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
Over a month had passed, a month of searches and 48 hour lab experiments. Tension was thick and everyone could feel it. However, finally, there had been a breakthrough.
Amanda Waller looked grimly through the monitor. "Well..."
"We've finally made a test." The doctor reported. "Should be at least 80% effective..."
"Well, that's something. How does it work?"
"We've found that the skin samples we've gathered have the properties to be manipulated into various forms using certain electrical signals. We can then gather than the Martians are able to use their brain electronic signals to affect the look of their skin or even body. We then were able to create a solution that can be injected into a person to disrupt those electrical signals and force the skin to go back to it's primary form. It's worked well enough with the skin samples we've gathered."
"So we inject the needle into guys we're suspicious of and if they're Martian, they'll take on Martian form again. What happens if they're not?"
"If they're just regular humans, they'll just go unconscious and sleep it off. We've been able to test that thoroughly."
"However..." The colonel then chimed in. "Our scientists are not certain of it's effects on mutants and other non-humans as they haven't exactly had any test subjects or DNA samples for them...It could have no effect. It could kill them. It could have some other effect."
"There's also far too much variety among them." The lead scientist shook his head. "There would be no way to account for every possible DNA we might run into. Hence why I said
80% effectiveness, not 99%."
"It's still better than nothing. We can explain away a few unaccountable deaths if need be. Start mass-producing the solution and ship to our men around the country. We'll take it from there."
New York CityAsh'r flopped down onto the floor, altered from his usual form. "Gotten anywhere?"
"I have." M'yr'am then flipped down the laptop. "I'm now a new secretary for Alchemax, starting tomorrow."
"Nice! Between you and the Doc's R&D job at Frost Industries, we seem to be covered with our funds."
"Certainly...And with Le'i getting into that security firm, we should even have enough to save for emergencies and to get you those piloting lessons."
"It would be wonderful to start flying again..." Then with a strangled gasp, his skin shifted away from pale to green. "If I can ever get the hang of holding this transformation!"
"You're doing better than you have, Ash'r. It's just like a muscle. The longer you practice, the easier it becomes."
"Easy for
you to say. It doesn't physically hurt when you do it."
"You're not the only one struggling there, Ash'r." Their fifth member, a white Martian young woman, spoke from the corner.
"I know, Ra'hel, I know..." Ash'r sighed.
"Besides, it does help us for there to those who can keep watch and take care of the apartment while the rest of us have to blend in and work." M'yr'am then opened back up the laptop, going over the work information she'd need one more time. "Sa'l and his cohort may be just across the hallway, but Sa'l will be needing to focus on figuring out how to keep best in contact with everyone else and to see about contacting the rest of us throughout the world and they'll likely need Re'ban to guard and keep watch there."
"While the rest will be focusing on getting jobs themselves while we all seek to leave some deniability just in case those guys looking for us ever realize what we are..." He sighed. "Still, if I do get that pilot license, I'm going to need to be better about holding this shift. And I could also grab some part time jobs just to add some leeway."
M'yr'am frowned. "It could help, but don't push yourself too hard too fast. It wouldn't be good or for any of us..."
"I get that..." He smiled. "I'll be careful." Then he went back to shifting some more, swallowing back the burn and pain as he pressed through it.
"I'll make sure to check in tomorrow." And with that, 'Levi White' left the building, considering the cheque in his hand. Nice enough company. They even offered a sign-on bonus while they went to find him a permanent position. Then he'd just need to work at guarding whatever place it was till his contract ran out. And with this, he and the rest had a little extra cushioning. Though also with this...He shoved it into his wallet then strode down the street, keeping his eyes peeled until he came back across the gun shop he'd seen earlier. Within were several options, more then he'd ever realized there could be for something like a gun. And with this cheque, he could have one legally in his grasp...
He paused outside, just thinking. It would be for self-defense. There could always be criminals that would try to attack one of them on a whim or to break into their apartment. They'd all brushed against the minds of those searching for them. And while none dared talk of it, they still didn't know where the Martian Manhunter was. If he should discover them, there would be no hope. But if he found him and took him down first...But would even one of those guns have the power to harm the Manhunter? What if hunting after him just drew his attention and ruined everything? He could almost hear the voice of the doctor in his hand reminding him of the importance of not drawing attention, not leaving too damming a paper trail.
Still...It couldn't hurt to take a look, right? He could go in, look through the options, learn about the exact process for getting a gun, then next time he could get one. With more knowledge of what he was doing. With that, he entered through the door, ringing the bell above as he did so.
Cay'an groaned to herself as she hurried through the streets, the
clip, clap of her heels beat like a rhythm against the bustling crowd around her. Why was getting into a simple gala so aggravating?! Neither of the Luthors would even deign to see her, and always had people around them. Still, there were others who'd been invited. She'd just need to find one who still needed eye candy under their arm. Preferably somehow stupid enough to not notice when she left.
"Alright guys, that's a wrap for today."
Throughout the cubicles, most of the men immediately got up and stretched.
"I'm going to be seeing CAD systems in my dreams!" One groaned.
"Cheer up, Dan. We got a lot done today!"
"That we did! Any of you interested in some drinks? I think we could all use the downtime."
"Sounds great!"
"Nah, I better get to bed. And my cat probably misses me."
"Good old Terry. Always talking about your cat. I'm definitely joining, Phil."
"Great!" Then Phil came across one of the cubicles where an older man was still at work. "Hey, Dr. Stein! It's 5 pm. Time to clock out for today. Wanna join us for drinks?"
Dr. Stein then looked up. "Oh, is it already so late? Sorry, I'm afraid I can't go out tonight. I have things to take care of."
"That's alright." Phil smiled. "Maybe some other time."
"Maybe." Then the rest of them walked off, leaving Dr. Stein alone.
'Stein' then leaned back, taking a deep breath. How could they be so carefree?! Right after he'd been employed, they'd had been given the task of designing a prototype for a potential entry into the medical tech market. And most of that time, had been wasted in figuring out what to do! So many times, he'd needed to 'influence' things so that they'd finally settled on a product, a hydraulic adaptive ventilator. (And whoa was Earth primitive to not have even that basic of medical equipment!) Then time had been spent drafting the blueprints in CAD for the various parts of the system. But now everyone was leaving! And he could see where they'd left major errors in their drafts. As it was, a large breath would cause the system to melt, meaning that if a patient panicked as they woke up and let out all their air, the ventilator would stop working altogether. How could his fellow employees not worry about their future job prospects if they failed?! (What even happened? Frost Industries didn't seem to be a government company, so they likely weren't going to be executed for treason at least. Still, he didn't desire to figure out how the firing process went. He'd only been here a month for crying out loud!) And the progress meeting was going to be within the week.
He wasn't going to risk anything. He was going to have to stay here and make sure everything was perfect. Everyone was going to be busy with the gala. He would just make sure he was missed until he was finished. Then, he'd sneak out and head back to the apartment. He wished he could send out a message to let them know he would be late...But it would be fine. He'd just get done as quickly as possible. And with that, triple checked that no one else was in the room and checked for the camera locations. Then he took a deep breath and phased from his cubicle to Phil, the group leader's. There, he then shifted into Phil's form and entered his code, quite simple really, the birth year of his youngest daughter. With that, he got into the CAD program, loaded up the ventilator, then started fiddling with it this way and that, letting the hours slip by as he made sure that everything was exactly as it should be.
8 months. John left the courtroom in a daze, barely managing to keep the presence of mind to clamber in to the squad car's passenger seat. 8 months...All the evidence they'd gathered, the testimony they'd had to force out of Claire and of other people, the fact she barely kept quiet that she was guilty, the full month spent before they could finally get the case before a judge and jury, and all the sentence the murderess got was 8 months, less if she was on good behavior at the prison!
Turnbull barely acknowledged Jones as he entered the driver seat and they drove off. But really, Jones was not in the mood to talk with him either. A long silence then permanented as they both stewed, replaying the judge's justifications over and over in their heads.
She's still young...She deserves the chance to make a life for herself after her mistake...After all she's suffered, doesn't she deserve some grace from this court?Grace? When she killed a man just because he wasn't willing to sell their daughter? When she betrayed every motherly ideal for her own selfish gain? Why was Claire not allowed justice and security from that monster of a woman? Was the state not supposed to make sure, first and foremost, that it's citizens lived without fear of other citizens?! Was the US truly no different than Mars in that aspect?
The two finally arrived at their prescient HQ, where they parted ways to their own paperwork. Jones plodded his way up the stairs. She couldn't get Claire back, could she? If she did get her back, there's no way she wouldn't immediately sell her. And he'd been making sure to check in with Claire between all the investigation and having to persuade her to testify, she was in a wonderful household with siblings and a mother and father who loved her and wanted to adopt her very much. But if Claire's mother could take custody back, then the state would prioritize her over the foster family. Was there anything he could do...Anything?!
Baxter looked up as he entered the floor. "Jones! How'd the-" Then he caught Jones' expression. "I take it the trial did not go well...Did they declare her not guilty?"
"No..." Thankfully, the jury were not that gullible.
"The judge only sentenced her to serve 8 months." Baxter's eyes widened. "Eight months?! For second degree murder and plans to sell her own kid?"
"He saw her as having too much potential for her future...'State needed to show grace for her due to her troubled past'. I'll be writing my report." Then he headed for his desk.
Baxter frowned. "Jones, I could handle the paperwork. You could head out early. This is your first case."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, but no. We both know what could happen if there seems to be anything against regulations about the files." He sat down then got out the forms he needed to fill out.
"Writing this up should finish my shift anyways. I'll be out before too long."He winced. "Very well...Would you like company tonight at least? I know a place that serves some pretty decent scotch."
A faint smile crossed Jones' lips.
"I appreciate the offer, Baxter. But I would be better off alone tonight."...Suit yourself then. You know my cell number if you change your mind." Then Baxter returned to his own work, though still glancing at Jones.
Jones meanwhile focused on the paperwork, seeking to be as precise and impersonal as he could. Anything unprofessional would get his reports deemed inappropriate and could lead to grounds for her to be retried, which could cause her to be declared innocent despite everything! So he locked it all away and just typed. By the time he finished, the clock indeed showed that his shift was over. Past over. Didn't matter, at least the job was done. He turned it all in, then checked out and was soon enough back out into the streets, clutching his coat around him as he started first for home-his apartment.
Home...Home was a little house on Mars, close to the office where he planned to work to help mind's heal. Home was his wife and kids, the warmth of their hugs a wonderous thing after a long day. Home was a time when things made sense and the world seemed just and fair. Why was the world so cruel? Why was there no justice?!
The bells of St. Patrick's then rang, startling him out of his spiral. Oh, must be time for their night mass. He found his eyes seeking the spire, considering. The thought of being alone in an empty apartment was too unbearable. But there'd not really been anywhere else he'd wanted to go, nowhere else safe to be
J'onn or at least what faint traces of J'onn remained after everything. Still, maybe tonight could be a change. For a moment, his steps started heading for the church. Then the next, he turned away and towards the harbor. Maybe a walk to clear his head would do him good...He couldn't trust bars as he had no intention of testing out personally if human alcohol was safe for his consumption or not. Maybe a trip to a library, that should be rather neutral. Then there was that gala...He had already been far too much in the spotlight during that whole Fire Troll affair a month ago, but he could still pass by, see what it was like. Maybe seeing his fellow heroes getting celebrated would help his own mood improve. The night was young.
Member
Omega Man,
Half Pint,
Zeus23,
Spiffy,
Neziul,
Scrawl Banditta,
Not a Sayan,
Morgana,
Ezekiel,
ThatDeercat
