The low-key depressed state of Emiko is lost, it seems, only on Harley. Stargirl watches the girl leave ahead of everyone else but does not pursue it or offer any kind of attempt to stop her. Emiko might think herself unique from girls her age, but Stargirl remembers very clearly what it was like to be Emiko’s age in a very different era; she knows the girl needs her space, not an adult to force her into socializing right this moment.
Connor breaking down how most of the gathered didn’t know how to fight properly, makes Pam unconsciously lower her head and look over at Harley. Harley has not let the shifting tensions of the conversation spoil her appetite, evident by her shoveling a heavy spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“I sure know how to clobber the creeps!” Harley says raising her fist. “Pammy over there wasn’t much a fighter but she really laid out those fake goons, too! And all it took for her was a pinch. Ain’t that right, Pammy?”
Pam nods and smiles nervously “Right, um, I got a little carried away. So thankful they all turned out to be fake.” She says and is also thankful for Stargirl giving her an approving nod. As if anticipating Pam’s worries, the older woman says to all of them:
“You will get carried away at times, it’s to be expected of young people with special abilities. We are here to help you with that as well, we are not here to punish we’re all here to learn all about the responsibility we have to ourselves, and the world.”
“Now.” Stargirl claps and in an instant the feast, cups and all, is gone from the table. “Off to the dorms and bed with you all. We do have a curfew of ten’o’clock every night, midnight on weekends, please respect it or our master chef Doctor Fate will make your next meal unpleasant. Breakfast will be here, every day at seven sharp. At nine your first teacher will come collect you, and so on throughout the day until the regular classes are done. Then, the fun part begins!” She rubs her hands together and beams. “So excited for you all! This is gonna be a blast!”
“YAYYY!” Harley claps like an excited seal and bounces in her chair before hopping out. She again hooks her arm around Meghan’s. “We got enough time to play some games before bed! You play games right? Orrrr we could tell scary stories! I’ll warn ya, I got some real spooooky stories up here.” She knocks herself on the top of the head.
Pam rubs a spot on the table where her drink had been. Not so much as a drop of condensation. Would Doctor Fate be able to teach her magic? Her powers seemed like they could be biological or magical; it was very hard to tell feeling it all from the inside. Seeing the food appear and disappear like that, yet feeling it in her stomach all the same, really has Pam questioning reality on her way back to the dorms with the others. She does at one point look down one of the hallways, and wonders if one of the adults were going to bring her back before curfew or if they trusted her to return on her own. The adults had an odd set of things they, the kids, were responsible for. Still more authority than she was used to from her home life.
That night the kids would get some time to know each other one-on-one. Some were not much for conversation with strangers, while Harley is eager to get to know Meghan, and Pam navigates her way around Dinah with her few social skills.
Later that night
The Keystone Savings & Loan building had closed its doors at the usual five in the afternoon and the last cashier closed down the drive-through the half hour after. It sits quietly in the larger quiet zone of Keystone City. Its dark windows are only occasionally lit from within by a guard’s flashlight. A police cruiser is parked one block South, but not as planned backup; the two officers were in the nearby buffet on their meal break. The city itself hums low and slow. No hustle and bustle tonight.
Trouble comes in a dark blue (or is it black? There will be debate about that later) 1977 Chevy Nova at a slow nondescript speed with a law-abiding signal for the right turn down the street towards the Savings & Loan. It passes the empty police cruiser and both officers would have seen it pass if they hadn’t been reading fortunes from their cookies.
The Nova parks in front of the Savings & Loan. Two people exit the vehicle; the one who had been driving wears a dark blue winter coat with a fur-lined hood and a mask with goggles, the kind worn when skiing, the other dark brown coveralls and a welding helmet. Both carry heavy guns held in one hand and out. Winter Coat fires first at the doors, the gun emitting a quick high-pitched beep then the air molecules between the emitter and the doors turn to ice before the doors as well, and they shatter.
The pair runs into the building as the alarm blares and the four guards converge on the lobby.
“Freeze!” yells one guard a portly man with mutton chops and a heaving chest.
“Easy.” says Winter Coat. He pulls the trigger and makes a sweeping motion at all of the guards who fire at the pair. The bullets freeze in mid-air then clatter-shatter on the floor. The guards are engulfed in a white stream of frozen air and when it clears they stand frozen in place. Overalls laughs a laugh of youthful cruelty.
The pair hop over the desk and let the alarm blare away. Down the street the police hear it as they exit the buffet before they hear dispatch, and radio in they are en route. The criminals come to the large vault. Winter Coat reaches into his jacket for something to crack it open, but his partner stops him with a grunt.
“I got this one.” Coveralls tells his partner leveling his gun at the bank vault.
“Just don’t burn all the loot.” Winter Coat warns and steps back, covering the lobby. Coveralls pulls the trigger. A stream of fire shoots out of the barrel and sprays against the vault door. In seconds it heats up to be white-hot then a hole melts through it. Behind the welder’s helmet Coverall’s eyes are wide and he breathes slower, heavier than before. Once the hole has melted wide enough, he lets off the trigger.
“You ever see anything so beautiful?” He asks his colder partner staring transfixed into the hole. Winter Coat shrugs and uses his gun to kill all the heat within that opening, making it safe to walk through.
“That’s the beauty of it, partner. We got so many more amazing things to see and steal.” He answers grinning under his mask at the shelves of cash waiting for them in the vault. He doesn’t waste time; he pulls a canvas bag from within his coat and starts to stuff it with as much cash as he can grab. Starting with the shelf of hundred dollar bills. He gets in just under two grand before a flash of lightning and red streak zooms into the vault, snatches not only the bag from his hands but both of their guns and headwear.
“Here I was expecting the usual robbery situation.” says The Flash standing in front of the hole holding their guns by their barrels in both hands. He looks at the pair with a bemused smile. “Can’t say I’ve seen two kids cause this much trouble.”
“We’re not kids, Flash.” Winter Coat counters with contempt on ‘Flash’.
“Give our guns back, we’ll show you what real trouble is!” Coveralls barks at the hero with his nostrils flared and eyes fixed on his gun.
“You two must have tough home lives.” The Flash shakes his head. The two officers approach from behind. “Officers, if you would, I’d just like a few words with these two. Don’t worry they are disarmed and the only things in their pockets are some gum, matches, loose change and winter coat has a beeper.”
“You got it, Flash, just you know, make it quick.” One officer jokes.
“I’ll try.” The Flash replies smiling then clacks the guns together lightly. “Now then. Where did you two get these? And please tell me those poor men out there are going to be alright, you two are already in a world of trouble without multiple murders.”
“They’ll be fine. Gun is set to Chill, not Kill. We came here for loot, not a body count.” Winter Coat answers his second question first. “As for the guns.” He shrugs and smirks “A lot of cereal box tops.”
“That’s at least a ton of Cheerios.” Flash sighs “Your names and names of parents, please. I’d like to save the police the time and legwork of finding and informing them.”
“Captain Cold.” says the one in the winter coat.
“Heatwave. Gun. Now. I won’t tell you again.” the other warns.
“Nice nicknames.” The Flash nods. There is a low beep from Captain Cold’s left pocket. “And that would be your beeper. Go ahead, have a peek who it is and you can make them your one phone call.”
“Thank you, I hope it's someone who can help.” Cold takes the beeper out of his pocket and looks at the little screen as it keeps beeping.
“Whaddya know? It is.” He presses the button.
Cold’s gun beeps and whirs. The Fastest Man Alive(so far as he is aware) thinks at superspeed to run away and bring the gun somewhere it's likely an explosion wouldn’t hurt anybody. Yet he does not move with that thought. Himself, and the two officers behind him, are instantly covered in a plume of snow from the cold gun, and like the guards are frozen in place covered in a thick layer of ice.
“There is only one thing I don’t like about my gun.” Cold walks up to Flash and looks him in the eye while pulling the guns from his frozen grip. Heatwave gets their things and loads up the bag with more cash. “See I found out when shot with this thing, even on the Chill setting you’re frozen right to the ear drums. So you can’t hear any of this.” He extracts the guns and tosses Heatwave his gun. Heatwave tosses Cold his goggles and mask. He looks up at The Flash’s frozen eyes. “So read my lips. You and the rest of the JSA are over. New blood is here and you old folks ain’t gonna cut it. Case in point. And we’re just the very tip of the iceberg.” He puts on the mask and goggles, and gives Flash another blast from the cold gun.
"Let me kill him." Heatwave puts his gun up under Flash's chin.
"No can do, partner. Loot, not bodies, remember?" Cold pushes down the gun and scoff-laughs "We'll get another chance to put down Old Yeller."
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