Len rarely wore the costume anymore, it was a dead giveaway. Imports wore costumes, normal people wore clothes. It was ratty and old, stained and torn and never fixed because this universe didn't have a Gambi, and no Rogue wore a costume that wasn't made by Gambi.

The recognition was why he pulled it on now, and for all its age, its wear, its tear - putting it on made Len feel like Captain Cold again. The droop that had started to plague his posture started to straighten, as the feeling made him feel like standing taller. He was a Rogue, and that meant dealing with things.

He wasn't sure where to start looking for the Rogues, most of them. Mirror Master was both the hardest and the easiest - how do you find a man in a mirror?

Cold found a nice deserted parking lot, and pointed his finger. His gun had been long since destroyed, but the Porter granted powers replicated it nicely. He starte shooting ice everywhere, not caring whether or not it resembled a real room, making as many reflective surfaces as possible, in all different sizes and shapes.

"Mirror Master." It came out rougher, quieter than he intended.

He spoke again, raising his voice, trying to get back that old command. "Mirror Master, you there?"