“Hold on tight,” Jay Boaz warned the team. “We’re heading off fast.”

“We’re holding onto our hats,” Trickshot snorted.

Hatman jammed his pilot’s headset harder onto his head, ignored the irritating archer, and gunned the sleek aircraft out over the grey Atlantic.

“Yo is thinking that is to be taking even cute Hatty an hour or so to be getting us to where we are to be helping,” the deputy leader of the Lair Legion pointed out. “Is to be everyone getting to rest.”

CSFB!, Trickshot, and Uhuna settled back in their seats. “I do not rest,” the Manga Shoggoth bubbled. “I suppose I could eternally lie for a while…”

The team lost communications in the electromagnetic static about five hundred miles offshore from West Africa.

“I’m getting bupkis from the sensors here,” Trickshot complained, slamming the monitor panel with his fist. “Are we just going to fly right inta this snafu or whut?”

• Land at the perimeter of the problem to investigate
• Overfly the epicentre of the devastation