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[2020mod]

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[dishbestserved]

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?"

[datglass]

"See, told ya he was alive. Cold's no wee man to go down easy," Evan said aloud, flicking across a plane of ice. It was another minute or two before he realized he was being addressed. His face peered in through one slick of ice, his arm sticking out of another, waving.

"Awright Cold, fit like? Nae bad, myself, thenk ya, what's--" He drifted for a moment, squinting out at Cold. Evan did still have on his costume, which was ragged and fit loosely on some of his malnourished limbs. He didn't move out of the mirror yet, alert enough to be wary. "Awright Cold, ya need something?"

[dishbestserved]

Evan was in a bad shape, he could tell. For some reason Cold had convinced himself that it was going to fine, a bit weird, but just like the old days. But Evan was so -- lost, a shell of who Cold remembered.

Cold spoke calmly, and a bit more gentle than he normally would, as if McCulloch were injured or bedridden. "Touchin' in."

He paused, considering. Would Mirror Master really be useful when he seemed so -- broken. But Evan was a Rogue, and Rogues watched each other's backs. Maybe this'd be good for the man.

"I'm gettin' the gang back together. I'm bringin' back the Rouges."

[datglass]

Evan grinned out at him, his arm slipping back into the reflection of the ice. He still didn't come out. "Bringing back the Rogues," he repeated, in a hazy and thoughtful intonation. "What for? What're we lifting?"

The idea brought enthusiasm to his mind, though still he approached it with caution. He wasn't proud of hiding, but it was preferable to being de-powered, imprisoned, and tortured. Anything was. "Anything at all, that's damn right. Mind that, now," he echoed, agreeing with his thoughts, then glanced at Cold again.

"I did notice ya got your costume on. Wondered."

[dishbestserved]

"First we get the team back." After that? He wasn't so sure. He stalled.

"It's been too long since we've had each other to watch our backs. It's not about stealin' anymore, it's about survivin'."

He spoke more confidently as he went on. This is what being a Rogue meant, this is what being a Rogue was. And there was another point, one he had been thinking about. This world was different, and it had changed. The old game was gone. The lines of division were meaningless.

"The whole team, McCulloch. All of 'em that we can find."

[datglass]

"All of them," he repeated again, and held up his hand. "You, me, are Trickster and Piper still around?" He couldn't remember if he'd caught glimpses or if he'd imagined them. "'Course they would, aye, just like 'em too. Even if we could get things done ourselves, Cold and me," he added, aloud, to himself.

But he agreed with Cold. There was a value in reconnecting again; no matter what they did, they were always stronger in numbers. The Rogues were practically indestructible -- except from themselves, of course.

Now he leaned out of the reflection, arms crossed, gesturing with a hand that kept shaking.

"Ya know where they are? I dinna remember when last I saw hide or hair of either."

[dishbestserved]

"Last I heard, Trickster was with the circus, and it's comin' back to town."

He wasn't a hundred percent certain James was still with it, but it was worth a look. Cold could have double-checked, made sure, but he was tired. He was getting old. It would be easier to make sure if Evan was on board.

As for the other, he'd had a very interesting conversation a little bit ago. He put forth the idea carefully, knowing how it sounded, especially given their history.

"Heard a rumour that Piper's pipin' for the pro-regs. So we either save him from himself or put him down."

[datglass]

"Fair choice, that," Evan said with a grin, weighing the options with his hands. "Always wanted to put one between his eyes." He thought about it, not liking the idea of Piper piping something at him. "If he keeps his wee flute t'himself. Suppose we cannae get him out; I get the shot, aye?"

There was something perfectly absurd about the idea of a circus coming into this ruin of a City. Evan chuckled at the thought -- well, there should be Hall of Mirrors they could drag Trickster through, at least, simple! -- and disappeared a moment into the depths of the reflection again, taking a good five minutes to himself. When he returned finally he had two beers in hand, and reached out of the ice to toss one to Cold.

"Awright, count me in. They're a wee bit warm, Cold, mind, not that that's any problem for you. Have no fridge in there, know? Cannae be ersed to keep a storage elsewhere."

[dishbestserved]

"You get the shot. Don't jump the gun if it comes ta that, wait for my order."

He waited for Evan to come back, and caught the beer. He automatically cooled it instantly down in his hands, a habit that not even hiding beat out of him. As long as no ice formed, as long as the glass didn't fog, it was safe.

"Y'want me ta cool down yours?"

[datglass]

"Aye, sure thing," Evan said, but soon after added, "If his orders are fit, of course. Let's see when the time comes, shall we?" as he fiddled with his Mirror Gun, slinging it to his belt so that he could open his beer. He took a sip, then another, then looked at Cold as if he'd just then spoken. He held the bottle over.

"Ya mind?"