(Myaardi)

"You are on Myaardi," the knight said. "My name is Kire. I am the defender of this town." He swept his arm around him to encompass all  the surroundings.  At the mention of Chong, he spoke. "I do not know of this 'Chong' you speak of."

"Perhaps we can introduce ourselves in your tower?" Dr. Zanasiu proposed.

Kire nodded. "Very well. I shall meet you there to let the guests of the tower know about your arrival." He then flared out his burning wings and practically rocketed into the sky.

Deimos looked at the tower. "We can probably get there faster if we ride the dune buggies," he said.

"One problem. We don't have any," Dr. Zanasiu replied, looking at the shuttlecraft.

Mr. Bigmouth began to deploy a radio transmitter. "I'll request an unarmed pair from Captain Carson."

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(Pottermore)

"Lord Stripetail," Captain Carson said as she looked around. "I will be taking some of my crew to explore this town but get ready to evacuate. Something tells me that we landed in a very bad location."

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The two Aurors finished jotting down their notes and used a portkey to teleport back to the Ministry of Magic's headquarters.

A distant popping noise indicated that someone had Disapparated. Almost certainly an Auror thanks to the lockdown of civilian floo networks and anti-apparation charms.

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The two Aurors handed the report to Minister Fudge and awaited further orders.

Footsteps and loud protests outside the door indicated that the Aurors were likely dragging off a Pinkstone sympathizer  to be interrogated.

Inque had discreetly exited through a backdoor near the bathrooms. As much as she wanted to see her handiwork, the first rule of a saboteur or assassin was to never stay around to watch the fireworks.

As she exited into the dirty alleyway, she ducked behind a dumpster and changed her form. This time, she took the form of an what seemed to be a broken statue of a man in a heroic pose. Said "statue" was lying against the dumpster as if it was too heavy to toss into the dumpster itself.

Inque paid for her meal and headed to the bathroom to ostenably wash up. On the way, she passed by the kitchen and overheard something about a "squirrel splice wanting some Delmonico potatoes".

Stripetail, she thought. She headed into the stalls and quickly changed shape. She emerged as a brown haired, tanned woman dressed in the diner's usual uniform. She then entered the kitchen.

"There you are!" the head chef exclaimed. "We've been waiting for someone to get Lord Squirrel his potatoes!"

"Well, we can't keep nobility waiting," Inque said as she picked up the tray containing the luxurious mashed potato dish garnished with grated cheese, buttered breadcrumbs and a decadent beef reduction. As she carried it out, she discreetly spiked it with some Dip provided to her by Gabriel, hoping the strong flavor and deep brown color of beef reduction would hide the distinctively colored and scented toxin.

She carried the dish to Stripetail. "Your potatoes," she said, placing the dish in front of Stripetail.

"Clear," John said. He sighed and placed his head down on the desk. He was done for and he knew it.

The only sound that could be heard was the slow metronomic sound of the overhead fan whirring.

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The Gotham Diner was one of Neo-Gotham's few remaining buildings from the city's early days and it was the best place to get authentic Gotham cuisine. As a result, it was almost always crowded with many, many guests of all stripes. But now, it was even more crowded withe Laffalympics in town and the fans and athletes wanting a taste of true Gotham cooking.

Inque had blended in perfectly with the crowd. No one gave the slender, attractive black-haired woman any second looks as she was given a booth. She looked around for Stripetail. All she had to do was wait until he went to use the bathroom and then she could strangle him with out of view of everyone.

The public defender looked at the charges as well as some of the evidence. She shook her head. "John," she said. "The evidence is overwhelming. I don't know if we can fight this."

"How can you prove it was me?" the teen demanded.

The public defender slid a series of pictures showing him leaving the scene of the latest Jokerz caused fire and heading straight to his house. And some additional information on the pictures indicated that it was taken by a "Captain Fairchild". "And that's not all. Security cameras on the nearby shops caught you in the act of arson." She looked at the teen who had a horrified look on his face upon realization that he was facing decades, possibly even centuries in jail over these crimes. "During trial, I think you'd best take the deal."

John nodded but said nothing as he practically stared through everyone.

Captain Carson was in briefing room one. She looked at the clock on the wall.

The projector was on and displaying some information about Myaardi that had been gleaned from Briggins's communications and research.

Mr. Bigmouth was nursing a glass of seltzer as he sat on the table awaiting the others.

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Ms. Swimmer had her usual cup of hot green tea. Her skin glistened with water from a fresh dip in the spa after a quick workout session with the Mawashiians. She waited for the rest of the group to show up.

Captain Carson nodded. "With the high magic, I'd recommend the Omnidrate and Ms. Swimmer. I'll send over some shielded personnel as well with environmental probes and a few hoverskiffs." She checked the navigation console. "Looks like Briggins uploaded the coordinates as well. Also, I have overheard the mention of a planet called Pottermore? What is your next destination once Phoenix is fully repaired?"

Of course, John Hayland's request for a lawyer was swiftly provided. Granted, since his parents could not get a lawyer in such short notice, a public defender was appointed to him.

"Mr. Hayland," an officer said as they opened the door. "Commissioner Gordon wishes to speak to you."

The public defender then looked the teen. "John," the woman said. "Let me do the talking."

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At Gabriel's order to start attacking the tourists, some of the Jokerz balked at the random, wanton violence. Of course, those who were opposed were quickly pressured into joining by the more violent members.

Of course, the Weasels had no such compunctions. Their first victim was a young couple who had come to Neo Gotham for the games. They had gotten lost and turned down into a somewhat rougher area of town that was marked with low end stores selling questionable goods and graffittied walls.

"I think we took the wrong way," the man said.

It was then that a man approached the duo. His ragged work clothes indicated that he may have been a local. "You guys tourists?" The man's voice was rough but he was genuinely interested.

"We're looking for the stadium," the woman said.

"Go back the way you came and take a right down Wayne Avenue" The man spat out a wad of some chewed tobacco into the gutter. "This ain't a place for tourists. Now git before someone sees ya as easy prey." The last phrase wasn't delivered in an unkind manner but the words themselves were menacing.

"Thanks!"

"Hey, I think we found something!" The woman turned around to see a group of humanoid weasels.

"Think she might be interested in our cosmetics?" one said.

"Not interested," the woman replied, glaring at them.

"Honey, let's get our of here," the man replied.

The rough man glared at the group. "I dunno who the hell you are but this ain't your neighborhood." He reached behind himself for what was presumably a weapon. He never got a chance to draw it as one of the Weasels as a spring-loaded boxing glove launched out of a pocket in his pants. As it was harder toon setting, the effect was quite brutal as the man's skull caved in under the powerful blow, splattering droplets of blood on the sidewalk.

"Now then, let's give those two a 'cosmetics sample'," the second Weasel replied as his companion tried to stuff the spring-loaded boxing glove into his pants.

The couple tried to run but a quickly thrown portable hole tripped up the duo. Screams echoed through the neighborhood as dip was poured onto the duo.

I'd say Sierra and Rinkus are some of the darkest LBT villains. The other villains of LBT were natural disasters or predators looking for food. These guys just wanted power. It's a very unusual motive for an LBT villain.

John Hayland and his mother were both sitting inside the sparsely furnished interrogation room at the local precinct of the Gotham City PD.

The teen folded his hands and remained coldly silent. The glass of water on the table was untouched.

"John," the officer said. "We just want to know what happened yesterday."

"I won't say anything until I get a lawyer," the teen replied.

"Johnny," the boy's mother said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just tell them what you know."

"Mom," he said. "You know how it is; don't talk to the cops unless you got a lawyer with you."