Rebuilding a Shattered World: The DC RP

Morning.

It's morning in half the world. The sun is shining brightly in the crisp, clear blue sky. White, puffy clouds dot the horizon, moving slowly on the wind. It's morning. But it is not a good morning. It is morning in a world without Superman. In a world where Kara Zor-El, Karen Starr, and Kon-El try to move on without their father figure. It's morning in a world where arrogant, insecure armored jocks try to show themselves superior to the fallen.

It's morning in The Rock of Eternity, where a man old beyond measurement is forced to wait, praying to all the gods that spell his name that a champion will rise again.

It's morning without the Fastest Man Alive. A morning where the Rogues try to bring justice to Keystone City, to honor their worthy foe.

It's morning in Gotham City, where the night before there had been violence. An attempt by both The Huntress and Azrael to bring in The Riddler ended in a brawl between the two vigilantes, allowing the criminal to escape.

It's morning at the Metropolis Mental Health Institute, where Vic Sage is being kept. Someone walks by his room, shuffling papers. They tap on the glass. When he speaks, his voice is...familiar. He tells Vic that even though the Man of Steel is dead, the world keeps spinning. So many riddles unsolved. So many mysteries uncracked. So many...questions, that need answers. With that, the man slips a stack of papers under Vic's door. Hidden among them is a green envelope, a tiny gas canister...and just enough of a pink, flesh-like material to cover a human face.

It's morning in stately Wayne Manor, as Alfred Pennyworth makes his way upstairs, carrying a tray of breakfast. He opens the door to the main bedroom to find...the bed untouched. He sighs, shaking his head. Sometimes, it's like things never changed. He heads back downstairs into the parlor, striking a few cacophonous keys on the grand piano, and descends the secret staircase into the cave.

"If you're going to keep Master Wayne's hours, Master Grayson, then perhaps you should choose a suitable bird." He says dryly, setting the tray of eggs, toast, bacon, and black coffee beside Grayson at the computer. Also on the tray is the morning's mail, with a similar envelope on top. "Robins are not nocturnal, I'm afraid."

All across America, these envelopes find themselves in the hands of extraordinary people. In a pair of apartments in Gotham City, on the Kent Farm in Kansas, even across the sea to Paradise Island. Each one says the same thing.

"Come here if you want to change the world. Discretion is preferred." With a set of coordinates, and an address.

edited 20th Oct '14 11:56:37 AM by SonOfSharknado

This was the day a new champion of the amazons was chosen by the the goddess Athena herself to uphold the legacy of Wonder Woman and with her new power and responsibilities came the first contact paradise Island had, since the war came, in the form of a letter and with it the need of a new champion to arise.

"The world of man is wicked and corrupt , yet it's your job Artemis's to take the mantle of of Themyciras's champion and help heal the scars in a world lost to war.You shall be the champion of truth and Justice and ambassador of our good will, our blessing will be with you always Wonder Woman." Athena told Artemis while she gave her the gifts of the gods, the power and armor of Wonderwoman.

The war only had the scars of a war that costed the world it's greatest heroes and Queen Hyppolita's first daughter. The new Wonder Woman was the first to leave , flying, to the place the letter described. Perhaps it wasn't wise to obey a letter like that , but She did want to change the world for the better as she had the hope that Diana's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

edited 20th Oct '14 9:30:54 PM by RPGLegend

Richard Grayson leaned over the computer's keyboard, his hands moving as slowly as possible. He was still wearing the vest and tie that he used for every meeting at Wayne Enterprises, and his hair was all fixed up, but it was clear that he had been doing some extracurricular activities up until now. When Alfred came into his view, he smiled. "Don't know what you're talking about, Alfred. I've just been... looking some things up on the computer. Some data on certain individuals... seeing if they're worthy enough to protect Gotham City."

He stood up, pulling back his sleeves and grabbing the cup of coffee. His eyes trailed over the mail- offers and more offers and more offers- and Dick's eyes caught a trace of the date. " Goddamnit. " He muttered. "The three year anniversary. It's today." Dick fell back on his chair, burrowing his face in his hands. "They're inaugurating that statue today, aren't they? The one for Batman and all the civilians that lost their lives. They'll want me to make a speech. A speech to the monument of my failure." He pinched his eyes, sniffing quietly to himself, clearly holding back something that was welling up inside him.

Alfred sighed, putting a comforting hand on Richard's shoulder and shaking his head. The boy was far too hard on himself. Just like Bruce always was.

"You did not fail." He said reassuringly. "You were a child, Master Richard. You did all that you could, far more than could ever be asked of you. And you're still doing more. Master Bruce would be proud of all you've done. As I am proud of you right now."

Sol System, Sector 2814

The small spacecraft fell out of hyperspace somewhere in Sol-III's upper atmosphere. It dropped like a brick through the steadily thickening air, trailing fire.

On board, its pilot was engaged in a firefight with a short blue-haired girl in a green and black minidress, with matching elbow gloves and boots. The girl launched a blast of green energy from a ring on her right hand, which missed, and slammed right into the control console, making it spark. The buffeting was throwing off her aim, and she couldn't concentrate enough to hover in order to mitigate it.

"You fool!" Cried the pilot. "Now there's no way to pull out of this dive!" "Well," the Green Lantern shouted back, "I guess you'd better find something to hang on to."

The burning ship screamed through the sky over Gotham, before landing in wasteland near the coast with a bang.

The Lantern staggered through the wreckage, clutching a hand over a large gash on her right arm as blood slowly dripped from between her fingers. She could see her target just ahead, as her vision started to blur.

"I-In the name of the Green Lantern Corps... You're under arrest." Her voice was strained; the pain of her injuries was starting to bite. "No, I don't think so." The pilot replied, as he placed his blaster to his chin. He fired, and the blast disintegrated his body.

Jen'nai sighed, dropped to her knees, and passed out, hoping that her ring's regeneration functions could take care of her various injuries.

"I was fifteen. And every night I went out to punch maniacal clowns and evil human crocodiles. I don't think that applies to me." Dick mumbled, staring at his breakfast. "I was there. I was so close to him. I could have stepped up and I didn't. The world could have gone on without Robin, but not without Batman. Now I have to stay out there every night to make sure no one uses my mistake to take advantage of the city. Can you say that's not my fault?"

Dick sighed once more. "They're going to have a big celebration today, Alfred. Why don't you take a break? I'm sure Lucius wouldn't mind the company, what with how I'll obviously stand him up after the speech." He grabbed the letter, opening it up, as his expression slowly went from distraught to surprised. "Alfred, who sent us this letter?" He asked, turning around, not noticing the red dot that appeared over the map of Gotham City, a signal used for unidentified flying objects.

Alfred sighed again, shaking his head. Like Master Bruce with his parents, it seemed Master Richard would be forever haunted by something beyond his control. Thankful for the change in subject, he looked down at the envelope, frowning with puzzlement.

"I'm...not quite sure." He muttered, and played with his thin mustache as he thought. "There's no return address..." Then, his eyes wandered back up to the Batcomputer. "Uh...sir?"

By the time Alfred noticed the Batcomputer, Dick had also looked at it and was halfway towards his motorbike. In the past, it was decked in the red and green colors of his Robin costume. But now, it was entirely black. In the middle of the way, he put on some gloves, a coat and a helmet, looking over at Alfred. "Put it on a shake, please?" He asked the butler, referring to the breakfast. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Just check what it is and come back. If it's dangerous, I'll give Gordon a call. No interfering with it."

Well, whoever sent me this letter probably knows an awful lot.

The nameless boy from Apokolips held the letter in one hand as he thought of how it found its way to him. He had been sleeping, as usual, in an abandoned old transit station - the bus never came back through here, not since it was wrecked in the initial Parademon attack. He didn't really have much of a place to call his home, but given the last place he called home, he was thankful for that, to some extent.

But there were too many others sharing similar circumstances, and he just felt bad looking at all of them. He could feel their sadness, and sometimes it just resulted in a nearly fugue like state. Someone had to do something about all of this. Maybe...maybe that someone could be him. He was no hero, though, he was just a Lowly from Apokolips, given nothing but a code-name and these uncontrollable "New God" powers.

He looked out, around once or twice, and then he moved out. He'd managed to make it to the outskirts of Metropolis, insofar. But he wasn't sure how much further he needed to go, or how he should go about his stay here. Maybe he could meet the girl who taught him hope. Maybe then...then...

What then? Are you going to babble inelegantly? And at least Father Box was still operating. And he was quite glad nobody thought to steal his one companion.

I'll work that out later. For now...I...I just want to meet her. But first, I gotta get to whoever sent me this mail. They...they probably know.

Insofar, it looked like a good enough morning, and it was definitely brighter than most days on his home world. And so off he went, maybe he'd get a name today. He already had some ideas swirling around, but none good enough to stick.

edited 20th Oct '14 5:20:06 PM by NickTheSwing

Before Jen'nai could regain her composure, the ring suddenly beeped to life, and the synthesized voice of Ganthet resounded in her head.

"Jen'nai Sayan, of sector 3026." It said in a clipped, official tone. "You are hereby relocated to your current position in sector 2814, until such a time where the lantern rings of the previous lanterns of the sector have found suitable wielders, and they have been appropriately trained." And then the voice was gone. But before she could focus on that, four men in armored suits flew onto the scene quickly, hands up and pulsing with energy.◊

"Unknown Green Lantern!" One of them barked. "Identify yourself! Refusal to comply will be seen as tantamount to resisting arrest, and will authorize Lethal force!"

High above the Earth, a satellite detected the unique energy signature of a Green Lantern ring, and jettisoned a tiny rocket, which began its descent down to Earth.

Alfred sighed as he watched Richard head off. He walked sadly over to the display case where Bruce's suit hung, pressing a hand to the glass.

"Oh, Master Bruce." He said solemnly. "What are we to do?"

edited 20th Oct '14 4:21:31 PM by SonOfSharknado

It was a curious little thing. A tiny green envelope came in the mail. No return address, no stamp. Within there was only an address to go to, a set of coordinate for the more tech savvy, and two ominous sentences:

"Come here if you want to change the world. Discretion is preferred."

This was what occupied the mind of Greg Saunders during his morning routine. While he did want to change the world, he rather much prefer his own style, which was doing it one town at a time. He decided on coming the Gotham as his latest destination. While the furthest East he's ever been in his entire life, their was good reason for it. If one wanted to get philosophical about it, it was because in just three years the city was falling back to the filthy pig sty it was before Batman ruled the night. In a city where only the craziest law breaking sidewinders did not fear the darkness, having the one thing that kept all the sane villains at bay suddenly gone just let a goddamn plague of locusts. The police lost its guts, the new guards are a buncha high school bullies whose courage consist of fancy tin cans, and the other heroes here fight over territory like a couple of kai-yotes fighting over scraps. While he was not playing on making Gotham his permanent home, he was making sure to at least show these people how to clean up the vermin without their bat and bird around.

The practical reason, however, was purely about the cash. While he enjoyed bounty hunting as a living, it was a feast or famine affair. The only bounty he was tracking that was actually worth more than cheap chuck was one Julian Day, aka the Calendar Man. Was one of them varmits the media dubbed as "joke villains", "super" villains that never taken seriously, whether for dumber than a sack of hammers, beating easier to slap around than a dead horse, or both. Batman fought him a few times, and every time it was on a special holiday, and every time he got his sorry ass handed to him easy. Many considered him to the biggest joke to ever get the title of joke villain.........until the Feds managed to definitively link the bastard to several serial killings committed for several years before and during his supervillain days.

The law only found this out a few days before the Great War started. And of course, Day slipped away like the snake in the grass he was, free to kill God how many more people while under the cover of an all-out war. Recently, Day's bounty was reposted and the reward jumped to seven figures. Vigilante soon managed to track the murderer back to his old haunt of Gotham City, right into the viper nest he hatched from. Even if Greg was not going to make a difference here in Gotham, he would at least walk away with a cool mil and psychopath safely in the clink.

Greg planned on continuing his search that day, but the letter kept on nagging at the gunslinger's mind. He then figured that whomever knew where he was, that person must have a lot of resources. And with those resources, he could easily bag Calendar Man and come off a million dollars richer. He then gathered his things.

First, his camping knife. Never know when a sharp edge could be useful.

Second, his retractable baton. Bought it for those times when he could not use a gun.

Third, binoculars. Just as good for scoping for bad guys as they were for cattle.

And lastly.......his guns. It was through sheer luck that he came upon these beauties. It was only three years ago, and yet it felt like these shooters were with him since the cradle. He could still remember what he and these two went through three years ago. He was like a modern day Davy Crockett, and all of Texas his Alamo. Holding onto those handles for the first time that day felt like meditation, gathering his chi or something, to prepare him for the trials ahead. He let the feeling sink in......letting the magic flow into him......

And then he holstered his guns. He hid his guitar something safe before locking the door behind him, went downstairs, and revved up his bike. But before he went to this mysterious address, he decided to get some breakfast and a coffee first.

For a moment, as his coat flapped in the wind, his motorbike zipping from street to street, barely dodging cars and other obstacles, Dick felt as if he was back in time. He could almost see himself, younger, those green and red clothes adorning him, a big smile on his face, Bruce's constant nagging telling him to 'watch out' and 'stop overacting', at which he would do a big stunt just to shove it in his f—

You have arrived at your destination.

Dick stopped the motorbike near the crash site of the ship, letting out a low whistle. He almost removed his helmet, before remembering there was no mask underneath it all. He saw faint shapes, but... he had promised Alfred. No interfering... well, it wouldn't hurt to get closer. And it wouldn't hurt to get the eskrima sticks hidden in the back of the motorbike, just in case he needed a quick escape.

Just like that, Dick sneaked towards the group near the ship, their shapes eventually turning into a girl and... robots. Huh. He remained silent, hiding behind dirt and debris.

Smallville, Kansas

Clara Kent hummed a tune as she worked on her morning chores. Said chores were second nature to the young woman, allowing her thoughts to wander to her unusual circumstance.

Two months. She had been in this strange world for two months. She had crashed right in the middle of Metropolis...to the cheers and sobs of joy of many.

"Superman! He's back!"

Of course, their hope had been crushed when they looked closer.

Clara sighed. This world had endured so much, it made her want to cry.

She had met Kara and Conner soon after, and they had explained the situation to her (after hitting her in the face. Ow.).

Clara had decided to help out. She may not be Superman, but she would definitely do her best to help. But, what if her best wasn't enough?

No. Don't think like that. Clara shook her head. She had to at least try!

Clara noticed that she was finished with her chores. Huh. She was sure she hadn't been using her powers.

Shrugging, she went back to the house. The Ma and Pa of this world had insisted that she live with them. She had refused initially, not wanting to take the place of their dead son, but they were adamant...and truth be told, she missed her parents terribly.

"Good morning!" Clara greeted, a smile on her face. "I just finished everything, Pa, no need to go out and risk hurting your back..."

She noticed tge envelope he carried. "Um. What's that?"

Jonathan Kent smiled at Clara, sitting at the kitchen table and thumbing through the mail. It had been such a whirlwind of emotions these last few months. Thinking Clark had come home, only to realize that this was someone else...but even though Clara was different, she was still so much like their son. Martha, bless her, had always wanted a daughter. And Clara had brought such joy into her life. She was out hanging up the laundry at the moment. Clara had offered to hang it up before, but Martha had made it clear that doing laundry was her own little Fortress of Solitude. Jonathan smiled again and shook his head, looking down at the green envelope.

"M'not really sure..." he muttered, then passed the envelope along to Clara. "These sorts of things are usually, from my experience, meant for Clar...uhm...meant for you."

Clara supressed a wince when Pa almost called her by his name. Truth be told, she was still getting used to the idea, but she didn't want her parents to feel awkward around her.

Clara opened the letter, looking over the words with a small frown on her face. Change the world? That sounded mighty suspicious to her....

"It's some kind of invitation, Pa. It doesn't look like ut's trapped..." She had been scanning both the envelope and tge letter itself with her X-Ray vision (handy, that).

"But I dunno....I've made a few appearances in public, but most folk don't know I exist...Why would I be invited to something?"

She sighed. "Should I go, Pa? It might be a trap, but if I can really help the world...."

John Kent stood up, putting a hand on Clara's shoulder and giving her a reassuring smile.

"If you want my opinion? Someone's tired of every hero on the planet sitting around with their thumbs in their rears, waiting for things to go back to the way they were. People need something to rally behind. To inspire them. To give them hope. Clark could do that. Maybe this person believes you can, too. I know Martha and I do."

The mystery envelope was waiting for Stephanie when she walked into the kitchen, clearly having been put there by her mother. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen, however, having already left for the day. Not that Stephanie was surprised - she'd slept in pretty late - but it meant that the genuine, actual talk the two still needed to have about her double life would have to wait again. Which wouldn't have been nearly as big a deal if they hadn't been continuing to put it off for months on end.

But that wasn't worth thinking about now. Picking up the envelope, Steph was about to open it before she heard the sound of something overhead, something that sounded highly unnatural. Rushing to a window at a speed that was far less than she was capable of these days, Stephanie Brown saw as some kind of burning wreck falling out of the sky.

She glanced down at the envelope, then decided against opening it just yet. While she knew full well she could read it in no time at all, she didn't want to risk getting distracted. The crash was happening now, and it had priority.

"Looks like you'll have to wait."

Moving into top speed, Steph grabbed a quick bite to eat before quick-changing into her costume, folding up the envelope and putting it into one of her belt pouches. Fully dressed, she zoomed out of the building and made a dash to try to find where it had landed. It wasn't hard, either, not when she was able to just about make the 5-second mile and there was smoke to give away the wrecks position.

It was one of the sad downsides of super speed was that the run was over so quickly. It was fun, being able to move that fast, practically watching the world move in slow motion below her as she ran across the rooftops - a much easier prospect than when she'd started her crime fighting career now that she was able to use her own momentum to practically fly across the gaps between buildings, even over the major streets.

"Well that's unexpected." Steph - Impulse, now that she was in costume - said to herself as she neared the crash site and saw that someone had actually beaten her there. As she approached, she could make out four armored individuals around the site, probably members of the Armor Corps if she had to guess.

While it was probably not a smart idea to get in too close, Impulse was not always known for making the most intelligent of decisions. Trying to take a path that would allow her to stay out of sight, Impulse began to search for a place from where she could listen in on what was happening.

edited 20th Oct '14 9:00:25 PM by TheSpaceJawa

Metropolis Mental Health Institute

Vic Sage just grunted at the man who passed him by. He wasn't paying attention to whoever the man was, but he could have sworn he had heard his voice before, in the outside world.

The world keeps spinning, he thought.

He was about to return to staring at the blank white wall by his bed (it was a favorite pastime of his) when he noticed a stack of papers lying in front of him. Vic got out of bed, and rifled through the sheets of paper, only to find out they were all blank. What he found in the middle of the stack, however, caught his interest immediately. A tiny little spraycan and a soft, pinkish lump, beside a letter in an envelope.

Vic rolled the little lump in his fingers into a ball. It had the same texture and elasticity as the skin on his face. He rolled the little ball out, letting it unravel. It was his old Question mask◊, given to him by Aristile Rodor so many years ago.

Vic Sage grew completely silent, and opened and read the letter. When he was done reading, he crushed the paper in his fist, and crumpled it up and threw it aside. He took the little ball of flesh-like material and the tiny aerosol can, and hid them in an empty can of chewing tobacco sitting on his nightstand, before he went up to the door of his cell. One of the workers there, Ducky, just so happened to be walking by.

"Hey, Ducky. May I have a break outside?"

Ducky sounded surprised.

"W-What? I mean, sure, Victor. You haven't taken a single step out of your cell in a month. I don't know what what the doctor's gonna say, but I reckon you need some sunlight."

He opened up the door, and escorted Vic Sage to one of the gardens surrounding the sanatorium. Vic patted Ducky on the shoulder when he stepped outside.

"Thanks, Ducky. I won't be out here for too long."

The elderly orderly smiled and nodded. When Ducky went back inside, Vic Sage made a daring escape, walking off the premises as fast as his slippers could handle.

edited 22nd Oct '14 8:40:28 PM by TailsDoll

Thankfully, the Metropolis MHI was not as heavily guarded as the Prison-By-Another-Name that was Arkham Asylum, and Vic was able to slip by unnoticed.

To those that read the letter and its instructions, the directions would take them to what looked like an abandoned Duplex in the Suicide Slums area of Metropolis. While Artemis, Vic, and the Unnamed Apokolyptian faced several, varying kinds of jeers, none of the hoodlums acted on their threats, feeling the ever-present Armor Guard ready to strike at the slightest sign of criminality.

A bright smile appeared on Clara's face, as a warm feeling spread from her heart. Yes, definitely the Pa that she remembered. And as for the letter...

"You're right." she replied, nodding. The world could be fixed, every problem could be solved. She had been raised to believe that, and she knew it to be true.

She gave her father a tight (but very controlled) hug. "I'm going to check it out. If these folks need my help, I'm more than willing to give it..."

That's right. She might not be as powerful as Superman, but she was ''here'" and she would do her best.

"Tell Ma where I'm going, so that she won't worry. Love you both!"

Minutes later, Clara was clad in the blue and red Kryptonian battle armor, her cape draped around her and the symbol of the House of El-Hope- displayed proudly on her chest.

The costume itself belonged to Clark. Martha Kent had presented it to her and she modified it to fit her. Mentally whispering thanks to her deceased counterpart, Superwoman began to leap and run towards the coordinates.

As Superwoman travelled, she spotted a disturbance. A girl and some armored figures. Superwoman frowned. Time to get to work. Hopefully, nobody would get hurt.

The Kryptonian landed from her leap in between the girl and the armored figures.

"Hi. What seems to be the problem?"

Before leaving paradise island

It had been 3 years since Artemis was chosen by the goddess Athena to be the new Wonder Woman.Last time there was a competition to be Wonder Woman Artemis had lost to Diana. But this time Artemis had trained her hardest to be a worthy succesor. She had perfected her skills with the bow so much she could rival her namesake goddess, she had trained those 3 years without stopping to become a better warrior.

The day the letter arrived. Artemis did something uncommon for her, she usually didn't like to express her "weak" side to her fellow amazons as she hated to be seen as something less than a warrior and an amazon. She knelt at the temple of Athena and prayed to the goddess while she was alone.

"I hate to admitt, but Diana was better than me. I fear Men's wold has been so broken, after the war, that I won't be able to rebuild such a shattered world. I am still not sure why you choose me, but I still rember every day that I should have died instead of Diana. I pray that you give me the strenght and wisdom to fulfill the mission you have given me."

edited 20th Oct '14 9:48:28 PM by RPGLegend

Paradise Island

Athena appeared to Artemis in shimmering light◊, looking dignified yet sorrowful as she looked down at Artemis.

"Despair not, my champion." She said wisely. "For though the loss of Diana is great, the greatest shame to her memory would be to wallow in self-pity and self-loathing. Rise strong, Artemis of the Amazons. Rise, and take the place that you have earned."

Gotham City

Two of the Armor Guard spun around when Superwoman descended onto the scene, the "leader" still focusing his guns on the Jen'nai.

"Who the Hell is that?" Superwoman would be able to hear one of them mutter to the other on their private channel.

"Who knows?" The other one responded apathetically. "Probably a Daxamite with delusions of grandeur." Then, so she could hear, he snapped at her. "Identify yourself, unknown Metahuman! Failure to comply will be tantamount to resisting arrest, and will authorize the use of Deadly Force!" The last Armor Guard scanned the surrounding area, his sensors picking up Impulse's heartbeat and heat signature. He pointed a hand at the rubble, scowling.

"And that goes for you too, behind the rocks! Come on out, hands where we can see them!"

Clara felt relieved. Humans. They could be reasoned with. Unfortunately, her relief turned to alarm at the men's actions.

"Hey, hey. Don't mind them, they're not doing anything! Focus on me, you don't want to do anything rash...No one needs to get hurt. Let's talk. Just talk."

Even as she spoke, Superwoman shifted her position so that she could easily intercept the gun's trajectories.

"You asked my name? I'm Superwoman."

She winced. "Did that sound arrogant? Yeah, it did, didn't it. Sorry."

"So, um, who are you guys? What do you need? Maybe I can help."

Impulse knew there wasn't any point to trying to pretend she wasn't there, and she wasn't about to run away, either. Supposedly the Armor Corps were the good guys, so ideally they could be reasoned with.

Impulse was about to step out from behind cover slowly to see if she could conceal what she could do, but Superwoman happened first.

"Superwoman?" Impulse asked as she quickly appeared from her former hiding spot, effectively declaring 'I HAVE SUPER SPEED!

"Likesuperman?"

She quickly realized her mistake, and sighed as she turned towards the armored individuals.

"You'resoundingalittleviolentthere." She said as she continued to speak at high speed, a side-effect of the nervousness she was feeling deep down inside and trying to cope with. "Ithinkwe'reallonthesameside."

edited 20th Oct '14 10:06:18 PM by TheSpaceJawa

The Armor Corps members looked at one another in confusion, before lowering their weapons, save for the one trained on the Green Lantern.

"Superwoman, huh?" One of them asked, his faceplate popping open to reveal that, despite his heavily modulated voice, HE was actually a SHE.◊ The woman glowered at Superwoman, one eyebrow cocked. "All right, Superwoman, here's what's going on. I'm guessing you're new around here, so we'll let this slide. You fancy outfit types are old hat. The Armor Corps runs the show now. And we were doing out jobs, investigating this extraterrestrial disturbance..." she pointed an angry finger at the Green Lantern, "When you and your little Speedster friend decided to show up."