Breathe, inhale, count again.

It had taken Obi-Wan hours to find a place flat and open enough to do this in. He'd originally wanted a clearing or courtyard, but in the end the only thing that had turned up was a flat rooftop near what he'd dubbed the "North" end of the strange city in this insane place.

Step, turn back, begin again. Third form, faster now; breathe, inhale, and lift—

Comforting basics, he'd run this form a thousand times or more. He'd mastered it. There were no fancy moves, nor clever flourishes in this calm ballet. The Lightsaber hilt was warm and comforting in his hand; familiar design, familiar grip, the hum a constant stream of nostalgia near his ear as Obi-Wan whirled it again into the third stance, then the fourth.

Start again, faster, faster, the blade became and arc of light, blinding quick in time with hurried, open-mouthed breaths, less meditation than workout, now. One arm extended in a lunge— that was a touch of form two, unneeded. Calmer, slower, hold and block, it was like shadowboxing as the Jedi ran through the exercise, imagining with eyes closed a barrage of enemies and blaster-fire against a lone man and a beam of trapped power. The mock-fight cusped and faded, and in the wake left peace. This was the will of the Force glowing bright within him, re-centered and ready to face whatever this experience threw at him. If he wasn't meant to be here, then he wouldn't. Whatever else may be happening, he must be able to do some good in this place. That was his duty, as a Jedi Master, as a tool and expression of the Force within him.

And he opened his eyes, look up and smiled as the hissing crackle of a deactivating Lightsaber punctuated his meditational exercise, "Well, hello. Come for a lesson, have we?"

Sitting on one of the rooftops, looking out over the city, was none other than Jason Todd. Clad in his plant suit, leather jacket, and red domino mask. His gun was stashed in his coat pocket and his knife, well his knife was hidden. He didn't exactly know what to do in this place. He could go and locate Tim and mess with him some more, but that would get old fast. He didn't want to grow tired of messing with the kid.

He could get out and be social, but that went against everything he was. He didn't go out and make friends. There was no point, and no one here seemed to be of any interest to him anyways. Plus if one of them pissed him off and he was forced too... The tentacles from his first day here sprang to mind and he shivered. He hated tentacles. So getting pissed and beating anyone up was out of the question. At least in a place where the bitch would see him.

He growls a bit and kicked a piece of stone off of the rooftop and watched it fall to the ground. This was stupid. Why the hell would this ship bring him here, if he couldn't do anything? He'd rather be fucking dead! Well.. not dead. But at least back home he could have had a chance of..

He shook his head. He wasn't going to think about home right now. Too much had happened, he wanted to forget it all. The plan to take back Gotham as the Batman had failed, badly. It was time to move on. Make a new plan. He just had to figure out what the hell that plan was going to be, then how he was going to go about it.

It was going to be a long night... day... whatever.

Owen smiled as he surveyed the park in the city. A little bit of terrain and obstructions here and there, but for the most part, plenty of open space. The perfect place for a good workout. He knew he could get the sensorium to take care of this, but right now, he wanted to get a little more of this place mapped out.

He shed his jacket and hung it over a bench, pulling just a standard run of the mill boomerang from a clip. He gave it a lazy toss, letting it arc and come back to his hand at the same spot with a satisfying 'slap' against his skin. He then started up a gentle jog around place, still hurling and catching it. He could feel his muscles start to twitch, but he kept his speed normal. He still hadn't quite managed to always make the superspeed happen, but he could pretty well keep it normal when he wanted to. Hard for running to be good exercise when it's effortless.

He grunted as he made a hurl straight ahead a bit stronger, then broke into a run to try to catch it before it would reach all the way back to where he threw it. This was good and relaxing, but still needed a bit of focus. The perfect level of activity for when you didn't want to think about other things.

Otacon had a problem. Well, a problem slightly more pressing than the sentient ship, aliens, multiverse, and--

...actually, it was a relatively small problem.

The engineer was going to need two things if he was staying here for an extended period of time: the more important of the two was his labcoat and by extension the assorted junk in the pockets of said labcoat. (The other was a bottle of brown hair dye, but that could wait).

He remembered confiscating a pack of cigarettes from the Snake in his timeline, and now the one he met here was looking for some. Of course, Otacon wouldn't give them up without a fight. Not to mention he could use the several different screwdrivers in the pockets of his coat as well.

And that brought him to the problem at hand...he was quite lost. Otacon hadn't yet realized, however, that due to either a streak of dumb luck or some twisted form of instinct he was exactly where he needed to be.

Down in the room that the conspirators had chosen to hide Sam after busting him out of detention, the group had gathered for one last time. On a table lay John Winchester's journal, which--with the help of the conspirators--now had a map of the area surrounding the precinct and all the possible routes to the hub, which then led to the rest of the ship. There weren't many of them. And most of those that were there were normal humans. The other side--the side that had chosen to protect the Yeerk--had them both out-numbered and out-gunned. That meant that the plan had to adjust for that.

Hitting them in transit, while they were transporting the Yeerk back to the medbay, had been decided was the best option. It meant they wouldn't be taking on the entire security team but, instead, a much smaller detail. People would be positioned in various locations, meaning the detail would have to face a fight on several flanks if it came down to force. And, finally, while waiting for the security detail to arrive at a narrow street or a bottle-neck was the most effective battle strategy, it was likely the most deadly. Therefore, they'd opted for a wide-open area for two reasons.

First, because of the huge spectacle that had been made with the trial, there was bound to be a crowd. Since crowds can more easily form in wide-open areas with lots of space, that meant most of the security personnel would be tied down trying to keep them under control. Which meant less chance of reinforcements. And having a large crowd nearby had one other benefit: it would put a damper on the super-powered ones, they were less likely to use their full powers with a bunch of innocent bystanders around that might possibly get hurt because of it. Not after the battle with the cockroaches.

Second, it gave more room for bystanders to flee once--and if--the fighting started. People would be less likely to get trampled trying to run to safety if there was room for everyone to run.

The plan was set and agreed upon. And there was even a surprise or two in store for the security detail escorting Schmuz to safety.

"Ok," Sam said, looking up from the map to the group around him. "So, we're all 'go' with this, right? If anyone wants to back out, now's the time to do it. All I ask is that you let the rest of us do what needs to be done and wait here until we're gone."