They Just Fade Away, Part II


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Also Featuring

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Scene Title They Just Fade Away, Part II
Synopsis Responding to R.Ajas' call, Detective Richard Myron, Felix Ivanov, and Rebecca Nakano arrive on Roosevelt Island to see just how deep the Rabbit Hole really is… and boy is it deep.
Date May 5, 2009

Roosevelt Island

The roar of traffic crossing the Queensborough bridge in the early evening hours is enough to mask even the most adventurous attempts at making noise down below. Where the colossal span of the mighty Queensborough crosses, there lies a tiny island situated between Queens and Manhattan - Roosevelt Island.

"There's like six blocks beneath the Queensborough, how the hell are we supposed to know which part of the bridge is the right one?" Juggling his coffee and a cell phone, Officer Oliver Wilson keeps eyeing the text message notifications. Brow furrowed and head bowed, he strains to make out the screen in the glare of sunlight filtering through the passenger side window of the old car Myron insisted on driving out here.

Grumbling into his own cup of coffee, Myron looks askance at the young officer, then snorts out a laugh. "Kid, you gotta' learn to be patient about these things. I think that's exactly the point our informant was trying to make - to give us too vague of instructions, because…" intentionally trailing off, Myron raises both of his brows and looks to Wilson expectantly.

There's a deer in the headlights look from the rookie officer as Myron's gaze meets his, followed by a sheepish grimace, "Be— cause…" his eyes wander the car, as if hoping to divine some sort of answer from the interior effects. But an empty ash tray and a radio turned down just too low to hear isn't any real help.

"Because he wants us to wait for further instructions." Myron chides with a click of his tongue, head shaking as he stares down into his coffee cup. "Whoever this is obviously likes the feel a'being in charge. Makin' us wait on his schedule, his time, yadda yadda."

"How do you know it's a he?" Oliver asks after taking a sip of his coffee, eyes turned to view Myron sidelong. The old detective only snorts, shrugging one shoulder as he rolls down his window, hurling the paper cup out into a trash can he parked next to.

"I don't." A crooked smile slips across Myron's lips, and he reaches up to his ear, removing a bent cigarette perched there, rolling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it back where he retrieved it from. "Guy said sunset… and we're just about there, ain't we?"

It's hard for Oliver not to notice the sun, what with it beaming through his window like a fiery lance of gold, right into his squinted eyes. "So, since we're trapped in the same car and there isn't much to do aside from wait," he notes with a smirk, "what's up with the cigarette?"

"Mmn?" The sound's more of a half-aware noise than a real question, and Myron glances momentarily at Oliver, then back out through his windshield towards a man across the street at an ATM beneath the shadow of the bridge.

"Your ash tray-it's clean, doesn't look like it's ever had a cigarette in it." Oliver motions down to it, then up to Myron, "I've never seen you smoke, and you sure as hell don't smell like you do." One brow kicks up higher than the other, "So, why keep that one?"

There's a begrudging laugh of approval as Myron nods his head, plucking that bent cigarette from behind his ear again, holding it out between two thick fingers as he looks past it towards Oliver. "Sharp, kid. Sharp." Waggling the cigarette back and forth, Myron watches the creases in the old, worn paper wave side to side. "I used to smoke, back when I was your age. Smoked like a fuckin' chimney… ain't so good when you hit forty and start havin' a hard time climbin' the stairs to your apartment, right?"

Watching in silence, Oliver furrows his brows. It's not quite the answer he's expecting, and not really an answer at all as to why to keep it. "This was the last cigarette in the last pack I ever had, the day that I found out I was promoted to detective." Myron loses a bit of the focus in his eyes, staring vacantly at the old cigarette. "I promised myself I'd make some changes, if I ever got that promotion, so-" he shrugs a little, "I quit. Hardest thing I ever did do, to be honest."

"So…" Oliver glances down into his coffee cup, then flicks his stare back to Myron, still puzzled, "why keep it, I mean, if you quit?"

A slow smirk spread across Myron's face. "I'm gonna' retire one of these days, I figured. I'm savin' this smoke for the day I do, I figure it'll be a treat to myself, because once I'm done bein' a detective, there ain't a whole lot left for me to look forward to, so there ain't no reason to want to live a nice long life an' find out what it's like to be in diapers again, right?"

Oliver cracks a smile, shaking his head. "Man, Myron, you're really as weird as the other guys said." Myron can't help but laugh at that, tucking the cigarette back behind his ear. It's at that time something causes Myron to jostle a bit in his seat, hands patting down one side of his coat as he withdraws a vibrating cell phone.

Oliver's eyes immediately divert to his own phone then, disappointedly, look to Myron's as there's not a thing on his screen. "What's it say?" He impatiently asks before the screen's even open, but even after reading it, Myron doesn't really give him an answer, more so than just furrowing his brow and turning the phone towards Oliver to show him the text message:

Get out of the car. They're here.

It's Felix's unerring instinct for annoying the fuck out of other law enforcement that somehow has him bringing the crappiest ever Bucar right to where Myron is. AKA, one of those black sedans that just screams 'government agency'….though since this is New York, and all the agents treat them terribly, it's a rather worn and battered black sedan. "I'm sorry. Hard to believe we're supposed to be an elite agency, huh?" he says to Rebecca, apologetically, as he pulls up as near to where the elder detective's parked. He's in his usual gray suit, glasses on, looking weak and peaked courtesy of Mr. White and Mr. Deckard, but eager enough as he pops out of the car.

When the text message hit Rebecca Nakano's phone, she was actually shocked. For one — she never gets text messages. Ever. She doesn't date, or even go out. Her family doesn't text her because they communicate fairly consistently by voice, and she really only has casual friends at the office. She read the text several times before she finally acted on it.

Approaching someone within the office who also received the text and was not going to be able to go due to other committments but suggested she talk to Felix. He also received the mesage. After hemming and hawing for half an hour, she approached him. He was heading over and was kind enough to allow her to ride along. Honestly, Rebecca has no idea why her she was included. She did some of the forensics, but she wasn't there when Case was taken into custody. Even if that custody wasn't theirs.

She rode along in silence and perked up only when arriving to the scene. She blushes a little at Felix's comment. "No. It's fine, really. I appreciate the ride." She was not going to risk coming out here on public transportation which is her usual means of transportation. Felix wastes no time in getting out of the car, but Becca is a little more cautious. She does however, join him.

"You know Timms has no idea how those messages are getting to your phone." Oliver notes as he climbs out of the beat-up old Pontiac that myron drives, slamming the door shut, followed by an ominous clunk from somewhere else on the car. "Honestly he asked me if you were just sending text messages to yourself, but— " Myron's side-long glare to Oliver silences the younger Officer's joking line of questioning.

Myron holds up a hand to Oliver, looking around the shadowed street beneath the high overpass of the Queensborough bridge far above them, his old eyes narrowed as he watches the man at the ATM slamming his hand on the screen, spitting out a litany of curses that are swallowed by the noise of the traffic overhead. It's not that display, though, that truly gets Myron's attention, is the pop of two car doors closing behind his, and the sight of two familiar faces making their way out of the vehicle.

"Well light my ass on fire and call me motivated," Myron groans out, lowering his hand as he takes a few swaggering steps towards Felix's car, bringing up his fedora to settle atop his balding head. "Nakano and Ivanov, I either did something really right, or something terribly wrong to warrant this sort've— " One eye narrows, and Myron hesitates as he glances to Oliver, and then back to Felix.

"You two got it too— didn't you?" Oliver speaks up where Myron hesitated, the young rookie cop circling behind Myron's car to meet up with Nakano and Ivanov, offering out a hand to the pair with an uncertain smile hesitantly plastered across his face. "I'm uh— Officer Wilson— Oliver." His nose wrinkles, "I'm from up at 5th precinct." Chinatown, Myron's turf. "I ah— I heard about you, Mister Ivanov, it's an honor to finally meet the man who single-handedly took down a whole cell of terrorists. You're a real hero."

Oh boy.

The Agent looks positively queasy. "Don't believe everything you hear, Officer Wilson," he admonishes, even as he takes the other man's hand, shakes it firmly. "-Especially- when it comes to the Bureau. The only thing I think I've ever managed to do single-handedly is get myself off, and even that takes an unholy amount of work. There were a lot of people involved in dealing with the Vanguard, and I just happened to be one that survived, and had a badge," His tone is utterly deadpan. "Man, what're you still doing here?" he teases Myron, a little more warmly. "They haven't kicked you off to pasture yet, Obi Wan?"

A smile crosses Rebecca's face as she listens to the exchanges. Otherwise, she just stands there and listens. She glances around. "Not to interrupt proper greetings, but — does anyone know why we are here?" She keeps a hand on her purse, a mirror kept handy inside just in case she might need it.

Absolutely paling at Felix's demeanor — such a wild departure from what he imagined the human hurricane was really like, Officer Wilson is speechless. Thankfully for him, Myron hardly ever is. "Hah." A broad smile crosses Myron's face, "I'm set up for retirement, actually. After things closed with Case and we got Change Ye put six feet under, I figured it was high time to get out while the gettin's good." Myron's bushy brows rise slowly, "So there's gonna be an opening for a Detective at the 5th, so ol' Ollie here thinks he can weasel his way into my spot with a little good mentoring." There's a dry laugh from Myron, and his eyes focus from Ivanov towards Rebecca.

"The lady's got a point, Ruskie." Myron tilts his head towards Ivanov for a moment, "Well, unless this happens to be a happy coincidence, you both got a funny text message from an ahh…"

Myron looks to Wilson, then slaps him on the back so he starts paying attention. "Someone names Ajas — R.Ajas?" There's a furrowing of Wilson's brow, and he grimaces towards Myron before pulling out his PDA. "Myron got a text on his phone immediately following the intrusion into the NYPD criminal database yesterday, we— haven't reported it to anyone yet." A sidelong look is delivered to Myron, who is only smiling. "Myron's going to get us both put on suspension, but— if he's lasted this long with this kind of attitude, I figure maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"So." Myron interjects over Oliver, "Did you two get anything like that? Talking about our mutual headache Tyler Case? Or am I just lucky to have run into two people from completely different departments on this tiny little island?"

Yeah, apparently the unfortunate officer hasn't spoken to the cops that actually worked with Fel way back when. Because they'd've warned him that few more purebred bitches exist in New York, outside of the yearly Westminster dog show. "Congratulations," he says, clapping Myron on the shoulder. "And yes. I did." He gets a bitter expression at the mention of Case, "Homesec vacuumed that one right the hell up. Now, just between you and me and this bridge piling here, Harrison wisely went old school on this when we figured out HomeSec was gonna sweep it all under the rug. We've got copies. Paper and disc, of all we could access, before they took it."

Becca listens as the story gets spread around and then nods her receiving of the text message as well. "I'm not entirely sure why I was drug into this. I had little to do with this case." she says, actually believing that to be true. Surely, there isn't much more about this that can be done. If Homeland has Case, then why is someone poking their nose into this business now?" She fidgets. She is far more comfortable in the lab then out here on the street, especially when there's someone bringing up the name of Tylar Case.

Down the street past Myron's car, the man at the ATM smashes his hand into the screen again, then lets off with something loud, a shout of some kind, and storms away from the machine with his hands thrown into the air. Wilson seems to pay this a lot more attention than Myron, who's more content to delve deeper into the conversation about the messages.

"T be honest I don't give a rat's ass what Homeland Security wants with that kid, he was dangerous." Myron tilts his head to the side as he shrugs, "What I care about is some kid who thinks he's some special hacker cracking into the criminal database and taking whatever it is he wants. If he knows something about Case, that's fine, if not— " Myron rolls his tongue over the inside of his cheek, "I'm wanting to bring him in. He can tell whatever he wants during questioning."

It's around this time that Felix, Rebecca and Myron all find their phones going off. Oliver jerks to the side as Myron's phone starts vibrating inside of his jacket, withdrawing it quickly and flipping it open, "Myron!" He shouts out, looking down to the phone as he holds out the screen for both of them to look at. On all of the phones, the message is the same.

I'm glad you could make it.

Please proceed to the ATM 38 feet up the street.


Myron rolls his tongue over the inside of his cheek, brows rising as he looks up to Oliver, who shrugs helplessly in response. Myron's eyes narrow, head canting to the side as he looks from Rebecca to Ivanov, "Looks like we're in the right spot."

"IF that was our guy, I'm gonna feel like a complete asshole," Felix says, as he confirms that his message isn't just Lee telling him to pick up some cooking sherry on the way hoome. "Rajas. The kings," he says, sourly. But he flips his phone closed, glancing around reflexively, as if in expectation of someone either trying to snipe them, or drop something on them.

Wilson isn't the only one startled at the phone going off. Rebecca would probably look white as a sheet as her hand goes to her heart. Okay, she's not done much out in the field, so a heart attack at unexpected noises in an unknown location for unknown reasons — that equals a heart attach by her form of algebra. She finally pulls out her phone and glance, nodding. "Same here." She eyes the ATM. If anyone thinks she's going first, someone needs to revisit their thoughts.

Squinting, Myron looks up and around after giving Felix a nod, making a slow and steady pace towards the ATM down the street. Wilson seems a bit more hesitant, much in the way Rebecca seems so unaccustomed to anything relating to field work quite like this. "Myron? Myron?" Wilson abruptly starts jogging after the older detective to try and catch up, following Myron's odd trajectory of view up towards the telephone poles. It's about then his eyes meet up with what Myron was looking at — a traffic camera that is swiveling slowly to follow Myron's movements.

"Come on Ivanov, at least pretend you can keep up!" Myron shouts, followed by a laugh as he waves one hand back and forth over his head, sauntering over to the ATM. "Wilson," the old detective flicks his focus down to his proteje, "get on the horn and call Grimes and Harrison, see if they got these messages too."

Oliver nods, flipping Myron's phone open as he turns to look back towards Rebecca and Ivanov, looking a bit helpless in the wake of Myron's headstrong and rather stubbotn nature. Though once the old detective reaches the ATM, it's not the bank logo that he's greeted with, but rather a blue screen with white text.

I know what really happened to Tyler Case.

I know where he is.

And I know where his double is.

If you will help, press accept.

Myron rolls his tongue over his teeth, finger dancing around near the button on the ATM, but hesitates until Ivanov and Rebecca find their way over, looking to them instead. "What'd you two think?"

"I think," Felix says, ever so profesionally, "This is starting to remind me way, way too much of that movie where Jeremy Irons tries to kill Bruce Willis. That said….what choice do we have? God knows we can't do a trace call off a goddamn ATM, and getting some computer forensics guy out here…'d be retired by the time they managed," He lifts thin shoulders in a shrug, drops them. "Make your choice, Adventurous Stranger/ Strike the bell and bide the danger/ Or wonder, till it drives you mad/ What would have followed if you had," he quotes, still looking around, up and over. Where is this guy?

Being a bit freaked out by all this, Rebecca's keen sense of perception hasn't actually kicked in yet, but she's starting to notice a few things as they wander towards the ATM. One, being the moving traffic camera. She hasn't said anything as of yet, but when the ATM decides to play 'Choose your Own Adventure' with the crew, she decides to pipe up. "We're being watched." she simply says. It's not something they probably didn't know, but she felt the need to say it outloud. She begins to look around for anything else out of place, or that she might be able to catch that might help then figure out what's going on here. She starts to turn around, circling where she stands as she lets her eyes flit here and there, while the others decide what button to press.

Myron looks nonplussed, staring at the screen, and it's only when Rebecca speaks up that he looks back to the traffic camera, head tilting askance as he considers the camera. "Fun trick, those are routed to the department of transportation's computers…" his eyes narrow, then he looks back to the ATM. "Alright, let's all play Alice in Wonderland." One thick finger depresses the green button on the number pad of the ATM, and the blue screen is replaced with a black and white photograph of a man matching Tyler Case's description, but a bit thicker in frame, walking down a sidewalk. It is presented side-by-side with Tyler Case's mugshot from his earlier criminal record.

Oliver leans in towards the ATM, squinting slightly as text comes up on the screen, his head slowly pitching from one side to the other as he watches the writing print itself out.

Tyler Case was apprehended by an agency working outside of the government known as the Company.

He is currently being held in a facility known as Level 5 in the Bronx.


A man matching Tyler Case's physical appearance has been seen in New York City in the vicinity of Queens.

Along with this man:

A photograph comes up on the screen from the same surveillance camera, depicting a much shorter and thinner man with circular lensed glasses and a receeding hairline. The stern look of disapproval scowled across his face is one familiar to Felix.

Doctor Edward Ray, an MIT professor of probability and string theory.

You were all involved in Case's arrest.

You each have a unique outlook or ability that I need to help fix what you did to Tyler.

Now that you have read this, you have been activated.

Myron's brows pitch up at that, looking back and forth from Rebecca to Felix, and then over to Wilson.

You will be contacted with further instructions.

you are not alone.

But neither am I.

There is a Purusha in here.

A Ghost in the Machine.

Contact will be infrequent. But I am out there.

I am R.Ajas

It is a pleasure to meet you.

With that, the screen on the ATM suddenly flickers back to the Bank of America logo, informing anyone standing at the ATm how to insert their debit card, the usual display for this machine. Myron breathes in a deep breath and exhales a sigh, rubbing one hand down his face. "You have got to be kidding me…" his eyes track over to Felix, "did any of that make any sense to you?"

Wilson shakes his head, "I— I don't know about this, maybe we should take this all to Lau, let her know what's going on?" Wilson's focus shifts between the more experienced NYPD officers and the Federal Agent who're conspiring around the ATM. "I— I mean— this is sort've— what the hell was all that shit about a company?"

"Yes," Felix says, slowly. "I'm not in with HomeSec. But it seems they have a prison near Moab, Utah, reserved for Evolved detainees. There was some sort of bizarre incident there, recently. And it involved time slippage. People from the future, here. People from here thrown forward. That might explain Case being here, even if he's simultaneously rotting in some HomeSec cell. I've heard mention of the company before. The guy with the glasses…..I worked, in a way, with him, when we dealt with the Vanguard. R. Ajas…..not to wander off into realms of anime speculation, but with kind of luck I have, that's not a person, but a rogue AI."

Having stopped looking for anything out of the ordinary to take a look at what was on the screen, Rebecca has really nothing to say. "I haven't heard of The Company." Now, if rumors persist around NYPD about such a thing, well that could explain why she's not privvy to that. Certainly there wouldn't be anything official, and Becca rarely leaves the lab, so idle gossip rarely passes over her doorstep, deciding ultimately to pass her over — well, like the Passover. "Is he an AI or perhaps a Technopath? It's not beyond the realm of that either. Perhaps we need to start there with a search for someone who /could/ do something like this and follow leads there. Or do we just blindly follow along what Mr. Ajas is saying?"

Myron stares long and hard at Felix, just this almost vacant and unblinking stare that slowly turns into a squint. "Time travelers? A.I?" His lips purse together, tongue slowly wetting them beforte he breakes down to an awkward laugh. "Okay, I've seen some guy twist a man's bones like they were made of wet tissue paper, but Felix, I think you've been hit on the head one too many times."

Chuckling, Myron slaps a hand on Wilson's shoulder, who seemed to be far more willing to buy into Felix's ideas. "Woah— r-really? They— time travelers?" Myron scowls, a bit disapprovingly, and whacks Wilson in the back of the head, sending his hair fluffing forward.

"No, not really, that's ridiculous." Myron rolls his eyes, looking over to Rebecca with a nod. "See, there we go. That's exactly the sort of attitude we need, not," he looks over to Felix, "H.G. Wells here. Wilson, did you get a hold of Harrison or Grimes?"

Oliver grimaces, then shakes his head, "Neither of them were answering their cell phones, I— didn't bother to leave a message." Myron nods slowly at that, and gives a small shake of his head, using one hand to adjust his fedora afterward.

"Might be a good idea. Felix, you've got access to the Federal database, see if you can pull up any information on known computer wizards — Evolved or not — and if anything jumps out at you, forward it to be down at the 5th. I'll do a little flat-foot work and see if I can pull up any information down in Queens about this Edward Ray guy, somebody's had to have seen him."

Turning to focus on Rebecca, Myron furrows his brows, "I heard you got yourself Registered recently, what kinda' spooky mojo is it you do, anyway? I heard rumors from guys down at HQ, but I'd rather not think you can turn a man to stone with just a look." He cracks a smile, there' s no way people are spreading those kinds of rumors about Rebecca— right? "If it's anything useful, might be a good idea to get on that. I, for one, ain't taking shit to Lau until I know what's going on. But I'm not just going to bend over and let the internet tell me what to do."

"I wish I were joking. The more Evolved we get, the more weird it gets working law enforcement," Felix says, patiently, polishing his glasses on the tie, and then raising them to the light and squinting through them, patiently. "I have some contacts who might know more about Ray's whereabouts," he adds. "And definitely bring Harrison in on it. She and I just ran into this bastard Evo who might well've been one of the time displaced. Electrokinetic names Niles….Wight, Wright, something like that. I'll poke the Bureau, see what I can come up with. Maybe we've got a lead on the cyberspace side of this."

Becca reaches up and tugs some hair behind her ear as Felix speaks, then interjects. "Well, sir." She clears her throat. "It's like seeing into the past — the best I can describe it. The only drawback is I have to be in the location of the event I want to look back to. I mean — if something happened on Moab, I /might/ be able to look back and see if it really happened /if/ I have some sort of possible date and approximate time." Of course the thought of actually going to Moab, scares the shit out of Rebecca, but she doesn't say as much. In fact, she's not even sure such a thing would be allowed. At least, she hopes that it won't.

Myron looks up to Felix, seeming just a touch more credulous when it doesn't sound like he's trying to pull Myron's leg. "Wight, huh, why the fuck does that name sound familiar?" The old detective furrows his brows and rubs one hand over his chin slowly. "Alright, that sounds like a plan… if either of you get in touch with Grimes or Harrison before me, fill them in on this ball of crap we're rolling around with."

Rebecca however, gets Richard's full attention once she explains what she can do. "No shit? You can— " a crooked smile slips up over Myron's lips. "that photo of Case and the guy with the glasses," he nods to the ATM, "that was in Queens. Maybe if we can pin down where one of them was, you can do your thing and see what the hell's going on?" There's a tilt of his head as he looks over to Oliver.

"Ollie, I want you to head down to Grimes' apartment, knock on some doors and bang a few heads if you have to. Im'a need that kid's experience with the Case thing on this…" Then, there's a bit of an uncertain look that crosses Richard's face, "Goddamnit Marks… I coulda' used you too." His lips purse together, and Myron looks back up to Rebecca. "Either a'you got any other ideas?"

That has Fel stopping in mid-wipe, silk squeaking against glass, as he peers at Rebecca. "You're a location- specific post-cognitive?" he says, sounding utterly delighted at the idea. "Because Wight is wanted in a murder and assault - the attack at the movie theatre, not long ago," he explains. "And yeah, we get her to the spot shown in that camera image, if it's not just created….she can tell us what happened."

Rebecca cringes a little as so much faith has been put into her adeptness of ability. "Honestly, I can't promise anything. I'm just starting to learn how to use this and I've really only been successful once." She recalls the incident in front of the store. "I will try my best, but — I hope you aren't pinning all your hopes on me." She at least is willing to give it the best try she possibly can — migraine or no migrane. "Just let me know when you want to try."

"Don't worry, Nakano," Myron begins with a grimace, "At this age I'm well acquainted with disappointment." There's a sort've bitter quality to his humor, and Myron takes a few steps away from the group, one hand reaching up to make sure that bent cigarette is still behind one ear. "I ain't gonna sit around and slackjaw with you two for the rest of the afternoon, though," he looks askance at Felix and Rebecca. "If I find out anything in Queens, I'll forward it to you both. But right now, I'm thinkin' that the longer I hang out here, the longer that Ajax here," he waves towards the ATM, "gets to stare at me through his little eye in the sky."

Throwing one hand up in a fitful wave of farewell, Myron starts to stalk back towards his car, then pauses and looks over his shoulder towards Wilson. "You comin' kid, or what?" Olliver jerks his head back to focus on Myron, prying his eyes away from Rebecca as he does, words tumbling out of his mouth awkwardly. "Oh— yes I— right away, sir!"

"My lady, your chariot awaits," Felix deadpans, resisting the temptation to go for one of his own cigarettes, as he watches Myron go. "And yeah. If we've got someone who can watch us through any outdoor camera, we are fucked."

Rebecca takes one more look up at the eye in the sky and nods her agreement, though silently, as Felix motions towards his car. She gets in. "Just let me know when you want to try this." she adds as she leans against the car door, preparing for another quiet ride back to the precinct.

On their way back to the car, Oliver catches up to Myron, ducking his head down and speaking in a more hushed tone of voice as he looks over to the older detective. "Do— do you really believe what Ivanov was saying about time travel?" The young Officer's brows furrow, head shaking from side to side as if to pre-emptively agree with Myron's dismissive words.

However, much to the younger NYPD officer's surprise, there's a look of reluctant agreement coming from Richard Myron, one he hardly ever sees the cantankerous old man make. "I've seen a lot of things in my time, Ollie. I've seen my city get blown up by an atomic man— the kind of things I read about in comic books when I was a little kid." His weary brow creases with wrinkles of age and worry, staring down at his feet. "All I know for sure, is that we got ourselves a problem, and for the first time in a long time…" When Myron looks bac up to Oliver, there's a palpable uncertainty in the old man's eyes, once more something Oliver has never seen.

"I don't know what to do."

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