Aqualad had been trained for this. If nothing else, Black Canary and Batman had spent an enormous amount of time and energy making sure the Team was adaptable. After all, it was impossible to account for any and every situation in the League's line of work.

Not that it stopped Batman from formulating step-by-step guides to situations where he thought such plans would be needed. For some bizarre reason, Black Canary was always the one to convey these plans to the Team.

Maybe, Kaldur speculated dryly, it had something to do with the fact that when a woman with a supersonic scream spoke, you listened.

Today we're going to go over what to do when you find yourself in one of two situations. The first use for these steps is on a long term undercover mission. We may not have the chance to give you specifics on a cover story, so consider this a one-size-fits-all backup plan.

The second situation is if you're trapped in a single location for a long period of time. In the event you think a team member could be in a similar situation, but it's impossible to confirm one story with them, you yet again have a handy backup. This shouldn't ever happen, but the League's definitely been through weirder situations. If either of these apply, here's the general outline of what to do...

Kaldur mentally ran through the protocols he so often repeated for his team. They seemed rather obvious and simple to follow in theory, things only the more hotheaded on his team would forget to adhere to.

Marching through an almost-abandoned street like a prisoner, it was... unduly difficult to keep them in mind just then. Humans dressed in white uniforms surrounded him, pointing weapons that resembled blasters at his head in quite possibly the most hostile manner possible. These officers (or soldiers) seemed to presume his terror at their sheer presence, even seeming put off by the Atlantean's perfectly calm demeanor. Despite Kaldur's usual lack of a large ego, something in their behavior made him yearn for his currently absent water bearers so he could show just how i afraid/i he really was (i why were his water bearers gone where was his team what had happened to them were they on a mission was this Psimon's work again-)./i

Cold wind that smelled like the ocean he had been fished out of (Wally would surely be proud at the pun) blew through him, and the unpleasant sensation grounded his thoughts. There were rules to follow, and instructions to abide by, so that he could reunite with his team. Until then...

"Don't lash out, don't panic, and don't immediately try run out looking for the team. You have a worse chance finding them by aimlessly wandering than you do by staying put." Black Canary started, looking pointedly in Superboy's direction.

"The first thing to do is find out where you are, and then remember where you last had contact with the Team or League. Have at least a general idea of both of these locations. This will help you find one or the other, later."

He had a general enough idea for the answer to the first part. The sea behind him simply felt like the southern Atlantic, though something about the area was wrong in a way he couldn't begin to put his finger on.

The second half was much more difficult. Kaldur knew the rest of his team was in a similar predicament to his, knew it like he knew the ocean quickly retreating as he was marched forward. A completely different story, however, was when he had last seen them, if they had been on a mission, or even how he had gotten near this bizarrely desolate-feeling city at all.

The town itself felt distinctly run down, or maybe that was only the part he'd seen so far. Piers often had that quality, or at least they did in his experience. It was obviously a town focused on fishing, if it was any tell that the only people not out in boats were making repairs to their equipment. Those details made it almost as obvious as the generally fishy smell of the area.

Because the stench of piles and piles of dead fish was obviously going to help put him at ease.

Shoving those thoughts away was important, or the inopportune panic they inevitably led to was going to begin taking its hold on the Atlantean's mind. There were steps in place for a reason, and if he were honest with himself that reason was so that each member could keep an appropriately calm demeanor. It would reflect badly if he, the leader of all people, were to act rashly in such a situation. Priorities.

As the procession went deeper into a slightly more lively town, they approached a series of official-looking buildings that might as well have doubled as fortresses. Kaldur took a breath.

"Might I inquire as to where I am?" he asked to no one guard in particular.

To his surprise, Kaldur actually got a direct answer, if only after a nod from a man that must have been a superior officer. "Welcome to District Four." Fortunately the reply relayed much more information than was intended. Unfortunately, none of the new facts were particularly... good.

The accent as much as the unfamiliarity of the location's name let Kaldur know he was completely lost. The tone in which it was spoken let him know it was a death sentence.

Kaldur needed to find his team.

Instead he was escorted into a stone fortress of a building from which he did not emerge for weeks.

Step two: When unable to collaborate a single story with your teammates, feign total amnesia. Don't let anyone catch on that you remember a single detail.

The following is the first interrogation between Peacekeepers Willow and Oak Parneli and the prisoner (P06) captured on 3-12-74.

P06 is a blonde female approximately 15 year sof age. The interrogation was conducted on the same day of her capture.

3:42 P.M.

WILLOW: We can start with introductions, is that alright with you? I'm Willow, and this is my big brother Oak. We only want to ask you a few questions about how you got here. Isn't that right, Oak?

OAK: Hm.

WILLOW: That's Oak-speak for "yes." [laughter] Now, what do you remember about how you got inside the borders of District 8? That's quite an accomplishment for a girl your age.

P06: How should I know? News flash: Electrocution kinda screws with people's memory.

WILLOW: And we apologize for that unfortunate accident. You touched the walls surrounding the District without knowing they were live. I can only apologize for the fact that we weren't able to warn you about it before you startled and backed up against them.

P06: It's just so nice to know you care.

WILLOW: How about we move on to a different subject? Is there anything you want to tell us about yourself?

P06: Sorry, memory's screwed up, remember?

WILLOW: Can you remember anything at all?

P06: [Cheerfully] Nope!

WILLOW: There's no reason to be difficult about this. I just want to talk to you. But if you can't don't want to then, well, my brother tries to persuade people where I can't. [faux whisper] Don't tell him I said this, but Oak's a whole lot meaner than I am.

P06: So basically you two couldn't be more obvious if you had "good cop" and "bad cop" written on your foreheads.

WILLOW: I'm sorry, but this is your last chance, and then I'll have to leave Oak in charge.

P06: [censored]

[WILLOW exits.]

OAK: Answer the question.

P06: Which one?

OAK: How did you get into District 8 without security being alerted?

P06: Well you obviously found me anyway.

OAK: Don't change the subject.

P06: I didn't.

P06: Keep scowling and your face'll freeze that way.

OAK: Answer. The question.

P06: Ooh, scary. Whatcha gonna do, glare me to death? Or maybe you'll somehow find the courage to assault a teenaged girl with her wrists strapped to a table.

[P06 screams]

...

P06: WHAT THE [censored] IS IT WITH YOU PEOPLE AND ELECTROCUTING ME?

OAK: How did you get inside District 8?

P06: Not fair, I already answered that one.

[P06 screams again]

...

P06: Fine, you know what? Whatever. I don't remember anything. The first thing I remember is waking up behind that factory, these Peacekeeper guys swarm me, I back up against your convenient Wall of Death, and I wake up in the crappiest medical facility since... Since I don't even know what because I can't remember anything.

OAK: [pause] I'll be sure to pass this information.

[OAK exists.]

[4:25 PM WILLOW enters]

WILLOW: Hey, I'm back. I hope Oak wasn't too hard on you?

P06: Go to hell.

WILLOW: I thought so. It's okay if you don't want to talk about how you got inside. Do you need a minute?

P06: Took you half an hour to get in here after he left, so I'm pretty sure I've taken all the minutes I'll need. Besides, I can handle worse than a stupid wrist-sized version of a shock collar.

WILLOW: Of course you can. I've been thinking, though. You know my name, but I don't know yours. You may not want to tell me, but is there anything I can call you? Everyone's addressing you by a number, and I wanted to be a little more personal than that.

P06: I'm sure you have only the purest intentions at heart. Besides, I don't know if you've been listening to me, because it isn't that I don't want to tell you. I don't remember anything!

WILLOW: It doesn't have to be your real name. It can be anything, really.

P06: Wow, we're having entirely different conversations here, huh?

WILLOW: No, I'm listening to every word you say.

P06: Okay, you know what? Fine. Stop it with the sickeningly sweet act. There are very few people who can pull it off, and you are not one of them. Do that and I'll give you the first name that comes to mind. Who knows? Maybe it'll be mine.

WILLOW: Whatever makes you feel comfortable.

P06: Screw it, just call me ... Call me Alice.

WILLOW: Alice it is then.

Two months ago, Superboy wouldn't have stayed in District 10 long enough for them to even act threatening. He would have followed his gut instinct that his team was somewhere out there, then in a single bound leapt over the high walls of what seemed to resemble a glorified POW camp to find them.

One month ago, he would have emerged slightly more calmly from the crater he'd created. (Falling from the sky like a meteor and landing in the middle of a city was tradition among aliens, apparently.) Then the white uniforms would have shown up with weapons and he'd have done the same thing as before, but with more broken bones on the soldiers' end.

Two weeks ago Connor would have followed the "Peacekeepers" into their city hall. The damage on people and property would have been minimal, at least as far as the clone was concerned, while he looked for a place where reports came in. Then he'd have held his ground long enough to eavesdrop on a frantic phone call about how five other teens had mysteriously appeared across "Panem." Following this, his actions would have closely followed the first situation.

Unfortunately for everyone but the guards who tried to contain him, Superboy had crash-landed not two weeks ago, but now. He had followed the rules Batman and Black Canary had set down, not lashing out before he knew the entire situation or panicking and hurting someone who was simply as terrified as he. Connor had cooperated the entire time, assuming he could break out soon as the situation called for it.

Instead? It had given these threatening and bizarrely dressed people enough time to plan.

With the threat of his friends' lives being ended should he disappear or even act out, all the progress he'd made controlling his temper seemed worse than useless. The fact that he seemed to be subdued after hearing the threat proved to his captors they were right to doubt his lie about having amnesia after all.

Back in the real world, a burly man in his thirties emerged from his tiny bedroom and snapped the clone out of his thoughts. The man had now changed out of his white Peacekeeper uniform and into something that only looked marginally more comfortable. Connor knew he was the physically strongest Peacekeeper in the District, which made how easily the Kryptonian could have overpowered him even sadder. Still, by human standards he was nothing if not intimidating.

The Peacekeeper, who went by Bale, paused when he saw Connor simply standing there. His eyebrows rose to where his hairline would have been, if only he hadn't been bald. "You can stop standing in the middle of my living room now."

Superboy's blank look was one step away from a glare.

An angry exhale. "Look, you told 'em to call you Kon, right? Well Kon, this house is small enough as is. I don't need an extra waste of space clogging up my cramped hallways." The house was cramped, with a tiny kitchen, table, and couch taking up most of what was intended to be a general living area. Other random pieces of furniture and scattered bric-a-brac littered the floor space in between. The entire wooden house was blandly decorated and covered in a layer of dust. "Stick to the couch or go sleep outside, got it?"

Bale muttered to himself, disappearing into another unknown room. From the other side of the door, Connor's superhearing picked up most of what he was saying. "Don't know why ... let him out of containment in the first ... Jerks ordered me to keep an eye on ... got enough of an interest to pull that many strings for..." The rest was unintelligible even if it had been louder, but the things Connor had been overhearing for the past few days had been more than enough to lead him to a few conclusions.

The first and foremost being, his presence in District 10 was not an accident. Someone was willing to go as far as to set up living arrangements for him instead of a cold and leaking room in the back of a prison facility.

Uncomfortably, the clone brushed his way past the room's clutter, moving books that looked unopened off one end of the couch he was supposed to be sleeping on. He sat down, aware that trying to lay on his side would leave at least half of him spilling over the edges of the thin piece of furniture.

He resumed staring blankly, this time out a window opposite his position. It seemed to be late winter, so the hillside dotted with cows was only a greenish brown. Every room he'd been in so far smelled like the livestock that were the backbone of the area, or at least it seemed that way to him.

The house creaked a little, and a few drafts leaking in through the walls told him wind was picking up outside. The roof didn't look like it could hold out rain.

Step three: If possible, find a place to settle in and call your base of operations. You can't concentrate on recon if your attention is constantly diverted by the need for food and shelter.

Well, it was a start.

Step four: Make as many allies as possible in the surrounding area.

Or, Robin added only half-jokingly, try to make them hate you as little as possible.

5:00 A.M. William East (Wally West, really, but what kind of secret identity would he have if he gave it away to every alternate dimension that asked) is, tragically, awake. He rolls out of bed and his pajamas at a painstakingly normal pace. The sole set of clothes to his name consists of the long sleeved white shirt, blue over shirt, jeans and sneakers he arrived in. The clothes obviously fit at one time, but now they hang off of him like a kid trying on his dad's suit.

5:10 A.M Wally exists his repurposed closet ready to face the day. An electric door slides shut behind him with a small iwhoosh./i The rest of the house is Spartan in every sense of the word. Everything from the rounded, plasticine furniture to the white walls manages to feel vaguely threatening. It all fits the house's owner too, ironically enough. Said owner, Circuit himself, is waiting in the kitchen with his back to the door Wally came through. He swings open the front door when he hears the redhead enter and walks outside without so much as a pause or glance backwards.

5:30 A.M. The two merge with the rest if District 3's Peacekeepers all clogging up the road to their headquarters. The building hasn't even opened for the day yet, and Wally and Circuit are near the front of the entry line because of their early wakeup time. Circ, as people who aren't Wally tended to call him, seems to resent the four or five people in front of them. The lights flicker on inside the gray building automatically and the first in line steps up to be admitted inside.

5:34 A.M. Circuit's eye is scanned by a panel on the wall, then Wally's. The few members of the building's night guard that still linger nod to the former and ignore the latter completely. The redhead follows Circ like a ghost through a network of hallways, unacknowledged by anything not mechanical.

5:40 A.M. They stop in a hall of metal lockers. Circ places his hand on the one belongin to him, a brief light scans it in, and the door slides open. The white uniform inside is removed, and Wally waits while Circuit disappears into a changing room.

5:55 A.M. Wally is standing on a street corner behind his designated Peacekeeper. He hasn't been allowed outside a fifteen foot radius of the man since he'd been put under "strict observation." Apparently this isn't a large deviation from Circuit's normal job, which is standing on a street corner and intimidating people. It works, and Wally's fairly sure no one has so much as looked him in the eye for weeks. Not that he's lonely or anything.

9:18 A.M. Circ's hand reaches to his ear, taps the comm in it, and freezes while he listens to a voice on the other end. A smile is quelled on the edge of his lips, and then he's marching down the street with a sickening vigor. Wally follows because there's always a faint hope that he can do isomething/i to stop what's coming, and because he has no other choice.

9:22 A.M. A group of men in white uniforms is gathered outside of a small home in the better part of District 3. Circuit joins them in surrounding all exits, and once two more arrive the group acts on a silent signal to storm the front door. Wally watches the movement behind the house's drawn curtains from the road, completely tense. The door opens with a loud, splintering crash, and the kid they drag out can't be older than Rob. His leg is in a cast that's being carelessly banged around as he's carried by either arm. A woman races towards them, then stops in the doorway. She looks as helpless as Wally feels. The kid is dumped on the ground and the few passersby speed up their walking pace or stop to obviously, obnoxiously stare.

Two Peacekeepers balance him on his knees, and he has just enough time to make pleading eye contact with Wally before Circuit steps in between the two. With his first smile of the day, the Peacekeeper drives a fist into the brunette's stomach. Wally can only watch and run a finger over his upper arm, the invisible spot where they implanted a "kill switch." He tries to think of something he can do to stop what's happening, anything to be less useless and still continue with the Six Step Plan. Maybe it's time to give up on that whole thing anyway. (He's already tried to do both, and it turned out, well, they have the Thing of Death in his arm for a reason.)

11:15 A.M. The two stand in silence as Circuit is issued a new stark white uniform because evil futuristic dictator technology still isn't enough to get dried blood out of white cloth.

12:00 P.M. Lunch can be considered enough or even large for a normal human being, which is probably a luxury in any District. Trying to not feel like an ungrateful jerk is hard when he's slowly starving to death, though. Wally is doing his best not to stuff the entire meal down his face at once when Circuit turns from his own food to look him full in the face for the first time. Circuit explains he was told to deliver a basic message that Wally would probably know if he didn't have "amnesia." (The word is spoken with as much disdain as the Peacekeeper can muster, which is a lot.) Does he already know what the Hunger Games are? Wally shakes his head cautiously. A frustrated sigh and walk through of the Dark Days. How the Districts tried to rebel against the Capitol (big surprise there), failed, and were punished for it.

The sight of a little kid being beaten nearly to death wasn't enough to put the speedster off of his appetite, but kids being forced to kill each other in a giant gladiatorial ring probably should be. Almost is. However guilty it makes him feel, self preservation instincts have been taking priority lately. He finishes his sandwich and formulates a plan in order to feel less useless.

Step five: Locate any and all potential allies, League or otherwise. Know who your friends are, where they are, and how to get in touch.

Pat. A shadow landed on a tiny, inch-thick ledge.

The clink of tools being retrieved from a back pocket. More noises, soft scratches and scrapes and clinks. The sounds of a third-story window being efficiently worked open.

A door on the inside of the building swung open and the shadow froze, blending in with the dark outside. Hallway lights flickered on with an obnoxious buzz, and then the glare cast from objects inside rendered him practically invisible.

Able to see the contents of the hallway even better than before, the shadow watched as two well-dressed scientists ambled from one end of the hall to the other.

Outside, bare toes dug into a tiny ledge and calves cramped.

The men talked casually, pausing on occasion to laugh or adopt an exasperated face.

Rain's soft patter began, and the slick and cold was no help. It was a long way down.

Finally the two paused in front of the metal door, then exited. The lights flickered off. Fast, efficient, and slightly desperate sounds barely made a dent in the air around their source.

The window slid open and the shadow practically fell inside, albeit with perfect grace and silence.

Bare feet carried the shadow down a concrete floor, following the direction from which the scientists had just come. A metal door swung open, closed, and the hallway was left empty again.

Rain fell in from the still-open window because a good thief never cuts off a potential escape route, and Robin knew that better than most thieves.

Robin found the computers first. They were interfaced like nothing he'd ever seen before, but that was to be expected. Everything seemed to be just a little off in this alternate dimension.

It took him no time at all to master the basics. To make up for such a smooth beginning the coding language took much longer than he liked to figure out. Still, evil geniuses created new languages and operating systems dime a dozen. They all had the same roots, and this one was like every other he'd hacked in to. All but the best-encrypted files were soon wide open to him.

Learning more details about his arrival came first, and Robin lost no time finding the hastily sent messages that were frantically sent from District to District when he was first found just outside 5.

Six teenagers were found on the same date in six different areas.

District 3: A "William East" (really, Wally?) had been found to possess a genetic anomaly with undetermined ramifications. He had shown no signs of abnormalities, but was being kept under strict supervision and had been implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 4: The finer details of Kaldur's (no last name available) information were encrypted. All he could access on short notice was a small note that read "held for observation until further information can be aquired." Roughly a week later, another general notice went out stating he had been released from observation. Under strict supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 5: Timothy Grey, Robin was amused to find, had been deemed the most harmless. Being thirteen and tiny still held advantages, as much as his pride hated to admit it. Under light supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 6: Megan had apparently managed to shift her genetics to mimic a human's. The slight genetic anomaly they have still been able to find had earned her an "Under strict supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch" notice.

District 8: Alice Green was a normal human being with a talent for making enemies. Every note written about her was scathing, and no humane containment solutions were recommended. Nonetheless, she was under strict supervision and had been implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 10: Scientists had been unable to obtain a tissue sample from Kon (no last name available). Placed under strict supervision until a tracer/kill switch could be custom made into a metal bracelet.

Robin felt his lips twitch upwards into a grin and began to dig up a map. The sooner he could formulate a plan to gather them the better. He rummaged through files until he found what seemed to be a tourist's guide to Panem (should an outsider decide to take a road trip to an evil dictatorship, he guessed?). The map he found was friendly and brightly colored. Each District was marked with a small cartoon icon displaying its trademark industry.

Less whelming was that these six Districts were scattered to the far corners of what was clearly an alternate-universe North America. He memorized the location of every mark on the map because his training made it impossible for him to do otherwise.

The largest problem was that without a coordinated effort of some kind, the likelihood that they would be captured before they could even find one another was astronomically high. Not that he wasn't risking it already, but he needed the "harmless kid" image he'd managed to keep. Running away and being caught would destroy that.

Well, that and the Six Step Plan for Being Stranded had been imprinted into all of their brains which dictated he couldn't leave until he had more information about the surrounding world.

Now slightly more aimless in his quest for information, Robin opened several files at once and skimmed through them with no real purpose. Half of his instincts demanded he float back out the open window a few hallways back before he was caught. The improvised jamming equipment wouldn't hold back the building's silent alarm forever, not to mention the miniature taser he had embedded in his arm. Who knew what other exciting features they'd included with the small device.

On the other hand, this was most likely his last shot at this much information. There had to be something. One big event where the Districts had any chance at interacting with each other.

He thoughtlessly opened a file entitled "The Hunger Games," then grinned.

The room's metal door swung open with a loud clang. The echo that filled the mostly empty concrete room would have dazed most other people, but Robin reacted immediately. Grin melting into a scowl because these people had the worst timing ever, not to mention the way his limbs were jerking around, he stared hard at the screen and gathered the last few details he could about the event. At that point he only stopped because it was impossible to keep his eyes trained on any one object.

Were the Boy Wonder more coherent he would have made a witty comment that somehow mangled the English language. As it was, the most prominent of his thoughts were that 1) He now knew how the "kill switch" worked (not literally, thankfully), and 2) This freaking hurt.

Timothy Grey was dragged out of the room for interrogation, but that was okay. He so totally had what he needed now.

M'gann had spent her time mostly avoiding the thought of just how much District 6 reminded her of Mars.

Maybe it was how no one spoke to her. The way that, when she walked through the street after her assigned Peacekeeper much like a puppy on a leash, those nearby would not-so-subtly part to either side. To be fair, it wasn't as if she could claim the paranoia was unwarranted. The danger in the place she'd found herself in was worryingly high.

Wonder what the Capitol's up to with landing something like her here? Feel bad for anyone who gets caught up in that mess.

So if mommy won't let me go near, then there has to be something wrong with her. Maybe Ruby was right about redheads after all.

I can always smell a rat.

That was another similarity. No one would speak to her. Human customs and privacy aside, she was in dangerous territory, separated from her team, and had started out with no information about anything. Only at some point her frequent mind reading stopped being done out of necessity so much as habit.

Skin dyed that dark of a green? That has to be, like, tacky even in the Capitol.

"We're injecting you with a tracer that acts as a kill switch if you do anything we don't like." And also keeps track of your movements at all times. No idea why we were barred from telling you /ithat,i but whatever the higher-ups say...

In District 6, shapeshifting to blend in was more subtle than it had ever been on Mars. She'd never before had to do it at the cellular level to seem more human. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

Results say she's a perfectly normal 16-year-old girl. A girl that somehow made it into the most secure facility in the District without being detected, moreover while unconscious. This is going to be a fun debriefing...

All in all, M'gann was as lonely as she'd been back on Mars. The Martian was convinced it was only a cruel twist of fate that she'd ended up somewhere so similar. The way the sky lit up red at night from a light pollution and smog didn't help the comparison in the least. But then, there really was no place like home.

She'd never liked The Wizard of Oz much anyway.

More importantly, though, mind reading gave her access to important information.

Step five: Locate a well-known place or event all allies have access to, and rendezvous there soon as possible.

That was the important thing, and even Panem had to hold at least one event that allowed some contact with other Districts. She'd read a few minds deeper than Martian courtesy called for, but again these were desperate times. She knew the rest of her Team was out there. Somewhere.

But it wasn't as if Megan could pick apart someone's mind looking for a clue without them noticing. Specifics were needed for that kind of covert information-gathering...

Then the weather began to slowly warm, and a few hesitant, terrified thoughts about something called the Hunger Games began to surface.

Curious, Megan began to probe.

There was a lifetime of images in the mind of every person she searched. Watching children starve and fight and burn to death once a year, every year from the receiving end of a TV. The fact that what had motivated her on Mars was being used in such a way here was sickening, but not as much as the content itself...

Stopping that kind of thing was what made her a hero. It was why she'd come to Earth in the first place. It was possible to volunteer, and she could only hope that the others had waited in the Districts long enough to have the same idea