J's Menagerie of Maybe's

    
    Vic Sage stalked the night like a rejected suitor nursing an inadequacy complex. He hugged the dark and peered through windows, a faint ghost in the night barely touching the edges of people's sense of awareness. The man had been at this sort of thing for ages now, he knew how to be unseen, it came as naturally to him as breathing did to others. He was mindful not to disturb the 'do not cross' police tape that had been left behind to preserve the crime scene, but he needed to get a better look at the clues left behind.

From behind the mask his eyes took in the square markers for each clue that had been processed. Vic's mind lit up like fireworks as ignored clues hit him in waves. The police had found the broken glass from the skylight above; the culprit's entrance. They had found the boot print that proved the attacker acted alone. Another marker showed that they were aware of the victim's attempt to crawl away; a partial handprint and scuff marks on the ground. But what they didn't notice - Vic lowered into a crouch to survey the rough concrete closer - were the scorch marks. Perhaps Hub PD had thought the marks were inconsequential, some remnant for whatever the bare warehouse had been used for in the past. They weren't.

The warehouse was used as a discreet brothel for the upper echelon of Hub City's elite: politicians, lawyers, police unioners, school teachers, and social media influencers. Before that it had been a dog training/grooming/sitting place that acted as a front for the Ukrainian mob. Prior to that venture the warehouse had been the chosen revenue where the Warden of Ironport Penitentiary held her brutal bi-weekly inmate fights. Vic had become a master of the building and its land's history in a matter of just barely over 24 hours.

The scorch marks weren't the only thing that went unnoticed by the dedicated officers of HCPD, there was also a number of damp spots on the ground, almost aligning with the scorches in an odd way. The scorch marks looked precise and deliberate, yet strangely Vic could not ascertain any sort of accelerant that could make the powerful flames required to make such marks. Strange. Vic stood slowly, he tilted his head as he matched the boot of his shoe with one of the scuff marks in the concrete. His body turned at a slight angle, without moving that heel, and his head cocked in the other direction. Keeping his eyes on his feet and the ground, the masked detective took a large step backward; he stepped directly into another scuff mark. He glanced behind him on his left side and extended that arm outward, lowering the limb to where it was nearly perpendicular to his body. A damp spot. He continued to make strides backward, noticing awkward and random patterns of spots left behind from liquid (but clearly not blood). Vic walked in his backward pattern until he reached the largest abrasion on the concrete that had been made by high temperatures, it was only a few feet ahead of where the skylight was in the building's ceiling - where the attacker had entered.


Mentally, Vic's notes were compared to what he had just gathered at the scene and it was enough to confirm his already well-nurtured thesis. He turned away from the crime scene, ducking under the police tape from whence he had entered, and disappeared into the steamy night.

Vic Sage turned up at an apartment 18 blocks away from the crime scene. After rounding several corners to lose any tails he may have had Vic climbed a fire escape and slithered into his apartment window. Darkness welcomed him which he greeted in return by slicing into the dark with the yank of a string. Light from the lamp on Question's desk cut a small cone into the black, illuminating a map of the United States. Tacks in the map connected strings of yarn that traveled in every which way across the states. Red yarn, blue yarn, magenta yarn, black yarn. Vic Sage tossed off his fedora, freeing his messy black hair, and rubbed a gloved hand over his chin.

"I was right, I'm always right, someone is killing metahumans." He had operated under this belief ever since reading up on another unsolved disappearance down in Alabama. There was very clearly a victim but the bodies were never found, and there was always something off about the scene, a weird disturbance that officers often couldn't attribute to anything natural. Trees had been destroyed in Alabama by some blunt force and the ground too had been disturbed. Vic postulated a meta with the ability to grown, not unlike Wonder Woman's nemesis Giganta - but if Vic's research was correct she was still very much alive. Other cases had similar discrepancies. And the warehouse he had just left? A meta with hydrokinesis most likely. Taken out by someone utilizing fire. A fire-gun? Like the one utilized by the Flash foe Heatwave? A flamethrower like Batman's firebug Firefly? Or another metahuman?

"Too many questions remain: Who? How? Why?" Vic mused to himself as he stared unblinkingly at the map as he had done for a number of nights now, desperately searching for an answer. Begging.

"I'll need more Red Bull."

    
    Jefferson Pierce felt the earth rumble beneath his feet. Earthquakes weren't exactly common phenomena in Metropolis, meaning there was something out of the ordinary happening and it was happening very close by. Jefferson stood suddenly, drawing the half-interested attention of those around him. His narrowed eyes sought out and found a window to stare out of yet they found no immediate source of the disturbance. He glanced back at his wife who sat across the table of the small restaurant, she was already giving him a nod of approval. She was used to her husband's heroic side showing up at the drop of a hat, it brought her comfort to know he still dedicated himself to protecting others so completely. She did not hinder his natural instinct to want to save everyone. Jefferson pressed his lips to Lynn's cheek in a quick kiss before darting out of the restaurant. As he sprinted down the sidewalk Jefferson quickly undid the buttons of his shirt. Simultaneously, the Olympic track star cast a cautious look about before turning into an alley. Seconds later a trail of crackling electricity shot out of that alleyway.

Flames of intense red and gold licked at the black sky. Jefferson went wide eyed as he witnessed the scene below him. He was fully dressed in his Black Lightning attire now, blue goggles over his eyes included. His moment of reeling from the shock and awe of the circumstance was short-lived as the world rumbled again, another explosion knocking down a number of buildings that stretched across two more blocks to add to the three already burning. The force and heat of the explosion nearly knocked Jefferson out of the sky, only his hastily thrown up force field of pure electricity had saved him. The electricity crackled loudly like thunder as it dissipated. He could not generate his force field and maintain his bioelectric fueled flight at the same time so while the improvised shield protected him Jefferson was now falling.

Tendrils upon tendrils of arching blue lightning scattered among the brick faces of the two buildings Jefferson descended between, his control of electricity working to slow his fall so that he was able to land softly. Once on the ground Jefferson could see the destruction for himself up close and personal, it was devastating. First responders hadn't yet shown up but private citizens had taken it upon themselves to care for the injured and there was a lot of injured. Burns and broken bones plagued most of them, soot covered nearly everyone. Flaming debris lay in the street while bodies were stretched on the sidewalks and some in the grass. Smoke stung Jefferson's eyes but that wasn't the only cause of them tearing up. It hurt too much for him to look close enough to see who was alive and who wasn't. He was a superhero and if the civilians were already working hard to save lives and rescue the injured then that meant he had another role to dedicate himself to.

Containing the fires that burned wildly across numerous blocks was going to have to be the priority. First responders could handle the injured, the larger job would have to be reserved for the present Justice League member. Jefferson commended the people who selflessly helped their neighbors and assured them that help would be arriving soon. He also put in a call over his comms to try and get any Leaguer backup as soon as possible, but in the meantime he would have to do everything in his power to deal with this issue on his own. There was also the matter of what caused the explosions, but with the raging fires being the imminent threat he knew finding causation would have to take a backseat.

The sky rumbled with the sound of thunder as Jefferson's hands began to glow a striking shade of cyan. He ran to outpace the fire, placing himself ahead of its crawling trajectory and created a line for the flames to not pass. He generated bright flashes of lightning in his fists, wild jagged limbs of electricity thrashing about as he condensed more and more power into the electricity. Through gritted teeth Jefferson unleashed the lightning. He crouched to the earth and slammed both open fists into the asphalt, injecting electricity into the street. Lightning shot out to the left and right of him, completely crumbling the dark ground in its wake. The city was most definitely going to be billing him for that. Jefferson then snatched his arms back up and threw them sky high, the thick coils of lightning following the movement. With all of his muscles tightened and strained Black Lightning constructed a massive forcefield wall to stave off the growing waves of fire. As the fire met with his wall of lightning Jefferson could feel the pressure and the intensity of the heat, but he held fast and refused to waver. Using his wall to fight against the fire was a much more physical bout than Jefferson had been expecting.

"You got this, Black Lightning!"
"Do it, Black Lightning!"
"Yeah, Black Lightning!"
"Make that fire yo' b%#!& dawg!"

The far off civilians had apparently caught eye of what Jefferson was up to and they also apparently saw his struggle. But the civilians, his community, his people - they believed in him. And if they believed in him, then it was only right that he believe in himself. With a deep breath Jefferson slapped his gloved palms together in a thunderous clap. That clap unleashed the wall of lightning into a wave of charged electricity that fell over the flames like a blanket. Jefferson's efforts altered the electricity field, the positive and negative charges incorporated within his blanket of lightning and the fire itself alternated, causing the fire to essentially loosen from the materials that it burned over - namely the buildings. The flames wafted through the air after rolling off of the structures like a sticker being pulled up from a given surface. The fire was choked out and snuffed as quickly as a flash of lightning.

Black Lightning shoulders slumped as he fell onto his butt, suddenly out of breath from the ordeal. His batteries were drained near completely but the eruption of applause from the civilians brought a smile to Jefferson's face and helped to rekindle his energy. He got up slowly and the people cheered louder at his refusal to be beat. Jefferson had his second wind and it was much needed, the fires may have been put out but the night was still far from over.

    

   Lori Zechlin was late, at least that was what her friends at the party were probably saying. A more accurate summation of the situation was that Lori was ditching them. She wasn't very much in the mood for parties - or people. Couldn't she just have some time to herself? Was that too much to ask? She deserved time to just be on her own and appreciate her own company; the importance of mental health and all that jazz.

In just a few couple days it was going to be the anniversary wasn't it? Lori didn't know why she posed it to herself as a question, she knew damn well it was. That date was seared into her brain and her pitch black soul for as long as she should live. The day her mother had put on her one fancy dress and drowned herself in it. It was pretty dark stuff, like everything else about the girl called Black Alice, but this wasn't a facet of her darkness that she enjoyed. Her mom was never perfect and they didn't have that typical mom and daughter relationship, but just the same Lori missed the one. Grief was hitting her pretty hard, along with the trauma that clung to her ever since finding her mom's body, and Lori just wanted to wallow in that on her own.

There was no time for the staring or the "I'm so sorry"s that she had grown to expect over the years. They weren't sorry, they just didn't know what else to say to the sad little girl who's mommy had offed herself. Where was all that compassion and sympathy when her mom was suffering mentally and emotionally and dealing with addiction? Where ever their sorry's had been then they could shove 'em right back up there, as far as Lori was concerned.

She wandered the streets of Opal City with her hoodie zipped all the way up, her hood drawn tight around her face, and her AirPods sitting in her ears. Her hoodie was black, her shirt was black, her fishnets were black, her skirt was black, her boots were black. She just wanted to blend in to the night and disappear.

"Hey there, you shouldn't be out walking alone at this time of night."

The voice croaked over her overplayed playlist of 2000s Grunge, and she ignored it.

"Did you hear me? Hey. Hey!"

Lori groaned and rolled her eyes. She stomped faster in her platform boots, not really running but no longer walking either. She wrapped her thin arms around herself as she continued on, turning at the nearest opportunity to do so. Unfortunately, her steps were followed.

"Listen, I'm just trying to help y'out. Walking by yourself, at this time, dressed like...that."

Black Alice's nerve had officially been struck. She turned abruptly, tossing her hood back to reveal her round face and ink black hair. "No, you listen, you mouth breathing troglodyte," Alice's eyes began to glow, with her mind she reached for her connection to the world of Homo Magi. Who's power would she steal today.

Lori lifted off of her feet as blackness swirled around her. Four red eyes shone bright from her darkened face as shadowy wings unfurled around her shoulders. "Being a creep isn't cool. If you think a girl shouldn't be walking alone call her an Uber - or better yet, mind your own business!" A tendril of darkness lashed out at the concrete near where the man stood, he yelped and stumbled backward. "Following someone isn't cool. It's ####ing creepy! Why the #### would I _Li^St_En when you're following me like a weirdo?" Another ebony tendril lashed out, this one striking the man's cheek and drawing blood.

"And the next time you fill the need to comment on the way a woman is dressed, take a moment to think twice, think a third time, and then undo your belt and go #### YOURSELF!"

The shadows that twisted and rolled around Lori's floating form took shape of a giant raven and flew with blinding speed directly for the man. He shrieked as the raven met with his body with enough force to throw him down the block. Black Alice sighed, she relinquished Raven's powers and returned to her normal two-eyed self. It didn't bother her if anyone witnessed what she had done or not, she didn't even check to see if there were anyone standing around watching. The black haired girl threw her hood back over her head and continued her mindless walk. People really were annoying.