#plot: revelation

League Member:  Green Lantern Stewart

The dead are rising from their graves.  Subdue them, destroy them, whatever you have to do, but contain them.  Do NOT let them reach civilians.

It is a recent mass Ebola grave.  Have your shield strong at all times.  DO NOT LET THEM REACH CIVILIANS.

Keep comms open to frequency EC130.6 AT ALL TIMES.

League Members:  Speedy, Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel

The dead are rising from their graves.  Subdue them, destroy them, whatever you have to do, but contain them.  Do NOT let them reach civilians.

This is a revered cemetery.  Be as diplomatic as possible.  No unnecessary damage.  Bodies may be well-preserved.

Keep comms open to frequency EC130.6 AT ALL TIMES.

League Members:  Flash and Batwoman

The dead are rising from their graves.  Subdue them, destroy them, whatever you have to do, but contain them.  Do NOT let them reach civilians.

The bogs may have preserved the bodies well, so be prepared.

Keep comms open to frequency EC130.6 AT ALL TIMES.

As soon as the others headed for the zeta tubes, Dick immediately got to work, calling out orders for Bette to type as he went.  Their medical team had finished making up the cure for the infected livestock, so Green Lantern Stewart was sent out with a civilian medical team to handle that.  As Bette kept contact with the Arlington team, Dick was distracted by deluge of reports of mourners and workers suddenly attacked by the dead rising up from their graves.  This was not as controlled as they had hoped.

(turn up your speakers and press play)

The Angel was not in the least bit amused.

He was angered because of the blasphemy perpetrated by this so-called "Eden Corps".  Zauriel was ready to take the fight to them.  His spear and his sword were ready.  He was ready...

Dick sat in the med bay, his hands treated and bandaged, but still throbbing.  The slightest pressure on them hurt, so the staff had laid out any devices he might need on a small table next to his bed.  Despite the pain, when his comm showed a message, he gingerly picked it up and brought it to his lap to read.

He hailed Bette and Ollie, sending them both a copy of the message.  "It's from 2 Thessalonians 2:8.  I think this one's directed at both of us, Bette, like your last message.  Let me know when you're back up here safe and I'll meet you in Command Center 3."

Zauriel cleared his throat to announce his presence.  "I'm here" he said.

The moment he had stepped foot on the Watchtower again, he had felt emotions swirling like a tempest and coming from the very room he was now in.  These two League coordinators, these two lovers who had once shared such a deep connection that their very souls had intertwined, were now doing everything they could to pretend they weren't breaking apart inside.  And they both had good distractions to deal with.

They were busy with events on the ground - and justly so.  The angel could see the monitors and field reports.  The League had their hands full, but it looked like they could handle it.  Both Oliver Queen and Kate Spencer seemed to be doing an adequate job coordinating responses.  But part of their hearts and minds were engaged in battle with each other, and that could lead to deadly consequences.  They both needed to heal, and angels were adept at helping that process along.  But right now healing would have to wait. 

Slade had been tailing Joker for days. The job was a simple one, and it was all just one huge waiting game from here. Settled atop a building, he shifted slightly to peer through his scope. The cross-hairs were trained on a window, looking down into a warehouse. It'd taken an hour just to get to a place with a decent view. Strange in Gotham, really, where everything seemed to tower over everything else.

With his blue uniform cloaking him in the dark, it was only a matter of time before he made his move tonight. He'd been mostly hands off so far, just doing little things to throw off the clown. Shooting out a tire to disable a getaway vehicle here, causing an accident to back up traffic in a critical area there, sniping what few goons Joker had right now, anything he could thing of.

Tonight he'd step it up.

"Come on, you stupid clown," he muttered. "Show your ugly face...."

This job was almost insultingly easy, much easier than he'd first assumed it would be. Everyone knew the Joker was trouble, but when he was on the run? He was just like anyone else. And he could be followed like anyone else.