thumbs up approach after that masterclass." He mocked as he released his grip.

"I wasn't trying to be smooth, Harry."

"Pfft, yeah right. You might be awkward around girls but god knows you strive for the feminine touch as much as the rest of us do."

"Well, yeah, maybe. But with Lia? No way dude. I barely even know her."

"When did knowing her matter? Never mattered to me." The expression on Harry's face changed to that of the cocksure grin he always had when talking about the fairer sex. "Besides, it's not like she doesn't like you, she's always hanging around when you're about."

Otto blinked, thinking for a moment before replying. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Is that a bad joke?"

"I'm being serious."

"Y'know Otto you might be one of the smartest guys I know, but you definitely lack common sense. That or a pair of eyeballs."

---

---

Norman Osborn sat cross legged with his finger steepled together in front of his face. He gazed out of the huge window overlooking New York City - his City. The one he'd grown up in, lived in, found his fortune in, and raised his son in. He let out a sigh. Just what was he going to do with Harry? He'd given him the world on a plate and still he disappointed him. If Norman had the resources he'd afforded his son at that age he'd be President by now, let alone one of the richest men in the world.

"Mr. Osborn, a Dr. Ellison is here to see you." The voice cracked softly through the intercom mounted on the corner of Norman's desk, its polite tone breaking Norman's train of thought.

He didn't move at first, still gazing out onto the skyline as the sun fell behind it. It cast long shadows across manhattan. From this height the traffic below looked almost like toys.

"What does he want? Does he have a meeting?"

"No, he doesn't have anything arranged, sir. He says he's part of the maritime exoskeleton development team." She explained. "He's requesting a moment of your time regarding the prototype."

Now that - that piqued his interest.

He spun around in his chair, leaning forward on his desk to better speak clearer into the tannoy. "Send him in."

Norman rose from his chair, smoothing out his tie underneath his suit jacket and fixing his cufflinks. News about the prototype could only mean one thing, and one thing that Norman was very excited about. The prototype itself had been completed months ago. Frankly he only kept the team on the payroll for fine tuning and in the event that anything needed repaired or improved with the device. Not that he saw this as a possible eventuality. He'd been involved personally in the design of the suit - any error would have been on the part of the team putting it together.

No, if Ellison had news it meant one thing. They'd finally found someone to test the damn thing. The suit wasn't by all accounts 'legal' in the truest sense of the word. If they could do some under the table testing however, then Norman was sure they could regear the entire project and make a killing in deep sea research. Not only that, it would make a hell of a pitch to the military, and once that door was open there's no telling where he could go with those resources at his disposal.

But the Kinetic Reinforced Amphibious Bioshell - affectionatelly nicknamed 'K.R.A.B' by the research department - was just the first step in a grand plan he'd set in place years previous.

He moved over to a tall, vintage drinks cabinet in the corner of the room as the door creaked open and in walked a thin man wearing a white lab coat, clutching a clipboard.

"Mr. Osborn." he said quickly. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Please, call me Norman. We're both men of science here I see no need to deal in formalities." He gave him a smile that resembled something closer to a shark than anything welcoming. His son had that effortless charm that just made you like him from the get go - Norman had a different kind. One that was practiced, sharpened through years of business deals - and one that made you feel more uneasy than relaxed. He pulled two whiskey tumblers from the cabinet followed by a single malt bottle. "Can I offer you a drink, Dr...?"

"Bill, Bill Ellison. And no thank you, Norman I'm not one to drink on the job."

Norman shot him another, practiced smile. "Good answer." He said, picking up the bottle and pointing to him casually with a finger. "But I can assure you that wasn't a test, Bill. I'll be partaking myself so I really must insist. I can only assume you come to me with good news which must be celebrated. Otherwise it must be bad news in which case we must drink to drown our sorrows!"

He filled up both tumblers and gestured for the doctor to take a seat on the other side of his desk. Norman took a seat in his chair, sliding the second drink over to his employee. "So, tell me the good news. I'm all ears."

Bill felt a chill run down his spine. Rumours had always circulated about Norman within the company, but coming face to face with the man in a situation like this made him feel uneasy. He took the drink and sipped it gently, if anything for fear about what would happen if he didn't. "Well, uh, I'm happy to say we have good news. We've found a test pilot for the prototype."

"Oh?" Norman replied, clapping his hands together once and leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. "That's fantastic news. Tell me more about our pioneer?"

Bill turned the clipboard around in his hands and pushed it over to his boss, who began looking it over intently. "His name is Gabriel Alvarado. He's a dock worker from the Brooklyn shipping yards. Strong build, excellent muscle response. Our preliminary scans show his nervous system should interface with the suit's control network better than any of the volunteers we’ve screened before."

Norman nodded. "And our other problem? The matter of - shall we say - discretion?"

"Our problem solved itself. Gabriel is an undocumented immigrant from down south. Venezuela, originally I believe."

A toothy grin grew on Norman's face. "Bill, I've got to say you've outdone yourself here. You've made me a very happy man." He took a drink and continued. "Let's start work immediately. Tell your team they can take the rest of the day off, but let's try and get Gabriel in before he changes his mind. If he does, up the amount we're paying him, money is no object."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hey, it's Norman, alright? Keep this up and I might even let you call me Norm."

Bill said his goodbyes and left the office. It felt more like escaping a lions den than a meeting with his boss. Norman pressed the tannoy to his PA once he was gone.

"Sally, please get in touch with finance and let them know I want them to wire a few bonuses for the research team - oh, and you can take the rest of the day off on me."

His gaze drifted briefly back toward the window, the city glittering beyond the glass.

"Let's see what your machine can do, Doctor."

---

---

"Pull the nets up!" Shouted Mayhew from the top deck of the fishing trawler. Rain was battering down on his waterproof cap and jacket, pelting him like liquid bullets. "The water's too rough! We've gotta get below deck!"

The young, brash Jackson Harris glanced up at his senior through squinting eyes, as if shutting them tighter would stop the splashing salt water from stinging them. He grinned at him with that familiar, friendly gap toothed smile resting handsomly under a thin, preened moustache. He was at the early end of his 20s, and determined to prove his worth on the boat. He'd felt the calling of the sea all his life, ever since his first trip out with his father on their old family dinghy with their passed down fishing rods.

"You got it chief! We've got something good in here, I can just feel it." He stomped in puddles over to the side of the boat, holding on to the side of the metal crane the net hung from. He steadied himself, and then took off his gloves to get a better grip of the winch. With all his might he began the arduous process of turning the winch rotation by rotation - a process made all the more difficult by the violent rocking and swaying of the trawler.

But Jackson was no rookie. Not in the true sense of the word anyway. He'd spent time on harsher waters than this, and he'd be damned if he was going to let a little rocking stop him.

Again and again he turned that winch. The pull of the ocean only got stronger the closer it got to the surface, like it was trying to keep its bounty below. Then, the winch stopped turning. A huge weight had gotten hold of the net, so heavy that the sudden rigidness of the handle stopping nearly tore the handle from Jackson's grip.

"What the hell?" he muttered, bracing his boots against the slick deck and pulling again. The winch refused to budge. Whatever had taken hold of the net wasn't just heavy - it was holding it.

"Leave it!" Mayhew shouted through the rain. "Cut the damn thing loose!"

Jackson ignored him for a second, squinting out over the black, churning water below the crane arm. The net line had gone taut as piano wire, disappearing into the waves that rose and fell like the breathing of some enormous creature beneath the surface.

"Chief, I think we snagged the bottom!"

"Out here? There's no bloody bottom shallow enough!"

A violent jerk on the net answered the argument. The crane arm groaned, metal shrieking under sudden strain. Jackson stumbled forward as the winch spun half a turn back against his grip before locking again with a brutal clank.

Then a silhouette beneath the water began to rise. At first, Jackson thought it might have been a shark, taking advantage of the choppy water and abundance of caught fish. But it looked to rigid, too big.

Jackson leaned over the rail, rain streaming off the brim of his cap. "Uh...Chief?"

Mayhew was already moving toward him, one hand gripping a support rail to keep from being thrown across the deck. "What is it now?!"

Jackson didn't have time to answer before the sea erupted.

The net burst upward in a spray of water and writhing fish as something tore through it from below. Steel mesh snapped apart like thread as a massive shape hauled itself halfway out of the water.

It was metal. Thick armored plating glistened under the rain. Two massive metal claws gripped the netting with crushing force, each joint moving with the slow, deliberate precision of industrial machinery. Hydraulic pistons hissed as they flexed, cables tightening like tendons. It stood, huge and imposing on four smaller articulated legs that unfolded from the chassis and dug and carved into the metal of the trawler as it pulled itself out from the sea.

Mounted in the center of the chassis sat a heavy domed cockpit surrounded by reinforced plating - a bulbous armored shell like the carapace of a colossal crab. Painted across the side in faded white stenciling were the letters:

K.R.A.B

The machine's claws tightened. The net shredded apart completely - fish guts spilling across the deck.

Jackson staggered back. "Jesus Christ, what is that thing?!"

The cockpit visor flickered faintly with dim instrument light. Inside, the silhouette of a man shifted. His face was obscured like a shadow. But from what Jackson could make out in his last moments alive was the expression on the man's face.

He was in pain.

As the 3 agents and cat sat at the meeting table, the TV screen turned on and the sillouhette of the mysterious Director of S.W.O.R.D. appeared. "Gentlemen. Things are developing at an alarming rate. The starships that both Sinestro and Jordan managed to get intact are being poured over by our best minds at the moment, but with the recent arrival of the new alien and with Thor making a comeback... We are fighting multiple clocks at once. This High Evolutionary who may or may not be on the way, Despairo and now these Manhunters? Not helped by the gods themselves running around." An image of a raid on an air force base and several muscular men making off with a nuclear device. "To make matters worse, other gods seem to have instigated a Broken Arrow situation. But that's not our concern, that's... Well, that's the other guys' problem."

"It's my understanding that S.W.O.R.D. are to deal with spaceborn threats, i suppose your gods fall under the jurisdiction of whichever authority deals with Earthborn threats." Sinestro sighed

"Hey, i believe in exactly 1 god and he doesn't look like that... Well, his son, kinda... Who is himself..." Sinestro raised an eyebrow, as did Mae.

"I'm surprised that Thor's return hasn't had a larger effect on the religious community." She replied.

"Way i see it, if the Vikings were right about Thor... If anything that makes Adonai's existance even more likely. Unless we go by the argument that proof denies faith and without faith he's nothing, meaning that Thor revealing himself may have made Adonai disappear in a puff of logic." Hal laughed. Sinestro stared at Hal with a look of utter disbelief.

"Hal Jordan, are you allergic to the concept of making sense?" He asked. Mae swung her head to look at Sinestro.

"It's a book reference, ignore him." She replied.

"Remind me to lend you the works of Douglas Adams." Hal smiled at Sinestro. "So, we're leaving the gods to the others. What's next for our intrepid group?"

"We NEED more Lanterns. If any of these galactic warlords shows up on our doorstep, the 3 of you cannot guarantee the safety of Earth."

"4 of us. The Blue Lantern may not be the true Champion, but he will defend Earth, you can count on that." Sinestro looked up at the screen.

"Regardless of whether he does or not. Defense of a whole planet requires coordination. Something that the Blue Lantern has proven he has no interest in. I would like you to focus your efforts into the Orange Ring, we have been watching the path of destruction it has been leaving and we believe that it is the greatest danger to the public." Images appearing on the screen of the path of destruction. Hal winced at some of the unspeakable horrors flashing before them.

"Jesus..." He grimaced.

"Lastly, Mae, we have a gift for you." An agent walked in carrying a long briefcase. Usually the type that would hold a fully assembled sniper rifle.

"Ooooh, new toy. Go on, unwrap it." Hal called to Mae. She looked at him emotionlessly, probably contemplating whether to hit him or not. She flicked the clasps open and pushed the lid back to reveal the Manhunter's staff.

"Boys in the lab can't make heads nor tales of it. Keeping it in the lab is useless, but it's proven to be very useful against those with Lantern powers. Use it well." He said. Mae looked up at Hal, as she did so, a single tear rolled from the corner of her eye down her cheek.

"Well, no need to get all choked up over it." Hal replied.

"What do you mean?" She asked, before reaching up to her eye and wiping away the tear, before suddenly another from the other eye. She wiped it away as well "What the hell?" Instantly, Sinestro dived across the table, his golden costume appearing as he tackled Mae to the floor.

"SUITS! NOW!!!" He roared. Dex didn't respond, only summoning his suit, the same as Hal summoned his and jumped to his feet.

"What the hell's happening?" At that point, the wall seemed to turn to water and trickle away as suddenly a shape appeared on the other side. Stepping through the waterfall, was a man in a silvery costume stepped through, he had a thick head of brown hair and a large, bushy mustache under his nose. His eyes perfectly milky white and tears streaming down his face as if a waterfall.

"Hal Jordan..." The man said. "You will know my Sorrow..." He pointed the glowing ring straight at Hal.

"Jack?" Hal asked.

Zach laughed when Thor said he had the makings of a great hero. He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding a wand. “I don’t know about that… I feel like you might be grading on a curve tonight.”

Thor continued explaining the plan, and Zach listened, nodding along like someone who absolutely understood what was happening even though internally his brain was still stuck on the fact that he saved Christmas. When Thor mentioned Ace O’Clubs, Zach gave a thumbs up. “Hot chocolate I can do,” he said. “Hero team logistics? Still working up to that.”

Then Thor hauled Toyman out of the sleigh like it was nothing and called his hammer back to his hand. Zach watched the hammer fly through the air and land perfectly in Thor’s grip. “…I’m never getting over how cool that is,” he muttered. Zach watched as Thor took off in Santa’s sleigh through a portal. “Ok… I feel like my life has just got a lot crazier.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Zach frowned. “What now? I hope it’s not my parents freaking out about where I am…” He pulled the phone out.

Your casting is sloppy.

Zach blinked. “…Excuse me?”

But improvising illusion magic under pressure like that was impressive…

Zach stared at the screen, then quickly typed back.

Okay who is this and how were you watching that?

Because magic leaves fingerprints, and yours are very loud.

Zach felt a little chill that had nothing to do with the snow.

Another message appeared.

We should talk before you accidentally summon something dangerous.

There was a pause. Then the final message came through.

Zatanna Zatara

Zach froze. “…Oh.” He knew that name. What self respecting magician wouldn’t? Giovanni Zatara’s daughter, celebrity magician in her own right, actual sorceress. Now here she was casually texting about his magic use. He slowly lowered the phone and looked up at the sky where Thor had disappeared. “…Cool cool cool.” He paused to process all this. “…Tonight I helped save Christmas.” He held up the phone. “…And now apparently I’m being evaluated by my famous cousin.” He sighed. “…I should probably go get that hot chocolate.”

---

"Pete, I love you buddy, but you're crazy if you think Delmar's has the best sandwich in Queens. It's Satriale's no doubt." Otto said as they left the favoured Deli-Grocery of his best friend, already unwrapping the Reuben sandwich he'd ordered and tucking in excitedly.

Peter looked back to him with a furrowed brow and a indignant look on his face. He was holding his sandwich like a sword as if he was using it to defend himself from Otto's poisonous words. "You're calling me crazy?! For someone who hates Delmar's so much you sure are scoffing your reuben down pretty quickly!"

Finishing a mouthful of food, Otto continued. "I never said I hate Delmar's - it's just not the best. Satriale's is to Delmar's what Empire is to Return of the Jedi. Sure if Satriale's didn't exist it'd be in the running for the best, but as it stands it'll always be number two." He shrugged, stating his opinion as if it was fact.

The expression on Peter's face was even more exaggerated now - with wide eyes and open mouth. He scoffed in disbelief. "What?! You think Jedi is the second best Star Wars film? And I call you my best friend, I really must be crazy!"

Otto laughed through another bite of sandwich, raising a can of Fanta Lemon to his lips to wash it all down as they walked through the familiar streets of New York City. The two bickered and teased like an old couple for a while longer as they strolled with no real direction in mind. They were eventually brought to a stop when Peter's eye caught the news broadcasting on a number of TV's in an electronic shop window.

The televisions in the shop window flickered with the same live broadcast, each screen slightly out of sync with the others. A red banner crawled along the bottom of the image.

---

BREAKING NEWS - MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT OFF QUEENS COAST

The footage cut to an aerial shot from what looked like a news helicopter circling slowly above the shoreline. The grey Atlantic rolled gently against the sand, but the calm water only made the scene below more disturbing. A large fishing trawler had run aground near the beach, or rather - what was left of it had.

The vessel had been sheared completely in half, the two pieces sitting several yards apart in the shallows like broken toys. Emergency vehicles crowded the beach below. Police cruisers and ambulances formed a chaotic line along the sand while investigators in bright jackets moved carefully around the wreckage.

The broadcast cut from the aerial footage to a field reporter standing behind a police barrier. The wind whipped at her coat and microphone as the ocean churned behind her. "Good afternoon. We're coming to you live from the Queens shoreline where authorities are responding to a disturbing maritime incident that unfolded earlier today."

Behind her, officers could be seen cordoning off the wreck.

"Just a few hours ago, this fishing trawler washed ashore after apparently being cut completely in two while still at sea. Officials say the vessel drifted here in two separate sections before running aground."

The screen briefly cut back to the helicopter footage, slowly panning across the ruined ship.

"There are currently no known survivors from the vessel." The reporter continued grimly. "Investigators on scene have confirmed the recovery of two bodies believed to belong to members of the crew." She paused for a moment, then lowered her tone in reverance. "Authorities say both men appear to have suffered the same catastrophic injuries as the vessel itself. Their identities have not yet been released as officials work to notify next of kin. At this time investigators have not determined what caused the damage to the ship. The Coast Guard and local authorities are working together to examine the wreckage, but officials say the circumstances surrounding the incident remain...highly unusual."

The camera slowly zoomed back toward the wreck, lingering on the jagged line where the steel hull had been severed.

---

"Woah, now that's something you don't see every day."

"Starting to feel like it is. I know NYC hasn't always been the safest place in the world, but first Fire Trolls now this? What's next?"

Peter took a bite of his sandwich. "I dunno, at this rate I wouldn't be surprised to see Godzilla stomping down Northern and 114th" The two stood in silence for a moment watching the images on the screen and finishing the last of their lunch. Finally, Peter broke the silence. "So we're definitely heading down there right? It's not like we've got anything better to do."

"What? Are you for real? It could be dangerous or something."

"What you think sea monsters are like serial killers? Always returning to the scene of the boat attack? Come on, dude, don't be a pussy. It's not like there isn't a hundred police officers down there anyway, what's the worst that could happen."

Suffice to say, Otto didn't take much convincing. His eyes were strained from staring too long at his computer screen revising anyway, and chances were their aimless wandering would've brought them to the wreck anyway after long enough. "Fine, but if anything happens I'm high-tailing it out of there and you're acting as bait."

"Pfft, yeah right." Peter said. "How do you know I'm not secretly a superhero? Super-Parker would beat the thing into submission before you had time to run home to mommy."

Otto laughed. "Oh, yeah, right. Peter Parker as a superhero that's totally believable - I don't think there's a single universe where that is true. Plus, Super-Parker? What's your superpower always being able to find a spot for your car at the Mets game?"

---

The pair pushed their way through the surrounding crowd as far forward as they could before being stopped by police tape and fed up looking cops standing bored with their arms crossed. If there was two things New Yorkers were, it was curious, and a people who didn't understand the term 'Restricted Area'.

"Woah, the boat looks like it was cut right in half." Observed Peter, standing almost on his tip toes and shifting left and right to get a view over the guards shoulders.

The whole thing felt strange. Even with everything going on in the world, this felt like a random act of violence with no benefit to whoever decided to do it. Otto could see the trawler was carrying nothing of worth, just a paltry amount of fish that any thief wouldn't be able to sell quick enough anyway - not in the least because of the blood smeared deck and splattering of dead fish on the beach. Plus, if what the news reporter said about the fishermen was true, this was the work of something much more dangerous than some wannabe pirates looking for an easy score.

"Pete, does this all feel weird to you?"

"No, this is a daily occurence for me. Of course this feels weird! It's not every day you see fishing based murder."

"So you think they were trying to murder the crew then?"

"Uh, I dunno. Seems a bit of a roundabout way of doing things - cutting the ship in half. How am I supposed to know?"

Otto thought to himself for a second. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

After taking their fill of lollygagging the two left the scene and headed back to their respective homes. Otto declined Peter's invitation to play some Tekken at his house in favour of studying. Truth be told, studying wasn't on the agenda tonight.

---

The Octopus launched the metallic tentacles one after another, the segmented limbs snapping outward with sharp mechanical precision. Mid-flight the thick appendages contracted and narrowed, armored sections sliding apart until slender cable-like tendrils extended from their cores. The pointed tips struck nearby buildings with dull metallic thuds, biting into brick and concrete.

He was still getting used to traversing the city.

During his early test runs the limbs had been far too bulky. Otto had crushed sections of masonry, shattered windows, and left ugly fractures across half the rooftops in Queens. Effective, perhaps, but terrible for cultivating the kind of public image he had in mind.

So he had redesigned the system. Now the tentacles could shift between power and precision, extending into thinner grappling lines when needed. Instead of smashing through the skyline, he could anchor himself to multiple buildings at once, pulling and releasing in quick succession. Putting as little pressure onto the infrastructure as was possible while moving slickly through the city in the same way an actual Octopus would vault, slither, and climb from rock to rock, each limb pulling it along in a calculated dance of motion.

It wasn't really swinging, it was closer to vaulting.

One cable snapped free as another fired forward. The tentacles pulled him sharply through the air before releasing again, the next anchor already embedding itself into the side of a water tower. Otto shot upward, redirected mid-flight by another line that caught the edge of a rooftop.

For a short moment his body hung suspended between four taut cables, and then they released in sequence. The Octopus slingshotted forward, darting across the night skyline in a series of sudden bursts. Less like a man swinging through the city, and more like some strange mechanical creature crawling through the air itself.

He was heading back to the docks. The Octopus could get into far more areas than Otto ever could - with the help of his newly gained cloaking abilities.

Landing on a nearby roof, he surveyed the scene. The lenses on his suit clicked through one after another, his adapted low-light vision illuminating the area around the trawler. There was still a police presence here - beat cops who drew the short straw and had to stand around all night making sure no one untoward was snooping around. There was nothing he could see from up here he couldn't see earlier - or pick up from news broadcasts.

Otto slipped down from the roof and slithered around the patrols like a commando. It wasn't long before he'd entirely breached the perimeter and was standing in the middle of the two halves. Dried blood painted rusted metal and Otto couldn't make out which had spilled from the fish, and which from the two innocent men.

He vaulted over a jagged spar of torn steel and continued through the broken interior of the trawler, the tentacles moving with careful coordination as they anchored him along the slanted bulkheads. What had once been a level working deck now hung at a steep angle, forcing him to climb across the structure like a spider navigating the inside of a ruined web.

The investigators had already combed through much of the vessel earlier in the day. Locker doors hung open where they had been searched and tagged, and several portable floodlights cast pale cones across the interior. Yet the more Otto looked, the clearer it became that the scene had been misunderstood.

Most of the ship's equipment and cargo remained exactly where it should have been. Navigation instruments were intact. Radios remained bolted to the console. Even the engine controls sat untouched, the cracked screen still wired into the wall. Nothing of any value had been taken.

He moved further along the tilted deck until a mounted storage rack near the rear caught his attention. The frame remained bolted firmly to the wall, but the heavy brackets along its spine were empty. Four circular clamps lined the rack, each secured by thick nylon straps that had been cut cleanly through.

The spacing left little room for doubt. Portable diving cylinders had been mounted there earlier that day. Commercial crews carried them for underwater repairs, emergency inspections, or cutting tangled nets loose beneath the hull.

The absence was almost surgical in its precision. Nothing else had been removed from the rack. The nearby lockers still held flares, tools, and spare gear. Whoever had taken the cylinders had ignored everything else.

Otto turned his attention back toward the broken hull where the ship had been severed. Up close the damage was even stranger than it had appeared from shore. The steel plates had not been bent or torn apart in the chaotic fashion of an explosion. Instead they had separated in a long, sloping incision that ran through the vessel like a blade drawn slowly through flesh.

He followed the marks outward until they reached the open side of the hull. Moonlight shimmered across the water beyond the wreck. Gentle waves rolled against the metal, carrying the smell of salt and diesel across the air. He spotted something glinting just below the surface of the dark water, only illuminated by moonlight.

Otto shifted position along the edge of the hull and leaned closer. A dull steel cylinder rotated slowly as it bobbed beneath the surface. One of the missing tanks.

Its valve had been torn loose and the metal body was crushed along one side, as though it had been caught in the grip of something immensely strong and discarded afterward.

Otto studied the tank's position relative to the wreck and then lifted his gaze toward the open water beyond the trawler. The Atlantic stretched into darkness, the surface broken only by the faint outlines of distant waves.

If the tank had drifted back here, it had not originated near the shoreline - the current had flowed inward. Which meant whatever had taken the others had moved further out to sea.

The tentacles along Otto's back silently gripped metal as he climbed onto the outer hull of the broken ship. From there he could see the dark stretch of water extending far beyond the shallows where the trawler had grounded. The city lights faded quickly out there, swallowed by the open Atlantic.

He allowed himself a sigh. He supposed there was no time like the present to test his theory about breathing underwater.

The harness unfolded and the tentacles launched outward, their tips embedding into the rusted framework of a nearby pier before pulling him across the water in a long arc. The next anchor struck the skeletal remains of an offshore buoy. Another caught the steel ribs of a distant dock crane. Each motion carried him further from shore, vaulting across the dark water in long bursts that skimmed only feet above the waves.

Within minutes the lights of Queens had begun to shrink behind him and eventually the last anchor point vanished, leaving him bobbing above the sea as the waves pushed him to and fro.

He instincitvely inhaled and held his breath as he angled his body and dived under. Before making his full dive he let the air escape from his lungs while he still had enough time to resurface. Thankfully he could breathe, but for how long he couldn't tell.

Resolute in his newfound aquatic ability he dived deeper, using the tentacles to propel him through the water in the same manner an actual Octopus would. The light from the moon quickly got darker and darker until it was almost pitch black, he was lucky for his adapted vision in a situation like this.

The seabed emerged slowly from the gloom as he descended deeper. Sand and broken debris stretched across the ocean floor in uneven ridges where currents had carved shallow trenches through the sediment.

He pulled himself along the ocean floor, navigating around the confused oceanlife and scanning his surroundings for any further clues. Then something moved.

At first it appeared to be nothing more than a dark silhouette resting among the rocks, half buried beneath drifting clouds of sand. As Otto drew closer its shape resolved into something mechanical - an enormous armored frame crouched along the seabed like a monstrous crustacean waiting in ambush.

Floodlights flickered weakly across its body, illuminating jagged plating and immense articulated limbs that rested half-folded against the ocean floor.

The machine reacted almost immediately to his approach. Hydraulics roared to life beneath the water as the enormous construct stirred, massive limbs unfolding with slow mechanical violence. Sediment erupted upward around it as the structure rose from the seabed, towering over Otto with a presence that dwarfed his own frame.

For a moment the two beings faced one another in the silent depths. Otto read the name painted across its hull. Muggers were one thing, but this felt like another beast entirely.

Suddenly the KRAB lunged at him. One colossal claw surged forward with terrifying speed, the water around it being carved in a trail of bubbles as it struck. Otto's tentacles fired instinctively, launching outward to pull him clear of the blow, but the machine's sheer size made even a near miss dangerous.

The shockwave alone sent him tumbling through the water. He recovered quickly, driving two tentacles deep into the seabed to halt his momentum while the others lashed forward, coiling around one of the construct's limbs in an attempt to restrain it.

For a moment, he felt his maneuver succeeding. He felt the KRAB straining against the tight grip of his tentacles. Then the machine tore itself free with brute force that Otto simply couldn't match. The sudden wrench snapped two tentacles loose from their anchors and dragged him violently across the seabed before slamming him into a ridge of submerged wreckage.

Otto felt the wind shoot out of him, and panic begin to overtake him. Before he could recover, the KRAB's other claw swung upward, dragging itself through the sand and carving a ridge through the wreckage as it slammed into Otto.

The force hurled him upward through the dark water, ripping the remaining tentacles free and sending him spiraling back toward the surface as the enormous construct settled once more into the depths below.

By the time he managed to stabilize himself, the ocean floor had already begun to disappear into darkness again. The machine was retreating, scuttling away sideways as Otto caught his breath, gripping at his stomach and wincing in pain.

And Otto had just learned, very clearly, that he wasn't ready to fight it yet. But, unfortunately for him, he couldn't let any more destruction go on. He had to go back to the lab, analyse what he had encountered and come back stronger.

M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R
M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R

J'onn's Apartment
Manhattan, New York City

Mention: _@Ruby

A presence came to the doors of his mind. Vast and powerful, but definitely unknown. I’ll come see you later, J’onn.

J’onn swallowed down his shiver, but firmly acknowledged the appointment then went about his duties; getting the protesters booked, taking care of the injured, filing the paperwork. All the while ignoring the lingering dread. There was no need to worry about what would happen until it did.

Thankfully, the Captain let all of them who had helped with the protest head home as soon as everything was wrapped up. J’onn was glad to get back into the beloved trench coat and fedora for the walk home, then doubly glad to see that his landlady was away, visiting friends no doubt. And his nearby neighbors were away. If things went wrong, there would be no one else put at risk.

Once in his own apartment, he took a deep breath, then screwed up his shoulders. Then, he took out the chicos, poured them onto a plate, then set them onto the coffee table by the unfortunately dusty couch, allowing himself one little one for moral support. Then he headed to his kitchen, got water boiled on the stove, got out the mugs he’d been gifted at some party or other, then took the teapot the landlady had ‘needed to get rid of’, and placed the teabags and hot water into the pot then brought it all out to the coffee table as well. When he felt Jean approach, he poured out the tea into the nicer mug. ”Good evening. Do you prefer cream or sugar?
Reality felt thinner as she walked the sidewalk with the woman in the red coat and dark rooted, reddish tipped hair, deep in conversation even as they weaved between people, couples, groups, and the ever-present scaffolding and warning cones of New York City sidewalks. Wanda Maximoff had spent the evening with Jean; a long, quiet, intense conversation that only came to end because Wanda got a request and Jean had J’onn left on her appointment list for the day.
Coffee in one hand, other hand slipped into her jean pocket, black form fitting leather jacket that looked a little too punk for her with leather lacing along silver rings up the spine in the back of the jacket, a clue it was from Storm’s punk days, not her own closet…but then sisters always did steal each other’s clothes. And Jean deeply missed her sister Ororo in the moment as she was forced to pull away from Wanda, disturbed by their conversation.
”Sugar, please. Be there soon. On foot.”
Her hair was pinned up in a high resting ponytail, dark and scarlet red, shadowing and shimmering as she moved between lighting, her upstate New York girl showing, she thought, with the old hiking boots she wore, even if maybe it was just in her own head. For a girl who grew up hiking the Adirondacks, it was just second nature. She knocked gently, her mind at Mars, even as she waited for him.
Steadily, he placed a teaspoon of sugar in the tea, then headed for the door. He took a moment, stood straighter, then opened up for her, still keeping his human form but with a smile to his face. ”Welcome.” Then he presented the tea to her. ”Please, come in. Then he opened the door wider and gestured towards a worn couch. Jean’s eyes as they took in the apartment would see the worn but pleasing rug, the faded blue couch, the sturdy old-fashioned coffee table, the more tacky shelves near the window. But other than those touches, the apartment was incredibly barebones and the overall atmosphere was one of a place that was almost home but still had that lingering air of discomfort and unsettledness of a recent move. J’onn’s emotions were tightly under control, but the underlying wariness was still quite perceivable despite his outward calm and pleasantness.
“Thank you, J’onn, and thank you for inviting me,” she slipped in past him with tea in hands, sipping as she went, her eyes doing a quick scan, her mind doing a quicker scan, both instinctive, reflexive upon entering a new space for someone who has done, and seen, as much as she had. Her voice was warm, honey coated, her green eyes alive with the light of the room, and only that, but it was enough to make the green shine as she stared at him.
“Is it me who unsettles you, or the Phoenix? Because I’m not the active Phoenix host.”
I don’t think.
He stilled, then shook his head. ”I suppose I have become out of practice in this.” Then he headed for the far side of the couch and sat down, grabbing a chico and some tea for himself as he did so. ”It has been, some time, since I’ve spoken with another telepath. What you host certainly is beyond my experience or knowledge…” He allowed himself a moment to tentatively sense it, then drew away as the impression of fire grew stronger. ”My uncertainty though lies more in what you will want now that you have found me.”
Her smile widened, a natural radiance of humor and warmth, her voice dipping into a softer tone, “J’onn, I apologize if the chaos of the moment made the psychic impression I left tense or causing uncertainty in you in any way, that was never my intention…I just know what it’s like to hide. And I know how it feels to stop having to hide…between the two, I prefer the latter. And you look like someone who’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
She motioned to the apartment around, “Well, either that, or you’re about to be the most upvoted ‘malelivingspaces’ post on Reddit soon,” the said, the hint of a tease trailing her voice as she spoke, a tiny grin forming at the corners of her mouth.
He softly smiled himself. ”I have been rather negligent in actually making my abode comfortable, I know…” But that smile quickly grew somber. “...Could you really insure I wouldn’t need to hide? And what would be the price for that aid? Those that would be after me, are quite powerful in their own right.”
“The X-Men don’t ask for anything in return for helping those in need, J’onn. I think if you do they revoke your superhero card, and I’ve had mine all my adult life, so I’ve grown a little bit attached to it, I think.”
There was a grain of truth somewhere in the bit, but even that grew to a close as she considered the totality of his words, the heart of his questions, “Could I? I don’t know. Could I cover every potential danger in every moment? Or could I clean it up on the back end with the Phoenix if I needed to?...I don’t know, messy questions with no clean answers. Could WE? Absolutely. I’m blessed to have friends that I can always count on. I would carefully consider it from all angles, if you have people to talk to, talk to them about it. It’s a major decision, even if you decide on a secret identity at times, fully you at other times. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. But yes, J’onn, you’d absolutely have the X-Men behind you if you needed help of any kind. That I can say without hesitation. That’s a clean question with a cleaner answer.” She smiled, big, bright, proud of the values the organization she had spent her life with stood for.
He stared at her, basking in her brightness and surety. Had he ever been as certain in something as she was? He wanted that. But still he hesitated, looking down towards the floor. ”I would and will help mutantkind, even if the other X-Men won’t have me. I will answer any X-Men call for help if I’m in any position to do so. I will never be your weapon though, even if it’s taken as betrayal.” His grip tightened on his tea as he locked down on images of the past, though few slipped through to Jean.
Martian Eyes filled with fear and horror as J’onn’s own hands locked them in irons.
Two White Martian teens, brother and sister, forced to watch as their father and his cohort burned in the fiery hall of judgement.
A Green Martian Doctor trying to bargain for a young man’s life. “He’s a fully functional member of society, Manhunter. His being non-psychic shouldn’t be a death sentence! Just let me-
J’onn continued on. ”I, quite like the life I have built. It can be rather ordinary most of the time, but it is one I have made and one where I can be of help to those that need it. I certainly would be willing also to use the authority I have to help mutantkind as I can. If you are truly offering friendship…” Here, he allowed himself to look back up at her. ”I will make sure to offer friendship in kind.”
Her expression, her smile, all softened in that moment as her heart truly came to the surface, her hand putting the finished teacup down to reach out to give his nearest elbow a gentle touch, “No deal, J’onn. Our friendship and help don’t come with strings: that’s the deal. I’ve seen Martian history. I’ve seen your history, maybe your future…..” her voice trailed badly, as if even her mind could get lost in the vastness that was cosmic memory.
She shrugged, slowly, coming back with a long inhale, “Mutants have eyes on Mars, that’s the other thing I wanted to tell you.”
Despite himself, he started to sink into that touch. When had been the last time…? Then he jolted. ”Eyes on Mars? Why? When did they get up there? Have they been discovered?” In her mind, she could hear the unspoken questions. ”Has it changed? What is home like now? How are the people there?”
Jean hesitated, but forced verbal transparency, “What can I tell you? I’ve found myself one of the leaders of a mutant state, so what becomes state secrets? They wanted some place that would be harder for the Sentinels to reach, I think, and Mars seemed like a good choice. We became convinced we could terraform the planet. Not part of it; the entire planet. We have what we call ‘mutant circuits’…basically us layering our powers to achieve some greater effect than we could ever achieve by ourselves. Combine Magneto, Storm, and Iceman alone and you get some pretty compelling science at a planetary scale, Omega mutants capable of such feats. I told them Mars wasn’t empty, like they thought. So they want to take a look. I think that means a team to go look. What team? I’m not sure, yet. It’s being decided by Erik and Scott.”
J’onn stood up. ”I thank you for being able to spare my people from having their world terraformed underneath them.” Then he started pacing about, hands behind him clenching and unclenching. ”Whoever ends up traveling to Mars wouldn’t be immediately in danger. The heads of state are greedy and power-hungry, but they can understand the principles of simple gravity and mathematics. I was their only hope for perhaps matching an average Earthling in terms of strength if an Earthling invasion were to come. The protocol before I left had it so that any discovered visitors, and the space watchers are killed if they miss anything so they’re not likely to miss any typical space vessel, have quarters prepared for them to treat them with cordial hospitality. Then they’d be either encouraged to leave, discretely disposed of, or…” He paused, swallowing. ”Or if they intrigued Mal-” Like a lightning burst, Jean could feel the ripples as something within J’onn’s very own mind mentally shocked him, keeping him from finishing that thought. Outwardly though, he barely twinged. ”...The Doctor, the uh Chief Scientist and so the Head of the Government Division of Scientific Advancement…If a visitor intrigues him, he has full authority to seek to, recruit or ‘recruit’ them for scientific advancement or to help serve the people. Anyone you send would…” He turned fully to Jean. “Let me talk with whoever is arranging this mission. My info may be two Earth years out of date, but it’s only a Martian year so it shouldn’t be that far off. If they decide that an expedition still needs to be sent, then at least those sent would have more warning of what’s ahead!”
Jean’s head tilted, just so, at the Martian before her, “Mental block?”
”In a sense…” He self-consciously touched his head. ”It is…part of some leftover, what is basically a Martian form of brainwashing. I’ve been able to chip away at some of what had been established within the consciousness and outer unconsciousness. As you’re likely very aware of though, dealing with the deeper levels within the mind is much riskier, especially when seeking to undo psychic locks that another placed within there. And especially if you’re diving down alone…Most of what’s left doesn’t affect my day to day life though, so it’s been alright. It should wear away in time.”
“I can help. We can help. When you’re ready, if you ever want. If we can make Logan wear a suit, I think anything is possible.” Her gentle smile became a gentle grin with the inside joke, the barb thrown at her dear friend, and sometimes lover, a fun little thing she could ask forgiveness for later. “I’ll talk to Magneto, or Storm, and see who is heading this Cosmic team. In the meantime, feel free to come by Xavier House any time. In any form…..I can feel them, you know? On Mars. My telepathic range easily includes the entire solar system. I can feel them, read them, if I want to push. They don’t have a clue I’m there. Just an interesting fact I thought you might want to know.”
”Such power…” And she was just freely offering him aid? “I will take your invitation to come by. Perhaps not today, but someday soon.” Finally, he allowed his Martian form to ripple out with a smile, then offered a hand. Thank you, Jean & Phoenix.”
“Just Jean works, thanks, J’onn. See you soon.” She smiled, thanked him for hosting her once more, and slipped out, hands sliding into the pockets of the jacket as she hit the sidewalk, eyes and mind scanning buildings and cars along the street, She didn’t get very far before her body outlined in vibrant pink before flying off under telekinetic propulsion into the New York City night sky.

---

Paris Island, Dakota City
The Aftermath

The familiar sound of KRS-One's Sound of da Police playing from his phone startled Virgil and his friends awake. "Shit. It's my dad." Virgil said as he snapped up from Daisy's comfortable bed. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and looked at the caller ID for a second before deciding it was better to answer it. "Hey, dad. I'm sorry for not letting you know where I was. I crashed at Richie's."

"I'm just glad you weren't caught up in that Big Bang by the docks. Your mom was busy all night transporting kids and officers. We were afraid you'd be one of them."

"If only you knew, dad." Virgil thought to himself before verbally responding to his father. "Richie and I saw it on the news last night. A lot of those kids went to our school, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine."

"I need you down at the Community Center today. We're putting together care packages for the victims' families. Get here as soon as you can."

"I got you. See you later, Pops." Virgil hung up the phone and placed it back down on the nightstand. He felt a jolt of electricity travel from his hand to the phone as he put it down and picked it up again to see if it was okay. It was more than okay. It was fully charged. "That's weird. I could've sworn it was on sixty."

Daisy turned to face Virgil, a pillow separating the two in the bed. "Everything okay? You're leaving already?"

"Yeah..." Virgil said, not entirely sure about the first question. "Everything's good, I think. My dad wants me to go to the Community Center and help out, but there's no rush."

"We can come with you." Richie said. "We need to talk more about last night and make sure that gas didn't affect you."

"We could stop by the hospital on the way and get you checked out. Your mom should be off work by now." Daisy added.

Virgil honestly did not want to go to the hospital, but he knew that his friends would force him to if he didn't agree so to save himself the trouble he decided to give in.

---

Dakota City Medical

Virgil had never been to war and desperately hoped he would never have to, but if he had to guess this is what the medical tent would look like, but a thousand times worse. It was chaos everywhere. Nurses and doctors were scrambling to help patients and figure out what was happening to them. Patients were screaming in pain and confusion as their bodies transformed into disfigured messes. Virgil covered his mouth and ran back outside to throw up. He hunched over and puked out nothing but stomach acid.

Richie and Daisy followed him outside and rubbed his back. "Are you okay?" Daisy asked.

"I can't go back in there. I can't end up like that. Please don't tell me I'm going to end up like that."

"I don't think you will. I mean, you haven't gone all nightmarish already."

"Oh, this has to be the greatest day of my life." A voice called out sending a shiver down Virgil's spine. "First, I survive that nightmare last night to become new and improved. Now I get to finish what I started with you at the docks."

Virgil was frozen in fear. If he had to be honest he would have hoped that of all people, Frank didn't survive last night's incident. He would have been fine with him still being bedridden right now, but nope. He looked completely fine and was spouting some nonsense about being new and improved.

When Frank sparked a flame in his hand Virgil realized it wasn't nonsense he was spouting. He thought back to the victims of the gas back inside the hospital and realized that they were being transformed. It was like the gas was forcing them to awaken or manifest an X-Gene. "Come on, stupid legs. Move." He muttered to himself as he tried to command his body to get the hell out of dodge. He turned to see Daisy and Richie were in a similar state of fear. He hated his cowardice. He hated the fact that he was about to get his friends killed. The only thing he could move was his arms. He closed his eyes and thrust his arms forward in a poor attempt to block the flames for his friends. He could feel the heat, but he couldn't feel his arms or body burning. Virgil opened his eyes to see a shield of electricity projected from the palms of his hand. It was solid enough to block the flames and snap him and his friends out of their fear.

"Virgil..." Daisy started to say before Richie cut her off.

"Dude! You have powers!"

"I... I have powers." Virgil said turning his look of confusion into a confident smirk.

---

When it rains it pours.

Otto had been having an eventful past few days that was for sure. The most eventful of his life so far, that was an easy bet to make. In the space of just a week he'd stopped a mugging, got battered by a giant mechanical crab monster, and helped the X-Men stop a riot. He was feeling pretty good about himself, all things considered - and if it wasn't for the bruises and lack of sleep he'd have felt like he could conquer anything.

Instead, he felt like he could just about stay awake.

The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall buzzed faintly overhead, casting everything in that slightly sickly tone that made even the most enthusiastic lecturer sound like they were delivering a eulogy. Otto sat slouched in his chair, one hand propping his head up while the other loosely held a pen that had only touched paper to draw crude octopus doodles in the corners of the pages. His laptop screen glowed back at him with a half-finished document that hadn't changed since he opened it.

It took everything in his power to hold his eyes open. He was in that listless half state of consciousness - neither here nor there. Was this what meditating was like? The words on the projected screen at the end of the hall might well have been German for how well he could understand them. Every time he tried to focus on them they blurred again. He was well and truly exhausted.

"-and if you refer to the reading I set last week...Mr. Octavius?"

Otto's head snapped up, entirely alert now. "Yeah-yeah, sorry."

A few people turned to look at him. He sat up a little straighter, trying to look like someone who had definitely been paying attention the entire time.

"Would you care to explain the principle behind-"

There was a pause, the lecturer rolling his wrist expectantly. An answer was warranted - Otto didn't even know the question. His brain, usually quick, usually sharp, felt like it was wading through quicksand.

"Uh...Yeah." He coughed, trying to give himself some time. "It's, uh-"

What followed was an awkward silence as he glanced around the room, searching for any semblance of help. Any unknown ally ready to jump to his aid. He was completely alone in a sea of eyes staring back at him.

From somewhere to his right, a voice muttered under their breath. "Jeeee-sus" He could practically hear the eye-roll that went along with the comment.

Otto exhaled through his nose, accepting defeat. "Sorry, I didn't catch that part."

A few quiet snickers from the crowd. The lecturer frowned, but moved on. Otto leaned back in his chair again, dragging a hand down his face. That hadn't happened before. He was always quick to the draw when it came to this stuff. Even if he didn't know the answer he could've talked around it in a way that made him sound like he did.

"Dude, you look like shit."

Otto glanced up as he stepped out into the hallway, blinking against the change in lighting. "Good to see you too."

Peter fell into step beside him, hands shoved into his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm serious. I saw you in there, man. You, like, short-circuited.”

"I'm just tired. Plus, who are you? The new hall-monitor?"

"Uh-huh. Tired from what? You don't do anything."

"I do plenty."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Name one thing you've done this week that isn't sitting in front of a screen or arguing about sandwiches."

Otto hesitated for a moment. He wasn't a great liar, it was better to tell small truths and omit details than it was to make something up he'd just get tangled in later. "I've been busy."

"Right. Sure."

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Peter spoke again, sounding more enthusiastic than before. "So. Harry's been asking about you. He says you've not been replying to his texts."

Otto groaned, slapping himself on the forehead. "Ugh, don't start. I've sort of been avoiding life this week I need to text him back."

"I'm not starting anything." Peter said, grinning. "He just wanted to know if you were still interested in that internship thing."

Otto stopped, to the irritation of the people walking behind him who shoved their way past. "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah. Said his dad's looking at bringing in a few students this summer. Engineering, research, all that Oscorp stuff."

"It's probably nothing. I doubt I'll even get through the first round of interviews."

Peter snorted. "Dude, it's Oscorp. Even 'nothing' is something. Plus, it's not like you don't have the nepotism advantage."

"Yeah, well..." Otto shrugged. "Guys like me don’t just walk into places like that. Plus, isn't Harry's dad kind of a dick?"

"Guys like you?" Peter stopped walking, turning to look at him properly now. "Other than myself you're probably the smartest guy I know, Otto."

"Doesn't mean anything. You barely know anyone.""

Peter shrugged. "And Harry's dad might be a dick, but every time I've met him he's been fine. You know what Harry's like."

Harry had always been vocal - especially after a few drinks - about the friction between him and his father. Too many expectations and not enough tender loving care through his youth. Harry suspected it had something to do with his mother's death. Otto had never properly met the guy, only seen his picture in magazines or caught a glimpse of him picking Harry up from school when they were younger.

---

Later that evening, Otto sat at his desk, the glow of his monitor illuminating the clutter around him - notes, half-finished designs, scattered tools.

On the screen was an email draft. One that he had been staring at for the better part of an hour now. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, never daring to touch the keys. He'd typed it out three times already, and deleted it twice entirely. The third version - the most excessively preened and pruned of the triplets sat there now, awaiting the decision on whether or not it would serve its purpose and be sent - or be destroyed like its brethren.

Dear Mr. Osborn,
Harry mentioned there may be internship opportunities available this summer. I'd be interested in discussing-

Otto stared at it a while longer. Something about it felt off. Was it too eager? Too formal? Was it enough? Too much? He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah, that's not getting sent. Not tonight anyway."

The laptop clicked shut. He sat in silence for a moment, pushing himself away from the desk on his office chair and interlocking his fingers behind his head. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then spun slightly on his chair, glancing at the dim part of his room out of the corner of his eye.

He watched for a time, he could almost see it breathing from beneath the loose covering. Finally he rose from his chair and moved over to the edge of the room. He removed the covering and pulled out the harness from its hiding place.

He hesitated for a moment, turning over the cold metal in his hands before shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

"Not tonight."

He set it back down carefully, pulling the covering over it again. He needed a break. The other heroes could pick up his slack in the meantime.

Instead, he grabbed his phone, scrolling for a moment before stopping on a contact. Then he hit call.

"Hoh, if it isn't the invisible man!" Harry's voice crackled through the speaker.

Otto leaned back in his chair, staring through the window. "Yeah, yeah - sorry I've been a bit M.I.A. I've been busy with...stuff." He was going to need to come up with a better excuse - or any excuse at all for that matter. It could only go on so long before his friends start getting suspicious.

"No problemo there 'Big O'. So, what's up?"

"I'm bored, plus I need your advice on an email."

"Say no more, amigo. Wanna come to mine? I can set up Tekken if you can afford to switch your brain off for a bit."

Otto smiled. "Sounds great."

---

Harry's apartment was a far cry from Otto's family home.

Otto had been here enough times that the novelty had worn off. It was still expensive, obviously, but it felt lived in. Jackets lazily slung over chairs, empty bottles tucked half-heartedly into corners, a general sense that someone actually existed here rather than just passed through it. Even if the occupant didn't take the best care of his belongings.

"Make yourself at home" Harry said, already moving toward the kitchen. "Drink?"

"Yeah, sure."

Peter didn't even look up from where he was flicking through the TV channels. "He means help yourself, by the way. If you wait for him you'll die of thirst."

"Hey!" Harry called back, grabbing a couple of beers and tossing one toward Otto. "Ungrateful. Free beer is free beer, Parker."

Otto caught it easily, cracking it open as he leaned against the back of the couch.

"So" Harry said, dropping onto the sofa and grabbing a controller "This mystery email. Let's hear it."

Otto exhaled through his nose, already feeling that slight knot in his stomach again. "It's nothing, really. I just don't want to make the wrong first impression with your dad."

Peter glanced over. "You're overthinking it. As per usual. It's just your friends dad."

"I am not overthinking it! It's not just my friend's dad, it's-" He gestured vaguely. "It's him."

Harry let out a short laugh at that, though there wasn't much humour in it. "Yeah. Him. You said it buddy."

Otto hesitated for a second before asking, "So, what's he actually like? When he's not on the cover of Time Magazine - that is."

There was a pause. Harry leaned back into the couch, rolling the controller idly between his hands as he stared at the screen without really taking in what was on it. "Depends who you ask, I guess." he said eventually. "Public version? Genius. Visionary. Built Oscorp into what it is. Real man of the people stuff." He took a swig of beer. "Private version? Let's just say you don't get to where he is by being a particularly nice guy."

Otto frowned a little. "Right..."

"I mean, don't get me wrong" Harry added, a little more quickly now. "He'll like you. Yo'’re exactly the kind of person he loves. Smart, driven, not an idiot." A small smirk tugged at his mouth. "Unlike some people."

"Wow." Peter muttered. "Just catching strays for no reason now."

"He'll size you up in about ten seconds." He continued. "He'll be deciding if you're worth his time. If you are? Great. Doors open. Opportunities. The whole shebang." He tapped the controller against his knee. "If you're not then...you may as well not exist."

"Sounds encouraging."

Harry let out a laugh. "Hey, you asked!"

“Yeah, I guess I did." Otto admitted. "Just trying to figure out how not to completely embarrass myself and potentially fuck up my future forever."

Harry snorted. "Oh, come off it. You'll be fine." He shifted in his seat, speaking more pointedly now. "Look, you want my advice - keep it direct. Don't grovel, he hates that. And don't try to be clever for the sake of it. He was a scientist before he was a businessman he'll see right through it."

"Right. Duly noted."

Peter suddenly perked up, as if he was roused from deep slumber. He tossed a controller toward Otto. "Alright, enough career counselling. Let's play a game."

Otto caught the controller then held up both hands in mock surrender. "I didn't come here to get humiliated."

"You came to the wrong place then!" Peter shot back.

Harry smirked, already selecting his character on the screen. "Relax, we'll go easy on you."

"Speak for yourself!" Peter said. "I'm not holding back."

Otto sighed, but took the controller anyway, dropping into the seat beside them. "Fine. Just don't start crying when I beat you."

It was nice to go back to normal for a while, even if it was just for a night.

The Staff stood in the middle of the room, upright, the 3 of them staring at it. Boyd was crawling around on the glass of his cage, staring at the light shining from the staff's crystal. His head twitching back and forth in an insect-like way. Bailey sat on a chair. "So, it's a magic staff. Kinda looks like the one Shazam had." There was a loud boom from outside as a lightning bolt struck the lightning rod on the roof. "I need to stop doing that."

"Feel free to go nuts, kid, it's doing my electric bills the world of good." Simm replied. "But the question then arises... What's the point of the staff?" He asked. "You're already more powerful than a locomotive, a weapon seems a little pointless."

"Maybe it's not a weapon." Christina chimed in. Simm began rubbing his temple for the inevitable migrain her suggestion would cause. "What if it's something for you to focus your magic with? I mean, you're doing alright, but you can only do it as Captain Marvel? Maybe this is to help you become a wizard like Shazam?"

"But i don't know any spells..." He replied.

"Well, it's a good thing i do." Christina smiled, getting her phone out, she pressed a few buttons, before turning the phone around to reveal an older Livestream. Simm raised an eyebrow.

"There's a magic user... Who livestreams?" He asked. Christina rolled up her sleeve to reveal a "Zatarafam" bracelet. "And you believe him?" Christina pointed at Bailey, then at the staff.

"I MET A GREEK GOD AN HOUR AGO AND I MAY OR MAY NOT BE DATING HIS SON!!! MAGIC IS REAL!" Simm took a sharp inhale through his nose, before rolling his eyes.

"Alright, i can't argue with that." He resigned.



"You got a deck of cards?" She asked. Simm sighed and walked to his desk and grabbed an old and battered looking deck of cards from a drawer and put it on top of the desk. Bailey and Christina looked at the deck, then Christina looked at Simm. "You play Sorcery: The Congregation?" She asked. "CONERDUGH!" She coughed. Simm's eyebrow twitched at her.

"Get the staff, lets see what it can do. Repeat the words he said." Simm commanded. Christina played the video back several times. Bailey then looked at the deck of cards and put his hand out over it.

"Edivid dna ylf sdrac!" He called. The cards did nothing. Simm looked at him.

"I said get the staff. I would guess that your human body doesn't conduct magic the way Captain Marvel's body does." Simm replied. Bailey walked over to the staff and picked it up. It looked rather heavy, but even with his small body, he picked it up with ease. It felt like it weighed nothing. He was just about used to that feeling when he was Captain Marvel, but as Bailey... Frankly, it gave him nostalgia for his former spider powers. He walked over to the deck and held the staff over it.

"Edivid dna ylf sdrac!" As he said the words, lightning erupted from the end of the staff and began zapping the cards, which began twitching, before exploding in every way imaginable, shooting and ricocheting over the walls. "STOP! STOP! STOP!!! He yelled. One perfectly pierced straight through the glass of Boyd's cell. It didn't shatter the glass or anything, simply leaving a slit in the glass that the card had perfectly passed through. The cards now stuck into the walls all over the place.

"Say it backwards!" Christina yelled.

"Oh yeah, POTS!!!" He yelled as a shockwave erupted from the end of the staff. Everything stopped and fell silent... Eerily quiet... Perfectly quiet... Bailey looked around to see Christina and Simm perfectly still, Simm was mid-leap to avoid a card. "NO YOU STUPID STAFF, NOT STOP THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE!!!" HE groaned, shaking it. "Alright, i've got to say it backwards... Stop is pots, so... Og?" He ordered as the chaos unfroze and the whirlwind of cards continued to blow. "No, i've gotta stop just the cards... Pots eet scadr? Oh POTS!" He yelled as everything stopped again. He walked over to the desk and grabbed a piece of paper, writing "Stop The Cards" on it. He then flipped the paper and held it up to the light for the light to shine through. "Alright..." He tucked the staff between his armpit and the back of his hand, his arm wrapping around it so he could hold both it and the paper up to the light. He took a few breaths. "Alright, Og!" The chaos restarted again. "SDRAC EHT POTS!" He yelled as the cards suddenly stopped and fell to the ground. "That was terrifying, i'm never doing that again." Bailey replied. Meanwhile, Simm walked over to the phone and grabbed it from Christina, watching what Zatara was doing.

"Ok, here's the problem. That kid has a magic wand. You are using a staff forged by the very gods themselves and imbued with the power of their sorcerer-king. What you did is the equivalent of trying to putt a golf ball with a 3-wood." Ge replied.

"And for those of us under the age of 300 who don't play Golf?" Christina asked. Simm grunted.

"Fine, you just tied to perform sensitive surgery using a Claymore." Christina nodded.

"Explosives based surgery? Yikes, that's not going to end well for anyone involved." Christina grunted.

"I was talking about the sword, but your enalogy works better." Simm sighed.

"So... Is it too dangerous?" He asked.

"It's a staff forged by the gods, i should say so... But it'll be perfect for Captain Marvel to use." He replied. "Mind if i keep it here for study?" He asked.

"Well, i can't exactly take it back to F.E.A.S.T. can i?" Bailey sighed. Simm pressed some buttons on his control panel, before looking at Bailey.

"Before you go..." He pointed to several of his cards still imbedded in the ceiling a hundred foot above them. Bailey nodded.

"SHAZAM!"

---

Winslow Schott's Flat
Christmas Eve

As Thor traveled through London it hit him that this was his first time across the pond. He actually had never ventured far from home despite having the ability to fly and create portals to wherever he wanted to go. Metropolis was amazing, but there was a whole world out there that needed his help. He couldn't be so selfish. With all the power he had came the responsibility to use it to serve others. He had spent so long hiding in the shadows that it didn't even cross his mind once he came into the light. He could blame it on the persecution he received early in his public career and fearing that it'd only make it worse if he interfered with events on foreign soil, but all that would've been was an excuse. He just truly never thought of it until now. Now that he learned that he genuinely was a god he felt that he needed to be more than just his hometown hero. But he could worry about that later. It was a big planet and right now he didn't know where to start.

Santa's reindeer brought him to an apartment building or whatever the British call it and hovered outside of a window. "I guess this is it." He said before picking up his trusty hammer and hovering over to the fire escape. He smashed the window to get inside. "He won't be using this for a while." Thor entered and immediately saw Santa Claus trapped in a cell. How did Toyman even get this thing in here and what was it made of if it could contain a magical being like Santa? He wondered if it was even intended for Santa. He doubted Toyman knew that Santa existed before tonight. He didn't. He may never get the answer to that, but it didn't matter right now. He ran over to the cage preparing to destroy it with Mjolnir, but was stopped by Santa.

"STOP!" Santa yelled. "If you hit it with that you'll only make it stronger. It's made of a combination of Uru and Nth metal. The former is what your hammer is made of and you see how durable it is. The latter negates magic."

So that's what Mjolnir was made of. He never actually cared to think about it. He was just glad that he had it. But if it negated magic he now understood how Santa was captured. Maybe this cage was meant for him, but the question was how Toyman continued to gain access to things he shouldn't have. Even the gun that knocked him out back in the park was made of the same stuff. Maybe he'd sneak into jail later and ask him. But since Thor couldn't use Mjolnir or magic, which he figured his lightning was, he had another idea. His strength was physically his. It shouldn't technically be magical. He approached the bars of the cage in front of Santa and placed Mjolnir on the ground before gripping the bars with his hands. He exhaled slowly and pulled at the bars with all of his strength. At first it felt like they wouldn't budge, but he continued to pull until they moved and bent out of shape. Thor made a hole big enough for Santa to exit his makeshift prison and stepped back to let him do so.

Santa stepped through the opening and stretched from having to sit in there for so long. "I'm finally free! Thank you, Thor, or should I say Donald?"

"Wait you know--- of course you do. You're Santa Claus. It's still crazy that you're real."

"Imagine how I felt when I had to start delivering gifts to the son of Odin. Speaking of, I need to get back to work. Need a ride?"

So even Santa knew he was a god before he did and it was official. He was Thor, son of Odin. "No, thank you. I have my own way. Plus, you have a night of gift delivering to do. I'm just glad I could help free you and finally stop Toyman. I just wish the boys at the Demolitions Site were awake to hear the good news."

Santa walked past Thor and said, "They will be," with hearty Ho, Ho, Ho.

Thor turned to face Santa after his last Ho and saw that he was gone. He ran towards the window and saw that even the reindeer were gone. "Smooth, old man. I gotta try that one day." He called Mjolnir before giving it a twirl and aimed it out of the window creating a portal to Ace O'Clubs. He jumped through the portal with it closing it behind him.

---

Otto's fingers were a blur on the keyboard as he monitored all 3 screens in front of him. He'd always been able to process information faster than others - it came with the genius level intellect. However, recently he'd been picking things up much faster than normal. About 8x faster than normal, to be precise. Unbeknownst to him, this was the added benefit of having a brain for his head and now for all his limbs too - including the four mechanical ones laying dormant in their hiding spot.

One one screen was a paper for his class, on another was a half-finished message thread - Peter, Harry, MJ something about meeting up later - and on the third was a single, unassuming window pulled from a port authority database.

At a glance, it looked like the least important of the three. Anyone who walked in would have immediately been confused by Otto's sudden interest in the sea. Otto's eyes rapidly flicked between all of the screens. He typed out a sentence on the paper and then tabbed over to the chat to reply.

Yeah, maybe. Depends how much I've got left to do.

Back to the paper.

'...demonstrates a decentralised processing model-'

Part of him wanted to put on the harness, hook up a few more keyboards, and see how efficiently he could really get all this done. But it was too risky. He didn't have a secret cave to work in - he had a messy dorm room with a half-broken lock.

All the while, the third screen updated. A live satellite feed capturing a large area around where Otto had encountered the KRAB before. Side by side with this was a variety of stats and information - tide charts, buoy readings, current vectors, weather overlays. He'd been caught by surprise before, and he'd made it a personal objective to never let that happen again. If he couldn't outmuscle the competition he'd have to outprepare them.

He went back to the paper.

'...semi-autonomous processing across multiple nodes-'

And then to the group chat once more.

If I finish early I'll swing by.

Then finally, back to the third screen again. He felt a jolt through his body staring at the information in front. It wasn't anything so obvious as seeing the KRAB breaching out of the water, but to Otto it was more than enough evidence.

A stretch of current data was showing information that was way off. A slight deviation, like something had displaced the water just long enough to be noticed, then vanished again. It was large - Otto surmised it was either a whale or his target.

But then, the movement repeated. And not in a random location either. It was moving in a straight line, along a path. Otto leaned back in his chair, one hand still idly finishing the final lines of his paper while the other pulled up a wider map. The data expanded outward, connecting points most would have missed.

"Gotcha." he murmured to the empty room. The KRAB was heading somewhere, but where? He twiddled a pen inbetween his fingers before clicking it twice and attacking the keyboard once more. He pulled up shipping routes and furiously scrolled through them.

There were a few in the danger zone, intersecting along the trajectory of the mechanical beast. He looked deeper into their route, calculating their current speed against the path of their hunter.

A larger vessel, slower moving. Would intersect the projected path within...Otto's eyes flicked to the clock.

"Forty minutes?!"

The paper was finished, unbeknownst to his conscious mind. He allowed his fingers to hover over the keyboard once more - having a small mental battle with himself as if the outcome wasn't obvious.

Otto stood from his chair and moved over to the harness. It was time to hit this guy where it hurt.

---

He was going to have to act fast if he was going to beat the KRAB to its dinner. Sure, he could swim faster than it. Much faster. But it wouldn't be fast enough. At this rate he'd reach the ship well after the KRAB had slaughtered the crew and made off with its equipment. He had to find a faster way of getting there, one that didn't involve swimming.

A crowd had formed around one of the long streets of New York. This wasn't an unusual sight in the city that never sleeps, but the crowd hadn't formed for a marching band or a protest for once - they had formed for an entirely different kind of spectacle.

Shouts and jeers of 'It ain't halloween yet pal!' and 'The street performers hang out at times square bozo!' surrounded Otto as he executed his impromtu plan. He was muttering calculations under his breath, a muddle of numbers and corrections.

"Don't worry guys!" He finally shouted back. "Nothing to see here!

This only brought on more insults.

He slowly edged backwards step by step, pushing against the tensile strength of the tentacles holding him back. All four of them were shot deeply into the tall buildings around him and were being pulled taut like a rope as he stretched backwards with all his might.

Finally he was as far back as he could go. Otto wasn't sure if the tentacles could stretch any further, but he sure as hell knew he couldn't take another step without slipping and falling flat on his face. He wrapped his arms around the upper two tentacles for safety and took a deep breath.

"Uh, don't worry everyone! I'm a trained professional!" He shouted to the crowd, unconfidently. "Trained dumbass more like..." He then muttered to himself. A few people in the crowd stepped back. Most, however, took out their phones and started recording.

All at once he released his grip on the tentacles and jumped into the air. The tension snapped forward all at once.

Otto shot across the street in a blur, the world compressing into a single, violent line of motion. Wind tore past him, the ground vanishing beneath his feet as he soared through the air - propelled by the use of his crude slingshot.

Even as he flew through the air - looking down at the people becoming ants below him - he was still calculating his trajectory. He glanced up again towards the water and the docks - his eyes twitched left and right. His calculations were off. A very minor error in terms of the maths but in terms of his landing point a major variation.

He made a split second decision. Taking even less than that to adjust his aim. A tentacle shot out, piercing through a water tank and spilling liquid all over a roof. The metal appendage wrapped around the side of the tank and then just as quickly went loose and altered Otto's flight path.

Perfect, trajectory corrected. He soared through the air for a while longer, climbing higher above the concrete jungle and then eventually the black water of the ocean.

What Otto hadn't accounted for when formulating his plan was the landing.

If he landed on the ship then his calculations - with their amendment - were perfect. This would be a personal victory that much was sure, but it posed another set of problems. The first being the velocity at which he'd land. He was more durable than your average robotics student that was for sure, but still hitting metal from this height and speed would definitely hurt. And that's not even taking into account his mechanical limbs and the impact they would have on the ship. Sure, he could wrap himself in a coccoon of them and save himself a few scrapes and bruises - but he was almost certain turning himself into a cannonball would just plummet him through the ship itself.

Now the ocean, that may have been a bit more preferable. It minimized damage to the ship and any potential crew, but it posed the new issue of just how deep he'd plummet below the surface. This was valuable time that might be wasted.

There was no time to weigh up the pros and cons - and even if there was he was left with no options to alter his fate. There was no handholds, no buildings to cling to. At best he could use the ship itself as a last ditch attempt, but this ran the risk of damaging its hull or worse - capsizing it entirely.

He wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief when he hit the water and sank down like a torpedo into its icy depths. He was encased in darkness, his low-light vision adapting within the first few seconds. Just long enough for him to realise he was diving against his will straight towards a giant exosuit - the KRAB.

He repayed the favour from last time, catching the beast by surprise about as much as he'd been surprised by this twist of fate. Otto threw his tentacles forward, gripping onto any handhold on the KRAB he could find. He used his adversary to slow him slightly, and then flipped forward, carrying the giant through sheer momentum and throwing him as hard as he could to the ocean floor.

The loud thump at the ocean floor sounded out his victory - and for a moment Otto allowed himself to celebrate this small win. He followed through the motion, stabilising himself with a quick spread of his limbs - anchors biting into the seabed to bleed off the last of his momentum. Of course, it would never be that easy. A glowing pair of eyes rapidly arose from the depths, coated in sand and heading straight for Otto.

One massive claw tore free of the sand, snapping forward with enough force to split the water itself. Otto moved on instinct—his body twisting sideways as a line shot out, catching the ocean floor and dragging him just clear as the pincer slammed shut where he'd been a second earlier.

His momentum was shortlived though as the other claw rose up and collided with his spine, sending him tumbling through the water to the seabed below.

For a moment the KRAB floated, staring at Otto, before turning its attention back to the surface and swimming off in the direction of the ship.

"Not on my watch, asshole." He said to himself.

He pushed off immediately, propulsion kicking in as he shot upward after it. The KRAB wasn't retreating - it had barely even acknowledged Otto as a threat. The ship above loomed larger now, its shadow swallowing the faint light filtering down.

Otto angled upward, closing the distance. The water grew brighter, pressure easing slightly as they ascended, but the KRAB had the advantage now. Its bulk cut through the water with long, efficient, strokes of its claws that carved and pulled through the water faster than Otto could keep up.

He had to adjust. One limb shot past the KRAB, latching onto the underside of its chassis. Another followed, securing him in place as he was dragged along in its wake.

"We're not finished yet, buddy."

The KRAB barely even noticed. It continued to accelerate faster and faster as it neared the ship. The surface broke above them in a violent surge of displaced water. The ship's hull towered overhead as the KRAB breached just beneath it, one claw slamming into the metal with a deafening clang that reverberated through both machine and water alike. It began to climb, digging its huge sharp claws into the sides of the ship and pulling its huge mass up towards the deck. Water cascaded off of the exosuit as it hauled itself upward, the horrible noise of metal grinding against metal piercing through the noise of the waves.

One final heave and the KRAB pulled itself over the edge, crashing onto the deck in a thunderous impact that sent containers rattling and men stumbling back in shock. Otto released just before the landing, flipping free and hitting the deck, sliding across the slick metal. He came up quickly, eyes already locked onto the towering machine as it rose to full height.

Floodlights snapped toward them as the crew began to panic and retreat, sprinting away to the the extremities of the ship. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Otto was their last hope. The KRAB didn't even acknowledge them, it just began to slowly turn on its axis until it faced him head on.

For a moment, the chaos and the noise fell away. Otto couldn't hear any of it - the crew, the ship, the alarms, the ocean - none of it. The only thing he could hear was the pumping of blood in his ears, his own heartbeat deafening him from the world around.

"Alright." Otto took up a fighting pose, raising two fists and four more clawed tentacles pointed towards his opponent. "Round two. Ring the bell, Apollo."

---

Metropolis - Ace ‘o’ Clubs
Christmas Eve
_{Tags: @King Kindred @Azure Bubbles @Cyrania}

By the time Zach arrived at the Ace’O’Clubs, the whole night felt like a dream. Evil Santa, Magic, a Thunder God, (or a guy claiming to be a Thunder God) aliens. Somehow through all of this, he had not died! That was definitely worth celebrating.
The place looked like it had seen better days. Christmas lights had been draped around the front windows in a way that was either festive or a fire hazard. Maybe both.

Zach pushed the door open and stepped inside. The whole place smelled like hot chocolate, and cinnamon. Christmas lights were strung lazily around the bar, a little uneven, like someone had decorated quickly and then gotten distracted. There was tinsel draped over framed photos and a little plastic Santa near the register. Music was playing lightly in the background. Mariah Carey, of course.

Zach took it all in. It was the first quiet moment he had all night. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “This is either the beginning of a lifelong superhero tradition or the setup for me to have the weirdest panic attack of all time.”

”I would hope that this wouldn’t cause you a panic attack.” Green Guy suddenly appeared behind him, smirking with mirth.

Zach jumped and yelped when he heard the green guy speak. “Well maybe not, but apparently a heart attack is possible!” Zach sighed and pressed a hand to his chest like he needed to confirm his heart was still doing its job. “Do you have to do that?” He added, turning on the stool to face him.

”Not really.” He then sat on the stool next to Zach, still smirking. ”The occasion was merely too perfect to refrain from it.” Then his brow furrowed. ”You are not seriously hurt, are you?”

“No no, I’m good.” He said, waving it off. “I’m just not used to seeing green people materialize out of nowhere. But… I suppose at this point, I should get used to weird things…”

His smile returned. ”There is certainly plenty that is new and strange on your Earth…I have never seen an illusionist that works as you do before. Are you bending the light or are you sending the mental illusions directly into the minds of those that watch?”

“Magic…” Zach replied matter of factly. “I say something backwards and it happens. I don’t know how it works, and I gotta be honest, I didn’t even know I could do that until today.”

”Really…” But J’onn could well feel the truth of that. ”Your work is quite impressive for not having done anything like it before.”

“T-thanks… I’ve just been making this up as I go.” He shifted in his seat, and looked at the Green Guy more closely. “Anyway… what about you? You said ‘your earth’ which raises a lot of questions. Are you an interdimensional traveler? Alien? Some secret third thing?” Zach said, trying to change the subject away from his inexperience.

Now it was J’onn’s turn to shift a little uncomfortably. What was the safest way to answer…? ”I…truly am not a native of this world. I am still seeking to get used to the ways the Earth differs from where I come from. For instance…” His eyes darted about the club, wondering where their other two companions were while also wracking his mind for a good example to use. ”A bar like this…doesn’t exist where I am from. Frankly, this is my first time in one.”

Zach nodded. “Well, if it makes you feel better, it’s my first time in a bar too… For uh… different reasons, obviously.” He glanced around the room again. “Honestly, not what I was expecting. I was expecting something cooler, but I suppose the festive atmosphere is nice.”

”Indeed. Though with such a celebration as Christmas, I see little reason to not partake of the atmosphere, whatever sort of establishment it is.”

When Koriand’r entered the bar third, she was glad to see she wasn’t the first. She’d fallen prey to the classic anxiety after the excitement of the night died down and had to swing back by her apartment to make sure she’d turned off the oven in her haste to get out into the field.

As she looked around at the festive decorations and took in the smell of what had to be the drinks of the season - no doubt spiked since it was a bar - she visibly relaxed. Kori had tried a couple of times to engage in the social scene of alcohol consumption, but the results had been less than ideal. Getting hit on wasn’t exactly the most comfortable encounter and she had yet to develop a taste for Earth’s alcoholic beverages. Still, she wasn’t going to turn down the social opportunity with her comrades. The place was a dive bar in every sense of the phrase, but her friends were there and that made it seem much more inviting.

Zach and the Green Man were clearly making their acquaintances as she walked up to join them, ”I am glad it seems I haven’t missed much yet, though it seems like you two have had plenty of time to start getting to know each other.” She paused to look around, realising it was still just the three of them, “Thor must have had to go a long way to find Santa.”

”Undoubtably, Miss, Starfire, correct?” The Green Man turned towards her, offering his hand. ”It is a delight to make your acquaintance.”

”Just Starfire,” she smiled warmly, taking the proffered hand to shake, ”I have been told that heroes do not share their real names often. Are you truly sure ‘Green Man’ is an acceptable name to call you?”

He swallowed somewhat abashedly. ”’Green Man’ is acceptable for now. I, had not considered what I would be called in this form before now…” Mostly because he’d never intended to publicly reveal himself like this at all while on Earth, but that ship had long since sailed. ”Perhaps you two and Thor could aid me in discovering what I should be called as a, hero.”

Zach looked between the two of them as if they had just assigned him homework. “Oh wow, naming a superhero. No pressure or anything.” He leaned back in his stool and studied. “Green Man sounds like an environmental superhero trying to save the rainforest. It doesn’t give what you’re giving… Uh… What about Martian Man? Or is that deeply offensive?”

”It…wouldn’t be offensive, but that is not quite the name for me…Should we try to get drinks?

Kori had to stifle a laugh at Zach's suggestions not because they weren’t funny, but because she noticed the Green Man seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the suggestion. If not offensive, perhaps there was something else associated with the name that made it unsuitable. The quick subject change to drinks was clearly an attempt at avoiding further suggestions (or questioning him further).

”Yes, let’s!” Kori agreed, perfectly happy to steer the conversation away from the Green Man if that was his preference. ”Admittedly I still have not quite gained an appreciation for Earth’s alcoholic beverages, so perhaps something festive but tame for me. I thought I smelled chocolate when I walked in, and I do have a taste for that.”

“Yes, drinks. A topic I am much more qualified for.” Zach turned back toward the bar and lifted a hand to flag down whoever was working. “Hi! Yes, uh can we get 3 hot chocolates?” He looked back at Starfire and the Green Man. “Thor did say this place had the best hot chocolate in the city, and I am choosing to take his word for it.”

A large man wearing a Thor hoodie and a sailor flat cap approached the trio. He carried three spiked hot chocolates on a small platter and placed a cup in front of each of them. “These ‘re on the house. I recognize the lass from the news. Any friend o’ Thor's is a friend of mine. Where's the young lad? Out saving Christmas from the imposter, I bet.”

Kori smiled sheepishly as she took her drink. She was easily recognisable, but so far that hadn’t proved to be too much of an issue.

”Indeed.” J’onn took one of the mugs and took a sip. ”He should be joining us as soon as he is finished though.” He took another sip, savoring it. ”Your hot chocolate is delicious!”

Zach reached for his mug, and was about to take a sip. He smelled chocolate, cinnamon, and… something stronger under it. He looked at the mug, then at the man who served it, then back at the mug. “Is… this spiked? Um… I should probably mention, I’m eighteen… After everything I’ve been through, I don’t need to add underage drinker to my résumé…” He offered a sheepish smile, and set the mug back down. “If I could get the exact same thing without the alcohol, that would be great.” He then added with a tired laugh, “Also, yes. Thor is in fact out returning Santa’s reindeer. Which is a sentence I never thought I’d say.

Bibbo brought his hand to the tip of his hat and tilted it at J'onn to acknowledge how delicious his drinks were. He then turned to Zach and was surprised by his response. He almost fought him back on it, but his mind was clearly already made up his mind to get a virgin hot chocolate. He always found America's laws strange. The rest of the world allowed drinking at eighteen and some even younger, but America allowed eighteen year olds to smoke and sign up for war, but not drink. It was backwards.

He sighed and went to get another hot chocolate before bringing it back to Zach. He placed it down next to the spiked one and picked the latter up and started drinking it himself. “Yer missin’ out, but I don't pressure ‘nyone. And that sounds like Thor alright. I met him here three years ago stopping some punks from trashin’ the place. Kid's got a heart of gold. He's been comin’ here ever since.”

Nodding at Bibbo’s explanation of their past, Kori took another sip from her drink. Seemed it was always the same story with Thor and his big heart. ”My story is much the same,” she recalled, the images of the news broadcasts replaying her arrival for days after still fresh in her mind. ”Thor was my first call when I heard the news about Toyman posing as Santa. These two got unceremoniously roped into the battle, but I can’t say I wasn’t glad for the help.”

“Unceremoniously pulled in is right. I was streaming, discovered I had magic, saw the whole Santa situation on TV, and stepped in… He took a sip of hot chocolate. “Which sounds suspiciously like a superhero origin story… But, that’s just how my life is now apparently. Glad it happened though. Otherwise I’d be sitting in my room freaking out wondering what is going on.” He lifted his mug slightly in a toast. “So, here’s to being introduced to heroism I guess.”

J’onn raised his own mug. ”May your future heroic endeavors be as successful as this one.” Then he took another sip. It really was good. He’d never allowed himself any human alcohol before, but this was a night for firsts. So far, it didn’t seem to be killing him, so that was a good sign. ”Both of you have skills and powers that are quite formidable.”

Koriand’r raised her mug, mirroring the others and gave Zach a firm hand on his shoulder, ”If tonight is any indicator, you have the makings of greatness.” She glanced toward the door, sorry that Thor was missing this moment of camaraderie between new allies. Shrugging it off, she turned back to the Green Man, ”I believe you have earned your own toast, Green Man. For your heroism tonight and to whatever your future endeavours may be, be they heroic or not.” Kori raised her mug again and nodded toward him. ”At the very least, you helped save Christmas.”

J’onn lowered his head. ”...Thank you.” Then took another sip.

A portal opened up in the middle of the bar as the three tapped their mugs. Wind blew throughout the bar and a few startled patrons jumped from their seats so that they could leave before whatever was on the other side abducted them. Thor flew into the bar like a gentle breeze before the portal closed behind him. The frightened patrons slowly returned to their seats and continued drinking.

Thor scanned the room until his eyes landed on his quartet of friends. “Ho, Ho, Ho! Merry Christmas!” He called out in glee before landing on the ground and making his way over. “Hey, Bibbo! Get me one too, will ya?”

“You got it, kid.” Bibbo replied as he went to pour another spiked hot chocolate. “Yer friends just told me about your big adventure. Who'd o’thought Ol’ Nick was real?”

“Definitely the craziest end to a year yet.” Thor answered back as he approached the heroic trio. “I hope I didn't make you all wait long.” He said as he sat down next to Kori.

Thor certainly made an entrance, but his cheerful attitude was a good sign that things had gone well wherever he had ended up in his search to return the sleigh to Santa. Kori raised her mug to him in greetings, ”I take it you were successful and found Santa unharmed?”

Thor nodded as he reached to grab his own mug from Bibbo. He tapped Kori's before taking a sip and answering. “I was. He was locked in a cage made out of some unique metal. Apparently one of them is what Mjolnir is made of. He's back on his route delivering gifts to all the good little boys and girls waiting up to see if Santa is okay.”

“Welcome back, good to know Christmas isn’t ruined.” Zach replied. “Btw, your number one fan over there was right. This hot chocolate is amazing!”

J’onn chuckled. ”I quite agree with the young lad. This is delicious.” Then he tilted his head, looking over Thor up and down carefully. ”It is good to see you hale and hearty, Thor.” Much better than seeing him as a corpse on the ground…

Bibbo smiled as he listened to the praise of his hot chocolate, even the one without alcohol in it. “I'm glad youse guys like it.”

Kori had been trying not to think about how Toyman had been able to drop Thor with a single shot. Weapons that powerful were dangerous in the hands of those who would use them for crime and personal gain. It did raise the question of how Toyman got ahold of such a thing in the first place, but that was a concern for tomorrow. They were busy celebrating; there was no need to bring up darker things.

”Agreed. I am grateful you are unharmed, also,” she gave a relieved sigh. ”I think I speak for all of us when I say you had us worried. Your constitution is stronger than I realised!”

Thor rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment from everyone's concerns about him. He understood but it was also new for him. Well, sort of. He's accepted that some things could prove difficult for him ever since his first fight against Toyman's armor. “I guess when you're a god it comes with the skill set. Though, it is a bit weird adjusting to the idea of me being one. My whole life I thought I was just a suped up mutant. Learning this opens up a whole new world. But it does put some things into perspective.”

J’onn frowned. ”In what ways has it brought perspective?” There were certainly ways that finding out one was, more powerful than they before imagined, would be useful to reflect on. Even in the cheery atmosphere though, it was hard to not reflect on all the sort of things that usefully happened when one thought he was a god…The fingers not holding his mug absently traced over his wrist. The scars had nearly faded now at least, leaving golden etchings in their wake. Still though, his fingers could follow every etching.

“The day I received Mjolnir and my armor. I heard someone calling me son telling me to call upon Mjolnir. I thought I was just imagining things before. Also the armor that Toyman was using to fight me. It was able to hurt me when nothing or no one else did before. That and the metal he made his weapon out of… I think a god has been helping him.” Thor said as he looked at his hot chocolate. He took a sip trying to calm the thoughts trying to race around his mind. Why would a god be sending others to go after him? Maybe it wasn't a god necessarily but still someone connected to Norse mythology. If his memory of the past was anything to go off of it could be Laufey. But why strike now?

J’onn frowned deeply ”Helping Toyman? For what purpose? To slay you? To test your mettle? Or…” J’onn’s eyes widened, then he quickly took another sip of the hot chocolate. Toyman did seem the type to fully focus on what he sought and ignore everything else. But surely he wasn’t meant to capture Thor for whoever his benefactor was. Thor was-No. No one could be seeking to force him into that sort of life!... Right? ”...Have you had, anyone come to you seeking to recruit you?”

Thor shrugged. He couldn't fathom the intention of Toyman's helper. He just knew that Toyman had a personal vendetta against him because he stopped his initial revenge plot. “No. No one tried to recruit me, but this did all start when my dad told me to get a job, but I'm sure that's just a coincidence. But maybe this secret enemy's trying to study me like prey to see how easy or difficult it'd be to kill me.”

Kori turned to the Green Man, puzzled, ”Speak plainly - what is it that concerns you?” Some experience in his past clearly must have felt analogous in some way to what Thor was now going through. If it was unpleasant and avoidable, she would gladly play whatever part required to prevent it.

Zach looked at the whole situation puzzled. “So, just to make sure I’m following. Toyman got his hands on anti-magic metal, used it to kidnap Santa, nearly took out Thor, and now we’re suspecting someone else from Norse Mythology might be involved? Cool, superhero drama. Love that.” He took a sip of hot chocolate, even though the mug was nearly empty by now. “This feels like a lot for my first time with… all of this… I got into magic for the aesthetic, the family history, maybe a cool trick. I was not expecting mythology politics.” He sighed and put his mug down. So, what do we do now? Do we investigate? Do we wait for whoever’s behind this to make the next move? Do we all start carrying around anti-anti-magic backup plans? I feel like there's a guidebook I didn’t get.”

And then Zach’s phone pinged. “Don’t tell me… He pulled his phone out to check the message.

Clearly, no one explained the family business to you. We’re fixing that.
Finish your drink. We’re meeting tonight.
-Z

“Ok cool… My cousin has decided I’m getting an emergency orientation…”

“Does your cousin have ears everywhere?” Thor asked before answering Zach's other questions and concerns.

“This does sound pretty heavy for your first time, but I don't want to drag any of you into my mess. If Toyman's gun was enough to put me down for even a moment I'd hate to see what it could do to you all.” He hoped that didn't come off as cocky or braggadocious. It was truly out of a place of concern.

Bibbo listened to their conversation intently. The kid being a god made sense. He was already calling himself one, but it was still a crazy revelation. Now he started to wonder what this meant for other religions and gods. The world was starting to feel a whole lot bigger.

J’onn meanwhile swallowed, focused on his own thoughts. Then he sent a message into her mind. ”I can’t talk about it out in the open. It could only be my judgement’s clouded. Just, be on guard for Thor’s sake if anyone seems, too keenly interested in his powers.”

The touch of the Green Man’s mind was unfamiliar but not something she was wholly unaccustomed to. While the universe wasn’t crawling with telepaths, there were those with special abilities and even a few species for whom telepathy was simply another sense. The High Evolutionary himself had several in his employ, and Kori had been trained to both defend her mind and open it.
Her head tilted imperceptibly as she heard his words, but gave no other outward sign of the silent conversation, ”I can empathise with your wariness. Thor is my friend and you have my word I will do anything I can to protect him from whatever nefarious forces conspire against him.”

J’onn gave a slow nod in response.

“I don’t know about everywhere, but maybe just on me…” Zach laughed nervously. “And unfortunately I got dragged into shenanigans anyway, and am being summoned by my cousin for remedial magic lessons. It's a little late to keep us out of danger now. We’re involved like it or not.”

Tuning back into the conversation Kori pointed out, ”Perhaps a remedial lesson will be fruitful. It took a great toll on you to do what you did in battle. Perhaps your cousin’s guidance will help you grow into this new skill and become a greater hero for it. My powers are not entirely innate; it took years of training to develop the skills I have now. And if you are right that by proximity there may be some danger to Thor’s allies, strength and skill will be your best protection against whatever forces seek to bring him down.”

Thor took another sip of his hot chocolate. “Star's right. If being a friend or ally of mine puts you in danger, you'll definitely need training. I have a feeling that things won't end here. When does your cousin want you to start?”

“She said we’re meeting tonight. Not sometime this week, or whenever you’re free, tonight. He said dryly.

J’onn let out a chuckle. ”That means she’s truly serious in her desire to see you well trained. Perhaps your cousin will give you answers on how your magic actually functions. I can imagine some things would go smoother if you, say, knew whether your illusions were light projections, or if they were only mental projections and so an ordinary security camera would not be fooled by the ruse.”

Koriand’r nodded along with the Green Man’s insight, taking another sip from her mug. While it was likely inconvenient to be literally summoned, the results would be worth the inconvenience. Zach still had so much to learn about his own powers and that put him in danger as a hero, and just in general if he could possibly misfire his own magic. The latter also put those around him in danger, and he had a responsibility to ensure that didn’t happen due to negligence.

“I guess that means we'll have to call it a night early.” Thor said before finishing the last of his hot chocolate. “But let's commemorate the night we saved Christmas. Bibbo, mind taking a picture for us?” Thor was about to pull out his cell phone but Bibbo stopped him and pulled a Polaroid Camera from underneath the bar.

Bibbo waited for everyone to line up for the picture and took five photos, one after the other. Each time one was printed he placed it in front of each hero before the fifth one he took for himself. “This is goin’ on the wall. Not every day heroes come to ya bar after saving Christmas.”

“Oh my god,” Zach said, a laugh escaping before he could stop it. “An actual Polaroid! That is so retro.” He went to line up with the others, and posed differently for all five of them. “It’s a good thing I’ll have proof this really happened. Or I might have written this off as a fever dream.” He grinned as he looked at the photo, and put it in his coat pocket. “Seriously, though. Thanks. For tonight. For not letting me die, for the teamwork, for the cocoa, and for the incredibly dramatic Christmas photo shoot.” Then, he turned towards the exit. “Now, I have to meet up with my cousin for a magical tutoring session. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

While pictures weren’t foreign to Kori, Polaroids were. She didn’t know what exactly made them “retro” but she went with it and put on her brightest smile. They all came out a little different, but as she picked one up for herself she knew she would put it up on her fridge as a reminder of the night and the friends she’d made.

J’onn allowed the others to choose their’s, then choose one for himself. ”Thank you.” Once chosen, he looked down at it, tilting it every which way. Truly a primitive thing compared to the holographic photos of Mars, where innate psychic powers helped imbed the entire memory to the page to be read by someone else. But still, it was a sign that perhaps, he could find a life here after all. One as the Green Man, helping with the more, unusual problems that Earth faced…He couldn’t display this picture anywhere prominently, but there were some safe places he could treasure it.

Downing the last of her hot chocolate, she placed the mug back on the bar, ”Thank you, Bibbo. I’m sure we will meet again.” Then turning to Zach, ”Good luck tonight. And thank you again for your help - you did well for a novice. It would be my honour to fight by your side again.”

J’onn then blinked. They were all leaving so soon. But if felt like they’d all just arrived! He bit his lip though to hold his tongue. Zach had his lesson to head to, Thor and Kori had their own lives to live…, and he had a shift in the morning. Even such a moment could not last forever. Reluctantly, he drank down the last of his hot chocolate and set the mug down. ”Thank you indeed for the wondrous beverage, Mr. Bibbo. May your bar know nought of anything other than mirth and prosperity. And may the moons guide you safely home, Starfire.” Then he turned to Zach. ”Take care to listen and follow your cousin’s instructions, young one. You may even find yourself enjoying the lessons.”

"Ok, Jack, i know you're pissed at me, but letting a ring take your body for a joyride isn't the answer." Hal said, as the others stood behind him. He looked across the room and across the base outside, everyone without a ring was on their knee's or straight up on the floor, tears flooding down their faces as they let out wails of anguish.

"Jack Jordan, your brother." Sinestro stated. Hal looked back at Sinestro, a confused look on his face, he had never said anything about Jack or Jimmy to him. "Unlike you, Green Lantern, i actually do read the dossiers i'm given." Sinestro quickly created a gold bubble of energy around the 4 of them. As he did so, May finally came to her senses.

"What the heck was that?" She asked. Jack stepped up to the golden barrier and put a hand on it. As he did so, the golden barrier began slowly etching with silver cracks.

"This isn't going to last more than another few seconds-" Sinestro began, Hal then put his ring forward and a blast of green energy enveloped them, creating a second layer of defense. "The power of Sorrow is a terrible one to bare, but he will attempt to bring out insecurities and our greatest tragedies to life. While clad in your emotional specrtum, you should be able to resist the majority of his aura, but if he gets into your head... Be prepared to relive your most emotionally painful experiences." Sinestro said, as the gold barrier shattered, before Jack got to work on the green one. "Hal Jordan, you should take the lead on this one." He ordered.

"It's my brother, of course i'm taking the lead." Hal replied. He then noticed that Jack was having a much harder time cutting through his barrier.

"Sorrow is amplified by fear and anger, but controlled by Will, you should have the best chance of resisting him." Sinestro replied.

"What about me?" May asked. "Can you use your rings to give me something so i'm not just screaming on the floor again?" Sinestro looked at her, before pointing his ring at her and a golden aura surrounded her.

"That should at least resist his aura." Sinestro grunted. The cracks of silver energy continued to crawl through the green barrier. "Apart from that, stay back and we all support Jordan. Dex-Starr, do you understa-" As the green barrier shattered, Dex immediately launched at Jack's face, all 20 claws ready to do some damage, but Jack's ring-hand shot up and grabbed the cat by the face, claws immediately sinking into his arm and teeth into his purlicue, Jack stared down with the tears continuing to flow, as he did so, there was a flash of silver and Dex immediately dropped to the floor, limp. Silvery images of cats and kittens appeared around his body.

Alone... Always alone... No... Before, he was alone, there was her... Mommy? And his brothers and sisters. All he knew was the 4 walls, mommy's warmth and the others. It was a good life. Slowly, one by one, the humans would come and give the man the weird paper and take one of the brothers and sisters. Till that night. Instead of paper, they shoved a metal thing into him and there was a bang. Then he, mommy and his remaining brothers and sisters went into the bag. It was rough, he was scared. He didn't know what was happening. There was so many noises, so loud, so much laughter around him. But not good laughter, cruel laughter. Disgusting cruelty. Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air and then... We were all weightless. Mommy was clawing, desperately trying to get out, we all were. Then the splash. Then the water rushed in. Brothers and sisters went first, they weren't as strong as him and Mommy. Mommy was able to get a small opening in the bag, he could squeeze through, he could get out. He finally did, getting to the surface, he managed to swim for shore... He sat there... Days... Weeks... So hungry... She would get out, eventually, he knew it... When would he see mommy again? That's when more men came. He wasn't going to trust them, they were going to put him back in the bag.

"JACK, WHAT THE HELL, DID YOU JUST KILL MY CAT?" Hal roared at him. There was a sudden wail that shook the room, eminating from the Red Ring. Dex shot up into the air, smashing into the ceiling. Tears rolling down his face, but these tears were blood-red lava, one rolling onto the desk and immediately sending the paper and everything up in flames.

"MOMMYYY!!!!! MOMMYY!!! YOU CAN MAKE IT OUT!!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!! MOMMY NOOOOOO!!!!" He screamed, before smashing through another wall and disappearing.

"Dex-Starr of Earth knows my Sorrow... And now so will you, Hal Jordan of Earth." He groaned. As the smoke from the burning table reached the ceiling, the sprinklers went off.

"We need to get out, we need to maneuver." Hal replied. As Jack suddenly shot towards them, Sinestro formed a golden brick wall between them, but Jack smashed straight through, Hal grabbed May and flew around Jack, towards the hole he had made. Sinestro, on the otherhand, formed a pair of large, golden hands, grabbing Jack and attempting to throw him, but Jacks ring reacted, creating a carjack that held the hands apart as he finally got close enough and grabbed Sinestro's face. Sinestro instinctively created a large number of cutting blades that desperately lashed towards Jack, but as they did so, a silvery image of a woman and a man appeared around Jack and the blades stopped before them.

"No... No, don't you dare... No!" Sinestro's face flooded with tears.

Her beauty really was something he had never anticipated. After all, she was his best friends sister. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be proper. And they were at the academy together. Instructor Re wouldn't like this. But he just couldn't resist her. Who was he kidding, she was out of his league. But he was a Green Lantern... If he didn't have the Will to ask out a woman, how did he have the will to save the galaxy? What was the worst she could say? Ewww, to be honest, but she was Abin's sister. Surely she wouldn't be that cruel? God the look on her face? That wedding dress brings out the beauty without compare. The way her pregnant belly looks against the Korugaran sunset, his dreams all come true... No... Fire... Fire everywhere... Attrocitus! No! Anyone but her. Attrocitus, you will pay... No, i'm not bringing you in, you're going in the ground! GANTHET!!! NO!!! GANTHET, YOU CAN'T DENY MY REVENGE!!! Fine... I will play your little puppet for now... But he will burn... As will this galaxy... Abin... No... NO! ABIN, NOT YOU TOO! CAN'T YOU SEE I DID THIS FOR US!? DON'T- NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Sinestro simply fell to his knee's catatonic, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he slumped to the floor. Jack slowly turned towards Hal.

"Oh, HELL NO!!!!" Hal pushed May out of the hole in the wall and formed a large bed construct to break her fall. She landed softly on it before rolling off and onto the ground, while Hal looked back at Jack who was advancing on him. "Alright, Jack, but i'm not 6 years old anymore, you can't just push me around. Come on, follow me!" Hal jumped out of the hole and shot into the sky, Jack stepped out and raised after him.

---

Around the World
Christmas Eve

As the heroes went their separate ways, Santa Claus came out to play. He continued his travels around the world delivering presents before sunrise caught up to him in the different time zones. He almost wished that the heroes decided to deliver the presents for him to give him a much needed break, but he honestly loved this job. No matter where he had to travel throughout the universe it brought him joy to bring joy to others. He decided that the heroes who helped him and the heroes who have been appearing all over recently to help people deserved a little extra this year. Something special to show his appreciation. Without them there would be less people alive to express joy in the world, especially after New York's Fire Troll Invasion.

Santa flew all around the United States delivering gifts for the heroes as they slept or were out of their homes. He even stopped by F.E.A.S.T. for Bailey and Christina. To flex his muscles and to make up for his earlier capture he even delivered something for Carol Danvers at the Pentagon to prove to himself that he still got it. As he did so he wondered how much Darkseid's security would grow for next year. If a man who played with toys could capture him then the Dark Lord would have to step up his game.

After he finished his deliveries in the Western Hemisphere Santa returned to Metropolis to visit the hospital where Thor's demolition crew laid in their comas. As he arrived in their rooms he could sense magic flowing within them. He was surprised that they were still unconscious all of this time. He pulled out a pouch that his friend Dream of the Endless, known to the world as Sandman, gave him. He actually gave him two pouches. One was filled with sand that would cause anyone to fall asleep. He didn't like using it much, but it came in handy when kids would stay awake to see if he was real. The pouch he was pulling out now was filled with sand that would wake anyone up, no matter how long they've been asleep. He sprinkled the sand on the eyes of all four members of the crew. He waited to see if it worked and watched them starting to stir awake. "Merry Christmas." He whispered before making his swift exit.

The next stop Santa made was to the holding cell that Toyman ended up in thanks to J'onn J'onzz. He used his magic to sneak inside and brought the other pouch of sand to knock out the others being held in the cell. He appeared in the cell and blew sand on each of them before turning his attention to Winslow Schott.

"You..." Winslow said. "I see you escaped. What do you want with me?"

"Normally I give those like you coal, but I have something else in mind." Santa said before lifting his right hand and snapping his fingers.

"What---" Winslow started to say before his body began to transform. It began to shrink as his skin turned to plastic until he turned into a three-foot tall toy. "What did you do to me!?" Winslow answered in an annoyingly whiny voice.

"I turned you into the Toyman. Merry Christmas. See you next year." Santa replied with a smirk.

Toyman charged forward and fell over, not yet adjusted to his new body. By the time he looked up Santa was gone. The Toyman ran to the bars and grabbed them while yelling, "Santa! Get back here and change me back!! You'll rue the day you ever messed with Winslow Schott!!!"

---

Christmas Eve

Thor spent the night with Jackee to bring in Christmas together. Despite not having a title and preferring that way the two often crossed the line of what it meant to be friends with benefits. They didn't care though. They enjoyed each other's company and ever since they've been spending time with each other Thor hadn't had any interest in sleeping around with anyone else. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he wouldn't mind making things official with her. He could trust her with every part of himself. When he returned home from saving Christmas he told her all about it and they spent the night watching Christmas movies before they fell asleep. They both wanted to sleep in, but the ringing of Jackee's phone ruined any hope of that. Her phone was on DND, but the Daily Planet was on her list that allowed calls to come through.

She groaned as she reached for her phone and picked it up. She answered to hear Perry White on the other side telling her that he needed her to come and meet him at the hospital and that it was a continuation of her previous story with Thor and the demolition crew in a coma. She hung up the phone and kissed Thor on the forehead. "Wake up, princess." She teased. "The demolition crew from the armor fight just woke up from their comas. You should come with me. I'm sure they'd be happy to know that you're okay."

Thor was happy to know that they were okay. This must have been what Santa meant last night. He somehow was able to wake them up from their comas. It was a Christmas miracle. "I'm happy to know they're okay, too. Santa really came through."

"I still can't believe you not only met him, but flew his sleigh and didn't even pick me up."

Thor laughed and smiled at her. "Next time. Let's go see my crew."

---

The two flew at each other with breakneck speed. Otto launching himself with his tentacles shooting and digging into any handhold around - and the KRAB scuttling sideways towards him, snapping its huge claw and slamming the other into the cargo containers and hull of the ship around it.

Otto ducked around its attack, embedding a tentacle into the side of its claw and using it to swing himself around into a two footed kick straight to the cockpit of the mechanical beast. He bent his knees, using the momentum to launch himself backwards and into the sky in a back flip that landed him sideways on a stacked container. The KRAB stumbled backwards for a moment, small cracks forming against the tempered glass.

"That's progress at least!" He said, narrowly dodging the counter-attack from his adversary that sent a tear through the cargo container and a shipment of crates spilling out across the deck in a cascade of metal and wood. Containers split open on impact, their contents scattering: tools, machinery, anything not bolted down skidding wildly across the slick surface.

Otto pushed off a container wall just as another strike tore straight through where he'd been, the metal behind him shrieking under the force. He twisted mid-air, one limb snapping out to catch a higher ledge while another lashed toward the KRAB's flank, searching for purchase - and missing.

"Ok, a set-back. All great scientists suffer set-backs." he muttered, already adjusting.

The KRAB didn't give him time to reset. It surged forward, far faster than something that size had any right to move, one claw snapping up toward him while the other carved a brutal arc through the deck, tearing a jagged line through steel like it was paper. Otto released his hold a fraction of a second before impact, dropping low as the attack passed overhead, the wind of it alone enough to throw him off balance.

He hit the deck, rolled forward and one of his limbs drove down into the metal, catching, stopping him just short of being crushed as the KRAB slammed down where he'd been. The entire ship shuddered under the force.

Otto looked up from beneath it, breath catching for just a moment as the sheer weight of it loomed overhead. "You're not making this easy on me, are you big fella?" he breathed, a grin tugging despite his situation. He glanced around the ship. Despite his great start he was starting to waver. He couldn't attack something this much stronger and durable than him head on it was just too much. "Alright… new approach."

The KRAB lunged again - unfortunately for it he'd already formulated a plan. Otto didn't attack it head on this time, instead he ducked under and ran. He moved with agility, darting and leaping across the deck, limbs snapping out in quick succession to propel him forward in sharp, quick bursts.

Behind him, the KRAB tore through everything in its path, a bull in a china shop chasing a ballerina. Containers crumpled, steel screamed, and the deck shuddered under each impact as it pursued with relentless force.

Otto didn’'t dare glance back for fear of slowing down. One wrong move, one trip and he'd be between its claws. He continued its sprint, leading it as far as he could towards the stacked cargo rows and then - at the last second, he veered to the right and vanished between two tightly packed metal containers. Inbetween a narrow gap, barely wide enough for a person. The KRAB hit the opening half a second later with a mighty thud.

Otto stopped for a brief moment, pressed between two walls of metal and caught his breath, staring back at his pursuer. The metal had bent with the impact but it was holding. One of its claws forced its way into the gap, scraping and tearing metal with a horrible noise, but the bulk of the machine couldn't follow. It ground forward as far as it could, the claw snapping at Otto before the KRAB wedged itself partially in the metal.

"Alright, break times over." He turned again and moved fluidly through the cramped corridor. He'd bought himself time, he hoped it was enough to make his move.

Once he had turned the corner and was out of sight his camoflague kicked in and he clambered up the side of the containers and up on top of them. The KRAB was still below, clawing at thin air and trying to remove its arm from its stuck position within the gap at the same time.

"I'm glad this guy's missing his brain. Any smarts and he'd be unstoppable." A tentacle shot out and latched onto the crane arm overhead. He swung, momentum carrying him in a wide arc across the deck as the KRAB below recalibrated, trying to track Otto despite his camo.

Otto landed beside the crane controls, one limb already driving into the panel and ripping it open to a shower of sparks. "Manual override...manual override...come on!"

The KRAB freed itself and turned as the sparks coated its chassis. It locked eyes onto Otto and made to charge at him. It was too slow.

It was time to go analogue. One of Otto's hands flew across the exposed wiring, pushing together the ends of frayed wire and the crane lurched to life. A massive shipping container, suspended overhead, swung violently across the deck.

The KRAB saw it far too late.

The container slammed into its side with a thunderous crash, driving the machine sideways and carving a deep gouge through the deck as it was forced off course. Otto allowed himself a fist pump before yanking at the controls once more.

The container swung back and then forward again, the noise of defeaning impact reverberating around the ship. This time the container hit higher, directly against the cockpit. The cracked glass splintered further.

Otto let out a whoop. "Yeah! You just got Octo-Owned!" As soon as the words left his mouth he was happy there was no one around to hear them. He went for a third attack with the now partially dented container.

The KRAB roared. Not with any intentional vocalisation but from movement. It raised its claw upward and caught the container mid swing, holding it there stationary in the air. For a moment there was just the groaning of metal against metal, and then a mighty crash as it crushed the container. Metal folded like paper in its grip before the remains were hurled aside.

Otto let out a defeated sigh. "Okay. New new plan!"

The KRAB swung for the crane. Otto launched himself off the platform just as the claw obliterated it, the entire structure collapsing in a shower of sparks and twisted steel as the metal made a mighty splash in the water below.

Mid-air, he adjusted his momentum, his eyes locking onto something else. A winch line - a series of heavy duty tension cables running along the sides of the deck. He manipulated his landing in the air using his tentacles and landed right next to it. "Let's see how you like being the cargo."

The KRAB charged again, just as Otto took hold of the line and wrapped it around his fists. Otto did the same, barreling towards his opponent with the wires trailing behind him like a cape.

At the last possible moment, he pivoted, one tentacle firing out, anchoring the cable to a fixed point along the deck while the rest of him swung wide, the line snapping taut behind him.

The KRAB didn't catch on to his plan. Otto baseball slid underneath it and before it had time to react he began to circle it with the remaining wire. Limbs began snapping out in rapid succession, feeding the cable around the KRAB's legs, its chassis, its joints. Each pass tighter, more deliberate. The machine turned to track him, claws snapping, tearing through empty space as he stayed just beyond its reach.

"Empire Strikes Back. Just like I was telling you, Petey." He mumbled to himself.

The cable looped thrice and Otto pulled it tightly. The KRAB tried to step forward, and faltered. It wasn't enough to stop it yet, but enough to slow it for sure. Otto didn't let up. He went for another loop, higher up the chassis now and cinching across the main body.

The KRAB lashed out one claw breaking free and clipping him mid-swing, but Otto twisted with the impact, using it to accelerate, wrapping tighter the wire tighter and tighter around the beast. By his calculations he should be finished. He skidded to a stop and pulled the wire as tight as he could

The machine tried to push through. For a moment it looked like it would. Otto worried if his calculations were off again, like they were when he launched himself earlier that night. And then, the wires locked, all at once perfectly into place.

Tension surged across the cables, anchored at multiple points across the deck, pulling tight in opposing directions. The KRAB tried to take one more step and collapsed in a mighty heap on the deck, steam rising up from its constricted joints.

The entire ship shuddered as the exosuit crashed onto its side, limbs bound, joints restricted, every movement now fighting against its own weight and the tightening web of steel wrapped around it. It struggled against its restraints, violently snapping and grinding. The noise of motors screaming under the strain as it tried in vain to get up.

Otto landed lightly a few feet away, breathing heavy, watching it thrash against the restraints. Then finally, the KRAB got the hint. It lay motionless on the deck. Otto could feel the eyes of whatever was inside glaring holes through his head.

He straightened his back, pushing two hands into his lower back before rolling one shoulder as his limbs settled behind him.

"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna need a massage or something after all this." Only then did he notice the crew, staring down from the upper main deck at their strange rescuer.

Otto glanced between them, then back at the immobilised KRAB and gave them a small wave. "Good news, everyone!" He called up, trying his best to not do a Professor. Farnsworth impression."I caught the bad guy!"

There was a moment of silence as the crew processed what had just happened, and then, an eruption of applause and cheering.

Otto could get used to this.

C H R I S T M A S F I N A L E
C H R I S T M A S F I N A L E

Jason woke up surrounded by soft warmth. In his grogginess, he burrowed deeper into his cocoon of blankets and groaned. He didn’t want to wake up…it felt like heaven.

And maybe it was. Gears started churning in his brain, slowly pulling aside the curtain of sleepiness as rapid-fire thoughts started shooting off: the streets were cold, his mother’s current drug den was cold, and he’d run away from the last foster family they’d put him with so why was he so warm? If he was dead, he probably wouldn’t be thinking at all (Jason had long since cast aside any sort of religious notions).

He cracked open his eyes and slid the blankets down his face just enough to look around the dim room. The curtains blocked most of the morning light, but just enough bled through to allow him a decent look at the stone walls and ornate furniture. Then he remembered - Christmas Eve night he’d broken into the Batmobile and earned himself a one-night stay at Wayne Manor. Jason’s heartbeat raced in his chest as he recalled the night before.

”Oh my god I really did that,” he stifled a laugh of disbelief, ”And I got away with it?!”

Sitting bolt upright in bed, he threw off the blankets. He was in Wayne Manor! On Christmas morning! Batman- Thomas hadn’t seemed too thrilled with his entrance last night, and it’s not like he was expecting the man to run out and buy a pile of gifts for a stray like him, but he was willing to bet there’d be some gorgeous decorations to spectate and perhaps he could swipe a little food from the kitchen before he got kicked to the curb. Jason honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full meal without having to dumpster dive for it.

Sliding down from the bed, he quickly peered into the bathroom mirror and tried to coax his hair into something that looked less like he’d just been electrocuted. It sort of worked, but he gave up before he could make any real progress. His hair was clean, and frankly that’s all he actually cared about at the moment.

Jason opened the bedroom door just far enough to peek out. The stone corridors of the house carried sound well, and he could already hear that there were others awake. Not wanting to be left out, he padded his way downstairs following the warm glow of Christmas lights strung throughout until he found the den where a Christmas tree stood tall and proud and glittering with a treasure trove of sparkly ornaments, and a fire roared with warmth filling the room.

Jason was stunned, his voice barely more than a whisper as he took in both the extravagance of the room and of the decorations, ”Whoa. This is insane!”

Dick turned to Jason as he entered the den and announced his presence. He beamed him a smile. He was glad that he was able to express such glee this morning. It was Christmas after all, but to his knowledge this was probably Jason's first one in a while.

Dick rose early and rushed downstairs immediately after brushing his teeth. He wanted to scope out the presents before they began opening them. He didn't want to wake Jason up because he wanted him to be able to sleep in as much as he needed to and he didn't want to rub his presents in his face. When Dick arrived in the den he saw an array of presents and quite a few of them had Jason's name on it. Thomas was wealthy but he doubted he forced stores to open up late or early to get him presents. Then he remembered the fact that Santa was actually real. He must have been saved and continued in his duties to save Christmas. He certainly saved this one. Next year he was definitely going to stay up and thank him.

“Merry Christmas!” Dick exclaimed. “Dude. You got presents!”

Jason’s eyes went wide, a mix of excitement and confusion on his face, ”Wait- How?!”

He approached the pile of wrapped boxes all shiny and topped with bows, picking at a few of the tags to inspect them. Right there in ink was his name: Jason. He stared at the presents for several moments, too stunned to speak. When was the last time he’d received presents? Neither his birthday or Christmas were staunchly observed by street rats. Sometimes they tried - someone would score something good like fresh cookies because the bakeries closed early for the holiday or the soup kitchen would get a massive toy donation for Christmas. Sometimes the best was just getting a new coat or fresh gloves from a winter coat drive. That was as much of a Christmas as he’d had in some time. Once, when he was still pretty young and hadn’t started running away from foster homes yet, he got a real birthday cake with icing and candles, but that was years ago.

”I can’t believe this is real! These are really mine? I get to open them?”

Thomas came into the room holding a coffee mug. He watched the excitement on the boys’ faces as they realized that Jason also had presents under the tree. Thomas was up late keeping an eye on the Santa situation and was awake when the real one made his appearance at Wayne Manor. He really was only able to catch a glimpse of him as he was leaving, but it was enough.

Thomas took a sip of his coffee and said, “Yes, they're really yours and you get to open them. Santa dropped them off for you last night. I was able to catch a glimpse of him as he was leaving.” Thomas did wonder how he knew that Jason would be here if someone had been impersonating him when Jason stowed away in the Batmobile. Just what kind of powers did the jolly old man really have?

Jason laughed as Thomas tried to play off the presents like Santa had brought them. ”I’m too old for fairy tales,” Jason announced proudly as if that made him part of the adult world. “Santa’s not real; everybody with half a brain knows that.”

That didn’t stop him from claiming his presents from the pile, gathering them up and stacking then restacking them again until he was satisfied. He pulled the top present of the stack, holding it reverently and turning it over. It was wrapped perfectly and it almost seemed a crime to ruin it, but he was also ten years old and didn’t exactly have the best impulse control. The paper peeled away easily to reveal a boxed set of books - his favourite thing. A trilogy of classics starting with A Wrinkle In Time. He devoured books partly because they were an escape from the worst parts of reality, and partly because there was nothing else to do at the library which was basically the only free place he was allowed to hang out without being told what to do all the time. The structure of school left something to be desired when you were cold, hungry, and homeless (plus teachers were mandated reporters and he’d just end up in another overcrowded foster home or, worse, an orphanage).

”Books! Better yet, books I haven’t read!” he squealed with delight.

Thomas had to admit. It was touching to see Jason so enamored with books and excited to receive new ones. If last night hadn't confirmed that there was something special about him, this surely did. He still wasn't sure that he'd adopt him, but he did know that he wanted to protect the boy and his heart. He'd do his best to protect his innocence and life for as long as he possibly could. Putting Dick in a mask was one thing, but Jason has already suffered and gone through too much to join their war on crime.

Thomas glanced over at Dick who turned away because he knew that Thomas was thinking that he should get this excited about books.

Dick went to open one of his gifts. There was a box under the extravagant wrapping paper and pulled out his pocket knife to open it. Once he did he saw a new Playstation 5 controller with a copy of Dragon Ball: Sparking! Zero. He contained the desire to squeal with joy and turned to Jason. “Dude. I finally have someone to play with!” He handed the new controller to Jason. “This is yours.”

Jason didn’t want to admit he’d never actually played a video game. It’s not like the game store was going to welcome a grungy little street rat to hang out and play through all the demos in the store. So he grinned and took the controller, ”This one must be new! So cool!”

He pulled down another present, ripping into the paper and tugging the box open before freezing. For a moment, he just stared into the box before finally pulling out a well-worn but clearly cleaned-and-repaired stuffed rabbit. He’d had it since he was a baby up until he lost it when the police cleared an encampment he’d been sheltering at. When he went back to try and sift through the wreckage, he never found it. Jason thought it was gone forever, so how did Thomas get it? He hugged the stuffed rabbit to his chest, curling inward for a moment. When he uncurled himself again, he wiped tears from his eyes. There was no way Thomas could have possibly gotten his hands on it, and there was the unmistakable heart-shaped patch on its chest with a “J” embroidered over it - a reminder that there was a time when he had a normal family and a normal childhood. Maybe he was too cynical, maybe Thomas was right and Santa was real.

Silently, he picked out one of his last presents. Unwrapping it slowly as if he was scared it would be another emotional bombshell, the paper pulled away to reveal a beautiful leather messenger bag. The kind rich kids and academics had for school made of the kind of real leather that would just look better with age. He looked up at Thomas, puzzled. What good was a book bag to a kid that barely stepped foot on school grounds unless escorted by a truancy officer?

”Okay, the other two I get. I’ll devour any book you put in front of me, and I’ve had Babbit as long as I can remember. What’s this for?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Thomas would've been confused if he hadn't already known that Santa Claus was pulling the strings this Christmas. Returning to Jason his old stuffed rabbit named Babbit was a beautiful gesture. It tugged at his own heart. How many kids were out there experiencing the same life as Jason? How many were suffering and struggling to survive in the streets and losing what was close to them? He needed to do more. The city needed to do more.

He eyed the messenger bag from Gotham Academy. He knew he didn't buy it. “I would've thought someone so enamored with books would be able to answer that themselves. It's for school. You'll be enrolling in Gotham Academy.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d ever hear that sentence. Sure, in his nerdiest little daydreams he imagined going to a world class prep school where he could take Latin and play some snooty sport like polo or something, but he never thought it would actually happen.

Which meant…

”Wait- How? Seriously?!

He looked from Thomas to Dick, ”He’s not joking, is he?” He looked back at Thomas, ”Cause that would be a sick joke, dude.”

Thomas had a serious expression on his face. “I don't joke.” He simply answered.

Jason believed that without a moment’s hesitation.

Dick went over to grab a present that he and Alfred got together for Thomas and handed it to him. “Speaking of Gotham Academy, Alfred helped me with this.”

Thomas took the gift and unwrapped it. He almost dropped it to the floor in surprise. He kept his grip on it and covered his mouth with his free hand. It was a framed picture of him, Bruce, and Martha on Bruce's first day at Gotham Academy. He had to fight the urge to cry and reached out to grab Dick to pull him in for a hug. “Thank you, son.” He said as he embraced him. “Thank you…”

Jason watched the emotions sweep across his face as Thomas embraced Dick. Whatever the story was there, he decided it was probably better to ask Dick about it later than ruin the mood by asking Thomas.

When the hug ended and they separated again, Jason encouraged Dick, ”Open another one of yours!”

Dick scrambled over to the gifts and couldn't decide on which one to grab. “Wait. I see another one for you, dad.” The word slipped out on instinct, but still felt a little weird. He was so used to calling him Thomas, Batman, or sir. Dick knew that no one could replace his dad, but with this time that he's spent with Thomas he genuinely did feel like another dad to him.

He grabbed the small gift and handed it to Thomas who opened it immediately to see what was inside. It was a document. Adoption papers already filled out for Jason. This clearly was from Santa. He didn't want to show either boy what it was at this moment. He wasn't sure that he'd sign it.

He put it under the picture still in his hand and said, “Go on, Dick. You heard Jason. Open another one of yours.”

Dick decided not to pry into what the gift was as it was clear that Thomas didn't want to share it. He went back to the presents and picked up a small box. He opened it to see a pair of keys with his Robin symbol on it. “What’s this for?” He asked.

Thomas said, “Come and see.” He led the boys to the garage to reveal a brand new motorbike for Dick. He knew that he technically wasn't old enough to drive this, but he wasn't old enough to fight crime either. “This is so you don't have to wait for Alfred or traffic when I need you. It has a function that changes it to fit the theme of Robin and it comes with guns that shoot rubber bullets among other gadgets and accessories.”

Dick's mouth was wide open. “No way! I can't believe you got me this. This is the best present and best Christmas ever!” He ran up to hug Thomas. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

Jason was stunned. A bike that could change to match Robin’s costume? And it was clearly a good model, too. He hadn’t actually thought much about the Wayne fortune since arriving; he’d been too awestruck with finding out the identities of Batman and Robin, sleeping safe in a warm bed, and waking up to Christmas presents to even think about it. He hadn’t even considered that other kids might be jealous because honestly he wasn’t. He’d already been given something money couldn’t buy: joy.

”Dude! That’s so cool! Make it change colours!” He cheered as he ran to circle the bike and get a better look.

Dick was going to, but he didn't know how. He looked up at Thomas for the answer.

“Press the R on your key.” He said before turning to the bike to witness it in action.

Dick pressed the R on his key and the bike started to transform and change colors. It looked even better than before.

“Now, I want you to remember. This is not a toy. No taking friends on joy rides. Not even Jason. This is for you to show me how responsible you are. You also need to make sure that no one at school knows you're Robin. Not even your girlfriend.”

Dick couldn't even protest it this time. They weren't official yet, but he and Pom did confess their feelings for each other last month. “You can trust me. I won't let you down.”

Jason calmed down a bit as Thomas spoke seriously. Superheroes had to protect their real identities to protect not just themselves but also those they loved. In some ways, it seemed like a sacrifice to never really be able to take credit for your work, but it made sense.

”It’s really cool, Dick. You’ll have to tell me everything when you do finally get to take it for a spin!”

“You know I will! Come on, let's go back inside to open the rest of your presents!” Dick said before reaching for Jason's hand to drag him back inside.

Jason grinned, happy to be dragged along. On the streets, kids sort of ran in packs - there was safety in numbers - but there was still a level of distance. Unless you were too young or too new to fend for yourself, most of the time it was every man for himself. Dick, however, had warmed to him so quickly and he didn’t get that sense of separation between them. He already felt like he was a part of something.

Back in the den with the last remaining boxes, Jason wondered what could be in them. They were longer and flatter than the others and all pretty uniform. As he pulled them open one at a time, each box was filled with new clothes that were perfectly sized. It was practically a whole wardrobe. And in the final box were his Gotham Academy uniforms. Tears welled in his eyes. Thomas really wasn’t joking. This has to be the best Christmas ever.

He turned to Thomas, scrubbing away the tears, ”I can’t thank you enough even if it’s the only thing I said for the rest of my life… Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

It warmed Thomas's heart to see Jason filled with such joy and gratitude, but he didn't want to take credit for something he didn't do. “You honestly don't have me to thank for any of this. I planned to get you some things later, but Santa beat me to it. But I'm glad you got to spend Christmas with us and that you're able to feel happy today.”

Dick was also happy that Jason got to enjoy and spend Christmas with them. He was worried that he'd feel left out, but instead he felt right at home. Dick hugged Jason to let him know that this was all real and not a dream before returning to his own presents. He didn't need much and Thomas didn't want him spoiled so the rest of his presents were filled with clothes and a couple of pairs of shoes.

Once the opening of the gifts was finished the three joined Alfred in the kitchen for a family breakfast. There was so much food that it felt like an all you can eat breakfast buffet.

Jason was stunned. ”You guys live like this?!” was the question echoing in his head as he piled a plate with pancakes and scrambled eggs and potatoes and sausage and bacon. He did at least remember to eat like a civilised human being and not just shovel food into his mouth as fast as he could without choking. The dining table at Wayne Manor wasn’t the streets; no one was threatening to swipe food from him if he didn’t eat fast enough.

He hadn’t exactly expected to be taken in like this. Honestly, he didn’t know what he expected but it definitely wasn’t this. It wasn’t a warm bed or hot food or Christmas presents or a sponsorship to Gotham Academy, but as the saying goes fortune favours the bold. Jason was glad he took the risk and decided to break into the Batmobile last night. It might have been the best decision of his life.

M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R
M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R

JOHN JONES' APARTMENT
Manhattan, New York City
Christmas Day

In J'onn's defense, he did not get much sleep that night and it was a busy morning. He'd needed to rush to work to be on time for his shift, there were always new crimes even on Christmas, and the headache of the Toyman had to be dealt with. Fortunately (or unfortunately as a darker part of his mind bitterly thought), Toyman's mind hadn't been permanently shattered by the Manhunter's actions the night before. Some of J'onn's conscience could be eased on that score. However, it still took more time than it seemed like it should have for the arrest to be fully legitimized and for the man to be shipped off to the appropriate prison so he could stand trial at the appropriate court. It was no wonder then that it was only later that evening, after he'd finally trudged home into his apartment and flopped down into his couch, that he noticed the package on his coffee table.

Frowning, he tilted his head and peered more closely. It didn't feel like a bomb. Yet he knew the postman didn't work today...Perhaps Mrs. Higgins dropped it in. The wrapping paper seemed like the sort of thing she'd use for a Christmas gift. Still, one couldn't be too careful. Who knew how long it'd been here...He gingerly picked up the parcel and double checked the inside. Still no sign of a bomb, or an other sort of death-dealing mechanism. Just, another box? Oh there was a note on top. He really must have been tired if he didn't see this before. He then opened it up, finding a very elegant cursive hand. Yet, he still still parse out the message.

For J'onn, a long-overdue present.

This isn't just a thank you for helping take down that rascal, though it is also that. This is also a belated welcome home Christmas present, one I should have gotten you that first Christmas but it took a while to figure out what would be the right gift for you and then to have it made.

I know you were willing to let it slide because you assumed you would be getting coal, but that would never have been my gift for you. Very little of the past you fear was of your own will, but when you had a choice, you would seek to do what good you could. And since you've come here, you've pushed yourself far in seeking to do good. Thank you for that, especially for all you've done for the little children you've come across. This then is a small token of my appreciation that I hope can bring some comfort to you. As an old man, I know more than most that memories are best comfort one can have as time goes by.

When you're ready, the priest at St. Patrick's did mean it when he said he'd like to talk with you. No matter your past, you can always find your way home.

Merry Christmas,
St. Nicholas

J'onn could only stare in stunned amazement for several moments. A gift...Santa Claus had really gotten him a gift?! Slowly and methodically, he turned to the package itself and started unwrapping, careful to not rip the paper nor harm the box as he peeled off the tape. Within the box, nestled safe and secure was a copper music box, with the two moons engraved on the lid and Martians dancing together around the sides, all carved with a skillful hand.

"It...It can't be..." It had been destroyed, lost in the fire! Hand trembling now, he opened it up and found himself hearing the tune to a nearly long forgotten melody once more as the couple within spun around and around, miniature replicas of he and M'yri'ah in their wedding clothes. His mother had worked relentlessly with the toymaker to make sure every detail was perfect. Even though it'd been for his son's first birthday, his mother had wanted it to become a family heirloom, something for his son to pass on to his son and on through the generations. And it had been his son's favorite gift, and one enjoyed much by the household especially when it came time to updating...

He then felt underneath the box and tapped into the trigger, much newer and less worn. So this was a replica. But if Santa had managed to replicate the box...

There they were! The couple let out a holographic projection from between them, revealing a slideshow of images from J'onn's own birth to his first days of school to the various family gatherings, graduating from secondary education, getting into college, winning the trophy as captain of the college team. Then his wedding, the birth of M'gann, the birth of J'onat'onn, the various firsts of both children, his acceptance into the psychology program only half a year before...And so many others in between, many just humorous every day things. He telepathically tapped into one of those.

Dad, would you please control your pest of a son?! I'm trying to learn my lines!

What did I do?

You keep poking me!

I'm not poking you. See, I'm all the way on the other side of the room.

You're tele-poking me!

No I'm not!

Yes you are!

No I'm not!

Yes you are!

Children- And there she was...M'yri'ah, that soft smile hidden under a stern frown, her hair frizzled from cleaning around the house, some slight wrinkles to her forehead. But still as beautiful as the day he'd married her.

J'onn looked on the still image of her then wept and hugged her and the box closer. He'd, he'd thought he lost it all...

"Santa...Thank, thank you." Then he allowed himself the moment to grieve, slipping into his Martian form and letting the box play on.

[The song of the music box is something like this, though of course, in a Martian form. Once Upon a December-Russian Version