Down to Earth

[Matt Hagen]

Hagen gasped like a man who'd just regained the use of his lungs. Which, now that he thought about it, might actually have been the case. He wasn't clear on the details of the transformation, but here he was in a back alley, leaning against a wall with grit all over his face and his clothes, a frog in his throat, and a heavy briefcase in his hand. It was locked, but that wasn't anything a few good whacks with a crowbar couldn't solve. As for the rest of his problems...

He had a feeling the rest of his problems were just getting started.

A howling siren made him duck behind a group of trash cans, and a moment later a couple cruisers roared past the mouth of the alley, casting monstrous shadows outlined in strobes of blue and red. Then they were gone, and their sirens slowly faded, leaving Hagen alone with the other creatures of the night. He climbed to his feet and stumbled off in the opposite direction, praying it would all make sense in the morning.

[Victor Fries]

Gotham University

The laboratory was dark, the only illumination coming from the faint glow beneath the microscope. Shoulders hunched, the keen eyes of Doctor Fries peered into the eyepieces, muscles tensed as if sheer force of will could somehow affect the outcome of the reaction taking place. Cautiously his fingers depressed the base of the syringe, a tentative dose of Formulation 12 introduced to the tissue on the microscope's glass slide. Before his eyes, tiny seeds of ice began to form inside the cell samples, sprouting into sharp, vicious shards that tore through the membranes like paper.

Balled into a fist, the Doctor's hand slammed into the workbench before him, but the hot flash of anger quickly subsided into cold despair. Twelve attempts, and twelve failures. Each thwarted effort diminished the possibilities; diminished hope; diminished her chances.

Victor's dark eyes glistened with sorrow as he stared into nothing. "I am sorry," he whispered.

[Green Arrow]

"I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Green Arrow's voice was as sudden as it was deep, distorted by a device liberated from Applied Sciences that sent vibrations quaking through his vocal chords to make his words unrecognisable. It was uncomfortable, and frustrating, but it was a necessary precaution: especially when dealing with those who would recognise Oliver Queen's voice if they heard it.

He knew the failure that Doctor Fries referred to: the funding that allowed Victor to equip his lab, employ his assistant, and continue his research here at the university had been approved by Oliver himself. Cryogenics was a cutting edge field, and one that in theory could be immensely profitable. It was also a field that Oliver - and Bruce - firmly believed should never be profited from, hence the good Doctor's no-strings funding, paid instead from Wayne Enterprise's charity budget. No one should ever put a price tag on saving lives.

"Sorry to sneak in unannounced," he offered, "But I need your help."

[Victor Fries]

Victor mustered a grunt. "Tell me your name, and I'll have security issue a keycard for you. You can use the front door like a normal person."

Green Arrow's stare was impassive and unflinching. "Or perhaps not."

He sighed, turning slowly on his perch, heaving himself stiffly to his feet. The lab was kept cold, as was necessary for his research; but as his joints had chosen to remind him, he wasn't getting any younger.

His lips drew into a tight line, fingers splaying idly on the worktop, a covert measure to help steady his aching frame. "So, what can I do to help the Emerald Archer this evening?"

[Green Arrow]

Emerald Archer. The media called him that. Some bright spark had decided that if Batman got to be called the Dark Knight, then Green Arrow deserved a nickname of his own. Sadly, that was the best anyone had come up with just yet. It sort of alliterated, and it was punchy enough he supposed; but he couldn't hear the word 'emerald' without thinking of the Wizard of Oz, and one nightmare about being chased through Gotham by flying monkeys was more than enough.

Reaching for his utility belt, he tugged out the vial of Clayface he'd scooped up earlier, and slid it across the workbench to the Doctor. "Believe it or not, this used to be a person." He could see the scepticism on the scientist's face; he hardly believed it himself, either. "Find out what changed him, and if there's a way to reverse it."

The Archer hesitated, thinking about the assurances he'd given the golem earlier. "It doesn't react well to electricity. If it's susceptible to anything else, I need to know."

[Victor Fries]

"Used to be a person," Victor echoed, only half paying attention to the vigilante as he spoke. Gone was the remorse - for now, at least - intense curiosity taking it's place.

He held the vial upwards, relying on the scant shafts of moonlight and streetlight from the lab's far side to catch a glimpse of what lay within, but it was an effort in futility. He turned; fumbled his failed chemicals aside, and set about preparing a fresh slide of the new biological puzzle. His fingers twitched at the focusing controls, sharpening the strange image that the magnification made visible. He watched as human cells oozed about alongside something else entirely; something that seemed inorganic, and yet somehow was.

"My god," he muttered softly to himself. "Where did you get this?"

No answer came. A brief frown was followed by an over-shoulder glance that confirmed his instant suspicion: as per usual, the vigilante had disappeared without a word. "Hello, Doctor Fries," Victor muttered sarcastically to himself, reaching for a pipette to test the sample's reaction to the addition of a little water. A faint sigh vented a small shred of his ongoing frustration. "How was your day?"