#javstarter

After a morning spent wandering hallways and peering into open doors, M’gann finally felt fairly certain that she had found all of the readily accessible training rooms. Everyone knew that Stark Tower was enormous. What M’gann hadn’t accounted for was the variety of available gyms.

Once the Martian had taken the time to explore she concluded that the training rooms were designed to fit the needs of the original Avengers. It made a good deal of sense that the circular gym with a disarmingly fast, movable track along the perimeter complete with obstacles that sprung out of the wall and ceiling would be ideal for their speedster. Wally would have a field day in there, too, M’gann thought to herself. She could picture Artemis or Roy in long room lined with holographic targets suited for the Hawkeyes.

The simplest room held M’gann’s attention. M’gann stepped inside cautiously. An aggressive mechanical suit of armor had surprised her in the third gym and nearly burned a hole through her chest. Thankfully, this time nothing popped out of the ceiling as soon as she entered the room. It appeared to be completely empty.

A large window overlooking the city filled the small gym with natural light. She padded over the wooden floor and took a minute to look out at the buildings below. It was beautiful, but unexpectedly silent. The window blocked out all of the sounds of the city. When M’gann turned around she almost missed a line in the floorboards and knelt down carefully to examine the spot. But just as her fingers fluttered over the groove, the door flew open. M’gann gave a little shriek and leaped backwards at the sudden movement. “Oof,” rubbing her elbow where it hit the window, M’gann started nervously, “You startled me. Is this your spot?” Knowing her luck, it was probably already reserved or even private. She hurried to pick herself up from the floor, “I’ll get out of your way, pretend I was never here!”

Zach rubbed a hand over his eyes, his tracking spells hadn’t worked yet either. He just had nothing to pull from, all he got was that the Joker was ‘somewhere’ in New York, talk about stating the obvious. One of his doves landed on his shoulder and cooed at him softly, ruffling it’s wings in the direction of the one sculpture he’d kept animated, the cheetah. It had been chasing Joker, last track of him but followed him quite a ways, maybe showing others how far it had gotten could help them figure out the rest of the way?

He shrugged, might as well, he didn’t have a show scheduled for today. “rooD ot kratS srewoT.” he cast, gesturing the cheetah to follow him as he stepped through, Wanda said other heroes stayed here with her, one of them would do. “Hello,” he called out, the door disappearing behind him, “International superstar calling, complete with hint on Jokers whereabouts.”

But regardless, he found himself sitting in front of six different screens, watching the news on every channel he could find - and also stomach, he found channel 2 to be extremely rude - and waited. As he watched, he still prayed that he was wrong. And as the night went on and broadcasts online of live interviews at the gala showed nothing more than just people trying to brag about their wealth, and some heroes Conner trying hard to be as neutral as he could. Everything was fine.

Alfred was sorting laundry into baskets when shit hit the fan. There was a laugh, a scream and then a speech made by the voice he was hoping that they’d never have to listen to again. The Joker finally made an appearance. It only took Alfred three seconds to make a decision. He was already running down to his car. 

It was almost an outer body experience, the drive down to the gala location. All he could think about was that everyone was in the same room as the Joker, and something bad was about to happen in 12 hours. And as far as anyone knew he was only a butler. But he was running into a problem situation like he was still a spy. Alfred wasn’t going to lie, he’s always wondered what it would be like to work with Bruce, but...anyways. 

Alfred stuck a light on the roof of his car at the last traffic light before his destination. Okay so he shouldn’t really have it. But he borrowed it from the GCPD a long time ago and they haven’t asked for it back yet - and it works for situations like this. He jumped out of his car and yelled some stupid lie about being a member of the GCPD who had come to help the FBI with the hunt on the Joker to the security guards who were scrambling around to find out where the Joker had run off to. No one paid him any attention and he ran up the stairs to the door, hand on the gun he had in his jacket pocket, waiting for someone to jump out at him. 

Flash was no stranger to undercover missions in the name of Project Rebirth. The symbiote was perfect for making the wheelchair using amputee look like any other able-bodied Joe, and this secret section of the military was not above using it, just not tonight. Agent Venom had a personal life, and happened to know some of the guests, who would certainly notice if the war hero had suddenly grown back his legs. So today, he wasn’t undercover, not exactly. Despite his mission, he was here as the war hero he truly was, corporal Eugene Thompson, veteran with a Medal Of Honor to his name. The mission seemed simple, on paper. Get close enough to Fisk to make good use of the symbiote, and Project Rebirth’s technology. With merely a prick of his finger he could insert a tracking chip right under the mayor’s skin, making it real easy for the government to spy... well, within the government. 

With the alien snugly posing as the watch on his wrist, Flash uneasily eyed the crowd. He had never been comfortable in formal situations, let alone around all these rich people seeming to know exactly what they were doing. This hour alone he’d already been offered four drinks, and every time it had been a process of saying no. When he had made the decision to stop drinking for good, about two years ago now, he never though he’d wished there was a bar in this room, just so they wouldn’t have to keep offering him drinks. He had almost risked it. One glass at a special occasion like this wouldn’t matter... right? He didn’t even have to drive, because, well... he couldn’t. The thought alone had made him sick. Guilt had spiked him like nothing else, and his jaws had clenched together tightly in a helpless attempt to numb the anger he felt towards himself. No more alcohol. That was the deal. No excuses. Especially while carrying the most dangerous weapon he’s ever held in his hands, this mind controlling weapon that just happened to be drugged, neutered. He was done with alcohol, for good.

The veteran idly fiddled with the sleeves of his uniform’s coat, letting his eyes scan the crowd once more. The gang had to be out here somewhere, right? MJ had mentioned that Peter and herself would both go as Harry’s platonic plus-ones, and honestly, it was hard to miss any of them. After all, he had years of experience picking out Peter from any crowd, except this time minus the cruel intentions. A deep sigh was pushed from his lungs, irritation slowly building as he had still not found anyone he even remotely recognized. Sure, he was supposed to be here with the V.A. Office, but even they seemed to be another needle in this haystack of people, after he had left them a little while ago. He barely threw a short glance around before pushing his wheelchair forward, with a single, controlled stroke. 

He almost didn’t care when he felt the chair roll right over someone’s foot— hell, maybe he meant to do it. One of the advantages of wearing a military dress uniform, and sporting the kind of medals he did, was that people were easily distracted once they saw and noticed. The smug little smirk tugging just softly at his mouth just couldn’t be helped as his eyes darted up at his victim. Okay, it was a little funny.

‘You’d better make this good Mr Zatara.’

Zach turned to smile at Fisk.

“Oh don’t worry Mr Mayor. I’ll exceed expectations and then some.” He glanced at the two white doves on his shoulders and smiled at them. “Showtime boys.” With that both doves took off and flew through the side door and flew into the gala showroom. People saw and gasped, watching the two beautiful birds performing elegant swirls and twists as they went. Soon they approached a slightly raised section of floor near the back of the room and began to fly in smaller and smaller circles, when they about to collide... 

“raeppA.” 

The spinning birds seemed to meld together and with a slight whooshing sound and a pouf of purple smoke The Great Zatara appeared on stage. His usual show outfit switched up for black skinny fit trousers, a black sash, white shirt and grey blazer. He held a cane between his hands which he spun with a flourish and tapped against the floor.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Honoured guests. Our fair Mayor has deemed it to me, The Great Zatara, to welcome you tonight to this beautiful showroom.” he gestured around as his louder than normal voice echoed to every corner of the room. 

“He instructed I make this an evening you’ll never forget. So why not begin by making thing a tad more... lively.” he smiled before raising his cane and smacking it against the floor, “serutplucS, evil!” At his spell the sculptures of Africa’s most distinct beasts all came to life before the eyes of the crowd. Elephants, Lions, Gazelles, Buffalo, Leopards and Rhinoceros’ all shook themselves a little before gazing calmly at the crowd.

“I’m Lois Lane, with the Daily Planet” she said as she displayed her ID from The Planet along with her ticket to attend the event. The man took a good look at the ID and then simply nodded, stepping aside to let her in. The young woman smiled in silent ‘thanks’ and walked into the American Museum of Natural History.