4116/title

title
Date of Scene:	13 November 2020
Location:	Central Business District - New Troy
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Thaal Sinestro, Clark Kent, Lois Lane

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Thaal Sinestro has posed:
Thaal Sinestro is a long way from home, but ever since the glittering weapon that never leaves his finger fed him curious, grainy LiveLeak footage of every body in a Paris nightclub abruptly freezing so that masked thieves could pick their pockets at will, his instincts have told him that distance is no proof against the problems of deep space finding their way to the bizarre, ostsensible backwater he's been consigned to.

That was two days ago-- a nigh-eternity in a terrestrial investigation, given his distinctly extraterrestrial means. Enough time to match lingering background radiation from the scene to scans in the Archives at Oa. Enough time to sweep communications and information networks in the area around the club for chatter related to the crime.

Enough to turn scared, petty thieves into links leading across the ocean, where -- whomever -- brokered a deal between petty, Parisian thieves and the mind responsible for reengineering an enormous feat of cruel, alien science into something more manageable intends to facilitate another demonstration for would-be clients.

Which brings him to D'Acanto's Tower, a glittering marvel of glass, steel, and capitalism run flagrantly amok in the heart of Metropolis, an hour before closing-- or, rather, to a point roughly fifty yards away from D'Acanto's Tower, ring already hooked into emergency bands.

Waiting, to see first hand what on Earth a miniaturized Gamma Gong can do.

Inside, a man in a heavy coat slowly retrieves a rubber Aquaman mask from an inner pocket and pulls it on, while shoppers and store clerks buzz around him.

-- Around him, and half a dozen or so others similarly readying themselves while 'Aquaman' goes back into the jacket, closing his hands around a tiny, glowing green disk with a red rod attached to it by way of a little metal arm--

Clark Kent has posed:
Metropolis! Shining beacon of progress, clean living, and order!

At least that's what the tourists think. Despite what some people might say, Clark Kent hasn't been a tourist in Metropolis in some time and has first hand experience with the seedier side of the City of Tomorrow. One of Metropolis's quirks is in how its mob has adapted to its most famous resident, not to mention the Justice League's earthbound headquarters being in town. Metropolis's crooks...

There's a gang of three of them; a fat man, stuffed into a suit about a size too small for him, eating the tail end of a meatball sub. He's 'Lump' Lauffer, and the greyish tint to his skin hints at a deadly secret. An eight foot tall man with conspicuous neck stitches. Duane Frankenstein's super soldier enhancements weren't quite worth the money, and he itches himself under his husky boys leisure suit. Leading the pack is a bent over man with a slightly enlarged cranium, pop out eyes and a sour disposition; 'All Seeing' Owlsey is right to be upset. They're late. These three simply aren't costume material in Metropolis, but make a decent living as henchmen, independent operators, and facilitators for more traditional thieves to get used to the M-polis underworld.

"Get the masks on!" Owlsey whispers to his cohorts, "Now! The big man's about to set off the gong, my super-ears!"

Both of his friends laugh in derision.

"Can hear the tiniest pin land on the ground and it is about to go OFF." Owlsey wraps a Captain America mask over his face, equipped with special filters. His cohorts quickly follow suit.

Clark Kent, hiding in an alley, utterly unheard by 'All Seeings genetically enhanced ears, raises an eyebrow. He'd heard about some mysterious sound based thefts, but had assumed Pied Piper was out again. But Piper wouldn't be caught dead using anything remotely described as a gong.

"This looks like a job for..." Clark's hands slowly reach towards his shirt.

Lois Lane has posed:
"No, dad, look... I know your busy, but I'm not going to buy your new girlfriend her Christmas present from you. I swear... this is... Really, I don't care if I have better taste than you... Hell. Dad.... no. Fine. Fine. Just because I'm *here*... " Lois is completely oblivious to anything that could be going wrong around them right now. No, she's stepping carelessly through the jewelry store, pale eyes staring with no interest at a wide array of things she really can't afford.

"No, I'm not going to buy something 'nice' for myself too. I just... this is ridiculous. I need a drink." She keeps winding her way through the cases, staring at whatever looks like it could be tasteful and easy to purchase. "I'm not this kind of girl..." She groans into her phone to the General once more.

Thaal Sinestro has posed:
"Plugs on," hums through the crew's subvocal network as 'Aquaman' - AKA Michael 'Skip' Skirelii, a wannabe boss whose claim that he can see (roughly 2.4 seconds) into the future has earned him a modest degree of loyalty from crooks who don't know any better - palms the-- thing. The device. The disc. The--

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * G O N G * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The delivery method, the name-- everything about it belies its effect: raw, pulsating power reverberates from Michael's hand at a frequency that rends the world with a bass note purer than any ever produced on Earth. It vibrates through flesh, through bone, through muscle; down to the blood, it vibrates, syncing every cell of organic matter within its rapidly expanding breadth to itself-- and then capturing them, freezing them in its ceaseless roar.

A faint echo of the sound is audible from outside its range; between it and the sight of confused -- and then, progressively, terrified -- shoppers and employees freezing in place, Lois might be able to gauge the effect's progress well enough to keep ahead of it, given her distance from Michael-- at least, until she runs out of Tower, anyway...

"Ring," Sinestro murmurs radiant lines spike across his field of vision, "run Protocol R-61; disable my sense of hearing until the frequency's found and matched."

As the green sheathe glittering around his body flares, Sinestro darts across the gap, his body already fading into viridian translucence as the ring begins nudging his body out of phase so that he can enter the Tower without complications-- or unnecessary collateral damage.

Clark Kent has posed:
"...for Superman." Superman says, quick changing. Yes sometimes it says it to himself, what of it? Kal-El can hear, well.

He can hear Lois Lane's heart bruising under the one man who can make her feel weak. He can hear the murmur of the crowd of shoppers looking for a material way to say, "I care." or at least, "Look at how much I spent on you.". He can feel the sweat on the back of the dime store crooks as they drag their ruined lives into the fire for a few baubles. There's a problem, a.

GONG.

Superman's mind goes blank for a second, his hands freezing into place. Seconds, he thinks, to act..

"No one's going nowhere." Duane Frankenstein snaps as he steps into the tower, a shotgun in his oversized hands. "Can't have no witnesses telling big blue about the mysterious jewelry heist what no one remembers, huh?"

"But Duane." Lump says, sucking down a soft pretzel, "Don't they know what to look out for now?"

"They won't for long." Owlsey says, rubbing his malformed hands together cruelly as he pulls his own piece. "You know the plan, once everyone's in place, fill the sacks!" They haven't seen Lois Lane yet, but she's got to get through them to escape!

Superman has no magic whishing ring, but has only heard the Gamma Gong indirectly. Quickly, Superman vanishes in a burst of speed, grabbing a pair of earplugs from a local drug store and stuffing them in his ears. Will this be enough? Clark hopes so, because who knows what could happen to those poor, frozen people in the tower!

Lois Lane has posed:
"...Dad, something's going on, I gotta..." Lois looks across her shoulder, trying to figure out what the commotion behind her is. And, for a moment, she can't really tell. She stops, reporter's curiosity getting the better of her. Blue eyes cut through the crowd, trying to judge how back it is. "...I really got to go." And to some sputtering on the other end of the line, she swipes a quick hang up on her father.

However, instead of putting her phone away, she turns on the camera and turns around, focsing on what she can get in the chaos. As people start running past her, she finally gets the idea and starts jogging backwards herself, but she's far more interested in getting the story than she is in necessarily getting free. That means she's not watching at all for Owlsey or the other. She's trying to get film of the action without *quite* getting caught up herself. It's a dangerous line to walk. It's also the best mood she's been in all day.

Thaal Sinestro has posed:
"Hhh--"

Shutting his ears off and finding a counter-frequency to generate a field within which the Gamma Gong has no effect are SOP for managing its debillitating effects. However--

The delivery method;
the name;
EVERYTHING about it belies its effect.

"--nnn-- nnnnnhhhhh--!"

The longer it lingers, the more that singular note reveals a positively hypnotic effect on those in its grasp, reinforcing the cell-deep stasis in its wake with a mind-numbing impulse to stop-- to give in-- to simply listen as stillness takes hold. Earplugs and earlessness blunt the mini-Gong's will corroding effect, but raw, scintillating force crackles through the air regardless, pulling at super-dense, hyper-efficient tisue; and Oan light alike upon exposure. Limbs grow heavy; breaths, sluggish.

Paralysis is still in the distance for the two aliens, with calculated will and/or hard-earned stubbornness standing between them and stasis. A man wearing a rubber Flash mask darts towards the woman jogging backwards rather than merely away, only to be swept away by a lime-green wave from thin-air; immediately afterwards, Sinestro sinks to the ground, clutching his head and gritting his teeth as the aura around him burns in syrupy, syncopated time with the Gong note.

'RUN, FOOL' flares brilliantly above his head in blocky English letters, pointed in Lois' direction.

After a beat, it flickers:

'RUN, HUMAN'

He isn't tracking the gang's powered help either, thanks to his concentration being split between basic etiquette and maintaining a bulwark against encroaching stasis.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Hey." Lump says, slowly, looking at Sinestro's chest. "That's Green Lantern. Looks kinda funny, though."

"Dolt! He's A Green Lantern. Probably from out of town." Owlsey says, "Smother him, while he's weak. Who knows what that ring of his can do."

"Hyuck hyuck." Lump says, dropping his candied apple. His gray arms sort of...melt, a little, as Lump's strange ability activates, the adipose in his flesh turning both absorbent and malleable. He was sold on the idea of being able to take a punch from Superman, but being human silly putty has other advantages. "Take a deep breath, Green Lantern..." Lump's arms reach out towards Sinestro, melting into stinking, viscous muck.

Meanwhile, Duane Frankenstein's holding up the rear. "Who's he even talking to-oh man. Guys. It's Lois Lane. Of course it is. Lady you are some kinda cursed, and that's coming from a man made out of an entire high school basketball team."

"Grab her!" Owlsey says, hopping up and down, furious that HIS powers are basically useless on this caper. Any hearing outside of their special anti-gamma frequency, and he's a zombie. "Before HE shows up!"

The HE in question is observing. Using X-ray vision, Superman's identified the perps, the helpful alien Green Lantern (what an interesting shade of purple, Clark thinks, but moves on.) and more importantly the peril: if the gong is overriding a Lantern ring, it must have exponential power, he thinks. The people do seem to be getting worse with every second. But he cant plow through the building without risking people's lives...

"Maybe." Superman says, and in a flash has grabbed a grand piano. "Maybe if they had something else to listen to, it'd slow the effect down!" Superman literally walks through a wall, his super-hearing making resistance difficult. "Lois!" Superman says, "Can you play?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"...W-what?!" Lois yells across the chaos of the crowd. First, she's staring up at the blocky letter over her head, eyes going a bit more wide, and then the second command to run. Lois rears up a bit, "F*ck off!" She hisses at the things, "I got a story here!" And she's still moving fairly fast, trying to keep just out of the rand of whatever is happening with that strange, distant gong sound. But maybe not fast enough.

She's oblivious to the other two trying to grab her, especially the moment Superman is suddenly *there*. With a piano. She stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet as she sees him. If she was retreating before, she's entirely stopped now. "Superman! Wait...what? Play? Piano? ... A little..."

Of course, she definitely took about ten years of classical piano under the stern direction of General Sam Lane. Confused, a little frustrated she can't keep getting the video, she shifts over to the piano and sets her phone down on it's little kick stand so it can at least keep getting a bit of recording. "What should I play?!"