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One minute waking up on Barbara's couch, the next -- flash bang -- in New York? And not only New York, but an abandoned New York that looks like Poison Ivy's just had a party?

Okay ... well, I've probably dealt with weirder.

Dick lifts a hand to scrub his head, shaking sleep out of his eyes, and sets about finding several things. First, food. It'd be a damn crime if there were no Big Belly Burgers left at the end of the world. Then a place to finish his nap. Then maybe someone who can tell him what's going on.

But really, really, first food.

The boy has his priorities right.

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"Godhood."

Dick isn't entirely suspicious, but he isn't entirely accepting, either. He's met a handful of gods during his time with the Titans, and they don't tend to look like Mort.

Then again, who's going to anger a potential god at the end of the world?

"Pleasure to meet you, then."

Mort nods his head at the Titan. "And you are...?" He gets glimpses, but it's more polite to let mortals tell you themselves.

"Dick Grayson." Since he's out of costume and without anything that might actually be useful, he's Dick. "What should I call you?"

"I am Mort." Not entirely impressive, but it works. His eyes flash silver for a moment, and he tilts his head to the side. "Oh, my. You are a marvel, aren't you?" So many fateful people in this world.

Dick raises an eyebrow at the man in the window, doubtfully.

"I am?"

"You have a bright future ahead of you.Or perhaps only an interesting one. The two are sometimes synonimous." Mort turns to the side, stepping out of his window to the next one down to get a different view of the man before him.

"Flying through the air with the greatest of ease."

Dick's eyes narrow. "How did you--

"Oh, right. God. Still -- I think I'd prefer that as little about me become public knowledge as possible, if that's all right."

"Of course." The eyes return to normal as Mort ponders what this new player means for the future. Interesting. "It should behoove you to know that I am god of Prophecy."

An eyebrow lifts.

"Anything useful about to happen?"

Mort gestures down the street. "Going that way will run you into a rather large amount of mobile plants. Going the other way will run you into the same plants, but less of them." And then his eyes do the silver thing.

"In the heartland of America, there is piece, where black birds prey, and dragons roost. A farm reaps a crop of warriors, hoping to better the world."

It never pays to ignore gods ... even if they sound like they're talking absolute crap. Walking plants? Dragons? Whatever.

"Thank you," is all he says. "I'd better get a move on, then."

Mort tilts his head, and is gone. Don't worry Dick, he'll be around later.

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