Lost & Found (Rogues Gallery)

Participants: Evan McCulloch | Axel Walker
Open/Closed: Open to the Rogues Gallery. Otherwise closed.
Location(s): Mirror Master's ramshackle apartment
Time of Day: Dusk
Weather: A light drizzle
Summary: With the Rogues in general disarray, Mirror Master figures it's about time to try and get the old gang back together again.... With mixed results.

Katz - By Florence Caillon

It was dreary day, dull clouds and the sprinkling of rain drops drizzling here and there. A rather dour day, truthfully, but one Evan rather enjoyed. The serene pitter patter of rain drops was an oddly soothing noise. He had an unspoken appreciation for days like these. It was a time to be cozy on the couch with a beer and some popcorn. None of that hustle and bustle American cities were well known for. None of the crowds and none of the noise, just... Peace.

Mirror Master, on this rather dreary evening, was unusually optimistic. Dare I say? Hopeful? There's a new one! Evan hadn't felt the sensation of hope for some time. It felt nice. Very uplifting. His usually dour mood had been uplifted. Today was the day... He was excited. He was anxious. He was scared. Approximately one week prior, Mirror Master sent out a coded message. One which only the Rogues Gallery could decipher. Be here. 13 Johns Street. Room 2B. 6:30. -Evan It was all they would have needed. Confirmation that the gang would be getting back together. The crew, the clan, the party, the... Well.. He wasn't comfortable admitting this... But, the family. McCulloch wasn't big on the whole "family" thing. It just wasn't him. That was more Snart's whole schtick. But, like it or not, he considered them fam- friends. His best friends. And his only friends.

Evan's hopeful gaze glistened against the glass frame of a picture. A group photograph, of him and his friends. All of his friends. Digger Harkness, the best drinking buddy a scumbag scotsman could ever want. The fat louse had a liver of steel, and gonads to match! He looked like such a doofus with that big drunken grin in the picture. Then there was Mick Rory. He had quite the temper, but underneath? A heart of gold. It was an unflattering picture... The shah of scorch had quite the goofy looking grimace under those massive goggles of his. Evan, himself, was in the center of it all. Beaming with pride between Heatwave and Weather Wizard. Beside him, Mark Mardon. Another unflattering angle, Mark looked as though he was somewhere between passed out drunk and about to vomit. At the end of it all was Leonard Snart. The last of Evan's comrades. Ever grim and stoic. Snart wasn't just a friend, he was like a brother. The one and only man to ever make Mirror Master feel as though he belonged. The only man to ever see more than a washed up druggie. Evan owed him everything. These were his friends. Sure, there were other rogues. Roscoe Dillon, James Jesse, Roy G. But f#ck them. They didn't matter. Only that five did.

Mirror Master's hopeful gin suddenly took shape in the picture's frame. Glistening in the light, you could see everything. From the chip between his teeth, to his shaggy brown hair. He wasn't in costume. In fact, he dressed rather casual. Dark green cargo shorts and a tattered and slightly unbuttoned button up of the same color. Green socks, orange high top converse sneakers, and an orange unkempt sweater vest nestled cozily over his button up. It would have almost looked relatively classy, had more effort been put into it. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and his eyes sullen and dead. That glimmer of hope, suddenly fading away as he placed the photograph down. Overall, he looked rather dreary. Pale like a corpse, and all in all somewhat disinterested. Despite that faint glimmer of a smile, his eyes said he hadn't a single care in the world. Those very same eyes then meandered across his shabby old apartment. It was his house and home. But it didn't look like a home. More like a dingy old motel room. It was criminally small. One somewhat large room and a bathroom. It had old wooden floors and a drab colorless wallpaper.

There wasn't much to make that little apartment well and truly his. A few things, but not much. One such being a dim lava lamp which bounced rhythmically to the tune of an unknown beat on his kitchen counter. It permeated a dim lime glow. Next to it, a small plastic container of "sugar". The refrigerator and stove were mostly unremarkable. There was a six-pack of Arnold Palmer on the stove, ready and waiting for Old Digger Harkness. Evan knew it was his favorite. Then two cases of cheep beer nestled cozily against the fridge for the rest of his incoming guests.

There was a single battered amd tattered yet surprisingly loft green couch at the opposite end of the room. There was no bed, so one could assume that this was where the rajah of reflection rested. In front of it, nestled upon an old red rug, was a pathetic wooden coffee table. There was a pizza box on one side, for his guests. On the other was an old rusty needle, a spoon coated in "sugar", and three pill tablets of that very same aforementioned "sugar", for him. Finally, at the center of it all was a rickety nightstand, housing a PlayStation 3 and a small ugly flatscreen. The PlayStation was rigged and ready to play only the classics. DigDug, Galaga, Street Fighter. Exclusively the classics.

Evan clearly lived alone. An... Eccentric bachelor pad to say the least. He never had guests. In fact, most of the rogues had no idea where he even lived. He was a private type, arguably anti-social, but definitely a rude arsehole. The photograph of his friends was lovingly placed next to his heroin. His gaze was fixated on the stuff. Snart always said to knock-it-off... He knew he had to stop... He wanted to stop... But God... He'd give anything for another trip through the looking glass. Sweat poured down his neck. He wanted it. No. He needed it. No. The gang was coming. They'd be here soon. He couldn't. Just a little? No. No. No. No. No. Please? He bagan to shake, and, for some reason, felt.... Guilty? His cheeks scrunched up and his lips twitched. He had to stop. His friends were coming. He couldn't... No more. It was for them. Stay strong. Be strong. Please be strong.......

With a trembling hand, Evan reached into his pocket and pulled out a pill bottle. It was anxiety medication. Klonopin. He needed to smooth the edge. Fight the urge. He couldn't keep doing this. He placed a twenty dollar bill over the table. Clumsily opening the bottle, he dropped two tablets unto the twenty. Mirror Master chiseled it away until the twenty had line of white powder. Rolling up a one dollar bill, Evan stick it into his right nostril and plugged his left. He gave one massive snort, and the dollar bill sucked in the medication like a straw. With some menial amount of confidence regained, McCulloch placed the spoon, needle, and drugs inside the coffee table's drawer. Hope faded away, and his body went numb. It was 6:30..... No one was coming. Deep down, he knew it. They weren't really his friends. No one really gave a sh!t. Apathy trickled down his spine with a massive frown. Perhaps a game of Pac-Man to clear the mind?

| Axel Walker |

Axel had been quite surprised and absolutely delighted to receive a coded message from the one and only Evan McCulloch. He was delighted to be included and thought it was finally proof that Evan did in fact like him - probably not as much as he liked others in the Rogues but it was a start and Axel was happy to take what he could get.

For a week straight he'd been wondering what the purpose of the meeting was. Was he wanting to get the gang back together officially? The fact that the Rogues weren't officially together - at least not officially officially - was still a sore spot for the young criminal, but he'd tried his best to keep in contact with as many as he could, offering up some crimes they could do together. It was never the same, though. He just wanted it to be the same, wanted it to be like old times.

He saw no reason why they couldn't go back to old times. Sure some... stuff had happened but he didn't see why they couldn't move past it. Maybe some couple's counseling? Did they make that for entire groups? Could he kidnap a counselor? Would that be the same thing?

The day came and Axel spent far longer than he'd ever admit trying to pick out an outfit - not that it was reflected in the final result. He wore torn jeans and sneakers with the laces undone. His sweater was stripped with obnoxiously bright yellow and blue.

He didn't expect to be the first one there - Did it count if Evan was already there? He wondered why they were meeting at an apartment as he made his way to the front door, hair and shoulders slightly wet from the drizzle outside. Did Evan live here? Had he kidnapped the home owners so they could use this place? Or was it abandoned and that was why he'd picked it?

Axel shrugged to himself; he guessed the answer didn't really matter. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door in the tune of a commercial jingle that had been stuck in his head all day. With that, he fiddled with a loose string on his sweater and rocked back on his heels, waiting and hoping Evan hadn't cancelled without letting him know.

---

385 words
Evan McCulloch

Starker / Wicked Child - By Hideki Sakamoto

Aided by naught but the will, soul, and power of God, he marched through blistering winds and bitter cold. Ascending great and triumphant heights, through the monster’s lair with a grim determination. His blonde mane flowing triumphantly in the wind with each muscular trudge. This boy, guided by the Lord to end the blight which rests at the summit of this sinful skyscraper would go where no man had gone before. A vile sorcerer sat on a throne of blood, nestled horrifically at the apex of this spire of agony. An agent of Satan, the horrific blood sucking fiend would face justice. He’d be put down like the hellhound he truly was, thus saith the Lord!

Slashing through monsters and madness, the barbarian trudged ever onwards for an end to evil. Chain whip gripped firmly in hand, slashing through bones at the outcrops of Dracula’s Castle. Holy Water searing the light of the Lord through draconic spires, then swiftly though rigidly avoiding the fluttering mangled heads of the Gorgon Medusa, he would not falter not fail! For what is a man? Glorious, honorable, and god-fairing. Godspeed, Simon Belmont! His pixelated form guided through daring traps and spine tingling horrors by a worn PlayStation controller and by a tattered louse of a man. 

Wicked Child - By Kinuyo Yamas**ta

As reality sets in, know that the trek of this vampire killer is far less arduous than that of Axel Walker. For his journey, into the lair of Mirror Master, meant trudging past a few passed out drunks, an empty swimming pool with a few bits and pieces of garbages nestled within, and up a few rickety steps. That was the castle which Evan McCulloch called home. The keep in which Axel’s adversary bunked up. This adversary, less all knowing ancient horror resting for eons in the bowels of hell, more coked up druggie lounging lazily about in a s#!%hole apartment. 

Belmont was, at the time, slashing his way through a pair of mangled mummies which marched slowly and solemnly through a short hallway. That was when their came a rapping at his chamber door. Evan’s head turned sharply towards the tapping, a rhythmic rata-tat tune which he could scarcely recognize. He arose grimly, lurching through his house and home like the decrepit mummies in his game. He was expecting say, Weather Wizard or Doctor Alchemy, or perhaps even Tarpit or Abra Kadabra, but was instead met with misery evermore. The ramshackle wooden door of room 2B creaked open, and what little cheer joy and hope glimmered in his eyes suddenly went dark, as he could only let out a simple ”Oh.”

Evan warily scanned the creature before him, the gaudy bright colors, the scruffy unkempt locks of gold, and the loose laces which trailed across the complex’s floor... Evan’s disappointment was immeasurable, and his day was ruined. Contrary to what Axel had hoped, Evan did not like him. Mirror Master loathed the Trickster, actually... Both of them. James Jesse was a sick little carny freak, and frankly an absolute joke villain. McCulloch was glad Deadshot offed the insufferable bastard (if only he’d gotten Piper too). Then to see some little punk follow in the freak’s footsteps? It was disgusting. James and Axel were what gave the Rogues Gallery a bad name in Evan’s eyes. Absolute Z-Listers. I mean? Who uses a snot-gun!?

Axel’s invitation was exclusively to appease Leonard Snart (the stock up knob), who for god only knows why, always includes the bloody little twit in all big plans and heists... Evan was going through all this trouble, Snart has better show up. Things needed to be settled, this was all just bad for business. Without the Gallery, Evan’s bottom line was trickling into the negatives. This was stupid, his mood was instantly soured. With a dull glare at the young crook, Evan turned away and trudged back to his couch. ”Well, come on in I guess.” the Roguish Reflection reluctantly gestured, soon settling back into his game of Castlevania.

| Axel Walker |

This was it. No more laying low. No more hiding...It was time for his triumphant return! Nobody had quite caught on yet that the magnificent magnum opus that was the Rainbow Raider had returned from the dead! Not a lurching zombie this time no, but a true flesh and blood rogue! It was true that he had only come across one of Evan's coded messages by happenstance, but that must've only been due to his supposed deadness, surely! Afterall he was an invaluable rogue, and was undoubtable missed during this time! 

Donning what Bivolo considered a discreet outfit, he stealthily shifted and squirmed his way past the blockade of drunks and garbage and towards Evan's squalor of an apartment. Roy allowed a look of confusion and disgust to furrow his brow as he looked around the hallway it was located in. THIS was what the Rogues called a base now? Preposterous! Must be some kind of decoy they were falling back on. Shaking his head clear of such worries, Bivolo pounded his knuckles against the wooden frame, sure to get the occupant's attention as he whispered into the doorframe "Agent Chroma ready for duty!" his tone of voice capturing that of an old timey spy movie...or maybe it was a modern one...He never could tell as they looked the same in his eyes.

Said eyes were also the cause of his conspicuous wardrobe. While it all seemed the same shade of dreary gray to Roy, it was anything but! He was wearing a trench coat that was a delightful shade of puke green, accompanied by a piss yellow fedora and neon pink shades. This would have been bad enough, but his coat was unfortunately not closed, revealing the eyebleeding combination of a bright Cyan shirt clashing with an orange and purple plaid tie. If there was any mercy within Roy's wardrobe, it was the fact that his remaining clothes were less straining on the eyes, being a pair of pure white dress pants and black loafers. His curly black hair poking out from his fedora a bit, the artistic loon tipping his hat down as if he was invisible in the shadows.

Evan McCulloch  Axel Walker

The mild rain coming down outside shifted tempo suddenly. In an instant it went from lazy trickle to heavy, lancing drops that stung and pelted. The living room window of McCulloch's apartment shuddered and the panes strained in their framework. With a click, the wind outside illogically unlatched the lock and blew them open. Water slanted in, and with it a figure whose feet didn't touch the ground. At first.

Soon as Marco landed, he gestured absently over his shoulder and the window closed with a whistle of air. The rain outside settled back into its more sedate drizzle. He pushed the wet, brown hair from his forehead and shook out his trench coat. "Your carpet's wet," Marco said by way of introduction to Evan.

Weather Wizard strode across the living room, brown eyes taking in Axel without really changing mood. On his way into the kitchen, Marco shrugged out of his coat and pushed it into Trickster's hands. "Someone's at your door, McCulloch. And turn that sh*t off. Have some level of professionalism. You're the one that called the damn meeting in the first place."

Marco opened the fridge and bent down to peer inside.

Axel Walker

George "Digger" Harkness slipped out of the ol' beater that he nicked from the Five Below store on the outskirts of town. Lifting cars, especially terrible cars, wasn't something he took a lot of pride in but he'd only been out of prison (again) for a few weeks and he was light on cash. That's fine. All he needed was quick score and he'd be good as gold once again. He'd be able to replace some of his boomerangs, maybe upgrade a couple, and, who knows, maybe even buy a new overcoat? All he needed to do was keep a low profile for a bit and avoid any Flashes in the area. If he didn't, it would be right back to Task Force X with him and into the clutches of Amanda Waller. He'd died once before and didn't care much for it. The idea of dying for a country he wasn't even a proper citizen in didn't really set too well with him either. 

A smile spread across on Digger's face as he looked up at the apartment complex like butter on warm toast. He'd traveled the world a dozen times. He'd been to every major city on this whole stinkin' continent and met every scumbag, lowlife, thug, and crook that lived there. Yet none were ever as good or as close-knit as the Rogues. The Gotham guys were trying to undermine each other, the Metropolis guys always had to bow their heads to Luthor, and Coast City? Weren't most of those buggers from space? Even Task Force X hated his guts and he'd pulled their fat out of the fryer more than a few times! Nah, the Rogues were the closest thing to a family he ever had. 

As Digger approached the apartment complex's door, a torrential downpour of rain hit him out of nowhere like the fist of an angry god. The force was almost enough to drive him to his knees but then it was gone as soon as it arrived. Digger grumbled about the lousy Central City weather and pushed inside the building. Each step towards his mate's apartment squished under his boots and his soaked clothes dripped, exacerbated by his attempts to wring out all the excess rain. After removing his beanie and giving it a good wring, coating the welcome mat with rain water, Digger pushed open the door completely unannounced.

"Oi! What the f**k is up with the weather in this hellhole?" Digger looked up to see Marco standing in the apartment. "Well that makes sense." 

Digger scanned the room and noticed the beer sitting out already for him. That warm smile spread across his face again as he made a straight path to it, ignoring everyone else in the room. He always kept a can of lager or two in his overcoat at all times, but this was beer he didn't have to pay for and that made it even more special. Digger freed a can and saw a framed photo of the old days... the really old days... like pre-death for him. He popped that tab on the can and took a deep swig as he stared at the photo. The man Digger was when he died looked nothing like the man he was today. He was a fat, bald, sadsack with no career aspects and penniless. Say what you will about all that supernatural mumbo jumbo, his resurrection definitely did him some favors. "Ugh... I look terrible in'is. Look at that ol' blubber gut and me forehead extending to the back of me skull. We gotta retake this sometime now that I'm all fit and trim and got me hair back." 

Axel noted the disappointment clear as day on Evan and, well, promptly ignored it. Disappointment wasn't going to make either of their days any better so what was the point? He could easily act like it didn't exist and soon he'd probably forget it ever had. Instead the youngest Rogue just beamed a grin up at Mirror Master as if they were the best of friends. Surely if he manifested that energy enough times, it'd become real. That's how that worked right? Besides, Evan let him in! That must have been a good sign! The Rogues were getting back together and they hadn't forgotten to include him and that was all that mattered.

He curiously and nosily looked around the place the second he walked through the door. Was this going to be their base? It looked like a used - very used - apartment, not a base worthy of the Rogues. This was for sure the meeting spot because obviously Evan was there and had been expecting him. But meeting spot didn't automatically mean base so he decided to hold out hope for an actually good location that smelled less like... Well people. Axel preferred the stale pizza smell his own place had, personally.

"Oh wow, I beat everyone here!" he said, turning to grin at Evan, noticing he was busy playing some game and frowned faintly before coming up behind him to peer over his shoulder. "I'm surprised Snart's not here. I'd have thought he'd be the first." Not that Axel had heard from any of the Rogues since, well, certain events. But surely they had just been all busy. It happened, people drifted apart but always found a way to come back together. The Rogues were a family. They were his family.

That was when a window opened and like a storm, Weather Wizard came pouring in. Axel opened his mouth to greet Marco, honestly thrilled to see so many Rogues already back together again, when a voice came from the door and suddenly a coat was shoved at him. He pouted. It seemed some things hadn't changed. Some people still needed to lighten up and have some fun. He looked down at the wet coat before holding it up, examining it. Alas there was nothing in the pockets to take. He looked to Marco, who seemed quite preoccupied with the fridge. He looked to the window, still open. Well... It would be rude to leave Evan's window just open like that.

He trotted over to the window, peered outside then looked down at the coat in his arms. One more glance over his shoulder to make sure Marco wasn't looking and he threw the coat out the window then closed and latched the window back up right as the door was opened and he turned to look, eyes finding Digger and Roy, a wide grin back on his family.

Axel laughed at Digger's comments about a photo. God, he'd missed this. He'd missed his family. He turned to Evan, the reason they were all back together again. "The gang's almost all here! Is anyone else coming? I haven't heard from Snart, though I'm sure he's just been busy and misses everyone. Word on the street is Piper's traitorous butt's still pretending he's better than all of us and playing jail rat." He waited, looking at each man with a grin. "...Get it? Jail rat?" He thought he was hilarious.

---

571 words
Evan McCulloch

Did nobody notice he was there? Wow this disguise must really work...Regardless, maybe it would be best to return to his costume, afterall how could anyone forget the mesmerizing Rainbow Raider! Tossing aside his coat and fedora, Roy revealed his brightly colored spandex underneath! Pulling on his mask and goggles, it was time to make a grand entrance!

Storming in through the door, the artist gestured happily towards his former crew. 

"Evan! Digger, Mardon! Fret not, as I have returned from beyond the grave! Rainbow Raider, at your service!" Bivolo exclaimed in a prideful manner, flashing a thumbs up and a grin before faltering at the realization of Axel's presence. 

"Eh? When did Trickster become a kid? You guys find the fountain of youth or something? Damn. I really missed all the fun times didn't I!" 

Taking in the room around him, Roy couldn't help but feel as if a tumbleweed was blowing past him at a slow, lumbering pace. Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, Roy glanced around the room once more. His eyes pleading at SOMEONE to recognize him. 

"Er....Come on guys, you remember me right? Roy G. Bivolo? Supervillain artist galore? Evidently fought you guys as a zombie or something? Any of this ringing some kind of bells?" 

Evan McCulloch Axel Walker Marco Mardon Digger Harkness

The name Roy didn't stick out but the name and costume sure did. Rainbow Raider was another one of the boys he'd say in prison every now and then we he got locked up. They'd probably chatted a bit, shared a pint or two, but nothing was coming up memory-wise. Though if he were here, that meant he was one of them which was as good an invitation as any in his book. The Rogues were picky about who got to be a part of the group and there were a lot of rules to follow under Snart. Digger would know. He'd been kicked out of the Rogues more than his fair share of times and only invited back in when he "proved" himself to be trustworthy. Even then he had to keep secrets. One of the biggest rules was no killing women and children and... well... Task Force X didn't discriminate who had to die to protect this nation's secrets. 

Digger looked the man over again, taking a swig of beer and eying the rest to get a read on the room. If he was an unwanted visitor, Digger would hop on that train and chastise the man or beat his brains in. If he was a welcomed guest, he would be the bestest friend that ol' Digger ever had. No one was saying anything though and the room was getting awkward. So it was time for Captain Boomerang to dive on top of the hand grenade for the rest of these ungrateful sods. Digger grabbed another beer and tossed it at the Rainbow Raider. "Welcome back to the land of living then, lad. You'll find the beer tastes even better after you've been dead for a bit." 

The mention of zombies got his attention. He had a stint of that but he had next to no memory of it. Black rings. Bottom of a pit. His son Owen. Then nothing. Next thing he knew he was younger, thinner, breathing again and Flash was having him locked away for crimes that he TECHNICALLY shouldn't have had to serve on the account of being dead and all. Digger leaned against the counter and sighed. "You did the zombie thing too, eh? Killed me own son apparently. I can't remember a bloody thing and me memory is all shot from before then but what a bad bucket of piss that whole thing was." 


Roy G. Bivolo Axel Walker Evan McCulloch Marco Mardon

Axel Walker was simply a stipulation to a contract Evan himself invented. McCulloch didn’t want the runt on his team, he didn’t need the runt on his team. But Mirror Master hoped in vain that inviting everyone except Hartley would garnish the criminal king of chill’s attention. Mirror Master didn’t have anything against the kid, he just felt that he was... Well... Useless. Evan never could connect the dots on why Captain Cold kept the little carny freak around. Axel had the attention span of a goldfish and his gimmick as a supervillain was basically “second rate joker”.... The villain of vanities just didn’t get it - and his personal feelings on the kid were conflicted to say the least.

After cutting himself loose from the feds, Evan struck it out on his own for a little bit. He never really stuck around with people until Leonard Snart came along - and along with Mirror Master II, Cold had recruited the second Trickster. So, since Evan’s infancy in the gang Axel’s always just sort of, been there. Recruiting a dumb kid into a gang of supervillains seemed ridiculous, but Captain Cold was infamous so McCulloch just trusted the guy’s judgement. Captain Cold became a mentor and an older brother, and the other rogues became his closest pals, but Evan McCulloch never did become comfortable with Axel... They became the third Flash’s own villains, sparred with capes, butchered the fourth Flash, fought zombies and clashed with evil speedsters - Evan watched the teen grow into an adult though he doesn’t ACT like one so to say he didn’t care about the little clod was just false, but... Evan didn’t want him there and as Axel leaned into the couch just above Evan’s shoulder, Mirror Master went tense. Then the words became even more haunting than the presence... ”I'm surprised Snart's not here. I'd have thought he'd be the first." Evan gave no response. Because he just didn’t know. Len was always such an enigma, a complete mystery which baffled Evan down to his core. He looked up to the man, he idolized the man, he tried his damnedest to get his approval... But it never happened. He was a screw up, and frankly? This whole family b.s. just wasn’t for him. He should’ve known Snart would abandon him. That Snart would betray him. Because that’s all family’s good for. Evan’s Ma and Da didn’t want him. His supposed “siblings” at the orphanage took advantage of him, and granny McCulloch just- no, that woman was a saint, and the only person in the whole miserable world he gave a damn about. Evan swallowed a grimace and took a swig of beer.

Sliding a gooey cheesy slice of pizza out of the box before him, Evan munched and slurped up the grease. It was a sudden explosion of color which slayed the peaceful ambience of light trickling rain outside. Fiery flashes of yellow, grey, black, and blue pulsating erratically, manically, unnaturally. Howling winds barked and cried in what sounded like a hurricane above. The window unlatched and pulsated open in an explosion of cackling lightning, yellow archs splashing out like dubstep shrapnel in a whirlwind of rain. The heavens shrieked out in a monstrous roar and an electric angel answered the call. With all the majesty of a dove, grace and poise juxtaposed to the snarling hurricane which heralded his arrival, Marco’s muddied boots softly landed in Mirror Master’s foyer.

”Your carpet’s wet,” Weather Wizard declared so casually, as if he hadn’t brought with him the wrath of Calypso herself... Mirror Master’s slack-jawed gaze followed Mardon as he trailed a flood of water from his coat, boots, and sloppy brown hair unto once clean floors. ”I can see tha’.” McCulloch blurted out with an irritated tinge to his voice. Evan was a clean freak you see, so watching Mardon trail every bit of muck gunk and filth a maelstrom had to offer into his abode was not particularly well regarded. ”Mardon, oh-loooook y’er trackin’ mud all over me floor!!” He groaned rubbing his temples with profuse sighing ”F’er real?”

Mardon sure made a mess, but Evan simply couldn’t deny... Weather Wizard has swagger. That thunderous entrance distilled by such nonchalance, the sort of bravado which would put even Abra Kadabra to shame. Not to mention the drip! Not the water trickling off him like the Niagara Falls, no, that coat and those boots just pure style. Definitely an improvement to that old green v-neck he used to wear. Marco was a badass and that’s why Evan liked him. So as annoying as the mess he made was, Mirror Master was quick to forgive. ”I got Coors on the second shelf.”

For as gangster and cool as Marco was, he could also be a bit of a prick. Immediately the crooked climate creep began with the disrespect, shoving a coat to Axel and nagging to Evan about the video game. ”Got y’er wand up y’er arse again, aye Mardon? Always the #%$&en bawbag. Jesus H-” the Glasgow gangster muttered off, but... Marco was probably right. Showing no real emotion, McCulloch’s sunken purple eyes darted down with a tinge of shame. He had hoped for the atmosphere to be chill and easy going, but swallowed that perhaps for something like this that wasn’t a good idea - and that already his leadership was showing to be trash. Especially atrocious in comparison to Leonard Snart, and in that moment it became more and more evident that Len wasn’t coming which made him feel worse. The roguish reflection handed Axel his controller and arose from the couch, shadowing Mardon into the kitchen with no real intentions of saying or doing anything. Axel soon followed the pair with Mardon’s swank coat, damn did it look good. He watched the Trickster’s every step, scanning the youngest rogue as he slithered towards the apartment’s window; and just like that, Mardon’s glow up went fluttering gracefully out the window. Evan chuckled out a sly and slanted grin to Axel, ruffling his hair in approval as Captain Boomerang almost literally stormed in.

”#%$&en Christ! Is tha’ George Harkness!?” A man too bad for heaven, but too awesome for hell, the afterlife must’ve spit him out. McCulloch was ecstatic, he rushed over and offered the Aussie a pound hug. Then a final rhythmic pound at the door... Could it be Len? He left Harkness to muse over the old photo and let the final Rogue in. ”Agent Chroma ready for duty!” Evan’s mouth fell agape, all the bright and garish colors burning into retinas... Before Mirror Master could even process who this was and why he was here, the colorful character let himself in. McCulloch stepped back with a slack jawed glare as the freak unbuttoned that gaudy outfit revealing one which was somehow even more colorful and gross. Some hideous rainbow fabric over black spandex with a hood. A solid minute passed by in which all he could do is blink, the guy knew his name, he knew all their names, but Evan was drawing a blank... It was starting to get a little uncomfortable actually, you could cut the tension with a knife. Of course it was Harkness who broke the ice. Boomer was a smooth criminal, versatile and quick witted. Also the guy Mcculloch most got along with in the room. The reflective rogue wasn’t sure when he was going to mention it, but it was right here that it was solidified... If Snart really wasn’t going to show and Mirror Master was going to lead? Digger would be his second. After long winded silence for what felt like an eternity, Digger saved the day - and then Trickster ruined it again with a dumb pun. Evan fired a glare in response ”........Shut up, Axel.”

”Boys, boys. Thanks f’er uh, f’er comin’... It’s good t’ see ye’, mates. This is me flat, go ahead make y’erselves at home.” Evan let the gang get cozy before throwing any heavy subjects their way. Both because the boys needed a moment to catch up and because McCulloch just needed a quick breather from... People. He slipped away whilst hopefully no one noticed, slinking into the bathroom and locking himself in to collect his thoughts. The others could have a moment to mingle but he needed to let the air out of his lungs they better use the #%$&en coasters while he’s away though. He collapsed into the closed lid of his toilet and pressed the back of his head against the wall, breathing in and breathing out over and over again. This is it. He had to show his worth. His mind raced with a million negative thoughts, he didn’t feel worthy but if Len wasn’t going to show he had to assert himself. He couldn’t hide in here all night, so he braced himself to brave the great plight of relatives. giving a quick once-over in the mirror and rubbing his nose, McCulloch rejoined the Rogues Gallery.

Taking an assertive position in front of the television, Mirror Master called the meeting to order. ”Awright, fall in, gents. Lots t’ talk about.” Before they settled, Mirror pulled Boomerang aside for a quick one on one. ”Oi, Diggah. Tha’ freak there,” McCulloch vaguely motioned towards “Agent Chroma” ”Ye’ve been around the bender longer than me - wha’s his deal?” The freak gave him bad vibes. He already had the Trickster, the Rogues didn’t need another loser villain.

Marco Mardon | Axel Walker | Roy G. Bivolo | Digger Harkness
(OOC: I only recently began thinking on why the rogues might’ve split up, I’ve got a few ideas I’d like to get your guy’s opinions on and I’ll share em later, I think we should carry on with Axel’s idea of just vaguely alluding to it if it’s cool with you guys)