Mairzey: Chuck?
Chuck Sirianni: What is it, honey?
Mairzey: Your old footlocker's beeping. At first I thought it was the smoke detector.
Chuck Sirianni: That ain't no smoke alarm. It's a sound I never thought I'd hear again. There's trouble on Blackhawk Island.
Superman: Aztek didn't find anything else?
Fire: Sorry, Superman. It was a bad lead.
Superman: Nobody's fault. When you guys do pick up Luthor's trail, call me. I want in.
Shayera Hol: You know what? This new monitor-duty rotation isn't so bad. No more overnights unless you want them. Only one shift a week and you're done. Wally?
Flash: Mmm.
Fire: I'm telling you, you should let it grow out.
[Flash is staring at Fire from across the room]
Shayera Hol: Why don't you just go talk to her?
Flash: What, me? Talk to her No way!
Shayera Hol: Yeah, you'd probably be wasting your time anyway. I hear she's...
Fire: you know... [Flash looks curiously at her]
Shayera Hol: Brazilian.
Flash: Ha, ha.
Shayera Hol: If you're afraid to talk to her, I'll tell her for you. [Starts walking over to Fire]
Flash: [Stopping her] Don't!
Shayera Hol: You are so very sad.
King Faraday: Got something for you. Tell Hawkgirl your story, Mr. Sirianni.
Chuck Sirianni: We met a while back, ma'am. Longer for me than for you. When you traveled in time to World War II, you fought alongside my squadron.
Shayera Hol: You're one of the Blackhawks.
Chuck Sirianni: Only one still kicking, I'm sorry to say.
Flash: What's the problem?
Chuck Sirianni: During the war and for decades after, we captured a lot of weapons. Real sci-fi stuff. We hid the worst of it on Blackhawk Island. We decommissioned the place over 30 years ago. But this morning, the old security alarm went off. Might be nothing.
Shayera Hol: Or it might be someone raiding your armory. We'll take a look. Shayera out. Pick a third for the team.
Flash: Um...
Shayera Hol: Oh, Yob Shiggurath! Hey, Fire!
Fire: Yes?
Shayera Hol: We've got a mission. Let's go.
Chuck Sirianni: I'm not going to argue with you about this.
Mairzey: I didn't come to argue. It gets cold up there.
Key: Allow me. Something of a specialty of mine.
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