There were moments, however brief, when Casey would second-guess her ‘career path.’ Most people were sensible enough to listen when she asked them to get off the streets and go home were it was safe. Then there were the knuckleheads who chose to ignore her request, and found themselves neck-deep in trouble with that element of society that always seemed to try and take advantage of a bad situation by making it worse. It was this lowest common denomination of society, made brave enough by their knives and guns to ignore the warnings of the flying teenager to stop being jerk-wads to everyone else and go home too.
Since splitting up with Scott, Casey had managed to put a stop to half a dozen muggings, nearly as many storefront robberies, three car-jackings, one townhouse fire, ferried at least a dozen accident victims to the hospital, helped two little old ladies with their groceries, and gotten a Frisbee out of a tree. Having kept in contact all the while, she knew Scott to be enjoying similar success. She was tired, dirty, and working on keeping an increasingly bad mood in check. And the night was only half over. Mom always made it look so easy. She thought to herself.
She keyed her communicator, “Scott I’m going to make one more sweep through the park, then head back to the Brownstone, see if anyone has checked in.”
Sounds good, Case, Scott’s voice answered, weariness evident. I’ve chucked a couple obstinate folks onto the pellham islands, several others are in glowing green cages scattered around the Bronx. Hopefully they’ll keep.
“No kidding.” Casey sighed. She had the feeling this situation was going to be more than any of them bargained for. She passed over Central Park Avenue to the verdant canopy of trees that stood in stark contrast to the concrete and steel jungle that surrounded Central Park. Her communicator buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t Scott.
Priority Alert. Location: Titans Tower.
Casey swore under her breath, taking no consolation in the fact that there were no adults around to admonish her language. “Scott, I’m diverting to the Tower.”
Roger that, Casey. Let us know if you need backup.
“Will do.” With that, Casey cut an angle, crossing over 5th Avenue, leaving the park behind and heading toward the East River and the tiny island that was the long-time home of the Titans.
A quick scan of the island on approach revealed none of the chaos that was threatening to overwhelm the city. With the museum closed, the bridge leading to the island was closed off, but that wouldn’t stop someone determined enough. A quick check of the infrared spectrum revealed a faint heat trail, but Casey couldn’t tell much else. The island itself glowed warm, with a bright spot at the base of the gigantic ‘T’ that faded as it went up. There were no signs of any watercraft either, and the East River wasn’t something your average criminal would be desperate enough to swim across. Still, it never hurt to be cautious.
Casey floated down, landing lightly just in front of the main entrance. Almost instantly a hologram bearing a resemblance to former Titan, Victor Stone – Cyborg – materialized in front of her. Casey rolled her eyes as the doorbell on steroids began its introductory routine.
“Welcome to Titans Tower. We regret that the museum-“
“Yeah, yeah, closed for refurbishment. I know,” Casey interrupted. “There was a priority alert sent out of here, do you know anything about it?”
“Ofcourse.” The hologram replied.
Casey waited a beat, expecting an explanation to follow. When none came, she sighed. “So this is how it’s going to be? Care to let me know what’s going on?”
The hologram blinked and Casey found herself bathed in red light. “Scan and voiceprint complete. Identified: Casey Starr. Codename: Power Girl. Limited access: Granted.” The doors slid open, and Casey walked in with the hologram along side of her as though they were taking an evening stroll.”Priority alert initiated by Ishmael.”
The unfamiliar name caused Casey to pause. She looked at the hologram with a frown, “Who the frak is Ishmael, and is he still here?”
“Ishmael has no codename registered. His current location is in the Tower teleporter room.”
Whoever this Ishmael was, the teleporter was the last place he needed to be. Casey lifted off the floor, flying in the direction she vaguely recalled being off-limits to everyone, museum staff included.”Is the teleporter active?” She asked the translucent construct as it floated upright, keeping pace beside her.
“Affirmative,” the hologram confirmed. “Last destination: Justice League Watchtower.”
Casey’s eyes went wide. Things had just gone from bad to worse. She became a streak of white and blue as she pushed herself to get to the teleportation room before ‘Ishmael’ could beam himself out. Cutting around another corner, Casey saw the doorway to the teleportation room ahead of her. The door was closed, so the blonde powerhouse pushed herself even faster, extending both arms in front of her, fully intent on battering the door down. Shock and awe, as her mother liked to explain it.
The impact never occurred, however. The door slid open and Casey found herself barreling down on a pale young man in street clothes. Ishmael turned, his black eyes as wide as sand dollars at Casey’s sudden appearance. The Maid of Might executed a hairpin turn just in the nick of time to keep herself from flying into the intruder.
“How about warning a girl next time?” She asked of the hologram, who now stood between the two and off to the side.
“It seemed prudent to not allow any more infrastructure to be damaged then necessary.”
Casey let the remark slide, there wasn’t to much to be gained by arguing with a hologram anyway. She gave Ishmael a good once-over. His skin was pale-pink, with lank black hair. He was wearing cargo pants and a hoodie, and his body puled with an odd light. His eyes were completely black, and they were staring up at her in bewilderment. Casey found it slightly unnerving.
“You better have a good reason for being in here, Pinky, otherwise you’re in for a world of trouble.”