CHPT 9: Capturing a Bird.

The first bit of activity on earth was under way for John and his Red's. He thought they'd entered the planets airspace with little to no knowledge from it's inhabitants-- maybe they did. But they gained the eyes and actions of someone. Someone with tech-- WayneTech, and a team of likeminded individuals backing him. They didn't seem outright malicious. But that didn't mean much. Tim-- as he was named, was a young man of many masks. Masks were meant to hide. John wanted to know what was beneath the surface. And he'd find out.

A few minutes after he'd leveled the drugged-up degenerate in the bathroom with him, he had Khaji-Krow take a sample of his blood before bursting through the bathroom doors to enter the bar outside. In a rush to follow Tim's trail, he pushed and shoved his way through everyone in his path, the only thing stopping them from touching him was the heat radiating off his skin. Like an invisible searing flame that matched the onset glow of his eyes. His blood was hot. A familiar feeling. A good feeling.

Kara followed in his wake, stopping once she caught up to him at the center of the bar.

"Fill me in." She said from beside him.

John surveyed the bar from the center of the room. There were eyes on him from the small bit of commotion he called. It didn't matter, it was a big city, and after what he planned to do they'd have many other things to worry over instead of a crooked nosed Englishmen's whereabouts.

"John." Kara said, pulling him out of his mind.

"As I said before, we're being followed. His name's Tim, and he's been following us since we hit central park. He has a group, and he's planned for if he disappears. They'll start their investigation here, they won't find shite unless they have advanced tech..."

"Or Metahuman abilities." Kara filled in.

"My guess is tech." John added.

"Why?" Kara questioned as they continued to stand in the center of the bar.

"He had WayneTech protecting him from electronic intrusion. I know Bruce Wayne died... something I read from the news Khaji-Krow was showing when we first got here, so I'm wondering why the company hasn't gone under yet."

"The hell is WayneTech?"

John shook his head, "It doesn't matter, the point is, Tim barked up the wrong tree. He's following us, and we're going to find out why. First, we need to strain the back-up."

"Police?" Kara questioned, knowing full well what the answer was. A common tactic they used during their battles beyond this sector-- on warring planets and pirating spacial fleets full of fighters and relatively sophisticated societies. Crumble them by splitting them, spread them thin. Then you can slip through the cracks or rip them to pieces.

"Damn right." John agreed. "Let's get those police scanners up and running like it's a friday night."

For the first time, John took his hand out of his pocket in public. His rings glowed like blood jewels, thick spirals of steam radiated from each ring-- once belonging to the members of the Red Lantern Corps, members he had to slaughter to guarantee his own survival.... and eventually his spot as leader. Their memories, their rage, it still burned his skin. He embraced it, letting it pool and mix with his own as a massive melting pot of wrath.

The beauty of rage was how universal it was. A primal response, an infectious urge that led and destroyed whoever and whatever. Rage is one of man's first weapons. And like all weapons, it required a proficient wielder.

John was good with his ring. The only one of his kind to make energy constructs from the mind. In gaining the three extra rings from his slain enemies, he'd only grown stronger. Which meant, his rage had become more infectious.

His hand was practically on fire in those moments as his rings pulsed as if being brought to life.

"What the...." One of the men seated at the table beside him whispered.

Before any more eyes could fall on him and the Kryptonian, a fiery red gust of energy pulsed throughout the entire bar. Nothing intense, no more than a fraction of his own inner turmoil. His own infectious weapon. His rage.

It soaked into the people inside the bar, it tightened the grips on their glasses, it set their jaws and furrowed their eyebrows. It turned petty disagreements and banter into threats upon wives and children. It turned a bar into a battlefield.

In seconds, cups were flying, alcohol dyed the walls and bodies were being slammed through tables effortlessly.

John walked through the madness as if it were his own home. He approached the back of the bar. The woman that served them both drinks was well into beating the body odor off of the men that once couldn't take their eyes off of Kara.

As the Kryptonian passed the sight, she smiled faintly.

John reached over the counter and grabbed the phone hung on the wall and dialed up the police.

"Sent units to the Meta-Buzz downtown, everyone's fighting..... there's blood everywhere. Please hurry." When he was finished, he hung up and set the phone back on the wall.

John turned and headed out of the bar with Kara.

"Let's find that bastard."

***

Once outside, he could hear the sirens in the distance. A quick response. Good. Even closer, he could see passerby's calling the police as the rage spilled outside with men and women bursting through the door in John's wake and adding more people to the brawl mindlessly.

Right about now, the police station was was lit ablaze with activity-- and that's exactly what he needed.

John headed down the sidewalk with Kara-- not really sure of where to go as his vision pulsed with Khaji-Krow's scanning waves.

After a few steps, they were by the newspaper stand from before. A bit further ahead, the bordered off entrance into the alleyway, his vision highlighted the faintest outline of a boot imprint made in the dirty white cement from the dirt inside the bar.

ZZZZsshshsh!

*[Approximate size matches physical scanning's of Thomas Draven-- also known as, Tim.]*

John looked over to Kara. Kara nodded once before looking around. Everyone was fighting-- in short, they were occupied.

In unison, the two hopped over the eight-foot-high gate blocking off the alleyway. Once they landed on the other side, Khaji-Krow continued scanning and slowly, the faintest trail was illuminated in the dark alley. Smashed in discarded papers with boot prints, his discarded phone.

"How are you seeing all of this...?" Kara asked as she jogged beside him.

John looked at her.

"Don't tell me...."

"It's a crafty bastard." John said in reference to the Scarab.

Speaking of craftiness.

ZZZZsshHSHSHshhh!

*[Unique heat signature located four hundred meters ahead.]*

John's vision swapped over to thermal, and he found the outline of his target across a street and down into another alley between two beaten and outdated apartment complexes.

"Got him." Kara said pretty much at the same time as John's Scarab.

"Yep. Let's go." John took off in a sprint with Kara-- who he had to remind to refrain from flying fast enough to bust the sound barrier.

In short time, they were across the street and in the alley. Tim had come to a stop with his back to them, no more than a hundred feet out. John could see his muscles tensing in his back through both of his jackets. He was readying himself. Good.

"Watch my back." John whispered to Kara.

Kara nodded and turned to guard the entrance of the alleyway.

It was at that time that Tim turned around. His mask was back on. A friendly smile that betrayed the bags under his eyes-- and the pale color of his skin that told John he operated at night more often than day.

"John? What's up man?" He said as he began walking over to him.

John didn't act clueless this time around.

"Let's cut the shit, Tim." His words cut through the alley like a freshly made blade.

Tim's smile faded, ".....My name is Thomas, I don't know--"

John shook his head and began walking towards him in kind, "Your buddy..... James Reynolds gave you away..... hermano. I'd like to think a man using such vernacular wouldn't have the whitest name on planet earth, but maybe I'm wrong."

Tim's smile fell and his eyes began bulleting around the alleyway like pinballs on a slot machine. John knew that look, the man was planning.

"Your WayneTech software is impressive..... I just want to know why you have it. Are you an executive at that dying company?... an Heir gone undercover? I'd like to know who exactly I'm taking home." John pressed, hand still held in his pocket. He didn't want to reveal his cards just yet.

"Something inbetween." Tim replied flatly for the first time as he came to a stop beside the large green dumpster laid against the wall in the alley.

John nodded and sighed, but it came out as something closer to a growl, "That's unfortunate, really."

They were now no more than ten feet apart.

Tim's whole body was tense.

John did little more than take an extra step when Tim flung his arm out at the Dumpster. The sound of a gunshot radiated down the alleyway as a black wire burst from under Tim's sleeve ended with a steel hook that clasped onto the dumpster. He yanked it towards himself before kicking it at John.

With its wheeled bottom it rolled fast. John held out his only freehand and stopped it effortlessly. He looked up from the dumpster. Tim was gone. With the activation of his thermal vision, he found the man pushing against the dumpster.

He didn't have superstrength. If he was a Meta-Human, his ability wasn't physical. So what--

Something rolled across the floor towards him from beneath the dumpster. Four black balls. The second he saw them they exploded. A loud pop that fried his senses.

Stun grenades.

"Where's all this fucking tech coming from-- didn't you scan the slippery twat already?!" John roared mentally as Tim ran off in the distance, barely visible with his blurred vision.

ZZZshssshhh...!

*[Upon further scannings of the area, I've found two other locations where advanced tech is located. DAMMIT!-- zzSSHh!-- It seems that Thomas Draven had this place armed beforehand. He led us here.]*

John cursed and burst into flight after Tim. In a blur, he flew down the alleyway and ended up right in front of Tim. Before the man could react, he kicked him in the chest and sent him crashing into a pile of garbage. Purposeful-- with his scanning's, he'd found a collapsible trinket inside.

Tim dug inside for it and quickly rolled back to his feet. The object was no larger than a baton, but with the click of a button it increased in length into a thick poly-carbon bo-staff.

John pulled his hand out of his pocket. Tim's face remained unfazed. There were well established spacial pirates that couldn't help but fear the Lanterns. Impressive. For now.

John turned his palm over and opened it. Immediately, an energy construct in the form of a greatsword appeared in his hand.

At his back, a hundred more energy constructs in the forms of varying types of swords appeared in a burst of red energy.

Tim reached into his pocket and threw more stun grenades in an attempt to withdraw from the battle. John was ready this time and transformed the swords into a shield that blocked the concussive blasts.

Ahead, he could see Tim rappelling to the roof. He came short and jumped off the wall before his clothes ripped apart with the spreading of mechanical red and black wings, each feather presented as a sectional blade of unknown material. The suit he wore beneath his clothing hugged his muscles, half parts armoring and half parts form fitting breathable kevlar mesh. A birdlike symbol in red stood out on his shoulders.

"Well if it isn't the boy wonder...." John thought before sending out an energy construct of a rope to wrap around his leg mid-flight.

With a single tug he yanked Robin back down into the alley. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud and seemingly took all the fight out of him.

John flew after him and lifted him off the ground by the throat.

"The Justice Force send you after me?"

"....M-Maybe..." Robin said, now wearing an eye mask that had his constantly moving eyes.

"Maybe not. I don't think you're in the big leagues. Why are you after me? Better yet, who are you affiliated with if it's not the Justice Force?"

"Erhm.... considering that I've seen the best interrogator in the world, I've got to say, you are not doing this correctly... John.... is that even your name?" Robin said as he grabbed at John's hand around his throat.

"How does Rankorr sound, asshole?!" John snarled as his eyes glimmered red and molten blood sputtered from his clenched teeth. His grip on Robin tightened in those moments.

".....E--edgy." Robin forced out, "....t-that's how you..... ack-- get answers, by the way...."

The only other people John had wanted to harm so badly in those moments were the gods that made him as he was.

"...t-that's also..... how you buy.... time....hehe." Robin added as Kara flew to the skies behind him in reaction to something.

ZZZZzzzsshhhh!!

*[Scarab wearer incoming.....]*