Ted was an old school brawler at heart, he’d seen more action than half the JLA combined and he’d been in the mix since the beginning of organized heroics as a founding member of the Justice Society. Back in his day there weren’t aliens, gods and demons it was just him and the Old Guard against a bunch of mooks in suits with whatever they could cobble together.
Now with the advent of godlike beings like Superman, Wonder Woman, mystical powerhouses like Captain Marvel and Arkon, the latter of whom had literal thousands of years worth of experience under his belt and then there was the brainy leg-breaking likes of Batman and Steel - there were more capes and cowls than ever before. But Ted was an old man in a world where many heroes died young and so he had undertaken training youngsters in the hopes of giving them a real shot at making a difference. Karter Hall was one of the Old Guard like Ted and from what he could figure he was around 4,000 years old making him one of the top 5 oldest members of the Justice League with Dr. Fate, Arkon and Big Barda being the most ancient of the bunch.
Wildcat didn’t have any fancy gadgets or tricks up his sleeves, no cat themes doodads, alien super beatsticks or glowy magic spears, he had an old motorcycle and his fists - and that was all he needed to kick the butts of these punks. Ted was technically immortal as long as he didn’t burn his nine lives too quickly but he wasn’t the kinda guy to sit back and let someone else bust heads. He grinned when his old buddy finally caught up to him, he’d heard and seen Karter coming from miles away - catlike senses had their uses and Ollie found out the hard way that he could in fact be beaten by a hundred year old boxer. “The day I retire is the day after I kick the bucket, pal.” Having gotten into a perfect ambush spot he scoped it out. “Looks like these mooks are runnin’ guns for Intergang, looks like serious stuff, too. I told the eggheads up top I’d get some pictures of what these dopes are movin’.” He pulled out a very old camera and started snapping pictures of the weapons and a big bruiser with a scar across his nose. “See that big punk...I’ve seen him in Gotham before. Nosejob’s a long way from the Bat’s backyard...he’s mine.” A dozen goons along with Nicky the Nose, three vans and not a cop Ted could detect - typical dirty badges. “Don’t let any o’ them chumps get away, wreck those vans if ya gotta.”