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Old 12-08-2010, 03:27 PM   #101
Catman_prb
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

Secret Origins: Part 1
I stayed on the down-low for a year or so. That's not to say that Mr Terrific wasn't picked up by the media, it's just that I didn't go in for those big team-ups all the other heroes were so fond of. I wasn't the only one.

"What the hell is going on?" Mike asked as he punched one of the thugs that had broken into his apartment in the face, and thrown him through the window.

Val staggered up, looking around in a drunken haze.

"You think I know?" he asked, using a martial art that wouldn't be created for 500 years to crush one man's windpipe.

"Aren't you from the future?" Mr Terrific asked, as the nanobots formed the standard 'T' mask over his face.

"Well yeah, but I didn't pay attention to every little detail," Val said, smashing a half empty bottle of tequila into one mans face.

Mike brought his hands round hard on the ears of the woman that was strangling him.

"You call this minor?" he gasped.

"Sta'rro," one of the unconscious marauders muttered.

"Oh that explains it," the Karate Kid said "We have these things back home. A little underevolved at the moment though. Our ones could shoot lasers from their eyes,"

"Oh," Mike said, slamming the door shut and leaning on it "Should we tell someone?"

"I think the relevant people have probably got it under control, don't you?" Val said, sitting back down heavily.

"Eh, you're probably right,"

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**** went down.

It may or may not have also 'got real'.
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Old 12-09-2010, 12:22 AM   #102
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II









"Where were you the night Bette Kane was murdered?"

The thirty-something Latino man fidgets in the interrogation. Sergio Estrada, the manager of the popular Gotham nightspot Phoenix, was apparently slinging drugs as he catered to Gotham's elite.

"I was working at the club. Stayed there all night and didn't leave until sunrise."

He rubs his neck as he speaks. That could be a tell, but it could also be due to his nerves. If what Bette's former galpal told me was true, then Sergio has good reason to be nervous.

"Right. Did Bette come in that night?"

"Yes. I remember her being there early in the night."

"When was this? Did you see her leave?"

"It was about eleven when I saw her. I'm not sure when she left."

"Okay, okay. Care for a smoke?"

I pull a half-full pack of cigarettes out of my jacket and pass it to Sergio along with my lighter. He lights up and takes a big puff to help ease his nerves. Sergio is mid-puff when I take the plunge.

"Tell me about the drugs you were selling."

Sergio chokes on the smoke and coughs violently before stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. I have in high authority that you were the man to talk to about scoring drugs, Sergio. Weed, coke, X. Even a little meth and heroin if need be. ****, son, you're the goddamn Wal-Mart of narcotics."

"I-I swear. P-p-please."

Oh, God. This is getting kinda sad now. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

"B-b-b-b-bull****. Bette owed you a lot of money, Sergio. Tell me what happened to her, or I will arrest you for murder. Can you say D-d-d-d-d-death row?!"

"Look, okay...I-I mean, Bette did owe me some money, okay. Every time she copped something, she would keep on racking it up on her tab. I kept on reminding her to pay, but I wouldn't hurt her, I swear!"

"She was rich, right? Why didn't she pay you?"

"I don't know, man. I swear, okay. She was rich, yeah. But when people are rich, they think they don't have to pay for ****. You gotta imagine the kinda people I have to put up with. Just because of who they are, they think they're goddamn royalty."

"That pisses you off, right? Makes you mad. You wanted to take it out on someone, and who better than Bette, right?"

"No! I swear. I'm not violent, I wouldn't hurt a fly. All those times those rich punks are always in my face....but I gotta just take it, it's good for business to have them partying there. Makes more people want to come."

"Here is the deal, Sergio. I think I believe you when you say you didn't have a hand in Bette's murder. I believe that. But, you're still a drug dealer. I'm not sure if I can just overlook that."

"Please, man. I promise if you let me out of here, I will stop dealing drugs. I can't go to jail, please! I ain't the jail type."

"I'm supposed to take you word for it? Yeah, right. Make it worth the effort, son. Give me something."

"What do you want? I ain't got nothing except dirt on all the rich weirdos in this city. You know Oswald Cobblepot likes girls to dress up like birds, right? That fat ****, something is wrong with him..."

I tune Sergio out and think back to a few months ago, a previous case that kind of bothered me. I hold my hand up and cut him off mid-stream.

"Bruce Wayne."

"What?"

"Bruce Wayne. What do you know about him?"

"Uh...nothing."

I arc my eyebrow and shoot Sergio a crooked grin.

"C'mon. A rich and famous guy like that, he's in all of Gotham's hottest nightspots all the time. I see it in the tabloids."

"Not ours. I really don't know where the tabloids get it from, but I've never seen Bruce Wayne step foot into our club since I've been there, and I started as a bouncer four years ago. We only let the stories go on because it's good for business."

I continue to stare at Sergio in silence and watch him fidget around in the chair, his nerves shot.

"Alright," I finally say. "You're free to go for now. I'm gonna be in contact with some people from the club and make sure your alibi checks out. I suppose I don't need to tell you that leaving town isn't a good idea."

Sergio's face breaks out into a look of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Stop peddling drugs to rich kids. That's thanks enough. Get the hell out of here before I change my mind."

He bolts out of the interrogation room and I stay behind for a few minutes, mulling over what he gave me. Bette was in debt and didn't pay. Why? Was she really that arrogant? Or maybe she couldn't pay? Trust-fund babies often don't get their cash until midway through their twenties. Maybe Darling Bette didn't want to tell daddy about her habit?

And what about Bruce Wayne? A party animal like that not going to one of Gotham's hottest nightclubs. That doesn't sit right with me for some reason.

I push my thoughts about Bruce Wayne aside and leave the interrogation room. I'm on the way back to my office when someone calls out to me from the other end of the hallway.

"Inspector?"

I turn around and feel my throat tighten a bit at the sight. Katherine Kane, Bette's older sister, walking towards me. She looks like Bette, but older and more graceful. She's the woman Bette could have become.

"Miss Kane. I don't think we've formally met."

I hold my hand out and give her hand a quick shake. "A pleasure to meet you, Inspector."

"What can I help you with?"

"I wanted to talk to you about my sister. Answer any questions you may have."

"That's fine. If you'll follow me to my office down the hallway."

"Actually, I was wondering if we could take a drive and discuss it somewhere else? I don't particularly enjoy being in this police station too much. That is, if it's alright with you."

I smile and motion towards the elevator. "Lead the way."

__________________
"These are the times that try men's souls... Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."
-- Thomas Paine


"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election."
-- Otto von Bismarck


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Old 12-09-2010, 12:55 AM   #103
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

CATWOMAN

The Gotham Museum of Art. This month, they're hosting an exhibit on the life and death of the Egyptian Prince Khufu and his lover Chay-Ara. On display are artifacts discovered at their tombs, including Princess Chay-Ara's priceless gold diadem. Attempts had been made in the past to steal the diadem, but each had been thwarted. From the moment I laid eyes on it, I knew I had to be the one to steal it.

There are a few basic principles I live by, and one of them is that men are stupid. They're shortsighted, shallow-hearted, and easily distracted, too. It's not their fault nature made them this way. You can't begrudge them their faults any more than you can begrudge a dog for drooling. It's just the way things are. Of course, that doesn't mean I can't use that for my benefit.

I approach the front doors of the museum, trying my best to look helpless. I see the night watchman at the security desk just behind the glass. His eyes are fixed on something, probably a TV show that he's not supposed to be watching. I bang on the glass, yelling, "Hello? Sir? Can you help me?"

As the watchman lifts his head, his expression changes dramatically once he sees me. It shifts from general annoyance to curiosity. Like I said, stupid. He gets up, crossing the lobby to the front door silently.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I raise my voice a bit in pitch, trying to sound upset and jittery. "My car broke down, about a block from here. My cell phone's dead, so I couldn't call anybody, and I couldn't tell what was wrong, and I was scared just sitting there alone at this hour..."

The watchman stops at the glass.

I put my hand over my heart. "Please, if you could just...maybe...give me a hand, or tell me how to fix it...?"

At this, he shifts uncomfortably. It's subtle, but it tells me everything I need to know. I've got him. "Miss, I can't abandon my post here. If you want, I can let you use the phone..."

"Please, sir! I don't know if I'll be able to get through to Triple A, and I'd be so nervous having to wait for them all alone." I bite my lip. Men are so easy to manipulate, it's almost unfair. "It wouldn't take long! I promise!"

He glances over his shoulder. Right now, he's in the middle of considering his options. And if he's like every other man I've known in my life, he's going to choose to help the damsel-in-distress and neglect his responsibilities. Sure enough, he turns around and heads back to the security desk to set the alarm.

I have to hide my victorious smirk as I lead him away from the museum. I reach out and touch him on the arm. "You have no idea how much this means to me. I'm not used to the city," I babble on, trying to keep his mind occupied while I get him far enough away. "I was on my way to visit my sister, and I got held up just outside New York. That's when my phone died, and I couldn't call her. I was so worried. And now my car broke down..."

The watchman looks around curiously. "Where did you say your car was?"

I strike him in the carotid artery with the side of my hand, knocking him unconscious immediately. It's a little trick I picked up in self-defense training with the GCPD for when all else fails. Of course, it can be used offensively, too. I catch him under the arms and lead his body out of the light to an alleyway. After taking his ID card and his keyring, I take off to get changed.

A synthetic kevlar/leather full bodysuit, designed to absorb some of the impact of jumps and falls while remaining skintight to avoid snags and tears. Retractable claws sharp enough to cut glass. A cowl with modified, sound-amplifying ears - I can hear a pin drop from across a hall. Infrared/night vision goggles. And, of course, an assortment of tools on my belt - including a lockpick set, miniature smoke grenades, and a bullwhip. The last one was supposed to be for Maroni. He frequently used a bullwhip when torturing people in the wine cellar beneath his mansion. I wanted the chance to give him his forty lashes.

With all my gear in place, I return to the museum. With the watchman's keys and ID, I'm able to get into the building without trouble. I make my way to the security desk and shut off the cameras. The problem is that I don't know the security codes, so I can't shut down the systems within the museum itself. Never that easy, is it?

Switching my goggles to infrared, I make my way down the museum's long corridors in the direction of the Egyptian exhibit. The hallways themselves are clear of any obstructions, so it's not until I get to the Main Room that I encounter my first laser grid. Trip one of these, and I set off a silent alarm that will have the police here within minutes. On the bright side, the diadem's in sight.

Let the games begin.



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Old 12-09-2010, 02:56 AM   #104
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John Stewart - Green Lantern
Welcome to the Corps
Part I


John's pupils again shrank when the alien, who had identified itself as "Kilowog", had set the shimmering light around him. After a few moments, John's vision returned, showing him to be in a metal and plastic room.

"Where... am I?" John asked.

"You're onboard a Green Lantern recruitment vessel," replied Kilowog. "Take a seat."

John looked around to find himself in a pleasant-looking room with some furniture, including a table, constructed of bright, almost neon-green plastic. Seeing that Kilowog had taken a seat and taken up staring intently at a bright-green object on the table, John was somewhat relieved. If he had wanted to kill me, he could have easily done it by now, John thought. He pulled the chair back and sat down.

Kilowog was currently looking over what appeared to be a small, floating 2-d plane of text. This was apparently some sort of computer, as Kilowog moved his fingers the text - which John could make no sense of - scrolled this way and that. For a moment John tried to make out the individual characters, but soon realized that trying to read an alien language in reverse (for he was sitting on the opposite side of the table) was completely useless. He sat back in the chair as Kilowog continued to read the text.

Abruptly, Kilowog said, "So you were in the US Marine Corps, huh?" He spoke casually, as though it were part of an ongoing conversation.

John looked at him for a second, amazed that the alien seemed to be speaking perfect English. "Uh... yeah, I was in the Corps, till I took a piece of shrapnel to the leg and ended up with this guy," he pointed down to his prosthesis. Kilowog glanced down at the artificial limb, his face impassive. John sighed, "Look, what am I doing here?"

Kilowog was either entering data into the computer or simply scrolling more (it was difficult to tell when it was all an alien script), but he stopped and looked up to John. "You're a recruit for the Green Lantern Corps. Sorry, I forget that Terrans are not so familiar with the Corps. I guess you'd call it an interstellar police organization. It's quite an honor even to be selected."

John sat for a second, then frowned. "OK, well thanks but no thanks. I've done my service, put in my time. Could you just beam me back down or whatever it was you did?"

Kilowog seemed to ignore John's request, staring at the scrolling text on the screen impassively. Without removing his eyes from the screen, Kilowog answered, "You were chosen because you are the person who best fits the profile for a Green Lantern Corps officer," Kilowog said flatly.

John chuckled for a moment. "Well then there must be some mistake, because I don't even want to be one."

Kilowog pushed his hand across the table, the hovering screen moving off to the side to allow unimpeded conversation. "You were chosen because you can carry out the duties of a Green Lantern better than anyone else. You know what duty means."

John's face lost any trace of a smile. His words were hostile, knowing that the alien was trying to bait him with a noble sense of duty. "Yeah, I know what duty means. I served my country. I did my duty. But I volunteered. I wasn't Shanghai-ed and thrown into a spaceship to take me God-knows-where to do..." he stumbled over his words, nearly losing his verbal momentum before blurting out "...whatever it is you do there." His hand motioned outwards. Or what he thought was outwards, from the confines of the windowless chamber. "Look, I'm sure that you guys mean well and all, but I'm just not feeling this."

Kilowog snorted. Or what John thought was a snort. It was some kind of quick inhale, or maybe exhale, that John thought might be similar to -

"I am going to make you into a Lantern, poozer!" His voice filled up the whole chamber and seemed to echo off the walls for a second. "You may have served in Afghanistan and Iraq - whatever the hell those are - and come out with just a missing limb. But you're going to be a Lantern and serve in places you can't imagine." Kilowog was now pointing a thick finger at John. "The ring picked you because it knew you could handle it. It's a tough job, but with the right training you can do it. It's going to require every bit of strength, physical and mental, just to get in. I understand if you want to quit now, before you're even in the thick of it."

John sat for a second. The alien was making an obvious play from psychology 101. Then again, whatever alien culture Kilowog was from might not even have such concepts, or they might be commonplace, who knows?

After a moment of thought, John realized his answer. Regardless of any cheap ploys the alien might try, it all boiled down to one fact: it was the same reason he was going to run a marathon, the same reason he entered the Marine Corps to begin with - because he couldn't resist a challenge.

He sighed, then calmly said, "I'm in."

Kilowog's face changed, into what apparently passed for a smile. "Good choice, poozer. Now go out and meet your fellow recruits."

Kilowog pressed a button and a door on one wall opened. John stood up and stepped through it, and was immediately surrounded by a dozen or more different types of aliens, all of which turned to look at him.

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Old 12-09-2010, 07:03 AM   #105
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II


"This is why we're here."

Say what you could have about him, Roscoe Dillon had a plan. That had been evident since the beginning to every member of the team that now ran up capacity of the basement - criminals Lenoard Snart, Michelle Rory, Evan McCullough, Axel Walker, and Mark Mardon. But rather than enact every intricate detail on his own and fund his carefully laid out strategies with the help of trusted employees, Dillon had seemingly been forced to scrape at the bottom of society's barrel and construct a breakout at Iron Heights Penitentiary to get anyone willing to do his dirty work. That was how Snart had always seen it, though he had kept his reservations relatively quiet since these meetings had began. Despite all appearances, they had left one prison only to enter another, and it was of Dillon's design.

Standing infront of the group to address them at once, Dillon had lined the walls with blown-up newspaper clippings that detailed the exploits of their common enemy. 'The Scarlet Speedster', one had coined him. 'The Crimson Racer'. 'The Fastest Man Alive'. That was the one that had inevitably stuck, as all present parties remembered. Central City considered the whelp something of a hero, and ever since, The Flash had been running criminals left and right straight up to Iron Heights' front gates. And now it was payback time.

"Whatever drives you to do what it is that you do, we're all here because of a consistent annoyance that has stood in our way. As we all know, The Flash may be very well fast enough to be at every corner of the city at once. But if there's an attack he doesn't see coming, even he won't be able to retaliate in time. That is why the opportunity presents itself now, gentlemen."


Rory coughed, intentionally loud. Dillon smiled back at her. "And lady, of course. Forgive me."

McCullough stood up, arms crossed around his chest. He had been pretty vocal about the status of things since the beginning, and right now was certainly no exception. "Cut the bloody speeches, Top. Ye been tellin' us the same rag since we got busted out of the pen. When do we finally see some results?"

Clearing his throat, Mardon stood aswell. Both he and Axel Walker had been quite loyal to Dillon's plan, but even they were starting to grow concerned that their leader was alot of talk with no action.

"I agree with Mirror Master. With all due respect, sir, we've earned the right to know when this attack is going to happen."

Dillon looked at the two and nodded. "Your concerns are valid ones, gentlemen, if not ill-timed. I was just about to say that what we're planning is happening very soon."

Snart narrowed his eyes.

"How soon?"

"Seventy two hours."

All eyes went wide, as Dillon let a wry smirk cross his lips. "How is that for soon?"

"I don't understand. Why the wait in the first place? And why the hell did we just risk our asses collecting the money you needed for whatever this is? I could have used that score."

"Aye. The snowman's got himself a point."

Snart gave him a dirty look, after noticing the nickname. McCullough simply gave a small grin, proud of himself.

"After what we're about to do, you'll be seeing alot more profit than anything you could have garnered by yourselves. I can guarantee that much. As for what, exactly, your tests were funding..."


Pulling a remote control from his jacket's front pocket, Dillon pressed the button and watched as the far left wall began to give way, disjointing itself into two pieces that slid back, revealing a metal door behind it. The door itself unlocked upon the remote's command, revealing a set of four new and interesting uniforms that were dressed atop a set of mannequins. The group looked at the colorful costumes, then at eachother, as if unsure of what to say.

"What the hell are these?"

"Are we actually going to wear those?"

"These are your new identities, gentlemen. Embrace them just as The Flash embraced his. His methods are effective not only because of his speed, but his flair for the flamboyance that the media craves so very much. If we're going to bring him down, once and for all, we'll need to do it in a way that sends a message to all of the world. The message that Rogues are not to be reckoned with."

Inspecting the uniform chosen for him, McCullough looked back with a bewildered expression.

"Green and orange? Ye got to be funning. I didn't sign up for no bloody circus."

"The colors each have their purpose, Mr. McCullough. For you, it's a chameleon effect. While we still have yet to understand the particulars of your abilities, we've discovered that drastic color disorientation keeps you hidden within the multi-faceted surfaces. You won't be able to give away your position until you, yourself, see fit to do so."

Looking back at the uniform, McCullough seemed to see it with a new perspective.

"Suppose I've seen worse."

"You can't be serious."

The group looked back at Snart, who locked eyes with Dillon in an annoyed manner.

"Costumes? This is a waste of time, and it's sure as hell a waste of money."

"Perhaps you don't understand..."


"No, I don't think you understand. We're out to kill The Flash, here, not make the Central City Christmas parade. In what conceivable way is any of this necessary?"

Taking in his vocal concerns, Dillon stepped over to the costume and indicated Snart's, specifically - a deep blue bodysuit of insulated armor, covered by a matching jacket with a streamlined parka styled hood, a high-tech belt, and a visor across the eyes.

"I understand where you're coming from, Mr. Snart, but you're looking at it from a fashionable standpoint and not a functional one. These aren't just costumes for show - they're weapons designed to enhance your extraordinary gifts. They each took thousands of dollars to construct, and when you put them on, you'll know why. They work with your abilities, not against them."

Snart looked at his costume up and down, still relatively unimpressed.

"Let me guess. The parka's supposed to keep me warm and cozy?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. We're aware of how difficult this transition has been for you in particular, Cold, but I assure you that every precaution has been taken to ensure that you be ready to be able take on your task without the slightest hindrance."

With a momentary pause, he looked back.

"And what task is that?"

Smiling to himself, Dillion turned to the group in general. "The most vital one of all, of course. On the field, you're going to be the one leading our team."

And just like that, the room was stunned into silence at the revelation. Particularly Snart, who took a moment to look back at the garish uniform that seemed to be staring him down.

Things just got more interesting.

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Old 12-09-2010, 05:35 PM   #106
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

Red Hood

Gotham Central

Night descends on the city once more, plaguing the primitive metropolis with a curse of impenetrable darkness. As the sky grows dimmer and the air colder, the street lamps flicker to life. Like beacons, their revival seems to signal the underworld of Gotham - alerting them that it is once more time for them to rule the night.

In the rear of the police department's central hub, Detective Dagmar Procjnaw suits up as she prepares to join the night shift. She sits on a bench in front of a row of lockers tying her shoes. Her blouse remains unbuttoned, the two sides draped down her legs, exposing the bullet proof vest resting over her torso. As she finishes her shoes, she rests her feet flat on the floor and begins to stare at the many tiles below her.

Dagmar's eyes are bleak - a thick glaze of moisture covering her pupil. She is tired and weary, the stresses of life finally beginning to consume her. Her thoughts go to her partner, Thomas Burke, still staying at Gotham General after his encounter with the madman known as Belseraph. Though she'd never admit it, she misses Burke - misses the little things she took for granted, the things she held as commonplace. Being paired with a different detective every night has made her job even harder - as an officer, one comes to rely on the unspoken bond that is shared between partners. The ability to read each other’s expressions and gestures; even the mood in the air becomes distinct. This bond is one of the little things that can relieve the continually mounting stress that comes with the job. Unfortunately, like all things routine, it is only noticed and missed once it's gone.

At the edge of the room, the echoing sound of footsteps break the silence. Dagmar suddenly perks up, pulled back from her trance by the unexpected noise. A shadow moves across the wall as a figure steps out from behind the lockers. Staring at her with veiled eyes, the man leans against the row of lockers at his side. Grasped tightly in his hand is an envelope stuffed with paperwork. A frown quickly comes across Dagmar's face, the sight of her visitor filling her with distrust and aggression.

"Hello, Detective," he says with a grin.
"Lark..." she says, nearly spitting. "What do you want?"
"Nothing much," he smirks maliciously. "Just a favor."

Dagmar rises to her feet, taking a more dominant stance. She rests her hand on her hip, keeping her fingers poised above the grip of her police issued firearm. "I don't do favors, Lark," she growls, slamming her locker shut as she keeps her eyes fixed on the paramedic.

"Really? Because that's not what I remember," he begins, his tone deep and intimidating. "What I remember is you forging a fraudulent report about the escape of a wanted vigilante," he tells her, approaching her slowly. "A favor for your partner, wasn't it?" As Lark moves in close, he drops the envelope on the bench besides the detective.
"Are you threatening me, Dougie?" She mocks, trying desperately to suppress her growing anger.
"It's more like ... giving you an incentive. You do a favor for me, and no one ever has to know the truth about your little affair with the Red Hood."
"Blackmailing a Gotham Police officer is a federal offense, Lark. Besides, you were with me the night the Red Hood 'escaped'. You lied to the investigators."

"That may be true, detective, but I didn't write a report littered with lies. Imagine what would happen if the prosecutors got word of a case against a corrupt officer - a case with hard evidence and first hand witnesses." He smiles evilly, his eyes narrowing as he continues. "I can almost hear the drool trickling from their mouths."
"They'd prosecute you as well," she says quickly, hoping to condemn him.
"I'm a paramedic, detective - my job isn't to uphold the law. Besides, if it means the chance to put away a dirty Bobby, they'd let me plea bargain down to, at least, probation."

"You get it now, don't you? Your partner can't protect you, the courts won't protect you, and the administration? Well, you'll be lucky if they decide to keep their involvement to a "no comment"." Douglas Lark stares intently into Dagmar's eyes, failing to blink as his smile grows even wider. "You're alone, Dagmar. Completely, utterly alone. I'm offering you a way out - one favor, just one. After that, this whole nightmare goes away."

Dagmar falls quiet as her gaze drops to the floor. She falls into her own panicked thoughts, desperately trying to find some way out of this noose her visitor has wrapped around her neck. After a few moments of silence, her head finally rises, and she looks into the face of her accuser. "What ... is the favor?" She reluctantly asks, surrendering her will.

"Jocko-Boy Vanzetti is a rising influence within the Maroni crime family. Since Salvatore’s untimely demise, Jocko’s been trying to rise to the big time. Recently, he’s been trying to make deals with the new blood moving in from Metropolis and Star City. After a few months of rocky negotiations, it looks like his first major break will come tonight. At one AM, Vanzetti will personally meet with BludHaven’s Klaus Kristin to finalize their alliance.”

“Good for him,” Dagmar prattles. “How does this affect me?”
Lark’s smile fades slightly, his demeanor becoming more serious. “You’re going to personally oversee the meeting. Keep order, make sure everything goes according to plan … ensure no one gets … creative.”

“You want me to babysit?” She exclaims suddenly.
“You could call it that.” Dagmar buries her head in her hands, rubbing the skin of her face vigorously as she analyzes the task at hand. “Don’t worry, Dagmar. If you do your job right, everyone goes home in one piece.”
“Except two crime lords see my face and know I’m dirty, Lark.”
“Be glad it’s only two,” he smirks, taking pleasure in Dagmar’s desperation.
“So … which one am I protecting specifically?” She asks, raising her head slowly. “Which one do you work for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lark swiftly turns around and begins walking toward the exit. “Everything you need to know is in the file I gave you – including a copy of your report on the Red Hood’s escape. Just a reminder of what happens should you opt out of my request.” Just as Lark figure disappears behind a row of lockers, the click clack of his footsteps stop, and a long pause fills the air. “Oh, and Dagmar?” He calls, his voice echoing throughout the empty room. “Vanzetti says ‘thanks’ in advance.”

****
Gotham, City Hall District

Jason Todd stands on the open balcony of his high rise apartment, dressed formally in his expensive shirt and tie. Casually, he sips from the glass in his hand – a refreshing detour from the stresses of his life. Jason leans on the concrete barrier lining the veranda, staring out at the city before him. He listens as the city speaks to him; the sounds of cars speeding by, the rumbling of clubs blaring their music, even the continued calls of the pedestrians below. He closes his eyes for a moment, interpreting the city’s calls. Every noise, every sound – to him, it is Gotham crying for help. He hears it clearly in his mind, “Help me, Jason,” she tells him weakly. “I’m dying … you must … help me.”

With a frown, Jason downs the last bit of liquid from his glass, slurping the golden drink as if it were water. With a grunt, he rests the empty glass on the lip of the balcony’s edge. He slips his hand into his pants pocket to reveal his phone, flipping the screen open by habit and calling his mailbox to check his messages. As the phone begins to ring, he tries to focus on the monotone hum – hoping to ignore the city’s pleas for rescue.

“You have – three – unheard messages,” a voice speaks. “First unheard message: Hello, Mr. Huud, this is Gotham First National to inform you that twenty thousand dollars has recently been deducted from your account. Your current balance is three hundred forty six thousand dollars. If you have any questions regarding this information, or, if this information is incorrect, please return this phone call to speak with one of our associates. Thank you, have a nice day.”

The message is quickly cut off with a beep, leaving only a brief pause before moving into the next message. “Next message: Yo, Mr. H, this is Pauly calling to inform you the shipments is in. The consoles will be hooked up and wired to the mainframe within the week, and the rest of the construction here should be wrappin’ up by the next Wednesday. We’re still havin’ trouble getting those generators you ordered, but we’ll have it worked out by the deadline, no worries. Gimme a call if you gots any problems.”

Just as before, the message ends with a beep, and the next begins. “Third message: Hood- hey, it’s Burke. Haven’t heard from you in a while and I was wonderin’ if we could meet soon to talk about some things, like if you’ve gotten any leads on the rest of Belseraph’s gang, or if you’re working on any new cases … or how my partner’s been doing these last few days.” The detective pauses, letting out a longing sigh. Jason’s eyes narrow as he listens intently, his full focus on Burke’s words. “Anyway, one of my friend’s told me Rigger’s been moved to the burn ward here. I planned on paying him a visit tonight. Get in touch with me as soon as you can, we’ll share information. … Thanks again, Hood. I-I’ll see you.”

As the final beep chimes, Jason flips the phone closed and slide it pack into his pants pocket. For a moment he stays silent – seeming to stare off into space. His lips start to move slowly, mouthing something to himself under his breath. “Hmmm,” he muses. “Detective Procjnaw … I suppose I could check on her tonight,” he begins, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt as he unbuttons the sleeves. “After all, the night is young … and besides, I always get a kick out her over the top bravado,” he mocks, stepping inside his apartment and locking the door behind him.

“It’s a nice compliment to my infallible confidence.” As Jason pulls the shirt from his torso, he carelessly tosses it onto the back of a chair still riddled with shotgun bullets from his encounter with the deadly mercenary Deathstroke. Despite his unexplained wealth, Jason has yet to replace the tattered furniture from his duel with the crazed foe.

Jason walks over to the kitchen counter and grabs his helmet resting completely exposed on its surface. Before pulling the red mask over his head, he holds the hood in front of his face, staring into the lifeless eyes the mask projects. In its glistening sheen he sees his reflection, the face of a man he rarely sees. Captivated, he looks deep into his own eyes as his reflection eerily sinks up with the visage of the Red Hood’s ‘face’. For a moment, Jason’s cocky attitude and jester-like smile disappear. As the two identities line up superimposed on one another, he begins to question which person he is now. So much of his life has changed since he started his crusade against crime – not just his friends and allies, but his ideologies as well.

His mind skips back to earlier today when the young Barbara Gordon chastised him for using pistols against the two criminals. Her voice echoes in his mind, “It’s still a gun – a deadly weapon that ends lives and ruins others.” Three years ago he never would’ve contemplated using a gun, nor would he have even toyed with using adrenaline shots to give him the edge. For a brief moment, Jason ponders to himself what his limits are now; what boundaries will he keep in place, and which will he tear down for the sake of his cause? “Hmm,” he finally mumbles, looking away from the mask. “That’s a scary thought,” he tells himself ambivalently, the detachment in his voice disturbing.

Without another word he slips the hood over his head, the gesture almost implying his acceptance of whatever it is he’s decided to become. In a cold silence, Jason walks down the darkened hallway toward his evidence room, preparing to get into the rest of his vigilante gear. With slow, heavy steps, the icon of the Red Hood walks through the shadows – and disappears within their shroud.


Last edited by Saved; 12-29-2010 at 03:43 AM.
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Old 12-10-2010, 03:53 AM   #107
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Before Black Adam could answer, he froze. He heard, amid all the sounds in the world, the whisper of Kobra. "I must go." He said quickly.

Before the boys could ask where, he had disappeared into the sky. He headed to his next confrontation with the destructive organisation. What will I learn in Peru? He thought to himself, as he flew on.

To be continued...


In a rainforest in Peru, the sounds of machines cutting down trees echoed throughout the area. Standing among the machines were hundreds of farmers, each with a mining pick in their hands, with several Kobra agents aiming energy lasers at them. The frightened workers were striking the ground furiously, for the moment one slowed down, he was struck on the back of the head by a lazsr rifle.

Above them, a blonde haired man levitates, snarling with disdain at the workers below him. Damn Luthor, The super powered Nazi thought. If not for him, Kobra would be well on it's way to achieve Kali Yuga. But he failed, and now we have all that wasted resources to regain. At least I get to enjoy watching these dogs dig gold... His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a man shouting in indignation.

"Let go of me you bastards!" Captain Nazi looked at the man brought by his men, a black american, wearing thick lenses and a green jacket. The man looked to be in his late 30s, and stared defiantly at the super powered villain.


"What is this ni-**** doing here? Boy who are you, who are you working for." The villain asked, as he descended from the sky, until he was touching thr ground.
The African American spat at the feet of Captain Nazi.

"Go die in hell you monster. I am a reporter, and I am not going to let you get away with this."
With a slow deliberate wipe of his hand, the Aryan metahuman removed the spit from his face, his face betraying no emotion. Then with a movement like lightning, he stomped on the knees of the young reporter, and a large crack was heard, as the reporter was brought to his knees in pain.

"How dare you boy! I don't care who you work for anymore, I will teach you respect for your betters, before I watch you die!" But before the super Nazi could go through with his threat, his head whipped around suddenly. "What was that? Men, go investigate-" He felt the sonic boom across his face, before he saw one of the machines in the forest being tossed into his soldiers.

Captain Nazi turned to look at what could do this, and saw in front of him the tall divine figure of Black Adam. Before the soldiers could react, Captain Nazi raised his arm to stop them.

"Don't worry. It's just some Mexican knock off of Superman. He's probably lost trying to find the border. Go home boy. Do not anger your betters." Captain Nazi laughed at his own joke. "Oh Mexican Superman, I am hilarious. what next, Mexican Batman? Oh, fear my taco-mobile ha-" He didn't see the punch coming. All he knew, was that a punch as strong, if not stronger then Wonder woman, had just struck his face, and he was now embedded in a tree. The Aryan example struggled before pulling himself from the tree. "I gave you a choice. But you chose death!" And he zommed at black Adam, striking furiously at the Adam's chest and face. With a final roundhouse punch, he threw the hero into an upturned machine, before taking a breath.

"Who do you think you are fighting boy? I am Captain Nazi, the optimized version of the perfect being. My powers are without limit. You are nothing. Only God himself could challenge me. Who do you think you are, to try and stop my work?"
A voice answered from behind him.

"My apologies for not introducing myself." Captain Nazi turned around quickly, and there stood the undamaged superhuman, advancing towards him. "I am Black Adam. I was hand picked tostop your work on this world. And if you can only be challenged by God, then you will be an easier match then I thought you would be." And with that final word, Captain Nazi could only look up and stare at the sight of this unbelievably powerful superhuman.

"What are you?" He asked aloud.

My biggest story, ever. thought the reporter, as the agents holding him had forgotten about him, he now began to set his camera to record.

To be continued...

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Old 12-10-2010, 10:22 AM   #108
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"Gentlemen and women, I would like to thank all of you for coming this evening on such short notice," I start as all the eyes in the room glare at me with anger boiling just beneath the surface. Each and every one of them knows what I did at the Gotham Ritz, and many of them believe that I am the one who threw Maroni through his office window.

Along with the anger, fear runs fast through their veins when they look at me. They know that I have the skill to go head to head with the Batman (a feat almost unheard of in Gotham), the manpower and firepower to deal with anything standing in my way, and am not afraid to use senseless slaughter to accomplish my goals. It is also a relatively well known fact at this point that I have made alliances with both Oswald Cobblepot and Richard Dragon, and that I have seized control of the Sullivan Boys and much of Maroni's other men and former holdings. Some elements of his old operation escaped me, but they matter not.

The fact is that I have become the force to be reckoned with in the Gotham City underworld, and every man and woman at the conference table tonight knows it.

"Now let me assure all of you that your invitation here tonight was not some diabolical plot on my part to thin the herd, so to speak." Now walking around the table casually, my eyes fall on my three top lieutenants; Trogg, Zombie, and Bird. Bird has moved on from his previous position as the Penguin's consigliere, Trogg joined my ranks during the Sta'rro invasion, and Zombie was part of the Sullivan Boys, but is now my top marksman. All three of them are on notice to immediately kill anyone if they make a hostile move during this meeting if the assailant is out of my reach. "I promise you all that there are no bombs strapped to your chairs or anything so dastardly as that. No, tonight's meeting is merely a formality to let you all know that there will be changes in Gotham City. Each of us has our properties and operations now, but I promise you that I will take them from you just as I took Maroni's, Grissom's, and the Black Mask's empires." I can hear whispers amongst the attendees; anger mixed with apprehension. "Oh, you are all free to oppose me if you wish to. America is a free country, after all. There's nothing I can do to stop you from trying to protect what's yours, but if you choose to do so, you will die."

"Yeah, Bane? You think so, huh?!" Tony Zucco stands up from his seat, spittle flying from his mouth in rage and pointing his finger at me. "You think you're so smart, big guy? Izzat it? Well lemme tell you something; I got snipers watching this building as we speak, listening to our every damn word. They're gonna end this **** before it gets even stupider than it already is. Fire, boys." Zucco is nearly three feet shorter than I am and I could break his neck before he'd realize what was happening. Instead, I can think of a more effective way to make an example of him.

After a brief moment of silence, Zucco says again, presumably to the hidden microphone in his lapel, "I said FIRE, DAMMIT!"

"Your snipers are dead, Anthony." Zucco looks as if I have just walked over his grave. "It was a very predictable ploy, one that I myself used at the Maroni wedding, but one that will never work on me." With his soul crushed, Tony Zucco falls back into his seat and I think I see tears forming around his eyes. He now knows for certain that I can and will take everything from him that he holds dear.

"Now, if there are no further objections..."



"Meeting adjourned."

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Old 12-10-2010, 12:31 PM   #109
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"Take cover, Lois."

Immediately, a team of commandos storms into the conference room with guns blazing. In my current state, their bullets might leave small bruises, but nothing that can't be fixed with a little sunshine. As Lois dives behind a podium, I reach for the large table and lift it high above my head.

"Listen closely," I say, addressing the armed men. "I'm sure that you have safety and evacuation procedures put in place in the case of a breach in this station." They instantly freeze in their tracks, not knowing where I'm going with this.



"I'd suggest that you all get a head start on them right now."

The guards then break into a panic as I throw the table in their direction, scattering them as they realize that now is the time to cut their losses. While the personnel run to the escape pods and an alarm begins blaring from somewhere in the Watchtower, I go to the podium and gently take Lois' hand and quickly guide her to one of the escape pods.

"I think that's your cue to leave, Lois."

"What about you? You're not back to full strength yet! Luthor could show up any second now!"

"Let him try. The first thing I did when I got my powers back was destroy the oxygen supplies and recycling facilities of the station with heat vision." Lois stands bewildered by my words, still hesitating to leave without me. "By now, that insane monster is probably trying to override that "L-Soft" program's safeties as it tries to convince him that this isn't a safe environment to teleport into any longer. I think I still have a few seconds to spare."

Then, without a word, Lois pulls me close and kisses me hard.

She kisses Superman, not Clark Kent. Oh boy.

"Just in case we don't live through this," says Lois as she breaks away and ducks into the small escape pod.

"Hm. Thanks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some holes to punch in the walls of this place."

A quick X-ray scan shows that all personnel have launched their pods as Lois closes her own and jettisons it back home. Also, a quick look at the Earth as I shatter a thick window with a blast of intense fire tells me that Luthor's nukes still haven't been fired yet.

Hey, I won't argue with success.

I almost hate to see such a scientific achievement as this lunar station rendered inhospitable, but if it sets Luthor back by a small fortune, I'm all for it. As the air now blows past me, flowing out to the surface of the moon, a smile finds its way onto my face.
"Not now, Kent. I've got the story of the century to type up!" says Lois before I can do so much as wave to her. After disabling Luthor's moonbase and then guiding Lois' escape pod safely down to Metropolis, I flew off from the scene as Superman and came to the city room of the Planet as Clark. I'd report on the incident myself if I could, but "Clark" wasn't on the moon and would have no way of knowing what happened. Plus, I'm sure Lois can handle the story just fine by herself.

Just as I'm sitting down at my desk, Perry strolls up to me. "Clark, have you seen Cat? I know she took that Winslow Schott story off your hands so that you could focus on the STAR Labs thefts, but she hasn't come into the office since she left to do the followup on it."

"Wasn't that two days ago?"

"Yeah. It was."

"Well, Schott's supposed to be a real lady killer, right?" I say, shrugging. "And you know Cat. Maybe she just got... *ahem*... caught up in the story."

"Maybe she's banging him."

Perry and I both look at Lois and try to ignore the bluntness of her comment, however true it might possibly be. Cat Grant certainly has a reputation around here.

"Um, yeah, whatever's going on, I want you to just make sure that she's still in once piece, Clark." As he leaves, Perry pats me on the back and I almost forget that he was so mad at me a few weeks back after I went missing during my trip to Almerac, and my causing Lois and I to break up. I really hate disappointing the man, but I'm glad to see that things are getting back to normal.

"Sure thing Chief." Picking up the phone and dialing Cat's number, I can't seem to get an answer. Texting isn't getting any results either.

"Hey, Jim."

Jimmy Olsen. A good kid, real enthusiastic about the job and, judging by his work so far, will probably be a better reporter than Lois and I combined someday. Going over pictures on a computer screen a couple desks down from mine, Jim stops and looks up at me. "Yeah, Clark?"

"Do you know where I can find this Winslow Schott guy that Cat was interviewing?"

"That British roboticist? I think Cat was meeting him at the Waid Hotel, but that was days ago."

At least it's something to go on. "Thanks, Jim. That's better than nothing." Getting up and throwing my jacket on as Olsen looks at me, puzzled, I smile reassuringly.



"Don't worry. I'm just doing some followup on a followup. Give me a call if you hear from Cat."

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Old 12-10-2010, 01:46 PM   #110
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The Atom returns to her office and transforms back into Rhiannon Palmer.

She then begins cross-referencing the faces she saw at the meeting with the company directory.

Rhiannon shakes her head.

Most of the Board is in on this whole Checkmate operation. I might as well be working for Waller directly and not even pretend I work for Star Labs.

She closes up her company directory and stares out over the city.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

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Old 12-10-2010, 01:53 PM   #111
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Doris makes sure that all the technical and biological data concerning Superman's reaction to the Kryptonite is stored on a secured server on earth.

Well at least this episode wasn't a complete disaster.

She then launches into an escape pod which lands safely on a private islnad owned by Luthor.

Doris then makes her way into a cave which contains a secret hideaway. She then activates a homing beacon on a private channel for a Lexcorp jet to come and get her.

Well since I am here might as well enjoy myself.

She then proceeds to go to the gym and workout.

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Old 12-10-2010, 02:04 PM   #112
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Hugo closes up his patient notes and leaves his office.

He then pulls out a cell-phone and calls a former patient of his.

Hugo says, "James there is some work I have for you."

James replies, "I don't know doc I'm kinda booked up right now."

Hugo says, "You will do what I ask of you."

James replies, "Of course doc what do ya need?"

Hugo replies, "Surveilence work mainly. A very well known target Burce Wayne."

James says, "You got it."

Hugo says, "And James if you get caught you are doing this because you are obsessed with Bruce Wayne and you will not mention my name or this phone call."

James replies, "You bet doc."

Hugo hangs up the phone.

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Old 12-10-2010, 05:36 PM   #113
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"No promises."

Careful to hide the smirk on his lips, the vigilante hits the throttle's boost and watches the speedometer spike to 125. The rear jet engines burst into full blast, effectively turning the car into more of a jet than a plane. Looking over at his radar, Batman noted their trajectory and continued piloting. In ten minutes, they'd reach Manhattan and whatever awaited them at the faux production facility. He could practically feel the rush wash over him as they peeled through the clouds.

Well. At least we haven't crashed yet.
It doesn't take long before the skyscrapers of New York come into view. Within ten minutes, Batman is flying above the streets and weaving in out of the buildings in the Big Apple.

"This is the building right here."

Batman grunts and slows the car...uhh, plane, down and it hovers above the building. He begins lowering the car down towards the roof. The wheels land on the roof's gravel top with a small thump.

"Thank you for flying Batman Airlines. Please exit on your right in a calm and orderly fashion. Please fly with us again."

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Old 12-10-2010, 06:08 PM   #114
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The screams of the dying don't bother him in the slightest. They beg and plead for their lives, but the Batman doesn't give them a moment's thought. It's just business as usual for the Dark Knight. Approaching one of the few surviving drug dealers here on the third floor of one of the Chechen's safehouses in Bennett Beach, Batman can see the fear in his eyes as urine soaks through the man's blue jeans.

"Please, dude, I got money! Drugs! Guns! Whatever you want, I got!" he screams as Batman grabs him by the neck and hoists him into the air with one hand. "JUST DON'T KILL ME!"

Pulling the crying drug dealer close, Batman's deep voice came out in a hoarse whisper, "I'm not going to kill you. I want you to do me a favor." Panic in the dealer's eyes as he tries to nod his head vigorously with Batman's hand still in a grip of iron around his neck. "I want you to tell all your friends about me."

Next, Batman threw the criminal across the room like a ragdoll and picked up one of the several jugs of gasoline that he had brought with him tonight.

"Wha...what are you gonna..."

"Get out of here, and leave the other criminals here behind. Even the handful that still live." The smell of gasoline now washed through the entire room as Batman began splashing it everywhere. "Tell your boss and his buddies that they'll burn too if they don't leave Gotham."

"B-b-but I can't! Chechen's not gonna--"

"If I were you," began Batman as he pulled a flare from his utility belt and lit it, "I would start running now."

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Old 12-11-2010, 01:58 AM   #115
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SUPERGIRL


"Umm...Chlo?"

Chloe continues to stare in me in disbelief, with occasional glances back at the bed in the palm of her hand. She looks like she's waiting for someone to come along and explain what's going on, but I think we both realize that's not going to happen. Finally, Chloe lowers her bed, placing it down gently. Even after letting it go, she continues to move carefully like she might break something if she moves too fast.

"I...I don't know what happened," Chloe gasps. She points at the bed. "I was trying to reach for something under my bed, and...and...the next thing I knew, it was in the air." She looks down at her hands. "Did...did I...?"

I'm as dumbfounded as she is. Finally finding my voice, I say, "I think you did that, Chlo. I don't know how..."

Chloe starts to rub her eyes. At first, I think she's crying, but I suddenly realize that's not the case. She's rubbing her eyes, almost like they're irritated or something. "Linda." I take a step closer, and Chloe looks up at me. Her eyes are glowing red. I immediately realize what's about to happen and duck.

VZZZZZZZZT!

A beam of heat vision shoots over my head, leaving a charred black spot on the wall behind me. I stare at the burn mark, then back at Chloe, then at the blood on my finger. And though the reason why is far from obvious, I realize to my horror what's happening. Chloe has my powers.

Chloe isn't even looking at me at this point. She's staring at the burn mark on the wall so intensely that I worry she's going to make another one. "What was that?" she gasps, barely able to find her voice. If she was afraid of herself before, she's downright terrified now. And I don't blame her. Take it from me: the first time beams of fire come out of your eyes...well...you don't forget it.

I swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat. "I think it was heat vision," I explain. Chloe furrows her brow, and I figure I should explain. "You know Superman and Supergirl? Their heat vision?"

"How did I get heat vision?!"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I finally stand up. The spot on the wall is still smoking a little. "But, uh, for now can you try and control it? At least until we know what's going on?"

Chloe closes her eyes. "How?"

Luckily, I had to teach myself to control heat vision, so I know all the tricks. Unfortunately, it's hard to explain to someone else, and I have to explain it to her in a believable way. Otherwise, she's going to start wondering why I seem to know so much.

"Just, uh, try to keep your emotions in check. If you feel yourself getting emotional, just take a second and count to ten," I suggest. I walk over to my petrified roommate and put my hand on her shoulder. "For now, why don't you take a hot shower, and then we can try to sort this out?"

Chloe considers the suggestion and then nods weakly. "Yeah, okay. I think...I think that would be good." She grabs her towel and her shower caddy and stumbles out of the room. Her legs are shaking. Actually, her whole body's shaking.

She's not the only one who's terrified.



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Old 12-11-2010, 02:41 AM   #116
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I tell him right before I though him across the alley landing on top of a dumpster. I turn to the helpless woman, I almost for got she was here.

“This is the part were you run.”

She nods in fear and slowly gets to her feet and gets against the wall as she passes me then runs out of the alley.

I then pull out my grapnel gun and fire it up to the rooftop.
Midnighter

The night was a success it transpired flawlessly. Fear had taken over both of the criminals and I came up victorious. Only thing that’s bothering me is the fact that I let them go. Granted they might tell their friends about me and word will get around that there is someone else that lurks in the shadows. I should come up with some type of trackers, pretty sure that will come in handy in the long run.


I pull my cowl back so my now expose face can get some fresh air against it. Making my way to the work table I place the grapnel gun next to the other unfinished gadgets.




All I need is a couple more days and I should have all this stuff finish as well. Didn’t know this hero stuff could be so time consuming. Best thing for now is for me to get some rest and start this in the morning.

*******

The next day I wake up early in the morning as I always do. As I get up from my bed I quickly put on the clothes I left out on top of my desk chair, so I could quickly put them on and be out the door. Once clothed I make my way to the door, as I open it my father is there waiting.

“Dad is something wrong?” It’s not every day my father is standing in front of my door waiting for me to exit.


“Son, can I speak with you?”


“Yeah come on in.”


As my dad enters I make my way back to my bed and sit on the edge. By his facial expression it seems that what ever he has to speak about must be serious.


“Do you know you lady friend has been calling you for the past week?”


“I haven’t been able to check my messages I’ve been busy, you know this.”


“Of course with your late night activities, that’s what I would like to speak with you about. For that past week seven friends of your all notices your sudden disappearance.”


“I haven’t had time to hang out other things deserve my attention.”


“I get that I do but what I trying to tell you is you have to make time. You’re a smart man son so I know what I’m about to tell you won’t be hard for you to understand. If seven of your friends, not even your close friends notice you have been away how long do you think it will take for someone else to notice? Most of your mother’s technology is very unique and all it will do is take one person who knows her work and start to ask questions and within no time it will come back to you.”


What he is saying does makes since, truth be told I never gave it much thought. I just figured all my time could go to my night ventures. But the reality of it is if I do get made a lot of that tech could fall in the wrong hands and worse case scenario I could end up in jail.


“So what did you have in mind?”


“That’s easy, get a job. You have me and your mothers smarts and I still have some connections. I’m pretty sure I can pull some strings and get you a good high paying job.”


“Sounds like a plan.” I good plan to because I’m going to need a lot more money to upgrade most of those gadget at the warehouse. Besides if I can get a job in the same field as mom I will have a big advantage on new tech.


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Old 12-11-2010, 03:11 AM   #117
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Batman grunts and slows the car...uhh, plane, down and it hovers above the building. He begins lowering the car down towards the roof. The wheels land on the roof's gravel top with a small thump.

"Thank you for flying Batman Airlines. Please exit on your right in a calm and orderly fashion. Please fly with us again."
"Enough. Let's just try to keep focused."

Taking a moment to restrain himself from hitting Question across the face, The Dark Knight shifts his focus elsewhere in order to attend to a few security measures. Pressing several buttons on the dashboard's console, he meticulously watches a HUD screen slide up from behind the steering column, displaying the status of several high-tech precautionary measures - electrified stasis fields, motion-sensor targeting lasers, satellite activated car alarms, and a three foot thick steel plating that encases the entire vehicle upon the driver's leave. Some would brand such measures as paranoia, but in the end, Batman simply regards it as necessity. After all, anyone with half a billion dollars would only expect the finest insurance for his most prized possessions.

Pressing another button, the seatbelts retract from both men as Batman slides out from behind the wheel, exiting the car immediately. His cowl's built-in sonar already goes to work on a readout of the building's schematics by the time The Question follows, to which Batman turns around.

"Shields."

Question nearly jumps as the car's plates slide back and lock into place. Even if for moment, the vigilante lets a smile creep onto his lips. But his grim persona resumes itself whenever he's caught wind of the multiple guards stationed inside, with many pacing the halls of the floor below them.

"There are seven roaming the top floor, all of them armed. I can probably take them myself, but you'll need to lead so that you can find a way for us to get to the processing floor and stop Miraclo's production. Any ideas?"

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Old 12-11-2010, 03:17 AM   #118
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Lex Luthor



"Ladies and gentlemen," I address the gathering of reporters that I've called in for this press conference, "I've asked to make a statement in regards to certain....rumors circulating about me. While I know many of the more wild accusations have not yet been widely released to the public, I've become aware of certain news outlets that wish to slander my good name and my reputation by printing outlandish and frankly, I dare say, ridiculous claims."

Lois Lane was meant to be there to capture my moment of ultimate triumph, the day I changed the course of human history forever. Instead, I am forced to run preemptive damage control measures in order to prevent her from being taken seriously when she tells the world of what happened on the Lunar Watchtower.

"It's true that in recent days, I haven't quite been myself," I say, my voice full of feigned embarrassment. "In the wake of the attack from the alien monster Sta'rro, I had been conducting experiments with the creature's parasitic spawn, in the hopes that we could gain potential breakthroughs in medical and anatomical sciences. I had not counted, however, on the creature still emitting minor telepathic interference even after incapacitation. These signals affected my behavior, caused me to behave....less than rationally."

There were hints of truth in this; LexCorp had indeed procured samples from the Sta'rro creatures, and discovered that they did still generate weak psychic fields after being rendered harmless. However, I was nowhere near the creatures, handing that task to some of the lower-ranking researchers on the Watchtower.

"I've also discovered the telepathic fields generated by the Sta'rro attack have had some lingering effects on the populace, though these are very few in number and should be no cause for alarm. Those few who were affected may have experienced inexplicable sensations of dread or confusion, or even complicated hallucinations. However, these symptoms are temporary and will pass as the effects of the field dissipate. Just take any particularly wild stories you see or hear with a grain of salt."

Again, whatever is necessary to sweep Miss Lane's story under the rug as quickly as possible. I cannot afford to reveal my true intentions to the world until I can do so from a greater position of power.

"As for myself, I will be taking a brief hiatus in order to recuperate and quite literally get my thoughts straight, until I am no longer under the effects of the telepathic interference. Until then, the day-to-day running of LexCorp will be handled by the Board of Directors, and I will keep as low a profile as I can manage in order to avoid creating another unnecessary scene like the one in Centennial Park. Thank you very much, no questions."

As I leave the press conference, I drown out the storm of questions which I had just said I will not answer. Instead of taking my private elevator back to my penthouse as I usually do after such press conferences, I make my way through the lobby and towards the front door, where a limousine is waiting for me.

Stepping inside my limo, I program the artificial chauffeur to take me to the airport, then connect with the L-Soft AI.

"Any progress so far on finding our saboteur?"

"Unfortunately no, Mister Luthor," the AI responds into my wireless earpiece. "The perpetrator behind the missiles' disappearance left no trace to be followed, no identity to be exposed. This intruder must have been of extraordinary intelligence."

I snort at L-Soft's statement; it almost sounds like praise for the man who undermined me and stole my moment of glory away from me. Looking out the window as we drive through the city streets, I can't help but be sickened.

All of this should be gone now.

"Superman did quite a number on the Watchtower when he made his escape," I say, changing the subject before I get too sickened thinking about my new and nameless enemy. "Have we found anyone who can carry out repairs?"

"Yes, Mister Luthor. There is a new technological firm starting out of Gotham City and opening a second location here in Metropolis, that has not yet been acquired by LexCorp. AmerTek Industries, founded and run almost entirely by one John Henry Irons. Irons specializes in advanced cybernetics and fabrications, and while AmerTek does not have the funding to compete with LexCorp, its designs are easily compatible with our own. I believe Irons and his team would be ideal for the reconstruction of the Watchtower."

"Excellent," I say, satisfied. "Buy out AmerTek, place John Henry Irons on the Watchtower project, then once he and his team have completed their work, have them terminated to keep them from telling anyone."

"Yes sir. Will that be all for now, Mister Luthor?"

"Yes, that will be all, L-Soft. Thank you."

With that, I close the connection between the limo and the LexCorp Tower, and quietly think as the car navigates through the city streets towards my private airfield on the outskirts of Metropolis.

My crowning moment was denied me, but already pieces are fitting together to form something new. A new strategy, a new approach to the problem. A new plan.

There must always be a plan.

But before I can enact any of it, I must find and destroy the person who betrayed the Society. So while I'm taking my "hiatus," I will travel the world, track down each of my fellow members, and extract the information I need in person.

It only makes sense that I deal with the most difficult one first, before he knows I'm coming. That's why I have a jet waiting for me right now, with enough fuel to get me from here to Tibet.

I have a Demon to hunt.

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Old 12-11-2010, 03:17 AM   #119
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"There are seven roaming the top floor, all of them armed. I can probably take them myself, but you'll need to lead so that you can find a way for us to get to the processing floor and stop Miraclo's production. Any ideas?"
"Since you seem to be the much more capable fighter, but that's debatable right now. Anyway, I'd say I go in through the stairs and you crash through the skylight. They'll all run to take care of you and I can do what I do best, get in a whole bunch of cheap shots to the back of the head and knees while they're focused on you."

I reach into my jacket and pull out a blackjack. It's not as agile as my nightstick, but it can **** mother****ers up.

"What do you think?"

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Old 12-11-2010, 03:29 AM   #120
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Mr. Majestic



Superman? Not exactly. It seems that no matter how much I try or what I do I always seem to be mistaken for him. I can’t really blame these people for mistaking me for him, to deny our similarities would be foolish. Our strength knows no equal. It’s easy to say we both our stronger than any locomotive. Our unearthly speed allows us to not be touch by any speeding bullet on this planet. We have the sheer power to defy the forces of gravity and propel ourselves through the air unaided. Both able to generate extreme amount of energy in the form of heat and fire this energy from our eyes at will. With all these similarities there is only one thing that separates us and that is the love he receives from them.

Granted the one people of Metropolis knew as Majestic in the past wasn’t me. I shall regain their love. Thanks to an unknown event I was given a second chance, a chance I will not use foolishly. I have the opportunity to be the hero these people need. I will be their Man of Tomorrow and with Lex’s help I can be that and so much more. There will be no more of being in his shadow he shall be in mine. Soon these people will look up in the skies and cheer out my name. A new era has come along with a new super man.



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Old 12-11-2010, 03:35 AM   #121
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"Since you seem to be the much more capable fighter, but that's debatable right now. Anyway, I'd say I go in through the stairs and you crash through the skylight. They'll all run to take care of you and I can do what I do best, get in a whole bunch of cheap shots to the back of the head and knees while they're focused on you."

I reach into my jacket and pull out a blackjack. It's not as agile as my nightstick, but it can **** mother****ers up.

"What do you think?"
"I think you're suicidal."

While he didn't want to admit it, he thought it was a sound plan, if not overly simplistic. If Question could manage to divert the attention to Batman and focus on trying to find access to the production floor, he didn't mind doing the heavy lifting of the fight. It was largely a question of trust, which Batman had in very limited capacities. And though he had done a fair amount of good work tonight, the vigilante sure as hell wasn't putting his faith in the same man that had spent more than half of the ride over belting out various showtunes.

"But we don't have time to argue. We'll do it your way. Just don't hide behind any more crates."

With a somersault and leap for the nearest skylight, The Dark Knight spread his cloak and smashed his way in through the soles of his reinforced boots, alarming the many armed thugs below.


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Old 12-11-2010, 03:44 AM   #122
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"I think you're suicidal."

While he didn't want to admit it, he thought it was a sound plan, if not overly simplistic. If Question could manage to divert the attention to Batman and focus on trying to find access to the production floor, he didn't mind doing the heavy lifting of the fight. It was largely a question of trust, which Batman had in very limited capacities. And though he had done a fair amount of good work tonight, the vigilante sure as hell wasn't putting his faith in the same man that had spent more than half of the ride over belting out various showtunes.

"But we don't have time to argue. We'll do it your way. Just don't hide behind any more crates."

With a somersault and leap for the nearest skylight, The Dark Knight spread his cloak and smashed his way in through the soles of his reinforced boots, alarming the many armed thugs below.

Batman disappears through the broken glass as I kick open the rooftop door and jog down the stairwell. I stop on the stairs and jump back into the shadows when I hear footsteps. An armed guard comes running up the stairs from down below. I wait until he's close to engage him, close-lining the thug with my billy club and knocking him to the floor. While he's down, I give him a rap on the jaw to make sure he stays down and keep on heading down the stairs.

Gunfire and shouts are coming from upstairs. Batman's certainly causing a distraction. I go down another flight of stairs and come out on the warehouse's bottom floor. The steady drone of machinery fills the air. It's an assembly line for that Miraclo crap, with bottles and vials steadily rolling down a conveyor belt and coming out at the end of the line ready to be shipped.

"Alright, machine. Let's see if there's a cool way to break you."

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-- Thomas Paine


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Old 12-11-2010, 09:03 AM   #123
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Default Re: The New Ultimate DC RPG - Season II

Dr Pamela Isley
Director Of Biochemical Research.


Pamela applies the finishing touches of her make-up before sliding out of the slick vehicle. Jason quickly brushes down his sleeves, before he accompanies the female by walking over to her side. The two co-workers walk in sync towards the gates of Arkham Asylum. Two, large, male guards stand at each side of the gates, each armed with a silver baton. Jason slowly steps forward, whilst Pamela stands perfectly still, adjusting her glasses from the end of her nose. Her eyes were fixed on the large Asylum, the structure, the landscape. This place looks like it belongs in a Horror film... She thought to herself, her attention slowly drifting back on to Jason.

"Can you read? It clearly states here that Dr Pamela Isley has an appointment with Quincy Sharp's personal assistant, Alyce Sinner! Then, if you look even more closely, it states that Dr Pamela Isley will be accompanied by a co-worker from STAR Labs,"


"Shut your trap hole, buddy. I suggest you take a step back before this tazer accidentally finds itself in your chest!"

The gates behind the two men gradually swing apart. A slender female walks casually towards the arguing males and steps in between them. Her skin is like porcelain and her hair is like silk. She wears big and bold jewellery, with seven exact bracelets on wrists. Her hair is pulled back in to a slick, high ponytail. She seems to be a mixture of Chinese and Southern American. Pamela quickly steps forward, her eyes quickly widening. "Get back to your post, James. This people have an arranged meeting, and I don't expect them to be greeted by some kind of Gorilla!"

The guard steps back, bowing his head down. Jason smirks slightly, sticking out his hand. The female replies by shaking his large hand, swiftly turning away from the man and walking towards Pamela. "Ah, you must be Dr Pamela Isley from the Metropolis branch of STAR Labs?"

"Yes, indeed. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you Dr Alyce Sinner?"

"Yes, that is me. Arkham is always very welcome to STAR Labs. Mr Sharp is always looking for ways to imporve the Asylum everyday. Please, come in."

A quick and easy friendship is quickly made, Alyce leading the way, past the Arkham gates. Pamela follows, looking over at Jason, who quickly runs up beside her, pulling out a large stack of papers from his bag. Pamela smirks, the two of them following Alyce up the long, windy, path.

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Old 12-11-2010, 12:58 PM   #124
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(Batgirl)

I watch as the inspector leaves, keeping my eyes on him until the last second. As the door closes behind him a sudden wave of calm comes over me. Strangely, I feel disturbed - as if uncomfortable that he had spoken to me, let alone held me. I turn to Montoya and see the unplesant expression on her face. She frowns at me, acting almost ... disappointed.

"What?" I ask her, confused.
"Inspector Nygma's a dangerous man, Barbara," she begins, her voice strangling her hatred for the man. Taking a second to think, I remember her and dad talking about him last year. I remember how much of a thorn he had been in their side. Montoya's loyalty to my father has never been under question - that said, she has a tendency to be a bit bias in regard to my father's opinions.

"Is that what you really feel?" I begin with a somewhat condemning tone. "Or what my father told you to think." As the words leave my lips I feel my stomach sink. Bad move Barbara - you should've kept your mouth shut.

Montoya's frown fades into a look of discomfort. Oddly, she is neither angered nor hurt - she simply ... is. "Barbara," she starts with a long sigh. "I've been an officer for a while now. I've known Nygma even longer." She gets in close, putting her hands on my shoulders and gripping me tight. "When you've known Nygma as long as I have, I'll give your opinions some merit. In the meantime, I'd suggest you trust experience, instead of rash attitude."

Before I can speak, she lets me go and walks toward the door. I try to think of something to say, something to make reparations for my stupid insentive comment. "I'll leave you alone with your father," she says as she steps into the hallway. "Five minutes, Barbara." She closes the door harshly, letting a quick rush of wind blow past me.

"Ouch," I say aloud, filling the silence. "That ... could've gone better."

What could've come over me, I wonder. Why did I say that?

Still baffled, I cast aside the thoughts and focus on the current situation. Slowly, I walk toward my father - standing next to his bedside before long. "Well, dad..." I start, still unsure what to say. "I guess you knew this was going to happen; knew it'd catch up to you eventually." I stare at his still face, the repetitious beeping of the ECG machine seeming to sink up with my own heartbeat. Suddenly, I let go - decide to give up on my conflicted feelings of anger. This isn't the time for that - not now.

"Come on dad, you can beat this," I finally speak, my heartfelt feelings surprising. "You're stronger than this - I know you are. You won't let a few pieces of lead take you down. You're too stubborn for that." I pause for a moment, staring at his eyelids as they fail to move. This is the first time I've ever seen him like this - the first time he's ever really been vulnerable. "Get better soon, dad."

With a tired and weary breath, I exhale. As I look up from the bed, my eye catches a calendar nailed mercilously to the wall. As I see the date my body becomes tense and I grit my teeth. "Par for the course," I say with grisly distain, my hands balling into fists as I try to supress my displeasure. "Tomorrow's my Birthday." My eyes drop back down to my father, staring once more at the blank expression on his face. I analyze the breathing tube lodged within his nostrils, giving him air - sustaining his life. "Happy Birthday to me."

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Old 12-11-2010, 01:23 PM   #125
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Jim opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back on the floor of his office. Ethan Bennet was standing above him, gun smoking like they did in the movies. Jim frowned. He made to get up, but couldn't, he was rooted to the ground. He breathed a ragged breath and waited for him to finish the job. He waited. Bennet turned and walked away. Jim breathed out. Closed his eyes. He'd just rest now.

***

"Jim," a voice called "Hey Jim,"

Jim opened his eyes, for a second time. The room was neon white, not quite a hospital, but not quite anything else that he could put his finger on. He was dressed in his formal suit, which he didn't find as odd as he should have done. It was a very important day after all. Eventually the room dimmed slightly and he was able to look at the speaker. He was a well-groomed man with blond hair and spectacles. He had the sort of wide-open, honest face that the best sort of people do.

"Good, you're awake," the man said "We cant be late,"

"You're my lawyer," Jim said, straightening his tie.

"Something like that," the man said.

They hurried out of the white room, and in the manner of dreams, they were immediately in the next destination. It was a grand courtroom, the kind that was going out of fashion these days. The presiding judge wore a wig, like the British did, though there was only blackness where his face should have been. The jury all had a pearly glow to them, and there were faces that he swore he should have recognised. It was starting to hit him then. He'd taken three bullets, two to the head...

"So glad you decided to make it Gabe,"the prosecution lawyer said. His face was as thin and hatchet like as Gabe's was wide and honest. He grinned, and it looked as though his teeth had been sharpened.

"Neron, always a pleasure," Gabe said smoothly, though clearly indicating that the opposite was true. The pair hurriedly took their places on the defendant's bench. The judge banged the gavel. Jim almost groaned. He knew what he was about to say next.

"The court calls the case of the Kingdom of Heaven v Jim Gordon,"


"Oh crap,"

"Jim, this isn't going too well,"Gabe said, running his hands through his hair.

"Really, is it not?" Jim shot, tugging at his collar. Gabe frowned.

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm when I'm trying to save your backside from the pit," he said sharply. It was interesting that he could lecture him, even though he looked about 20 years younger than him.

"Yeah...sorry," he muttered.

"That's alright Jim. I'm going to suggest a plea bargain," Gabe said.

"Is it that bad?" Jim asked nervously.

"Frankly, yes. If we say that you did what you had to do to protect Gotham, the Tyrant plea, you might get a reduced sentence," Gabe said, shooting a nervous glance at the hatchet-faced Neron sitting on the otherside of the celestial courtroom.

"A sentence like what?" Jim asked.

"A century, for you, in the service of the Lord. And then sending you back to the real world with a clean slate. You can't screw up a second time,"Gabe said.

"Seems like my best shot," the former chief of police said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

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**** went down.

It may or may not have also 'got real'.
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