Looks Like A Job For....[Open]

Participants: Superman
Open/Closed: Open
Location(s): Lena Luthor Science Exploratorium
Time of Day: Museum closing time
Weather: Clear
Summary: Intergang has struck and stolen a powerful magic item, they must be stopped!

The city of Metropolis was home to a wealth of many well acclaimed museums, one of its more famous of these buildings being the Lena Luthor Science Exploratorium; home to many of the world's most wondrous and priceless finds. The day prior had seen the Metropolis based museum coming into possession of an item that its director had long sought to house in one of their exhibits, and now today the museum would be placing the ancient artifact on display. Much prep had gone into creating the most suitable conditions for housing and showing such an artifact, with most of that preparation going into building appropriate protection for said item

The Orb of Ra had completed its journey to Metropolis and now sat peacefully in a case of thick bullet-proof and explosive-proof shielding. The Orb was to remain there in the City of Tomorrow for a period of three weeks before being shipped back to its country of origin. The Orb of Ra was a meteorite that had been discovered some time ago during a dig in Egypt, excavated by the man who would become the superhero Metamorpho (a change that was due to his finding the orb). After years of traveling the world and changing hands many times, legally and illegally, the object was now finally in a place where it could be admired and not used for some means of cruelty or gaining supernatural abilities.

Security at the Exploratorium had been beefed up significantly thanks to the avarice that came with possessing the Orb. Its past was coated in thievery and unscrupulous types, it was illustrious for attracting the attention of those with less than noble desires. With this in mind, the staff of the museum wanted to make absolutely sure that there was no way anyone could get in and steal the artifact. Metropolis was place that tried to keep itself as distant from criminal activity as possible, being watched over by the Man of Steel certainly helped to uphold that reputation. There was a risk in carrying the Orb of Ra in the exploratorium but it was such a marvelous object that the museum's curators could not pass up the opportunity. Besides, they had full faith in their staff and security and new measures taken to protect the asset. If all those things failed, then there was always Superman to fall back on.

The crowds that had gathered for the Orbs grand appearance were finally beginning to thin. The Exploratorium had to announce their imminent closing for the night three more times than usual. And they were only being that considerate because there was a class that had traveled to the museum and the field trip was not yet over. As the crowd of field tripping school children gathered around the square case holding the Orb of Ra the roped off section around it sudden exploded. Children screamed, their teachers rushing quickly to yank them away from danger and shield their kids from any harm. The still encased Orb dropped through a jagged hole that'd been crudely blown through the floor. A good amount of dust and flying plaster initially obscured the scene of this happening.

Underground, a number of men loaded the orb up in a small duffle bag. "We got it, now lets move!" They were dressed in masks and metallic armor. One man threw the bag over his shoulder and wore it strapped to his back, the group of them then took off running fleeing from the scene of their crime.

The underground was dark and sullen, every scrape and crunch of gravel and plaster beneath Intergang's feet echoed within the hollow walls, and the shrieks of the panicked ongoers above shook through the ceiling. A group of five men bolted through the darkness, their pathway illuminated only by the flashlights strapped onto the sides of their masks. Dirt and debree shifted down from the ceiling of the tunnel, likely caused by the trampling of the onlookers above. Though something else caught their attention, a deep, guttural bellow resonating across the cavern walls like a deafening roar.



"You hear that Frank?" Whispered the goon carrying the orb, earning only a silencing gesture from his commander. With firearms at the ready, the quintet of mercenaries spread out within the spacious tunnel, the only glimmers of light around them being the thin, piercing beams of their tactical gear. Still, the captain "Frank" would catch a glance at something in the distance, two orbs of piercing yellow shimmering in the distance within the path of his light.



Firing off a pair of rounds, the feedback thundered across the area, bright muzzle flashes painting the picture of something lumbering across the pathway before all went silent again. There was the sound of a heavy thud, everyone assuming that Frank had felled whatever beast had intercepted the gang...Though upon turning in his direction, all the crew would see is Frank's severed head letting out it's final gasp upon tumbling across the dirt.



"Oh s**t! Oh s**t!!!!" Panicked the one carrying the goods, Phil as he was named in fact, scrambling back towards the entrance of the enclosed space as many variations of ripping and shrieks cascaded behind him in rapid succession. He ran, and ran, and ran faster still, the entrance looming ever so far away in the distance...He'd take Superman, he'd take jail, anything if it meant surviving goddamnit! Yet no matter how fast he ran, the heavy footsteps only lurched ever closer, grasping claws latching onto the duffel bag and forcibly yanking the poor man back as his flashlight dislodged from his mask. Looking behind him in sheer horror, the spinning beam of light revealed a creature time seemed to have forgotten, a hulking reptilian monstrosity dangled Phil from it's talons as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll.



"Ain't nothin' personal chump. Just business." came a low, gravely voice as a hand the size of Phil's head crept closer, silencing the fearful felon's screams by crunching his head apart like a handful of grapes. Dropping the limp corpse, Waylon ripped open the bag to reveal the shining staff, a yellowish green glow lighting up the chamber around him, and the dismembered bodies scattered across. All this for some stupid hunk of mystical mumbo jumbo. He didn't quite grasp what Penguin wanted this little contraption for, but it didn't truly mattered. He owed Oswald a debt, and what he said goes. Turning back the way he came, Waylon lurched forwards at a steady pace, gradually picking up into a sprint as he bulldozed his way forward. The less chance he had to fight Superman the better!



Which is why above ground there was a squadron of tuxedoed troublemakers busy charging into the museum, a small battalion of heavily armed stooges meant to serve as nothing more than a distraction to the Man of Steel, hopefully long enough for Waylon to catch the next plane back to Gotham.


Clark Kent

Superman held the crumbling roof across his broad shoulders and neck. The palms of his hands pushed upward against creaking and splintering wood that threatened to fail at any second, the counter strength he exerted had to be perfectly placed to keep from having the already falling building collapse under its own weight. A family of five, and their dog, huddled underneath the Man of Steel's impressive shadow, the flames that had already claimed much of their apartment beginning to close in. Superman shifted his hold on the ceiling that wanted so badly to stop doing its job, the floors above had already fallen inward and were adding to the strain working in opposition of the Kryptonian; this family was the last in danger.

In the distance Superman could hear an explosion, one of the key tones he had long trained his super hearing to not ignore under any circumstance. Widening his wingspan and digging his red boots more into the burning floor boards, Superman shifted his attention to the direction of the explosion. Screams also carried miles over to Superman's ears, holding his attention on what was happening at the science museum. Superman grunted, flexing his muscles to the "just right" degree of supporting a caving roof was nearing the threshold of taxing, it was only made worse by his anxiousness to get over to the Exploratorium to help out. With his ocean blue eyes back on the family tightly embraced beneath the S of his shield, Superman cleared his throat.

"Now is the time to move. If we stay here any longer we won't make it out." The smoke inhalation alone would spell the end for the younger of their group. "I'll make a path, stay low."

With that Superman pursed his lips and blew a chilling wind over the apartment. The super cooled air extinguished the flames of a direct path, creating a line of clearing through the otherwise roaring blaze. "Everyone hold on." And they did. Arms wrapped around his neck and midsection. When Superman felt they were holding him tight enough he allowed his cape to settle and wash her them. He then released his brace against the falling roof and flew with great speed through the building. The ceiling immediately collapsed and upon it doing so the rest of the burning building followed suit. Superman cradled the family dog while the rest latched onto him, his eyes narrowed and intense as xray vision aiding him in fighting the best route for exit. In less than sixty seconds the entire family was breathing in the fresh air. Superman sat them down at a corner adjacent from the burning and collapsing building. There things were lost but at least their family was safe. Kal quickly made arrangements for the family with rescue responders but he notified them of the attack on the Exploratorium, and with that he was gone in a blink.

The air around the Lena Luthor museum cracked as the sound barrier was obliterated, Superman had arrived. Hired guns in tuxedos lined the facility, their weaponry fixated on the arriving kryptonian. Superman quirked a brow at them, then he looked to the hole in the floor; someone had made a quick get away. Something valuable was stolen, Superman wasn't sure what, but he could tell this herd of henchmen were simple sandbags to slow him down. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Taking in a deep breath with a slow heave of his chest, Superman blew out all of the air he held, kicking up hurricane force winds that threw the gunmen all about. A crimson glow came to Superman's eyes as he heat visioned all of their weapons. The rest the police would have to deal with. As for Superman, he dove into the hole blown in the ground and set off for whatever had been taken and whatever culprit was responsible.

It did not take very far travel into the tunneling system for Superman to be stopped in his tracks. "No," the Man of Steel's tone was a hushed whisper. An unsettling juxtaposition to the thunderous sound of his arrival moments prior. In horror, Superman looked on the bodies that lay strewn bloody and savagely torn. He was too late. Lives had been lost and people had suffered in their last moments. Superman had failed to protect them. Feeling their deaths weigh cross his shoulders, Superman's eyes narrowed dangerously and he flew off deeply into the dark.

Waylon Jones

The distant whistling in the air...the incoming breeze...the stench of hero...Croc knew he didn't have much time left before the boyscout in blue made his thunderous arrival. Reacting accordingly, Waylon punched the ceiling above him, sending a deluge of rubble into Superman's path. Probably wouldn't do much. Might not even slow him down. But was worth a shot.

Damnit Cobblepot. Waylon thought to himself, picking back up into a lumbering sprint down the cavern, thinking back to what brought him into this ordeal in the first place. You either have to be a complete idiot, or an utter egomaniac to go up against the nearly invincible man of steel. Unluckily for Croc, he worked for the latter. Penguin wanted this dusty relic of a staff, and Croc was the unfortunate punching bag sent to retrieve it. Had he been freelance, Jones would've told Oswald to take a hike for sure. But he owed the man a debt, which meant this little operation was likely to result in eating through a straw for the next few weeks. 

Letting loose a combination of a defeated sigh and a reptilian bellow, Croc stopped in his tracks and examined his catch once more. He had been told about the uses for it, turning people into some metawhatever. Some multicolored idiot that could turn himself into different elements. Well. If he was heading to the hospital after this anyways, may as well make it worth it. 

Holding out the staff, Waylon focused until a beam of golden energy blasted out, illuminating the cave, even through the gaps in the rubble. Unshielding his eyes, Jones watched in interest and disgust as the walls around the cave turned into some kind of pulsating, writhing mass of warped white, orange, and purple, colors sloshing around like an oily painting as they cascaded into each other. 

Welp. Proved it works.

"Well Waylon, worst case scenario you get a little uglier." Croc muttered to himself, wincing slightly as he turned the ray towards his left arm, the golden light bathing out once more as a creeping infection spread up to his forearm. His scaled green shoulder now clashing against a trio of tones matching the warped walls beside him. Jones watched in horror and intrigue as his pale white hand shifted and warped around. From sickle to mallet, from fire to ice, mist to liquid....With a bit more concentration, the metamorphed walls beside him mimiced his commands admirably...

"Heh....Now this'll be interestin'" Said Croc, a small smirk forming on his jawline as he prepared for Clark's arrival. 

Clark Kent