Two men stood before nearly a hundred different video screens, each containing the face and personal data of a different person. The two men themselves were very different, their appearances contrasting other in almost every way. The man on the left looked to be his fifties (though, in truth, he was actually almost double that). He was Caucasian, his brown hair was streaked with white, and he wore t-shirt and sweats. The man next to him was taller, Apache, younger (he looked in his early twenties), and wore a very expensive black suit with a maroon silk shirt and black tie.

"What are you thinking, John?" asked the older man, fumbling through sweats pockets for a toothpick he had brought with him.

The young man moved closer to the screens. "I believe we can eliminate Roy Harper from the list. His daughter, which seems to be a constant companion, is an unwanted liability and all our information seems to indicate the child's mother is none other than Cheshire, who currently heads Hydra. That isn't the kind of trouble we want."

Ted Grant looked to John Proudstar, then the screen, as he put the toothpick into his mouth. "I agree. I think we can strike him from the list. What about Malcolm Cage?"

John smiled, "Oh, he is a must. He is everything we are looking for. He is young, very smart, and very powerful. I have decided to take a trip to Gotham University personally and speak with him. He is about the only definite so far."

Grant nodded his head. "Seems like a good call. Kid had a lot of fight in him. What about Artemis Crock?"

John looked at her profile on the screen. "I am not sure. She does seem to have a lot of skill, but not a lot of ambition. Seems to be following along her family's history of committing petty crime. Also, I would like to add as many diversified-powered team on the team as possible. She doesn't seem to have power, just human skill. She is interesting though, we should have her on the 'maybe' list."

"Speaking of different powers," said Grant, "any ideas on the magic front?"

John smiled as he looked at Grant, seeing obvious distaste on his face. He knew how his companion felt about magic, and he had to admit, he felt the same way. Despite his culture, seeped in spiritual traditions, magic wasn't part of their usual world - they were both physical fighters, men of substance and action. Magic wasn't like that - it is hidden and secretive and not held up to easy understanding. John also thought that was the exact reason why they needed someone with magical experience on their team.

"Problem is," said John, "most of those magical types are a little loopy in their heads, or zealously pursuing some quest. Jonah Hex is off searching for some pieces of a magical artifact. Dr. Fate hasn't been seen in years. Timothy Hunter shows promise, but he is still in his teens, and still learning under Steven Strange. I still can't figure out which side Blue Devil is even on. Right now I am leaning towards Omen or Zatanna, although I am not still sure. Another problem with those magic-types are they tend to loners and very elusive."

"Yep," said Grant, gnawing on his toothpick. "Those magic folk are nothing but trouble. Speaking of trouble, have you located those two yet?"

John followed Grant's finger up to the pictures of Tawny Bowen and Pantu Hurageb, a.k.a. Dagger and Reaper.

"Actually," said John, his smile growing wider, "yes, and that is part of the reason we came up here this morning. One of our connections said that the reason for their sudden disappearance from the east coast, after that nasty string of robberies and drug-dealer killings, is that they decided to take a vacation in Florida. I put out some feelers, and some serious cash, and it seems that the two of them are indeed in Miami. I thought we might take a plane down there and check them out."

"Miami, aye," said Ted Grant, mulling the option. "Sounds like a plan to me. Some sun, lots pretty young women in small swimsuits, depressing old people living out their golden days playing shuffleboard. Sounds like a fun evening to me."

"I have to agree," said John, checking the weapons he carried beneath his trenchcoat. "You would think that someone who had made as many enemies as these two have who try to hide their tracks a little better. I have heard that some of the dealers they killed were from the Silvermane's branch of Maggia. I am sure Silvermane won't be content with letting these kids have a few million dollars of his money . . . "

"Yeah," responded Grant, "these kids are either really confident in their abilities or really stupid. You just don't go around pissing off some of the country's most powerful crime families, then go rent out the penthouse of Miami's finest hotel for a month and start throwing around cash like it was water."

"I am going for stupid," said John, "cause it took us no time to locate them here. I'll have to assume that anybody else with a fair amount of resources could locate them as well."

John and Ted watched the elevator door open, and were surprised to see someone was already waiting at the door of the room. One was a tall man dressed in a red leather mask and outfit, looking like a cross between a professional wrestler and a sexual deviant. The other one was a woman who looked like Cruela De Vil from 101 Dalmatians, with her black and white hair, excessive make-up, and outlandish leather outfit. Both carried an arsenal of automatic firepower.

As the man looked to be ready to kick in the door, the woman turned and noticed the two men inside the elevator and turned her rifle to fire at them.

"We got extra company, Trask!" shouted the woman, aiming her gun at the two men.

"Get down!" shouted Ted as he hit the button to close the elevator doors, then fell to the ground. John quickly did the same. Soon a spray of bullets was pounding the metal of the doors. Ted pushed the button to send the elevator to the floor below.

"Looks like someone beat us to the punch," said Ted, standing after the elevator started moving, and shots no longer were pelting the elevator door.

"Yes," said John, standing as well. "Assassins, probably sent by Silvermane or someone else. The stairs?"

The pelted doors opened, and the two men rushed out and headed for the stairwell. They quickly made their way up the flight of stairs, then stopped short of the door as they heard the hail of gunfire outside. Peering through the door, they saw nobody in the hallway, but heard a great deal of ruckus inside the penthouse suite. The two carefully made their way to the room's entrance. John peered inside, just in time to witness the female assassin being struck by several daggers of white light. The daggers seem to cause her a great deal of pain, pushing her back towards the glass doors, which led to the veranda outside. The female assassin fell through the glass, shattering it into thousands of pieces. Her weapon was flailing wildly, bullets flying into the ceiling.

John turned his attention to another part of the room. There the leather-clad assassin and Reaper were engaged in close-range combat. He noticed that Reaper had been shot, and blood now flowed down his left arm. Still, he was holding off the assassin, using his scythe blades to keep him at bay.

"You ain't gonna nick me with those, boy," said the assassin. "I know that those things will paralyze me. You and your little tramp are gonna give back all the Maggia money you stole, with interest . . . "

"Little tramp?" shouted Dagger, from behind him. As John watched, Dagger fired several energy daggers of white light into the man's back. The man's back then arched. He screamed out in pain, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Suddenly both turned as they noticed the two men standing in the doorway, clapping at their performance.

Dagger turned towards them, prepared to fire more energy blasts.

"Whoa!" shouted Ted Grant, holding his hands up. "Slow down girl. We aren't with these two fools."

"What do you want then?" asked Reaper, holding his arm. He was losing a lot of blood, and he knew it. He slumped against the wall, and Dagger made her way towards them, never taking her eyes off of the two men.

"Well . . . " said John, slowly moving into the room. Suddenly his arm flew out, and the firearm in it fired towards the veranda. The taser, which came from the gun, struck the now revived female assassin, sending thousands of bolts of electricity into her, knocking her unconscious.

"As I was saying," said John, acting as if nothing had happened, "First, it would appear, we need to get you some medical assistance. Then, I would like to offer the two of you a job . . . "

"A job?" asked Tandy Bowen, Dagger. She was surprised by the revelation to say the least.

"Indeed," said John, taking out his cellphone, and programming a set of numbers. "Now, if you would allow my friend here to help your friend out, we will get into my helicopter waiting on the roof, and get out of here. I am sure all the noise here has attracted the local authorities, and to be caught here would really be beneficial to none of us."

"Yeah," said Reaper, weakness in his voice. He was smart enough to realize he was in trouble. He was feeling light-headed, and getting out of this hotel unnoticed, by themselves, would be impossible. He didn't like needing people, but he needed this mysterious native man and his partner right now.

Ted Grant went over to the man, and gently heaved him up, and the four made their way out of the destroyed hotel room, and made their way to the stairs, which took them to the roof above.

"How is the kid doing?" asked Ted Grant, taking another punch at the weight bag before him. John Proudstar stood about fifteen feet away, kicking at a dummy.

"He will live," grunted John, between kicks. "He is tough, they both are."

"Think they are going to work for your team?" asked Grant.

"I hope so," grunted John, sweat pouring from his head. "They certainly have what we are looking for. They are tough, powerful, very independent-minded, and morally 'ambiguous', but not so much as they don't know right from wrong. They are just kids, and I think with the right training and motivation, both can be very beneficial to my mission. Plus, they seem to be motivated by cash, and those are the easiest types to keep under thumb."

Ted Grant just nodded at the last statement, putting several punched into the bag. It was statements like that which made him remembered why he had promised to keep an eye out on John in the first place. When John's father had died, and he made Ted promise to look after the kid, at first he had been skeptical. He was an adventurer, not a baby-sitter. But over time, Ted had seen the kid's convictions, his plans, his power. He needed guidance, and Ted, with fifty plus years of adventures, had plenty of that to go around.

"You can calm down, Silvermane," said Richter, calmly, to the video-phone before him.

"Calm down," yelled Silvermane, "How can I calm down? Your two monkeys failed. Both of those thieves escaped and I didn't receive one cent of my money back. This is unacceptable. It is my reputation on the line . . . "

"I realize that Silvermane," said Richter, "and I humbly apologize for Trask and Lady Killer's failure . . . "

"I don't have to take my business to Assassination Bureau, do I?" spouted Silvermane, angrily.

"Now, Silvermane," said Richter, his calmness obviously ruffled by the mention of his chief competition, "there is no reason to go all crazy. The defeat of those first two was a small trifling, which we will rectify immediately. I have made your case my top priority, and as soon as Reaper and Dagger are located, I will dispatch my best agents to take care of them and we will have your money back in no time . . . "

Before Silverman could spout another venomous spew, Richter severed the video link and poured himself a vodka martini.

"Old, metal, buzzard windbag," Richter mumbled to himself as he sipped his martini and thought to himself. He had a reputation to uphold, and in this business, reputation is everything. Those two kids had made him look bad. Them and whomever had helped them escape. They were going to pay. All of them were going to pay.