14299/Fire from the Heavens: Emissaries of The Third Eye

Fire from the Heavens: Emissaries of The Third Eye
Date of Scene:	07 March 2023
Location:	Downtown - New Troy
Synopsis:	To no one's surprise the Kalanorian's latest attempt to reclaim the 'Flame' for their religious despot, the 'Third Eye' meets fierce opposition from the Justice League and assembled protectors of Metropolis. And while the alien armada might prove to be little match for Earth's greatest protectors they are a mere herald for the threat to come...
Cast of Characters:	Hal Jordan, Monet St. Croix, Clark Kent, John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara, Audra Meridian, Shayera Thal, Meggan Puceanu, Caleb Dykstra, Namor

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Hal Jordan has posed:
It is a cool, blustery evening in Metropolis and snow flurries fall from the sky amongst the lit-up skyscrappers of the downtown core. The city still buzzes with activity of course, the restaurants and theaters doing a bustling business and shops still drawing in interested parties. And in amongst all the gleaming, towering structures is, of course, the Hall of Justice, flodlights illuminating the exterior of the Justice League's Earthbound headquarters.

It has been a week since the incursion of Kalanorian ships above the city. A week since the pitched battle played out resulting in a quartet of downed alien spacecraft on the League's front lawn, and while those hulking remains have since been disposed of numerous questions linger. For good or ill even the Green Lantern Corps only has a limited amount of information regarding the current situation on the alien world that has intruded upon their own and the solitary surviving alien has been distinctly... uncooperative when it comes to providing information.

And of course all manner of questions linger about the strange, enclosed flame that the fleeing refugee from the stars brought across lightyears. A flame with power readings off the charts. The transparent globe that houses it remains locked away in the Justice League vaults, secured by Zatanna's magic still. But while it remains contained, somehow the threat of it -- and the reaction of the League possessing it seems sure to provoke -- remains.

Sure enough the inevitable happens as the space around the glittering blue-green ball that is Earth is suddenly split, as a tear in reality opens up expanding rapidly as all the early-warning detection systems on the Watchtower go crazy, sending out their alarms that the planet is -- once again -- about to be visited by less than welcome guests.

This time there is no frantic chase, no laser fire directed at fleeing prey. Instead a half-dozen ships emerge, dark and sleek and bristling with weapon emplacements. And large. Much, much larger then the small, fighter-like craft that dueled it out above Metropolis a week ago. But their course, just like their predecesors is the same, bringing them into the atmosphere above the City of Tomorrow, sending the cloudcover roiling crazily around them, bright lights refracting off all the little flakes of falling snow, lighting up the night sky.

For those watching television or their devices those screens are suddenly filled with static as all transmissions in the city are abruptly cut off. Moments later the screen resolves and there stands one of those same pinkish-purple skinned aliens, looking grim-faced. For a moment as he begins to speak the words are unintelligible but in mere seconds a cool, robotic voice begins to translate.

"People of this primative, backwater world. You are in possession of the Kalanorian Empire's greatest religious icon. You will return the Flame at once. You will do so by the will of the Thrid Eye.," that melodious, artifical voice commands in tones much calmer than what the frothing features of the alien speaking would suggest. "You shall do so now. Or you shall face the consequences."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
She had been here for the previous melee, hurt and having seen the Justice League finish things and hear of the religious fanatics, seeing the object being passed over to the League for safekeeping. Not knowing all of the details, just that it was important to those entities willing to do everything they could to get it back.

Monet would float in midair and keep herself ready as she would go on a flanking position. Ordinarily she might attack or try and taunt, but she was not with the League. So there might be something here of an attempt to negotiate, a deceptive tactic.. But she was not with them. Thust she could not do something to disrupt the scenario in case thy had some plan or a way to get things tos tand down.

Sigh. The lengths of which she had to restrain herself with such company. Oh well. For Superman.. One would move the world. So, MOnet goes to hvoer in the background, several hundred meters away from the threatening, monologuing alien. All the while assessing the craft. Comparing it over to the ones from last time, attempting to figure out what the adversary's technology adn tactics were, how to best counter them, and any other ways that she might fight them better.

Going to speak over to the general comm-system of the X-Men, she would speak <<Watchtower Monitor, X-Men on standby. Please tie into League communications networks>>

Clark Kent has posed:
It was an evening like any other. Clark Kent was standing at the corner of the street near the Daily Planet, and contemplating what he was going to eat tonight. It had been a long day, blah blah, newspaper, saving the world, blah, when he sensed something was wrong...

That was when Clark Kent heard the transmission on the local "chip truck's" radio. "Kalanorian...." This was the report Hal filed in the Justice League database. Looking left, right, and where he could, Clark Kent found a private location to change from mild mannered reporter to...Superman!

Tapping his JL comlink, Superman calmly says, "This is Superman on the JL emergency frequency. Are you monitoring Green Lantern? Any other Leaguers present? Report."

John Constantine has posed:
John Constantine spends more time wondering if he's lucky or unlucky than anyone else, probably, and the conclusion he has come to is that Luck isn't good or bad, it's just Luck.

Fate, so to speak.

Synchronicity, for him; and for those close to him.

This is why he's in the middle of the sidewalk, walking along with Meggan on a rare moment of downtime, when the Kalanorians show up.

"Bollocks." He pats himself down for a cigarette. "Kalanorian sounds f'miliar. Didn't you beat them up already once, luv?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
In times of crisis, the glittering Justice Hall becomes a second home for many of its members. Zatanna fudges sleeping in-house and wings her way home to sleep between shifts. Newly arrived, she carries a steaming mug of tea into the main monitor hall in time for the warbling alarms to increase her heart rate sufficiently to forget the tea on a side table.

Already equipped with a com, she taps the ear bud, <<"Roger that X-Men. Zatanna here. We are monitoring. The burning question is: do we have a game plan?">> As she speaks she focuses on a monitor to watch the skies over Metropolis fill with the sleek black alien ships in search of their precious artifact.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Audra Meridian had been away from Metropolis working her actual job the first time interstellar intrusions were made. Trust me, dealing with winter storms in the Upper Midwest was not any easier.

This time however she was back home, and on the move as soon as the transmission interruption had signaled the return of the unwanted company. Metropolis was her hometown and she darn well wasn't taking this sitting down! She knew where in the city the Hall of Justice was located (who living here didn't?) and it wasn't long before the stormchaser came cruising onto the suit as her heroine alter-ego Windrose. No having to change in the back of an SUV this time, either.

Thankfully she's not the only one to have responded. Look, there's Superman! And there's that surly Brit magic man she's seen before. A few others gathering, but there's not time to go through everyone to see who she might recognize.

Not as her attention is quickly drawn skyward as she comes to a hover, eyes widening behind her goggles. "That... is a lot of spaceships. This is looking less like Third Encounters and more like War of the Worlds...."

Shayera Thal has posed:
Shayera uses the Hal of Justice to sometime rest. After all she is a bit of a workaholic so it is hard to get her to stop working, feeling that she has a lot to make up for due to the Thanagarian Invasion. She follow Zatanna in holding what a fresh cup of coffee in a red mug with a snowflake on it. She takes a moment to look over one of the monitors to see what is happening.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Some people just want to watch the world burn." Meggan's dour intonation chips away at John's typical surly humour, her pronouncement rather sibilant and laced in the occasional frosty undertone. The synchronicity carrying her along positions her adjacent to the warlock, head turned up to the sky as the announcement shakes high-rises to their foundations.

"Bit full of themselves, innit? As if they never saw that Warworld or legions of the poncy tryin' to steamroll the city." Shrugging her shoulders, she reaches out and a white-hot flame blooms in ghostly tones from her fingertip.

The cool edge of a smirk follows. Any incoming Justice League heavyweights earn an upnod, but the question she has to the general public is a loaded one. "Fancy a bit of fun? Maybe I should go draconic this time and tear one of those out of the sky for the show?"

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
It truly is a thing of contrast to Gotham, Metropolis', Caleb thought to himself as he walked side by side with his kid sister.

She wanted to see the Hall of Justice for some time, maybe see the heroes and who knows, maybe even get an autograph.

'Sure, why not?', Caleb thought back then. But, his engagements only allowed him to have some free time in the late hours of the afternoon, where they bleed to the evening. His Gotham alertness put him on high-alert, but there's the fact that Metropolis has that tinge of shining beacon that puts people at ease, thanks to a certain guy in blue and red.

Plus, the Hall is inspiring, even when seen from the outside; and that by itself is enough to make young Sheila's eyes go all starry.

And then... There're those ships coming, and Caleb is quick to pull a surpised kid sister, who yelps; and that's when she looks up, and starts to shiver.

"Sheila... Let's get out of here!", he fast-paces towards some sort of shelter. And the child doesn't disagree.

Namor has posed:
Metropolis was....different.

The water was purer there than in many other cities. The air was clean, rarely tainted by smoke and the harm of man-made industry. Yet, Namor's become more active in the matters of foreign invaders. It's the mere suspicion that Namor is flying over Metropolis as we speak, a golden trident resting in his hand - containing the power of Neptune himself - a weapon much needed.

There's a suddenness then - When those ships emerge out of the sky in all of their size and power. The atmosphere cracks with the weight of them, the night sky announcing the presence of the attack. He can /hear/ the threat they give tot he world. The earth has a relic of this Kalanorian Empire?

Well then - there is much to discuss.

"I will never understand the obsession with aliens and this rock we call home. But unfortunately for them, they come to /my/ homeworld."

So he flies upwards, his hands clasped behind his back as the Trident rests firmly in his grasp.

And he waits, making sure he can be seen, staring straight at the fleet with a tilt of his head, his words bearing the weight of a hurricane as the weather starts to shift and ebb around him: a consequence of the Trident and his authority making itself known as two words ride out of him far too calmly to be considered reasonable:

"Fuck off."

Hal Jordan has posed:
It has to be considered something of a good sign that the arriving alien battlecruisers did not simply open fire, right? It suggests a willingness to talk. Though the words certainly didn't suggests much interest in prolonged negotiations. Still, every moment spent talking is one where there are not laser blasts falling amidst the bustling city streets of Metropolis. Once again those too familiar warning sirens sound throughout the city and with the most recent pitched battle above their city having been so recent, the number of civilians that linger on the streets is reduced somewhat.

While the exact timing of their arrival was always going to be indeterminant, that it would come was an inevitability and did indeed prompt Hal Jordan to linger a little closer to home. It's not often that he actually volunteers to take on monitoring duty, but he has spent a great deal of time lately in the heart of the Watchtower and it's sophisticated suite of sensors monitoring the space around their home. So he is indeed present when those rifts open, when the alarms go off. Given just how quickly he can fly through the void of space the time savings might be slight, but he still rushes to the teleporters that take him down to the Hall of Justice, still tapped into the live feed from the Justice League's monitoring system thanks to that handy, dandy ring of his.

"I copy you Supes. I suppose we could try to buy time, but our last encouter suggested that they're not all that interested in talking. More like demanding and promptly shooting if they don't get what they want," the Green Lantern replies over the comms.

And indeed, while those laser cannons continue to remain silent as those half-dozen warships breach the cloud cover and come into view above the city streets it is also possible to see dozens of smaller crafts emerging from the underside of those battlecruisers as they begin to descend towards the city.

"I'm reading dozens of those fighters emerging from the cruisers. It looks like they're escorting landing craft. Whatever we're going to do we don't have a lot of time if we don't want a hostile force marching through the streets," Hal cautions as the arriving ships descend rapidly towards Metropolis' downtown core. "This Flame of theirs might be rightfully theirs, but that warning... I'm not sure these are the people we want having something that powerful at their disposal..."

It is definitely something of a conundrum.

Of course the matter might be decided however when a figure rises up from below and positions himself in front of the alien battleships, gesturing in rather rude fashion. The previously silent weapons begin to glow, the signs of their activation impossible to miss. And most of them seem to be very much trained on Namor.

So much for diplomacy. For once Shayera might not be the hothead of the group.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
As thsoe things came up and out over and moved to align themselves over in attack formation, Monet goes to watch over at the scattered capital ships start to array themselves over and launchf ighters. As the Scion of Atlantis goes to make his challenge known, Monet gives a low, low sneer of amusement. And support.

Then she goes to calmly call out, "As a duly selected resident of the city, county, and state of New York with primary residence on this planet, I order you to submit proper documentation and certification supporting your claim to this artifact, as well as proof of cultural acquisition, importance, and explanation of religious iconography. When this is submitted, an arbitration committee will be established to review this documentation, and come to ajudgement. Should you disagree with the judgement of the arbitration committee, then you may file an appeal with the nearest representative jurisdiction of the Galactic Council representatives from Oa of this Sector. Should you feel the arbitration appeal representative is biased, then in turn we may review an appeal to a separate jurisdiction, which is of the Vogons for this sector. You can further prepare briefs in the matter should you wish to be ready to file proper documentation in advance. If so the Vogons have a separate filing system you should familiarize youself with.""

Going on, "Unti you can prove you have a proper claim to this artifact and submit documentation, we cannot initiate the bureaucracy for analysis and begin the process of a judgement."

Shayera Thal has posed:
Shayera takes time to notice the landing craft and then takes a moment to see the area they are 'securing' for their site. "I'll go wrangle civilian to get them out of the firing line." Says Shayera, much as she wants to go a clubbing she is a cop first and fore most so the area has to be secured of Civilians. She begins to make her way out and cuts her comes into the local first responders to get them organized in getting the area around it free of civilians so that if fighting starts they won't have any of those squishy humans in the way.

One of those people, namely you Caleb gets a visit from the local Guardian Angel during this as she comes down from her loop and then says. "Hey Remain calm we are going to get you someplace safe." She motions to Caleb and his sister so that they can get out of the way of fire and into a safe, this said in her 'nice' voice.

John Constantine has posed:
"Hrm." John doesn't move from where he's standing. He just sort of takes a long drag of his cigarette and considers the ship, the assembling heroes, and the stuff happening in his comm, which is set to materialize in his ear whenever the JL starts it and it's really fucking annoying, by the way.

"You know, reckon 'tween Meggan and I we could just..." He does a little sharp whistle-y noise, "take their fuel right outta their ship. You flyin' brick shitehouses able to catch a thing that size, maybe carry it off somewhere's we can have a nice, long conversation with them?"

He pauses, then: "Well, you can. I have places to be."

Clark Kent has posed:
Superman floats above the city, up nearly into the clouds, and regards the scene with an appraising air. His eyes first take in everyone present on the side of good. Or Earth. Or what he thought was his side anyway. After all, Superman was eternally optimistic.

Audra. A nod. Caleb. A smile. Hal of course. John. That causes a raised eyebrow. Meggan and Monet. A nod and smile. Namor. A frown. Shayera, a look of respect. Zee. A colleague.

"GL. Good to hear from you. Glad you are here to coordinate. I leave it in your capable hands my friend. I'll follow your lead. You are in charge. I'll take point if that is where you need me. Have them concentrate on me to keep them away from the civilians."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Finger still held to her ear, swiveling to watch Hal enter the hall, Zatanna's mouth opens and shuts, biting off a phrase as fragrant as Namor's. "I wonder how that translated to them? Let's hope their translator glitched on it, and they don't decide to incinerate the City in a fit of pique."

"Well, do we give it to them or not? I think these are not the good guys, Hal. Have you heard of them before?"

A wave of her hand suffices to open a portal. It glows, difficult to look at behind her.

"There goes the redecorating. In any case, they won't find the vault easy to crack. I'm for going up for a look."

On her last word, she steps backward and disappears to reappear near Namor.

Audra Meridian has posed:
"Well this bottomed up faster than a trailer park after a twister," Windrose mutters to herself between the prolific red tape from one side of the gathering and the short but bitingly to the point rebuttal of the flying ocean man on the other side. And the aliens responding pretty much as one would expect them to. Sure, most of those guns may be trained on Namor after his princely profanity, but how long is that going to last until they decide to just fire on the general urban vicinity as a whole.

She waves a quick informal salute to Superman. Then another thing strikes her. ".. Wait, did they say it was a religious artifact? What is this, some intergalactic... probably not best to say in public."

She clenches her fists, the conductor channels in her gauntlets starting to glow as she powers up her manipulation tech. Though the bird woman brings up a valid point. Between Metropolis being a big city, and the HoJ kind of being a tourist sight at times.. Windrose shifts into disaster response mindset, hovering a bit closer to the ground and making a clear-the-way sort of gesture towards people. "Com'n people, move away. This is no time for rubber necking, unless you want a good chance of that neck not being attached to your body any more!" Civilian saftey comes first.

Then she can put a jetboot to some alien asses if need be.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
So Caleb starts to pace quicker and quicker, his sister having a tougher time keeping up, so that he complains. "Caleb, slow down!"

Caleb slows down, looking behind and up at those ships. "We need to find shelter...!" He looks at the subways, which are likely to fill up. The closed stores that are likely to be looted. The cars that are likely to fill and block a road, making them sitting ducks. The Thanagarian that's approach...?

Wait, THANAGARIAN!!??

Caleb is quick to jump and cover his sister from the winged figure. "Oh, fuck... YOU GUYS AGAIN!?"

Yeah, some people remember 'Invasion!' all too well.

And he reaches for his back, and keeps his hands there - possibly a weapon. "Come any closer to my sister, and I'll have chicken wings for dinner. This I promise you." It's a mask of hatred that's all too clear. And assurance that he'll die protecting his own.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
So many interesting targets to choose from! Meggan's platinum gaze travels between them, lingering longest on Namor in the sky to protest the shabby treatment by the flotilla of unwanted guests.

Several bulky ships assaulting the plucky heroes never ends well. She has half a century of pop culture to back up that notion. A cool hand traces the slope of John's left shoulder and she steps away. "Who gets to give the command to blow that piece of junk out of the sky?" Whatever nifty gadgets link them into the general communications network of the Justice League relays amused, razor edge of her inquiry.

"This is where the fun begins."

She lifts off the ground, hands cupped before her in a saintly gesture of supplication that no icon or votive would dare assume outside the Exclusion Zone. The fragile shell of her humanity cracks as flesh becomes pure energy. Her body starts to glow with the strange nimbus only ever witnessed at the centres of stars or runaway reactors, and any Geiger counter in the area probably burns out. A command beckons deep into the systems of the scattered alien ships, calling the particles and ambient nuclear energy to her. The word not of a saint or scientist.

But of Gaea's lastborn daughter, backed up by right of a snarky warlock who needs to put his feet up.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Realistically there was never much hope that all of this was going to be resolved peacefully. Their first encounter with the Kalanorians did not exactly suggest that they were dealing with a reasonable people. Religious fanatics might just not entirely do them justice and even if they were willing to turn over the 'Flame' with so many questions lingering around it, one suspects that sheer spite and vengeance would result in reprisals.

Of course the point is mostly moot now. It would seem that it does not take very much to provoke their alien visitors and the dark, night skies of Metropolis are suddenly brightly lit as bursts of laser fire begin to arc out from the cruiser's cannon emplacements -- dozens, hundreds of blasts filling the night with their crackling bolts. So many of that initial salvo are squarely directed towards Namor -- his taunts perhaps illiciting the desired reaction. But soon enough individual emplacements begin to turn their attention in other directions and it is not long before other heroes rising up from the streets below find themselves under fire as well as those laser beams begin to target Monet and Superman despite the lack of overt hostility on their parts.

"I think the matter has been settled for us. Just as well probably. Reports from their world have been sketchy in the past decade since this 'Third Eye' rose to power, but nothing that has gotten out suggests anything good. I think we had better look to take them out..." he says, giving Zatanna a nod before taking to the air once more, beginning to race through the corridors of the Hall, out through the main concourse and onto the streets of the city. Just as those laser blasts begin to fall. At once his hand snaps up, emerald light flaring brightly from the ring that encircles one of his fingers and more than a dozen beams streak out in seeming answer. But instead of lashing out at the firing battlecruisers, huge shields begin to form at the tip of each beam, slowly spreading out to try and catch as much of the stray fire as possible.

A grimace crosses Hal's features and his other hand slides over, gripping his forearm as if to brace his. His will might be unconquerable, but it is a whole lot of laser fire. "If you can do something about their power supplies that would be amazing," he says over the comms, the strain in his voice obvious. "The sooner the better," he adds through gritted teeth. He's not trying to rush John and Meggan. Really he's not. Well... not much.

If nothing else it seems that Metropolis is prepared for this sort of emergency. Shelters would appear to be relatively plentiful and while the authorities -- along with the helping heroes like Shayera and Audra -- begin to urge people towards them, the evacuation is surprisingly orderly. Vehicles are abandonned in the street but there is a minimum of pushing and shoving as hundreds begin to head down into the nearest subway stations or other secured buildings that are clearly marked.

Hal Jordan has posed:
But that good order might be tested tested as the first of those dropships touch down, a number of those abandonned cars crushed under the landing stantions that extend just before the crafts land. In moments a flood of armored soldiers begin to march out of each of those crafts and while they do not immediately open fire the first signs of panic begin to ripple through the crowds of people still seeking safety. Shouts of 'The Flame and the Third Eye!' echo through the streets in those same, melodious robotic tones that played out on the various screens throughout the city minutes ago.

While most of the landing craft setdown in the city proper a trio of them break off from the main pack, their destination clear -- and perhaps obvious. In moments the landing vessels set down -- two in the park in front of the Hall of Justice and the other on the roof itself. In moments dozens of those alien troopers are swarming over the building and these ones do not hesitate to open fire as they attempt to breach the Justice League headquarters.

It seems very clear that the Kalanorians are well aware just where their prized artifact is being kept.

While things might not look so great down on the ground with hundreds of alien shocktroopers beginning to spread out through the city, they are at least taking a turn for the better in the skies. John and Meggan's plan abruptly takes effect and the results are almost immediately apparent. Those brilliant laser blasts firing in all directions from the Kalanorian battlecruisers begin to dim and fade before dying away entirely. In moments the almost painful hum of those energy blasts tearing through the air dies away and it is almost possible to imagine the fury of the ship's commanders as power loss is reported across the small fleet. Perhaps there are redundant power supplies, or perhaps some sort of anti-grav technology comes into play, but fortunately the huge capital ships do not start dropping from the sky. They do appear to be temporarily neutered however.

Score one for the good guys. Go Team Earth.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The Hall of Justice is the choke point and where the primary attack is going to be. Where all the ships will be bombarding and the troopers swarming. As the cruisers go to deploy thier assault ships, their hundreds of troops.. Monet doesn't bother to reply or go and engage the endless legions. Instead..

Instead she goes to fly towards one of the cruisers at high speed. It's deployed it's troops, the launch deck is open, and it's marine contingent is away. It's in atmosphere so it can't move quickly. As far as she's concerned that makes it fair play. <<Moving to board enemy capital ship>> speaking that ever so calmly along the Justice LEague tactical network.

And so M is just charging up and through it at hypersonic speed, the previous melee having given ehr a fair idea as to the layout of the ship.. And her own experience with Shi'Ar Marauders gives her at least some idea of the functional technology. So.. Her intent is to hopefully just fly up and charge through the open doors of the hangar as it launches assault pods, smash her way through anyone that's immediately deployed there mid-launch..

THen just keep on hammering through if she can.

Her goal? The bridge. Hoping to bypass everyone onboard at high speed.

John Constantine has posed:
"Just a heads up to everyone watching, we're about to take the wind outta their proverbial sails, here. You might want to, uh, get ready." John Constantine stands behind his wife as she starts to summon the fuel on which these aliens fly their ships.

He tosses his cigarette to the side and takes his long coat off, draping it over the back of a chair and rolling up his sleeves. "We've _got_ to discuss you doin' things without warnin' me ahead'a time, luv." He swallows, looking up.

"Especially when you're going to be puttin' that thing in my face, all _distractin'_ like." Look, it's not his fault Meggan is flying at just the right height for her shapely caboose to be at eye level for him.

He puts his palms together, crosses a few fingers, and then reaches out, invisible magical threads beginning to drape over Mweggan as he casts a --previously workshopped and very tested! (in his mind, this is all so fucking haphazard, you guys, you don't even fucking know)-- magical net over Meggan, which serves as a dampening field for all that energy she's absorbing.

"Meg, luv, where you gonna get rid of all that? I don't think it's childproof."

Clark Kent has posed:
With a touch of willpower, Superman moves to the forefront of the defensive cordon, following the lead of Namor. Looking at the vessels arrayed against them, Superman gets a note of determination on his face, and a steely resolve. Tossing a return salute to Audra, Superman prepares himself for what was to come next.

With Hal's go ahead, Superman braces himself, and then unleashes himself on the invading army. "Kalanorians. This is my home. It is defended by the Champions of Earth. There is a peaceable way to go about your goals. Force is not one of them. Be prepared for what is to come next."

The first thing on Superman's mind is to use his super speed to prevent any energy blasts from hitting any other targets than himself. He notes Monet's goal, and smiles. Respect. Looking over his shoulder at Constantine, a nod is all he sends. Do what you must.

Grimacing himself for the pain, Superman launches himself into a defensive posture letting the other heroes take care of the rest.

It was going to be a long night.

Shayera Thal has posed:
The reaction get Shayera to pause for a moment, she recognizes Caleb from the game shop when she was playing dungeons and dragons. She reaches up and removes the Hawk Helm so that he can see her face, hoping this will add the little human element. "This time it is not us sir." Trying to stay respectful but adding a slight empathizes to 'sir', the type cops do when they are asserting authority. She takes a moment to get her bearing and then motions away from the subway, "You don't want to go to the subway, you can get trapped down there and it might take days to evac you. One of the safety shelters is two blocks down the road. You and your sister will be safe there. I can promise you that much." Hopefully that is enough, she has to pull in another officer to deal with a panic citizen.

The calm however is broken as laser start to rain from the heaven. In a instead her nth metal wing guards deploy and cover the angelic feathery wings with harden protective metal. She rushes forward and throws herself over Caleb and her sister and then uses those wing to shield the civilians from fire and debries. Once it is over she flaps those wings and then says. "We better hurry. Come on follow me.." She now goes in complete cop mode and then also decides to be polite by adding a strained please with her as she tries to get Caleb and his sister to safety while also acting as body guard against those incoming troops.

Namor has posed:
Namor stays right where he is.
% Those weapons begin to glow and signs of activation hum through the night air, but Namor doesn't move a muscle. His eyes stay staring ahead, his trident emaining exactly where it is. A look of complete calm resides over his face as others come int othe skies to join him.

"Hm. Perhaps I was lost in translation."

No, no he wasn't. Mor ethan likely, he's just lucky that those beams didn't try and shoot at him - and if he moved out of the way - reigned havoc onto the city below him. He raises a firm brow at Monet as she takes a longer way (and more polite) of saying exactly what Namor did.

"Well spoken."

Namor was never much of a diplomat. When Superman gives him a frown? Namor doesn't seem to be crushed in spirit. He simply meets Superman's gaze. Calm and precise in every action he does.

...until it's time not to be calm.

"You're aware that peace was likely-"

Namor is /rudely/ cut off by the immediate firing of the blasts that fill the night sky. The majority of it seems to be directed at him and for a brief moment....Namor actually /smiles/. "Finally." and his trident is spun in his hand, batting away blasts in a whirlwind of terrifying speed, before he's flying upwards towards one of the cruisers, apparently being beaten by just a few seconds by Monet.

Fascinating.

He doesn't go for the capital ship, but he is pursuing one of the cruisers, intending to quite literlaly stab completely through the ship with a mixture of raw strength and striking power of that trident.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
When Meggan begins to glow in her vision, Zatanna recognizes the portents, feeling them deep in her magical bones. Terrible energies are about to explode over Metropolis. Her first thought is for the people in the streets below, going about their daily lives innocent of what is about to detonate over their heads. The aliens will have to fend for themselves.

Fists clenched; she rises higher for a better view of the City. The grey clouds torn apart by the alien flotilla's arrival shape to her bidding. A waterfall of mist streams downward and spreads softly over the buildings below.

The world turns green. The Green Lantern reflecting back the deadly lasers on the attackers. Snapping her hands down, she commands, "!woleb ytic eht tcetorP" The soft mist coalesces into a protective shield over the City. Not really an afterthought and perhaps unnecesary, she projects a stream of mist at Namor for a bit of added protection.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Being a local has it's perks. Audra knows where the nearest shelters are, making it easier to direct people away from the brewing altercation without overloading one location. Just keep it neat and orderly and moving along while the heroes like Superman do the things they're famous for to protect the planet.

Of course that gets a really big interruption as one of the landing craft comes down onto the street nearby, the alarm of the poor sedan crushed beneath it's girth sickly blaring before the electronics die completely. Good thing people were smartly vacating their vehicles! "Keep the people moving away from here!" she shouts to the nearest emergency authority figures. Then turns her attention towards the landed craft, just as the soldiers are disembarking from it. Looks like it's time to take a more offensive approproach to defense.

"Hey, space for brains!" Windrose brings up her arms, the projectors on her gauntlets flickering ominously with shades of light blue and white. "Mother Earth doesn't take kindly to trespassers, so I'm gonna have to rain on your war parade!" She unleashes a blast of freezing rain from her gauntlets, pelting the alien soldiers with the bitter cold projectiles. Which starts to coat both their bodies and the ground around them in slick, slippery ice as well. She's trying to keep them from advancing on the evac operations before worrying about a more direct confrontation.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I take it, part of me." Words punctuated by atomic decay sound strange, naturally.

Meggan runs her hands down her nape and spools the ambient nuclear energy reaching her in unseen streamers by embracing herself. Her continuous ascent clears the rooftops of shorter towers in the downtown area, though the great glass towers bear witness to her in ten thousand reflections that mirror her as she sways her hips to the beat of gunfire and staccato retorts. "Then, love, I make it whatever I want."

Her arms sweep down to her sides, hands outstretched to register her appeal again to the nuclear forces that swirl through the ships. She tilts her head back, glancing through the loose swirl over her radiant hair to one defiant ship still airborne when it has no business being. Energy surges and streams around her in ringlets the collapse close to her skin, radiation amassed in increasing density as she dances within a nimbus of almost certain death.

The dance becomes almost incendiary and tribal, her palm lifted in supplication and fingers curled to snag the invisible currents of that fuel the Kalanorian craft. Extending an empathic lure to the nuclear energy restrained within an unwanted cage, she calls. And pulls, arching backwards and seizing the power with the force of a salsa dancer clutching their partner.

With any luck, several more craft have no power and go crashing to the ground. Or where someone can catch them. She isn't in a position to be much use there.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Caleb narrows his eyes suspiciously at the Thanagarian before him, and slowly nods; yet, his guard is not down, looking around for more incoming birds.

He quickly turns to Sheila. "Sis, we're gonna go with the winged lady, now."

She nods.

"You have it with you? Remember what I taught you?", he asks.

And she nods once again.

"Good", Caleb smiles, proud of her and himself. "We're gonna get through this, sis." He hugs her. "We always do."

It's when he gets up and turns to follow that one of those Kalanorians comes shooting down from the sky, landing just inches from Caleb. He has no time to react as he's bitch slapped across the street.

"CALEB!!", Sheila cries out in horror as she begins to run away to him. But her brother's instructions kick in, and she runs for cover - away from the Kalanorian. And towards Shayera.

What's that? Two more Kalanorians shows up? They ready their guns...

Clark Kent has posed:
"Argh." SUperman feels that plasma cannon hit with a heavy impact. However, taking that blow saved lives. That was what he did. Save lives. "GL, it is getting heavy out here. How is the battle going?" Superman was in the trenches so didn't have the strategic look from on high, and Hal would have. With a blow, Superman prevents another cruiser from firing on the people below.

"Do I need to go all out, or has the team got this?"

Superman sees another "cruiser" ready to unload on the team, and with a push, makes sure he is between the target and the cruiser. The impact...hurt. "Ugh." Superman says, absorbing the impact. "How is everyone doing?" Supes says over coms, to those that have them. "Anyone need an assist?"

Hal Jordan has posed:
The skies above Metropolis darken once more as the bright barrage of laser fire ceases, at least momentarily. But momentarily might be all that they need. Certainly it leaves the alien warships vulnerable -- a vulnerability that both Namor and Monet exploit -- albeit in different ways. The great hanger bay doors of the starships do indeed remain open and Monet has little trouble in reaching them, the last few fighters starting to launch from that cavernous space within -- and promptly running into the very determined mutant. In moments the crafts are left little more than scrap metal as she plows through them and while the handful of soldiers left onboard try to draw a bead on the streaking mutant, their blaster fire mostly does little more than leave scorch marks on the interior hull as she soars past them, leaving them in her wake. Next stop, the bridge.

Namor's approach might be al ittle more direct, but it has the benefit of being simple at least. Dodging that laser fire before those cannons go silent, there is nothing to stop him as he races towards the lead battlecruiser, that trident in hand. The hardened hull of the spacecraft might stand up to the void of space -- but it doesn't do quite so well against sheer Atlantian might it seems and as that weapon rakes along the side of the craft great tears are opened up all along it.

While the battlecruisers might have been taken out of the equation, the fight for the skies of Metropolis is not quite over yet. Perhaps the fighters run on a slightly different power source or perhaps the sheer volume of energy being drawn out of the capital ship by John and Meggan has left little capacity to deal with the 'small fish' right away. Either way, those little snub fighters soar over the streets of the city -- some flying quite low as they buzz the crowds -- and it may only be the presence of the city's protectors, most especially Superman, that prevents a fullblown panic from settling in. Others begin to angle skyward, a dozen or so starting to race back up to their carriers and once more the Sub-Mariner and Man of Steel find laser fire being directed their way.

The barrage of laser cannon fire from above has come to an abrupt end and between Green Lantern's energy constructs, Superman's speed and invulnerability and Zatanna's magic, miraculously not a single stray bolt finds it's way down from the heavens to wreck havok on the city below. "Not a moment too soon," Hal says over the comms. "Thank you kindly," he offers up. He does have a few manners. And as Meggan reaches out to begin to attack the remaining power reserves of that small fleet, the Emerald Knight watches as those cruisers start to angle downward, even their anti-grav drives seemingly failing. "Um... okay, I'll deal with the falling cruisers if some of you can handle the fighters and troops on the ground. And Zee? Watch your back. Looks like you have incoming," he warns, before streaking higher into the night sky, that ring flaring to life once more as a half dozen huge, feathery-looking green beds begin to form in mid-air, positioning themselves beneath the Kalanorian warships.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Down on the ground things continue to deteriorate. Perhaps aware of the deteriorating situation for their fleet the shocktroopers become... less restrained. The first blasts from the laser rifles they carry begin to pepper the increasingly deserted streets and screams begin to sound from the citizenry as those still trapped outside begin to seek covr behind abandonned cars or darting towards whatever building is closest. A squadron advances towards Shayera, Caleb and his sister as they rush towards a shelter and the first blasts that lash out are turned away by Hawkwoman's wings. For now. Another squad finds itself literally stopped in it's tracks by Windrose as freezing rain assaults them, driving them back and seeking their own cover. But in turn other nearby soldiers begin to turn their attention towards the gauntleted figure, the first laser blasts starting to pepper the ground around her.

At the Hall, well, it isn't really meant to withstand assaults and in moments a flood of armored troops begin to stream through the entrance and along the concourse, spreading out as they start to make their way towards the lower levels where the secured JLA vaults -- and where the mysterious 'Flame' currently resides.

Shayera Thal has posed:
Well looks like Shayera is going to have to sit out the big fight, but she can settle for leftovers. Beside someone has to look after the little guys, Superman can't be everywhere and he usually gets upset when people in his city get hurt. As the two Kalanorian prepare to fire her wings come around and form a make shift shield as she holds her mace in one hand and advances. The wing move and interpose themselves between blasts, the metal wing shield absorbing some of the damage. As she gets close however her wing lashes out and slices across the two guns throwing them off guard before. SHe grips the war mace in both hands and lets out her signature battle cry. "HEEYYYAAAHH!!" And seal clubber comes down and brains the first soldier causing him to go down like a sack of potatos before she wheels on the other and slams the mace into the mans gut causing him to double over before bringing the mace down, braining him and sending him to the land of blunt force trauma.

Once the melee is done she looks around at the two civilians putting her hawk helmet back on and tapping into local frequencies as she goes over to help Caleb. She looks the man over, having a little knowledge of the human body to see if he is going to need help getting to the shelter. "You alright sir?"

As more soldiers stream in she groans and takes a stray shot from one of the blast, she holds her side noting a small burn and some crimson before gritting her teeth and charging the soldiers. Using her wings for a assisted take off jump she raises the sparking mace aloft nd then brings it down on the head of a soldier. She then brings it around and rings another ones bell, before lashing out at the last one and hitting him once, twice, three times before he goes down. She lets out a ragged breath and then spits from the side of her mouth before dragging her thumb on the side of her mouth much like the infamous Martial Artis Bruce Lee.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Energy blasts streak through where she was. She slams through a bulkhead before it can close. She sends her enemies scattering in their wake. Her target is simple. She goes to head up towards the bridge, even as the blast door slams down in front of her. She goes to hit it with her fist. The metal bends some. Energy bolts from security troopers hit her. She hits it again. Another fist shaped dent. More and more blasters barraging her.

Another brutal swing and it gives another few degrees. Enough blasterfire on her to be actually painful - more will actually hurt her. Around the entryway autoturrets deploy. She can charge into the troopers and be picked apart by the turrets, or keep hammering at the door and be blasted by them or the troopers. So..

IN pain, in agony, and blasterfire melting off chunks of skin she goes to FINALLY pierce her way through the door, tears the bulkhead door half off, and then launches it like a missile. SEnding the security personnel down and hard as she goes to smash her way to the bridge. Combat uniform melted on to her, bleeding, and with the lasers having fortunately cauterized the wounds. She goes to quickly fight her way through the bridge, and takes off the blast doors to hammer them over into place to make it a -little- harder for anyone chasing after her to get on with her.

<<Requesting someone fluent with the weapons array to assist with targeting>> Unofrtunate side effect of beating everyone on the bridge unconscious. She can't read their minds to figure out how to fly it.

Clark Kent has posed:
Following Hal's lead, and in coordination with Zatanna, Monet, Namor, Shayera, Meggan, Audra, Caleb, and even John, plus the rest of the heroes, Superman tries to minimize the casualties.

Using all of his powers, he concentrates on keeping the death count to zero. But he was one mortal.

"Great coordination Green Lantern! Keep it up everyone!" Superman gets hit by a barrage at that moment! Grimacing but not letting his pain make its way to comms, he eliminates that ships ability to ever shoot again. It was important to the others to not know how much this was hurting him. After all...he was Superman.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
At the Green Lantern's warning, Zatanna spins like an ice skater in mid-air, arms close to her body. A muttered word encases her from her superb haircut to her Bottega Veneta boots in mirrored armor.

Let them come and try her.

<<Not fluent here, but I can give you a hand.>> She lifts a palm upward as a maestro brings music to a crescendo, and the ship containing Monet floats on a column of air. Then, with another gesture to quiet the music, it descends gracefully toward a helicopter pad atop a building.

Adding a flourish to the damage Namor wreaks, she twists her fingers and peels back the metal on the ship's side into curls. Artistic but deadly.

Below them, the aliens will have to contend with magical wards set on the vault. She extends an invitation, <<Let's go visit the vault.>>

Audra Meridian has posed:
Lasers start to sizzle through the air and leave burn marks on the ground where she's hovering, and Audra has to think fast. Sure, her flight capabilities could probably evade some of the alien gunfire, but what else might it hit as they're getting pretty indiscriminate. More importantly, who else. Any one of the buildings or other structures people have taken refuge in could suffer damage, and cause harm to those believing them to be safe.

So instead of playing to her strength, she has to adapt. Instead she generates an electrical charge around herself, not unlike the field of ionization that can form within larger storms. It doesn't stop lasers, but the conflicting energy types do take some of the sting out of the shots that get a little too close for her comfort. Good thing her hardware can take some bit of a beating, as long as something important doesn't break.

Encouragement from more well-known heroes helps one grit down and keep going. From the corner of her field of vision Audra sees the bird-winged woman diving into battle with her big weapon. Good to see other heroes paying attention to the mobs on the ground as well as the dwindling number of ships.

When there's a brief pause in the laser fire she makes her move, engaging vectored thrusters and doing a sort of sideways dash to reposition herself for a different angle. Then unleashes a powerful blast of wind force, like a minature hurricane, to grab some of the alien invaders shooting at her and hurtle them in another direction. Possibly into the path of Shayera's swinging mace if they're really unlucky.

Namor has posed:
*BOOM!*

Namor drives straight through the lead battlecruiser, driving straight alongside it as he tears into it and renders the alien metals apart as if it were made of tissue paper. Maintaining his presence in the skies, he lifts his spear to do more, only for Zatanna to assist in his work well-done, her magic tearing this ship apart. He sends a simple nod in her general direction as a show of his appreciation.

Most people don't even get a nod.

So Namor focuses elsewhere: plenty of fighters flying around. So, he lifts his trident, the weather starting to grow worse and turbulent as a thunderstorm brews overhead. The fighters are fast: but are they faster than lightning bolts? With a direction of the Trident, a web of lightning bolts descends upon the choas of the fighters sailing through the skies, as if attempting to annihilate as many as he can.

Tasked with keeping up the pressure, Namor is more than happy to make these invader's life a living hell.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
For a briefly long moment, Caleb is sitting in a field of lowers, a faint breeze brushing over tones of white as far as the eye can see, with the setting sun framing the scenery into an oniric landscape. He looks on, sadly.

Someone sits beside him as he starts to cry.

<<Hello, child.>> A woman's voice.

He gasps, slightly surprised. Was that woman always there? Or did she just appear?

<<You look troubled. What's wrong?>>

"I failed... I can't protect her."

<<Nonsense. You've been doing it ever since.>>

"They're back. Can't I stay...?"

<<And you'll endure. I know you will. Tou want to endure, yes?>>

Caleb nods.

<<For her, yes?>>

He nods again. In the background, the sun rapidly sets, the flowers wilt.

<<Then you can't stay. You'll have to hold on for a while longer.>>

Blackness. A sudden realization.

"Wait. Who are...?"

The woman is gone.

<<Look down.>>Caleb looks down...

He finds himself gasping for air, looking around him as all hell is breaking loose, more and more of these aliens arriving. He grits his teeth just as he sees one of them approaching and aiming a gun at him. He rolls on himself and pulls out a gun, which he fires straight at the forehead. "Third eye this, motherfucker!!"

The alien falls to the ground, look of surprise on his face. And as he does so, Caleb is reaching for the the weapon upgrade. "Now I have a laser gun! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
A time will come for the appreciation for coordinated efforst where the Sub-Mariner and M reduce an alien ship to junk; for awe as Superman absorbs the bombardment from fighters that strafe the sky. Hal's radioactive-green constructs crowd the breadth of Metropolis, a faint glimmer superimposed on Meggan's utterly unnatural senses. Cherenkov radiation emanates from her in microscopic emissions tinted a perceptible eerie blue. The intensified haze ripples off her silhouette, reaching only so far before she pulls the radiation back into herself.

Pain on high sings as a fresh, bright note blood-red in the maelstrom. Fear and urgency cut through the miasma, but Monet's agony fries a circuit still connected to Meggan's sentient side. She streams from the relatively open air space closer to the skyscrapers and high rise antennae, pivoting and moving in a viscous blur disappearing in plain sight by a lack of necessary cohesion.

She drops to a standstill under whatever cruiser is left plummeting into the green. And if there isn't one, zigzagging after several fighters is just as enjoyable. Unimpressive scale of roughly seven foot tall woman against Kalanorian engineering might not even bear notice. Magical threads that John roped around her thrash and lurch in a scintillating web strung all the way to the ground. His cursing offers excellent suggestions for fishslapping aliens in questionable places. Glowing spiderwebs contain the densely packed ball of nuclear energy and its constant fallout, the Liverpudlian version of a hazmat suit.

She flips the ship the bird. The seething power roiling within her comes free in a raw blast mildly less excitable than a hyperactive baby goat in pyjamas. Highly ionized isn't even the start, as said manic blast hops around the lightning like haybales.

"And fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool," sorry, Namor! One unfortunate falling soldier gets shoved by all the potential that formerly fueled his heavy cruiser. "/You're out/!"

Hal Jordan has posed:
It is a heck of a thing, watching six huge capital ships start to fall out of the sky -- slowly at first but beginning to pick up some momentum. And then their plummetting descent comes to an abrupt halt, caught by those green energy constructs shaped so incongruously shaped. Again Hal's arm buckles slightly -- the weight of those starships tremendous -- but his willpower holds and that freefall comes to an abrupt end. Slowly, those dead in the air battlecruisers begin to gently waft through the night sky -- heading towards Metropolis Harbor. They're far too big to set down anywhere else in the city proper.

<< I'm a little busy here Lamplighter >> Hal says to Monet over the comms, using the name given to her by Meggan during their last encounter. Sadly her weapon of choice seems to be MIA this time, but it doesn't seem to deter the Green Lantern. << But I can probably give those weapons a bit of a jumpstart so you can fire them. Just don't miss please. >>

The laser blasts from the much smaller fighters might be dangerous to the city below and they might sting even Superman, but they're not really a match for the Man of Steel. Again and again those small fighercrafts sweep by and again and again Metropolis' greatest hero leaves them crippled, laser cannons sheared off or crumpled.

Of course Superman does not fight alone. Even nature itself turns against the invading Kalanorians and under the guidance of the Prince of Atlantis arcs of lightning lash out from the cloud cover above sending a dozen fighters careening downward, smoking and crippled.

Then Meggan is there too, seeming to radiating energy -- understandable considering just how much sheer power she stole from the invading fleet. The fighters might barely take notice of her -- at least at first -- but they quickly come to regret that decision as those blasts rip outward, tearing through ship hulls as if they were nothing. It's never fun having one's own source of power turned back against them. Well, not for them. Meggan looks like she's enjoying herself. Swiftly the number of flying threats begins to diminish leaving the squadrons on the ground the last, serious threat.

While the least in terms of power, they are still the greatest threat to the citizenryand while casualties appear to be blessedly minimal for the moment -- the authorities rushing in to drag those wounded by stray blaster fire or falling debris to safety -- that could all change with disturbing swiftness. Of course they have a number of problems to deal with too.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Not the least of which is Shayera and Caleb. As that squad of armored soldiers begins to advance on them, Hawkwoman springs into action with her customary approach. LAser blasts pepper the Thanigarian lawkeeper and while one or two might find their way past the defenses her wings offer, the Kalanorian soldiers armor proves... less effective against that mace of hers. That electrified weapon meets armored skulls -- and the mace wins yet again, sending solider after soldier crashing to the ground.

All hail the energy mace, still undefeated champion. But the flood of shocktroopers seems endless. But as they begin to close in they find it isn't Shayera alone they're facing, laser blasts answer their own fire as Caleb gets himself his laser rifle and goes all John McClane on them.

In the Hall of Justice those soldiers continue to make their way deeper and deeper, the lead soldiers seeming to focus on a device wrapped around their wrists -- no doubt the sensors that are picking up the 'Flame' deep in that protected vault. Starting to rush ahead, they suddenly find themselves confronted by the Mistress of Magic -- the Justice League's last line of defense in this case. That shimmering armor around her is strange, there is no question about that and the lead troops open fire. Lasers meet mystic mirror and the light based weapons react as expected -- immediately rebouding towards the armored soldiers. The front lines crumpled -- felled by their own weapons. Laser fire dies away -- fanatics or not they apparently can learn -- and the following troops begin to rush Zatanna, screaming their devotion to 'The Flame and the Third Eye!'

Monet St. Croix has posed:
It takes Monet a few moments, even in paina s she staggers a bit and goes to focus. The symbols on the controls turn from incoherent to legibility thanks to Zatanna's magic. Monet mouths with some appreciation <<Thank you.>> A moment later she also sends the same to Hal. She goes to spend a moment shutting down most of the pain receptors in her body right as she gets the end of the rage that Meggan is unleashing. She is the msot dangerous one here. So raw and primeval in her rage..

But now as the fighters swarm about Monet goes to survey the controls. Weapons primed.. Particle cannons, plasma launchers.. She's not sure what a blaster bomb is.. Illudium P-38.. Best not to ask.

<<I can aim properly.>> Sent to Hal along the comms. The fighters are close enough after all. Monet goes to casually press a few buttons, engaging the general comm overrides for the aliens. Then she goes to speak in their language..

<<I give you doctrinal corrections>> As Meggan unleashes primeval hell upon them. <<May your sin be purified in plasma.>> Have guns. Will use guns. She switches on consoles, aiming the power hungry flak cannons into the mass of fighters.

Purified by lots and lots of plasma. Time to bow on the altar of superior firepower. Namely HER'S.

Shayera Thal has posed:
As Hawk Woman continues to fight letting that righteous anger of her carry her thought this fight. Her military training and honed battle instincts keeping her going as she strikes, parries, deflects and counters. The soldiers find that the Thangarian police officer is a tough nut to crack. Strike, dodge, leap, attack, attack, attack. At one point she realizes that Caleb is firing a weapon? The sound of the alien blaster almost getting her to wheel on him but when she sees the citizen fighting to defend his sister she is not going to stop him. Infact it is a relief that the citizen isn't staring slacked jaw and drooling while she fights. She makes note of his location and keeps a little mental note of where he is during this swuirling combat.

Namor has posed:
Thunder strikes clean.

The Emperor of Atlantis stands tall with the other heroes as the enemy seems to have met a far superior foe than what is normally opposing them. Dozens of fighters are crumpled onto the ground thanks to Namor's actions, though he cracks his neck and twirls his trident. There's much more work to be done. Winged feet start to carry him further. He's still neded in the air.

They have plenty of people on the ground dealing with those invaders, like Shayera bringing the pain with her mace.

So Namor is going for another fighter to grab it with his bare hands. With a spin, he digs his fingers into the metal and tries to /throw/ the thing towards the waters.

His eyes look around then. Where is he needed?

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Elegant and angry, she glows with reflected light, Zatanna, Our Lady of the Vault, comes to welcome the visitors. The mage pities the soldiers downed by friendly fire but not enough to open the door at their command.

<<Hal? Please say, 'Coming, dear.' A hand here would be appreciated.">>

"I don't think so. Not another step. ".eci kcalb sa yreppilS" (Slippery as black ice.)

The soldiers' legs splay under them, and with two steps, most of them are down, piled on top of another like Keystone Cops.

"Tsk, tsk, I think we should wrap this up." Which, with a twirl of her fingers, the sorceress proceeds to do - webbing shrouds the downed soldiers that would make Peter Parker proud.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Someone is kicking up a thunderstorm, and it isn't Audra. What's churning in the sky is a bit beyond her capability. She's just sad she doesn't really have the chance to watch the light show kerzapping fighters out of the sky.

There's still a lot of ground troopers to deal with, after all. And collateral damage.

There has to be a way to cut down their offensive capabilities, and fast. Might be time to do some tech nerd type thing alongside the weather shenanigans.

With a determined grunt she disengages her hover jets, needing to brace her feet on the pavement (and to an extent ground herself) for this to work. She shifts the polarity of the ionization she'd shielded herself with before. Drawing it back into her gear briefly, rechanneling it.

And then slamming her gauntlet palms together to release it, this time with a deafening *KACHOOM* of thunder and brilliant flash of light! The blinding thunderclap could be enough to overwhelm their senses like a giant flashbang going off.
If not, the electromagnetic pulse created by the discharge doing something to scramble their laser rifles and take away some of that superior alien firepower would be nice too.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
One of the big problems when it comes to conflict, is that no carefully laid plan ever survives conflict - you have to adapt to the tactics.

A familiar voice for Caleb comes in the form of a scream, as one of those alien fanatics manages to grab hold of his kid sister by the neck, who in the middle of the conflict got lost and felt better to hide.

Needless to say, that was a very, very, very, /VERY/ bad idea.

Why is quickly revealed, as Sheila herself produces from her coat sleeve a hidden dagger, which she blindly swings and plunges through one of the armor's open spaces or the arm section, causing the alien to scream in pain and surprise.

Yes - Caleb taught her /that/ trick! It could come in handy one day. Go figure.

But it's not yet over, as Caleb just about growls as he lunges against the wounded alien, laser weapon shoved right underneath its chin, and...

*SKOOM!!*

He grabs that gun and pulls out of the way to cover, pulling Sheila in his wake.

"You alright, Sheila?"

She nods."Brave girl, you. I'm proud." He looks at the laser weapons scattered around, courtesy in part to the Thanagarian, and a plan forms in his head.

It's a wicked plan, but it bears a signature that you don't fucking mess with a Dykstra on his watch.

He asks Sheila to provide some covering fire while he quickly runs and collects the laser weapons. Then, he starts to inspect them and finds the design to actually be familiar enough.

Familiar enough that he pulls out the charges and their limiters. In other words...?

One of such charges is thrown out of the hiding spot, to land and hit debris from debris into a small group of half a dozen soldiers. They look down, eyes widen...

*BOOM!!*

Someone juryrigged the high-yield grenades!

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Is it inappropriate to chase a target through the sky, even out into space? Probably -- and asking Superman for a morality check off the table in the heat of battle. Meggan's concept of a moral compass requires a firm grasp of what morals actually are and why they matter to her. The ethical insinuations required to justify pursuit or capture for peaceful exchanges may be absent when she's currently hearing a mental earful from the adoring energy source. Nuclear energy communicates in very broad terms of fusion, fission, and decay. The conversations can be illuminating, in a 5,300-6,500 Sv/min kind of way.

Absolutely no one here would benefit from her going off to hug another collection of particles, thereby initiating Fallout 6: Metropolis.

To the benefit of all, the elemental remains mostly airborne and contained, although wisely given an enormous berth to avoid causing radioactive contamination and the excitement of radiation sickness. The particles cling to her tighter than Black Widow's catsuit, discharged only in the occasional sweep of her hand to scythe them at a passing fighter craft that has yet to learn the skies in Metropolis are supremely well-guarded by people with capes.

All that zipping about is hard work for a damned warlock trying to keep her rooted to the ground, and it's ultimately John hauling on the spell net that ends that particular threat; with some effort, he gets her back towards the ground. Just instead of nuclear energy, he has to deal with a woman emitting ridiculous amounts of light as she promptly curls up in the sidewalk to sleep.

Hal Jordan has posed:
The latest battle for Metropolis begins to draw to a close, the aerial assault all but melting away beneath the the sheer barrage of power unleashed by some of Earth's mightest protectors and as one of the battlecruisers powers up briefly once more -- courtest of a little Oan power infusion -- those laser cannons spring to life once more taking out the last of the fighters before the emerald constructs bearing their massive weight begins to settle down towards the waiting waters of the Atlantic ocean.

The Lamplighter strikes again.

"The skies are looking clear," Green Lantern reports, the glow from his ring dimming at last as he hovers there in mid-air beneath the city, the energy constructs finally fading from around the battlecruisers. "There's still a number of soldiers running about the streets. The authorities seem to have most of the shelters barricaded and protected for the moment but we still need to contain them before they start to spread out more or storming any of the nearby apartment buildings," Hal suggests. Urban combat is always dangerous and digging out an entrenched enemy can be difficult. Though perhaps less so now that some of the heavy hitters in the sky can turn their attention groundwards. Though Meggan it seems is well aware that her presence there amongst them might be a bigger threat then the remaining troops as she lingers in the sky -- at least until that copious amount of fusion energy completely drains away.

Never let it be said that Hal Jordan lacks a gallant streak. From time to time. And with so much of the League gathered, with other powerful heroes dealing with the situation on the street his reply to the request is quick. << Coming dear, >> the Emerald Knight offers up dutifully and a streak of green light whips out of the sky as the Lantern turns his attention to helping Zatanna safeguard the source of all of this trouble.

Not that it seems like she needs much assistance mind. That armor turns away any attempt to fire upon her directly and the direct assault tactic proves equally ineffective as the onrushing Kalanorian soldiers don't even notice the black ice that suddenly coats the corridor. Legs slipping out from beneath them, the Shocktroopers go crashing into the wall -- down and out.

But again the Kalanorians show at least some sense beneath that raging fanaticism and the next group up does not charge in, or fire at the seemingly invulnerable Mistress of Magic. Instead a trio of small, sphere-like objects begin to bounce down the hallway. Grenades. But before they can reach her or explode a glowing green hand comes racing around the corner, scooping them up. Fist clenching, the energy construct squeezes around the devices, the following explosion muffled and contained.

"Rude," comes Hal's voice from around the corner before he swoops into view. "Lets see how you like it," he adds, a giant green bowling bowl emerging from his ring, rolling along sending the remaining troops scattering. "Stttttteeeeeeerrrrrrrrriiiiiiikkkke," he calls out in his best umpires voice before dipping his head towards his fellow League. "Hey Zee. Fancy meeting you here."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Outside on the streets things are increasingly turning in the home team's favor as well, and with the big guns on their way os reinforcements the Kalanorians time is definitely coming up. Not that the already dedicated defends need a whole heck of a lot of help as it is. Almost two dozen troops begin to close in on Audra, looking to take her down. Laser rifles come to bear and when no counterattack is immediately apparent the shocktroopers start to move in a hail of laser fire ready. But that's when they find out what a mistake that is. Armored though the soldiers might be, those advanced sensors only make them more vulnerable to that bright burst of light and cries of pain and confusion echo across the city streets as the advancing troops are blinded by Windrose's gambit. Then the electromagnetic waves hit home and both laser rifles and power armor go abruptly lifeless, neutrailizing a block's worth of threats in one go.

The big guns might already be on the scene, actually.

Meanwhile Shayera, Caleb and his sister prove just as effective, a little more direct in their fighting tactics. Trooper after trooper advances on Shayera's position, the challenge of the winged warrior seemingly irresistble to the fanactical soliders. Again and again they rush her as she leaps from one target to another, that mace swinging in dangerous arcs that leave more then a dozen alien invaders sprawled out around her in short order. Even as the reserves rush in to engage her they find themselves suddenly cutoff as one of those improvised powerpacks lands amongst them. The resulting explosion might be a little hard on the city's asphalt roads -- but it's effectiveness cannot be denied as another squad of troops is taken out.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
THere, there. Monet St. Croix determines the effectiveness over of the weaponry as they erupt into the fighters with a clinical nature, logically analysing it over what would be bringing potential death and maiming to dozens, if not hundreds of pilots, enemies they are. There's a disconnected sensation from her as she watches the rest of the fight go on, seeing the radioactive dispersion of everyone and everything that Meggan goes to lift up with her and /hurl/ them over into the atmosphere.

IT's with a completely disjointed and uncaring perspective that she watches purely logically. Right over as lightning goes off, radiation flares, and the ground troops are taken care of that Meggan finishes one other thing.

Namely absorbing all the energy from all the ships. Which gets the 'oopsie' of the ship crashing down. It's only a cuople hundred meters up. It'll probably crush some of the surviving troopers underneath. Maybe.

Everyone in the city is in bunkers and evacuated, and any buildings in the area have already toppled over and crashed. So totally not her fault here. Completely oopsie! That's her stance and she's sticking too it. But, most importantly the ship is mostly intact. Even without power, and a crash landing.

Monet readies herself for the copmlex legal arguments and bureaucratic maneuverings required to translate the concept of 'dibs' over to 'legally DIBS'.

She'll fail. But the effort will be there. And one cano nly admire her intent.

Audra Meridian has posed:
That actually worked a lot better than Audra anticipated it would. "Huh." She looks at one gauntlet, pulls off a sparking component, and flicks it away before it burns out completely. The rest of the hardware is still operational enough. "I need to figure out how to make that a regular function."

Looks like most of the enemy numbers are down now. But dwindling activity doesn't mean it's entirely over. She lifts off the pavement as she re-engages her vectored thrusters, and the stabilizes deploy from her backpack. "I'm going to go make sure we don't have any stragglers wandering off into the city to cause trouble later!" she calls out in general, before rocketing off across the Metropolis skyline.

Shayera Thal has posed:
Shayera finally manages to turn the tide, sending the fanatics into full retreat. Normally one to pursue she instead takes a moment to heave a resigned sigh and then hold the spot that got injured early. All those little bruises and laser burns adding up. As the adrenaline begins to die down she starts to slowly crash after that. Every pain and injury starting to catch up with her as she pants and then takes a moment to lean on the wall and just take a moment. She closes her eyes and then winces she holds that large burn on her side and then slide down into a sitting position as she reaches up and taps a signal to broad cast her location. She is going to need a moment or two or, oh hey darkness. She just passe out now.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The blast strobes over the magician's magic armor, the concussive pressure making her stagger backward. S Recovered, Zatanna performs a curtsey fit for a royal court. "Anytime, Hal."

The mage gestures to the downed soldiers who suffered more from their attack than their target. "This won't be the end of it, will it? What will we do?"

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
So, as the Kalanorians now retreat, Caleb rests in his hiding spot. His sister nests beside him, handing him over the gun she had. "You did good, sis. Mom would be proud." He closes his eyes, and remembers the experience he had. (Surely it was all a hallucination?)

He lingers for... He loses time, really, staring out into space, the details of bodies strewn across the street and rubble littering the sidewalks blur.

And finds himself crying; he survived. He can let go of his pain and sorrow now.

Hal Jordan has posed:
The tide of battle hasn't just turned, it's pretty much washed all the alien invaders back out to sea. The scattered pockets of resistance really aren't much of a threat, especially when Superman and Namor take the field and soon enough the survivors are being rounded up for detention.

Of course there will be plenty of clean up to do -- the soldiers might have been contained but there is still plenty of property damage from stray laser blasts. Not to mention all the debris that falls from the sky from the downed fighters and the havoc that caused. And there is the matter of Monet's cruiser of course -- they might just have to intervene with the authorities there on her behalf and then have a discrete word with her later. But the death toll -- the most important stat of all -- stands at a truly remarkable zero thanks to the League and other assembled heroes.

Meanwhile, in the Hall of Justice Hal uses his power ring to quickly gather up the fallen soldiers, adding them to the collection of prisoners on hand. Perhaps they will be a little more talkative, though he rather doubts it. Still, Zatanna asks a rather good question, doesn't she? "I don't think so," he agrees solemnly. The burning fanaticism of the Kalonarians seems almost... unnatural. That doesn't bode well. "Unless we can find away to permanently deal with this 'Flame' it might be time to start thinking about taking the fight to them. Seeking out this 'Third Eye'. Even the Guardians can't object to that. When they invaded their little revolution ceased to be an 'internal matter' that we're forbidden to deal with," he says quietly. "I think we have some hard decisions coming to a head..."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Coming off the ship, Monet St. Croix has spent some time just simply.. Bandaging herself. A quick move is gone over the way of the sleeping Meggan to make sure that the elemental fae is safe and resting and propped up somewhere. Then, she's gone to simply tear off strips of clothes to use to start cleaning some of the worst burns on herself with what she can in the field. She's not being too fine on the details. It will heal cleanly thanks to her regenerative factor and she's already deadened her sense of pain.

OF course there will be words with her later. The girl does need to learn about limits. Directions. Appropriateness.

And lines that can't be crossed.